𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 ₁ ( 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗄 )

── 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

── 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 the early evening light danced through the stained glass that lined the halls of the Sunspear, in such quantities impossible to enumerate. Vaela would be the wiser, for she had spent many a spare eve pacing the corridors in ambition to complete the expedition. Thus far, she had reached thirty-seven and four hundred, knowing that to be wrong as a few moons before she would have counted the same windows at sixty-two more that number.

Since then, she had instead focused on what each window depicted, elevating her understanding of what stood of importance in the Dornish laws and history. Several tens of shards bundled together suggested the indentures of the original Dornish princess, Nymeria. Others showcasing major events in Dornish history, the Seven, more religious characters, and even a few dragons dashed here and there.

The multicoloured seams blushed the sandstone palette of the court's walls, visually encapsulating the wanderers of the corridors at this time, an eternal peace gracing these hours of gold and colour. Always a hush felled as the sun dropped into the dunes behind the great windows, a certain magic changing the atmosphere to one of universal silence - admiration of the beauty in the otherwise considered ugly fortress.

The normal equilibrium was disrupted by the apologetic dash of Vaela Velaryon and her companions as they all but blew like the eastward winds, down the winding corridors in the direction of the court of the sun. Currently, lords, ladies, and other Dornish folk with similar positions at court were headed in the opposite direction in no haste, as they assumed the usual evening spiral down the corridor, a task in itself. Heads turned and confusion peaked as the young ladies timidly sped their way past the familiar faces, bowing their heads at a rushed pace as they continued on their unbeknownst quest to the surrounding public eye.

Since the young Targaryen Princess had arrived in Dorne, she had been the epitome of manners and grace, not otherwise expected or performed in Dorne. She addressed Lord's first, even if the Lady had approached prior to the counterpart, a matter which was soon corrected as she hadn't known any better. Titles were dropped in every sentence that slipped the pearls of Vaela's teeth, a formality which was soon reformed as she grew to understand the customs of Dorne better. The young Velaryon had decided she had a preference to the way things were done in Dorne to the formality and prejudice that superceded the court in the stretch of the Seven Kingdoms. She truly appreciated the advancement and forward nature of the social aspects in Dorne, a privilege she knew to pray to Nymeria for.

Knowing well of the hardships faced by women back home, she became all the more empathetic and aware of it after the bulk of her teachings and time in the land of the sun. Vaela hoped that if she returned to the Crownlands, she would bring more than knowledge and security on the court of law in Dorne.

The great mahogany tinged doors of the court were still askew when the ladies neared, subduing their haste to a minimal strut as they surpassed the gargantuan panels of wood. The room opened into a cavernous circle, the largest dome of the Sunspear's many, sheltering the space in its grandeur and size. Spaces of the orange-golden light, reflective of the pigmented sands of the far dunes, spiked through the open windows at the base of the dome lined the top deck of the circular walls, the sun facing less obstruction without the coloured frames behind them. The many seats encasing the open floor of the golden court were now freshly emptied, the banished dust only now starting to settle in the councils absence. A fraction of the small of Martell's closest men surrounded the sand seat at the furthest side of the court, opposing the doors.

The men conversed in a hushed manner, albeit jovially at that. Slowly, they dispersed to address the ladies as their presence became known, filing into uniformed lines alongside the far less intimidating throne to the one Vaela had been accustomed to back home. Qoren Martell sat the picture of health and comfort in his place, looking warmly onto the ladies, his own daughter and Vaela, and their companions.