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GOT : Chapter 105
🕑 Added 2024-06-17 14:24:21 +0000 UTCIt was under a bright Dornish sun only hidden by a few sparse clouds that a convoy of ships coming from the north started to disembark.
They were spotted over an hour ago, far on the horizon, their figures easily discerning themselves from the calm, turquoise sea surrounding Ghost Hill.
These ships brought a large fervor and activity. Indeed, these were not any ordinary ships, these were the ones carrying the last Dornishmen coming from the capital. A first convoy had passed by less than a week ago, but went directly to Sunspear without halting in the port of Ghost Hill.
This one, however, had decided to replenish here, for many of the Dornish party would then leave back to their keeps.
Valena Toland was amidst the crowd of curious smallfolk and merchants, fraying herself a passage along with her mother and her guard of honor. Their father, for his part, stayed at the castle to prepare the welcoming party as well as rooms to settle everyone.
Valena's mother had also planned a welcoming feast. At least, officially. Unofficially, it was a feast to celebrate the completion of the Dornish revenge, sworn by many Dornish lords more than five-and-ten years earlier.
Her sister Teora stood at her side. Her younger sister's years at Sunspear did her a lot of good, and she almost looked like Valena's twin, despite her much younger age.
Teora, though, wore her hair in a braid, while Valena preferred to keep it flowing on her bare back, her yellow dress allowing a generous U-shape in her back which most ladies of the realm would have found scandalous, but which she found a little too restraining for her liking.
The little party waited amidst the ships, bearing sails decorated with the sun and spear of House Martell. Horses, men, and women alike disembarked, but no one had yet to see what everyone was waiting for.
Suddenly, a shout rippled through the crowd and a movement started towards one of the ships on the right of the port. It was the Night, a smaller ship than the large carracks the party waiting under the flags of the green dragon were staring at. Yet it was there that the people were gathering.
The household guards drove a way past the thickening crowd till they finally saw the source of the cheering. On the quay next to the Night stood a couple of unmistakable figures, amidst them prince Oberyn and prince Quentyn.
Both Martell princes were literally showered with acclamations and had dozens of flowers thrown in their path. However, Valena's mother had her mind focused on something else entirely.
"Do you see the prince's sword, Valena?" she asked her.
"Yes, mother," she replied with confusion. "What of it?"
"Look at the pommel."
Valena squinted, trying to get a look at it. She could make out the forms and then it hit her.
"It looks like a lion," she noted.
"Yes," her mother agreed. "A lion indeed…"
Valena frowned; she didn't understand what her mother had obviously insinuated by that.
"Changes are coming, dear." She smiled again, before urging them forward.
Valena still didn't understand. Nevertheless, she followed in her steps, etching to get a closer look at the prince's party. She barely listened to her mother welcoming the princes to Ghost Hill in a short, prepared speech.
Her sister Teora's gaze wandered, but her eyes set on the young Lord Dayne, whose pale blond hair could easily be confused with that of a Targaryen prince, his dark blue eyes clearly giving him an edge.
But Valena wasn't interested in the Dayne boy, no. Her eyes were clearly fixated on the younger Martell prince.
Much had changed since their first meeting, two years ago, at Ghost Hill. Prince Quentyn had grown slightly taller, his eyes had taken in a hint of gold, his build was leaner, and his hair was slightly longer and wavier than before.
Of course, he now bore the scar on his right side, tearing through most of his face, but this did not hamper his looks. On the contrary, even. His smile was still charming, and she remembered the nights spent together under the light of Ghost Hill's bright moon.
Times were simpler, then. They were both sweet and innocent, and she could still remember herself quivering in his arms as he kissed her neck. Both knew this was only temporary, and that they would have to part ways. But their short nights spent together were something Valena absolutely did not regret, as both of them learned from it, cherishing these small memories.
Most of all, though, back then, the prince didn't have that damned snake at his side all the time.
Valena wasn't stupid, of course. She knew the rumors of the prince having taken the tenacious woman as his lover, and the daughter they had had together. It was hard to deny something had happened or was happening between them.
But in the end, she reassured herself, Martell blood or not, the snake was still a bastard. And a bastard, even in Dorne, was nothing compared to a trueborn like her, more beautiful besides.
It was true that many things had changed and, as she grew, Valena learned to embrace her future responsibilities as lady of Ghost Hill. However, as her mother reminded her, there was now a new prize on the line: Sunspear.
Everyone first had debated who Doran would betroth his son to, and then laughed it off. The prince held no real power over his son, and it was obvious that the prince would choose his own bride. Her mother had reminded her, Prince Quentyn was smart, and knew that he could not marry his bastard cousin. Then, who?
Rumors were wild. Some thought that the prince was still loyal to Yronwood and would marry the little girl Gwyneth. Others thought that the prince would choose a girl closer to him in age, either one of the Fowler or Jordayne sisters, or perhaps one of the Blackmonts.
Others threw out Valena's name, while some suggested that the prince would not even bother, and would send a delegation to Volantis to have his bastard cousin legitimized and wed her to tie themselves to the Old Blood!
Some rumours, even wilder, suggested that the prince had seduced the rose of Highgarden, and that little Floris Baratheon, supposedly born from the union of Renly Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell, was in fact the prince's child! The future Queen would then have lent a hand to her lover in destroying the Lannisters in exchange for her place at his side on the Sun throne.
But then again, Floris Baratheon supposedly had pure Baratheon features. Rumors were rumors.
But the main point stayed the same. The new Princess-Consort would likely have to accept to be second to the Sand girl. And while many women or girls would gladly accept such a proposition if only to be married to the prince and the prestigious position that it entailed, Valena was not of the same opinion.
Oh, she liked the position and the man well enough! Princess-Consort was a title of no real power, but power could be negotiated for with her future husband, who could be guided if he did not wish to share it… As for the man, this was almost the best part of that deal.
But Valena was not someone who shared her prizes, much less with a bastard.
No, if she was going to do this right, and gain Sunspear, she would have to sideline that little inconvenience.
Of course, she would have to be careful when dealing with one of Prince Oberyn's daughters, but her mother was not called the Dornish Dragon for nothing, and Valena was proud to be her mother's daughter. It would take just the right amount of persuasion and intrigue to push that petty bitch aside.
Lost in her thoughts, Valena hardly reacted when the prince himself addressed her.
"My lady?"
"Sorry, my prince, I was lost in your eyes." Valena winked at him, earning an amused smile from her interlocutor.
However, as she expected the snake following in the prince's step to react to this, she was to be disappointed. Not a single reaction from her, not even a frown. Hum…
"You've grown to be quite beautiful, Valena," he added.
"You too, Quentyn," she replied with a smirk. "We've come quite far from where we were two years ago, no, Lion-slayer?"
Prince Quentyn smiled slightly in return.
"Yes, we have."
With that, he turned to her sister Teora and then exchanged a few words with her mother.
Thanking them, he then turned to the crowd that had amassed around them, taking a vantage point on a small pile of stones.
As he made to speak, the crowd slowly went silent, and prince Quentyn spoke:
"Dornishmen, Dornishwomen. I have come back from the capital to tell you that the leaders of the ignominious acts that have been committed more than five-and-ten years ago have paid! Amory Lorch is dead, Gregor Clegane is dead, and Tywin Lannister is dead! Each one has died at the hands of a Martell!"
Prince Quentyn then unsheathed his sword, which glistened distinctly in the Dornish sun. A whisper rose throughout the crowd.
"Valyrian steel…"
"The responsible have paid, certainly," the prince continued. "But will it be enough to pay the debt that is owed to us? Is it enough, I ask you, to replace the thousands of Dornishmen that gave their lives away on the Trident, all those years ago. Was the sacrifice of your sons and daughters worth the lives of these three men and this sword I took from Tywin Lannister's dead body?
I say, no! The Lannisters have not paid their debt! For there are now thousands of sons and daughters who will live without a father, thousands of sisters who have to live without a brother, thousands of fathers and mothers who will live without a son, a nephew, an uncle, thousands of wives who will never see their love again, I say our vengeance is not over!
I say, there is still a debt owed to us by those who wronged us. A debt that cannot be paid, for it is impossible to bring back your loved ones. It cannot be paid by blood, but let us at least pay it in gold. For years, they have profited over the bodies of your loved ones! They have enriched themselves over your grief! They have built their castles over what they thought were our ashes!
And let me tell you, we are not alone. Dorne is not alone in this fight. There are allies, on the other side of the Narrow Sea, who wish to see this debt paid in full as well. All our suffering, our pain and our grief, our enemies will answer for, and we shall make them pay alongside our newfound allies. Soon, we shall crush them, and we shall finally take what is owed to us.
I say that the Dornish people should rise. To avenge their sons and daughters, to avenge their fathers and uncles, to avenge their loved ones, and take what is theirs, as I have! I call upon all the Dornish people to stand beside me, as we march to take what is owed to us.
Not some petty throne or some blood on a stupid throne. No, I say we march to empty Casterly Rock! I say, we will not lay down our arms until the banner of the sun and spear floats over the Rock and their mines have been emptied and given to us, so that our sons and daughters may lack nothing! Will you stand with me?"
The cheers were indescribable.
"To the Rock! To the Rock!" cried some.
"Lion-slayer! Lion-slayer!" cried others.
