Fifteen years after the fall of the Iron Throne, the sun-scorched lands of Dorne are rife with secrets and intrigue. In the heart of Sunspear lies the Silk Sands, the most renowned brothel in the region, where the enigmatic Ashara has captivated nob...
The scorching sun of Dorne cast long shadows over the city as the day began to wane. The air was thick with the scent of spices and the distant hum of market chatter. Within the luxurious confines of the Silk Sands, the most renowned brothel in Sunspear, Ashara moved gracefully among the patrons. Her deep tan skin glowed under the lantern light, and her black hair, streaked with white, flowed behind her like a silken banner.
Ashara had lived and worked at the Silk Sands for as long as she could remember. The brothel was her home, her sanctuary, and her prison. She knew every corner, every whisper, every secret that lingered in its perfumed halls. She had learned to navigate the intricate dance of seduction and deception, a skill that had made her the most famous brothel maiden in Dorne.
As she poured wine for a nobleman, green eyes caught the flicker of interest in his gaze. She smiled, a practiced gesture that hinted at mysteries and promises. The nobleman leaned closer, his voice a low murmur.
"Tell me, Ashara, where do you come from? Surely someone as enchanting as you must have a fascinating story."
Ashara's smile widened, but her eyes remained guarded. "My story is not as interesting as you might think, my lord. I have lived here all my life, just another girl in the Silk Sands."
The nobleman chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "And yet, there is something about you that speaks of a grander lineage. Those eyes... they remind me of old tales of the Targaryens."
Ashara's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her composure. Her heritage was a secret she had kept well hidden. The whispers of her connection to the fallen House Targaryen were dangerous, and she had no desire to attract the wrong kind of attention.
"You flatter me, my lord," she said, her voice smooth. "But I am just Ashara, a girl of Dorne."
The nobleman reached out, his fingers brushing against a lock of her hair. "Perhaps. But I have a feeling there is more to you than meets the eye."
Before Ashara could respond, the door to the brothel swung open, and a figure stepped inside. The murmurs of the patrons hushed as they turned to see who had entered. Ashara's gaze followed theirs, her curiosity piqued.
The newcomer was a tall man, his features sharp and his eyes cold. He wore the sigil of House Martell, and his presence commanded attention. As he scanned the room, his gaze locked onto Ashara, and a slow smile spread across his lips.
"Ashara," he called out, his voice echoing through the hall. "I have a proposition for you."
Ashara's pulse quickened. She knew this could be the beginning of something that would change her life forever. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, ready to face whatever fate had in store for her.
Ashara
Age 25
Height 5,7
Eye color violet and green
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This is her hair, but instead of the red, it's black
