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( SALTSHORE, DORNE ) EARLY 284 AC
HER SOLAR BORE MANY GAUDS AND TRINKETS, but the most prized one was a Cyvasse set shipped over from Lys, possibly the only set in the whole of Westeros. It was a possession of her Lysene grandmother, having been carted over herself, to marry her only suitor, Lord Glynn Gargalen — they'd received the board game as a wedding gift from Yale's mother. Yale claimed that she had claimed she'd nearly cast it overboard out of fury for her mother acting so civil when she was doing nothing but ridding herself of another burden.
Ellaria Sand smoothed the pad of her thumb over the onyx dragon piece, clutching it in her fist as Gwendys removed it from the game, using her ivory catapult. For three years, Ellaria had been a lady-in-waiting for Gwen's mother — Tremonda had been nothing but lonely for the longest time, and sought company from Dornish ladies that remained behind, after a progress to King's Landing; competing for Elia Martell's companionship, and a chance to near themselves to Targaryen royalty.
Lady Tremonda had lusted to be one of the many mistresses of Harmen Uller; and to slip into his favour (and optimistically, his bed). Hence why she took his bastard daughter in when he found her all too unsavoury. Afterwards, Ellaria sought no need to return to her father and decided to stick around, shifting her allegiance to accompany Lady Gwendys. And actually, her grandmother had speculated that due to the close resemblance between Ellaria and Gwendys, the Uller was fit to act in place as a body double for the lady, if need be.
The younger brunette moved her heavy horse diagonally, and Ellaria cackled, tossing a lazy ringlet over her shoulder. She was peaceful, wilful, spirited, but boy did she enjoy winning. Using her dragon to capture Gwen's ivory king, she plucked the piece from the board and kissed it victoriously.
"Gwendys!" Shierle Swyft (the second of Gwen's two ladies-in-waiting), tripped over a rug and bumped her hip on the trunk at the end of the brunette's featherbed, a creamy parchment envelope in her fingers. Her accent was not of Dorne, unlike Ellaria and Gwendys. "On my travels I picked up a letter addressed to yourself. Forgive me, Gwen, it looks like it's sent from ... Sunspear. I believe it must be a letter from the Martells."
"The Martells?" Ellaria perked up in attentiveness, shuffling to perch a little taller on her stool. The princes and princesses of Dorne's most noble house seemed to have piqued her interest, which was peculiar, because everything and anything seemed to have her glowering and drumming her fingers in boredom. "Whom, specifically?"
"I'm not sure," Shierle glanced to Gwendys for reassurance on opening the letter, she asked, "May I?" And upon the lady's nod, she peeled away the orange beeswax stamp with a Nymerios sun printed upon it, and began to announce the details aloud: "A certain Prince of Dorne, it seems. Goodness gracious, this is an absolute song of love and ink! Dear Lady Gwendys, oh, I bet he thinks you're absolutely lovely."
