Hers Is The Fury

Arrival In Dorne & Feast

[Dorne]

Shortly before Jaime Lannister was set to arrive, Doran approved the release of his nieces.

At the moment, he was sat on the balcony, watching his youngest son and his betrothed walk through the Gardens. Behind him was Areo Hotah, his captain of guards.

Jaime Lannister was expected to arrive very shortly.

"They make a lovely couple. A Lannister and a Martell. They have no idea how dangerous that is. We must protect them." Doran commented.

"Yes, my prince."

"You have not had to use that axe of yours in a very long time. I hope you remember how."

"I remember how."

Meanwhile, in the Dornish Countryside, Jaime, Bronn and Willem had landed and were making their way to greet the Royal family.

They had been delayed, but were finally in Dorne.

What he did not expect to see when he arrived was Ser Balon Swann, a member of the Kingsguard and a small retinue.

Prince Doran sat in his wheelchair, accompanied by his daughter and heir, Arianne, Ellaria and the two eldest of the Sand Snakes.

Jaime had heard of the infamous daughters of Oberyn; renowned warriors, and Arianne Martell, a true Dornish beauty.

"Ah, Ser Jaime, I see you've brought some friends. Including one of our own. Welcome, welcome. We have prepared a feast in honour of your arrival. A thanks for returning the skull of last of my sister and her children's killers."

"Thank you for the warm welcome." Jaime returned, pausing. "I do not see my niece."

"Ah, yes, the young Princess is spending time with her betrothed. She will be happy to see you a little later."

Not quite satisfied, but also not willing to make a scene, Jaime nodded.

"Splendid. You must be tired from your journey. We prepared chambers for you. We had no idea you would be bringing friends."

"I'm not his friend," Bronn interjected.

"Very well, your companions. But, I'm sure we can find suitable chambers for them. Ser Swann, we have also arranged for chambers for you and your men, ahead of tonight's feast."

"Thank you, Prince Doran," the knight bowed.

"I will not keep you longer."

The visiting men were escorted to their chambers to prepare for the feast in their honour.

"Let us look upon this head," The Princess prince commanded, later that night at the welcoming feast.

Areo Hotah ran his hand along the smooth shaft of his longaxe, his ash-and-iron wife, all the while watching. He watched Ser Jaime Lannister and his two companions, as well as the white knight, Ser Balon Swann, and the others who had come with him. He watched the Sand Snakes, each at a different table. He watched the lords and ladies, the serving men, the old blind seneschal, and the young maester Myles, with his silky beard and servile smile.

Standing half in light and half in shadow, he saw all of them. Serve. Protect. Obey. That was his task. All the rest had eyes only for the chest. It was carved of ebony, with silver clasps and hinges. A fine-looking box, no doubt, but many of those assembled here in the Old Palace of Sunspear might soon be dead, depending on what was in that chest.

His slippers whispering against the floor, Maester Caleotte crossed the hall to Ser Balon Swann. The round little man looked splendid in his new robes, with their broad bands of dun and butternut and narrow stripes of red. Bowing, he took the chest from the hands of the white knight and carried it to the dais, where Doran Martell sat in his rolling chair between his daughter Arianne and his injured brother's beloved paramour, Ellaria. A hundred scented candles perfumed the air. Gemstones glittered on the fingers of the lords and the girdles and hairnets of the ladies. Areo Hotah had polished his shirt of copper scales mirror-bright so he would blaze in the candlelight as well.