Burning the Dragons

As Tabitha approached Sunspear on her horse she was absolutely astounded. They rode atop a tan ridge littered with the odd green tussock, a frighteningly sheer drop into a ravine on Tabitha’s left that housed the main trade route, but the leverage of the less frequented track provided her with a spectacular view of her new home. The city appeared to be made of light brown bricks, and the curved walls of the stronghold made King’s Landing’s Red Keep appear miniscule. Towers rose from the centre, capped with golden roofs that reminded Tabitha of teardrop decorations she had seen on desserts. Too many ships to count surrounded the city and Tabitha felt her jaw dropping.

“I take it you like Sunspear,” Oberyn remarked as he watched her with a grin.

“It is… so unlike anything I have ever seen… It is beautiful,” she breathed, resisting the urge to kick her horse into a canter so she could arrive sooner.

“Not as beautiful as you smiling,” Oberyn remarked and Tabitha beamed, a tiny blush forming on her cheeks. Once Tabitha had stopped staring at the city, they picked up the pace and sped into the heart of the city, entering the Martell castle and dismounting in a square that contained a variety of flowering plants that Tabitha had never seen before. Oberyn took her hand and led her away, guessing that Tabitha would stare in awe all day long if she could, and took her to the main chamber in the castle. The wide doors swung open with ease and revealed a father spending time with his young son. The man looked up from the wooden blocks and Tabitha immediately saw the resemblance to Oberyn. The piercing dark eyes were the same, and as Doran’s lips spread into a smile, the similarity was almost uncanny.

“My dearest brother, it is good to see you again!” Doran beamed as he pushed himself up from the floor. He grabbed a hold of a wooden walking stick and hobbled to meet Oberyn halfway, embracing him tightly. Tabitha saw the wrinkles of age already becoming apparent on Doran’s face and she wondered exactly how much older than Oberyn he was. “How was King’s Landing?”

“You know how dreadful it was,” Oberyn groaned with a hint of annoyance as he pulled away, sidestepping Doran to be bombarded by the child. “Trystane, you have grown!” Trystane giggled as Oberyn heaved him upwards, bouncing him in the air a few times before setting his feet back on the floor.

“And this must be your wife,” Doran said expectantly and Oberyn quickly spun, remembering that he had not introduced them yet.

“My Prince,” Tabitha addressed Doran with a curtsey as Oberyn returned to her side.

“Please, no formalities, we are family,” Doran smiled, shifting his weight more onto his walking stick.

“This is Tabitha, born house Stark and wed Martell,” Oberyn announced with a delighted grin. “Tabitha, this is my older brother Doran, the Prince of Dorne, and his son, Trystane.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Doran said, taking Tabitha’s hand to plant a kiss on it before turning to his brother. “You said in your letters that you had found a beautiful red gem that you wished to bring home with you. I did not realise you were talking about a woman. Though I should have known; you have always been the poetic one.” Tabitha raised her eyebrows with surprise and glanced at Oberyn who was chuckling.

“Well, I succeeded. I captured the gem of the North,” he replied, his laughter having faded and now he spoke in a more serious tone. “What is your next move?” Tabitha felt her body tense at the sudden change in mood, as both of the brothers’ faces had fallen into frowns.

“We need to rescue Elia. That is of paramount importance,” Doran said before glancing at Tabitha. “Rhaegar abuses her. We will not let this continue.”

“I understand,” she said softly, forehead creasing with worry for Elia. Tabitha had not been able to tell that Elia was unhappy until she had said so herself, and now Tabitha could truly appreciate how talented Elia was at putting on a charade for Rhaegar and others.

“Will you write to your brother in the North? Will he march on King’s Landing with us?” Doran asked, hurriedly demanding instead of carefully posing the question like he had planned.

“Pardon?” Tabitha breathed with shock, turning to Oberyn with a devastated expression across her pale face. He had promised her that politics were not involved, and yet the second she arrived in Sunspear she was asked to help start a war.

“My love,” Oberyn began as he took her hands in his. “The mad Targaryens cannot sit on the throne. They are responsible for the death of your father, brother and sister, three honourable people. You cannot tell me that you want them to continue to rule.”

“Of course not, but the North only just lost their war. They will not have recovered in only a few months’ time,” Tabitha pointed out.

“We have plenty of supplies we can ship to White Harbour. And soldiers,” Doran countered. “Believe me when I say that I plan things for the long term and think hard about every single move Dorne makes. We are unbowed, unbent, and unbroken. We will not lose if your brother helps us.” Tabitha hesitated as she thought over the concept, wondering if they were speaking the truth. Though she was greatly disappointed in Oberyn’s deceit, the prospect of overthrowing Rhaegar was something she was particularly fond of.

“I will send a raven to my brother.”