A Song of Fire & Snow (GOT)(Jon Snow)

Chapter 1: Alarys

The desert winds howled against the stone walls of Sunspear's hidden fortress, a place few knew existed. Set deep within the remote corners of Dorne, this sanctuary was built not for luxury or grandeur, but for secrecy. It was here, in the shadows of the great House Martell, that Princess Alarys grew up—a princess hidden from the world.

Her earliest memory was not of a cradle or a mother's touch but of cold stone floors and the scent of ink-stained parchments. The scholars tasked with her education were strict, their voices void of affection. She learned the histories of Dorne, the intricacies of political alliances, and the art of diplomacy, but there was little warmth in their teachings. There were no lullabies, no whispered reassurances of her family's love. She was not the favored child, like her sister Elia had been. She was the secret, the one kept far from the gaze of those who sought to tear her family apart.

Oberyn's face, though rarely seen, haunted her memories. He was a fleeting presence, a ghost who visited only in moments of necessity. She had been just a babe when he'd carried her from the bloodied ruins of their family's history, just after Elia's brutal death at the hands of the Lannisters. Oberyn's arms had held her tightly then, a quiet promise of protection. But that protection came at the cost of separation—he had sent her away, too dangerous to keep her in the heart of the politics of Dorne. Her childhood was spent not in Sunspear's warmth but in the cold isolation of this fortress.

The guards who watched over her were skilled warriors, but they were no family. The blades they taught her to wield brought comfort, but no peace. She was a Martell, yet she barely knew the meaning of that name. The weight of it pressed on her shoulders, a title she couldn't fully claim. Princess, they called her. But she had never been part of the grand courts or the glittering assemblies where her family shaped the future of their land.

It wasn't just her title that isolated her. It was something far deeper, something she couldn't understand for years. The first time it happened, she had been just a child—seven summers, perhaps. She had been sitting alone in the fortress courtyard, staring into the clear blue sky, her mind wandering aimlessly. Her frustration had mounted, as it often did. She wanted to be with her family, not hidden away like a secret shame. And then she felt it, a heat in her chest, a burning sensation crawling up her throat. Without warning, the flower she clutched in her little hands lit up in flames.

The fire had frightened her more than any enemy could. The scholars rushed to her side, but none could explain it. "A trick of the light," they had murmured at first, trying to dismiss the event. But the fire had returned, again and again, each time more powerful, more uncontrollable. She hid her powers, fearing them, knowing that if anyone in Dorne discovered her secret, she would be seen as a danger, an outcast, even more than she already was.

Years passed, and Alarys studied the lore of the Red Priestesses in secret, trying to understand her connection to the fire. Was it a gift from the Lord of Light, as they claimed? Or was it a curse that marked her as something unnatural? She didn't know. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Her life had become a careful balance of hiding what made her dangerous and pretending to be a Martell princess who had never truly known the warmth of her family's embrace. She had been taught to be everything a ruler could be—wise, strategic, capable of leading armies—but she remained a woman alone, forever questioning her place in the world.

But everything was about to change. The whispers from the North had grown louder—the dead were rising, and war was coming. Dorne needed allies, and Alarys, the forgotten princess, was about to be sent into a world that had never known she existed. And with her, she would bring not just her diplomacy and her blades, but the fire that had always burned just beneath her skin.