The Water Gardens, with their abundant lemon and orange groves, offered a natural refuge from the relentless Dornish heat. The fountains scattered throughout the grounds kept the air pleasantly cool year-round. In the distance, the cheerful sound of children's laughter echoed, adding a lively warmth to the tranquil surroundings. Two older girls were playing with a young boy. Though the girls had different skin tones, their facial features were strikingly similar, marking them as the bastard daughters of the Red Viper. The boy, about ten years old, was Prince Doran’s youngest son, Trystane.
Despite his frail health and having delegated most of his responsibilities to Manfrey, Doran still handled the kingdom's most crucial decisions. He sat in a large, custom-made chair, one so expansive that he could lie down if needed, sipping tea and contemplating the state of affairs in Dorne.
A servant approached Doran, interrupting his thoughts. "Prince, Prince Oberyn has returned."
A flicker of joy passed through Doran’s eyes but quickly faded. "Let him in."
Moments later, Doran spotted Oberyn emerging from the tree-lined avenue. His two daughters and young Trystane were the first to notice him.
“Father!”
"Father!”
The two girls, abandoning their play, ran to Oberyn, who greeted them warmly before scooping up Trystane and making his way toward Doran.
The two brothers bore a strong resemblance to one another, though Oberyn’s features were more angular, and his skin was darker from his travels.
“Prince, I’m back,” Oberyn announced with a mischievous smile that spoke more of a rogue than a father.
“Haha, I thought you were off drinking with the Emperor of Yi Ti. I didn’t expect you back so soon. How many children did you bring back this time?” Doran teased, his tone light.
Oberyn set Trystane down and took a seat. “Two.”
“From the same mother?” Doran asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Of course. My feelings for Ellaria are still strong,” Oberyn replied with a grin, though there was something more behind his eyes—a desire to share news.
Doran noticed the eagerness in his brother’s expression. “If you have something to say, don’t hold it in.”
Suppressing a laugh, Oberyn leaned in. “Guess who else I brought back this time?”
“Who? Viserys?”
“How did you know?” Oberyn’s surprise was genuine.
“You really brought him back?” Doran's disbelief was evident. He had never met Viserys and harbored no personal affection for him. To Doran, Viserys was merely an "investment project"—one that might yield results but wouldn’t be mourned if it failed. The idea that Oberyn had actually brought him to Dorne was unsettling. Even if Viserys were to marry Arianne one day, now was not the time! To Doran, Oberyn's actions seemed reckless.
“You’re mad! What are you thinking, bringing him here now?” Doran’s voice carried a rare edge of reprimand. Normally, he turned a blind eye to Oberyn’s wild escapades—even his eight bastards were of little concern. But when it came to the future of House Martell and Dorne’s interests, Doran was exceptionally cautious. Seeing his brother so agitated startled Oberyn.
“No, no, no, it’s not what you think,” Oberyn quickly reassured him. Despite Doran’s usual tolerance, Oberyn deeply admired—and even slightly feared—his brother. “I just happened to run into him in Planky Town.”
“By chance?!” Doran didn’t press the issue, but his skeptical gaze spoke volumes: ‘I don’t believe you.’
Oberyn had no choice but to explain the circumstances of Viserys’s arrival in detail.
“So he’s here on behalf of Lys? But what’s his connection to Lys?” Doran was baffled. Why would Viserys, supposedly still fighting for Tyrosh with the Windblown, now be representing Lys? The whole situation seemed perplexing.
As Oberyn continued to elaborate, Doran found himself both surprised and suspicious. 'What kind of mind does this young man have?' he wondered.
“Doran, should we meet him now? And how are you feeling?” Oberyn asked cautiously, noting his brother’s condition.
“I’m fine,” Doran replied, his voice steady. “Let’s meet him.” As Viserys was acting as an envoy for Lys, Doran reasoned, 'There shouldn’t be any harm in proceeding.'
“Oh, and bring Manfrey as well,” Doran added.
“Of course,” Oberyn nodded.
After a brief hesitation, Doran added, “And Arianne too.” He saw this as a chance to introduce Viserys to Arianne, allowing them to discuss the secret marriage pact. Doran couldn’t help but envy the easy rapport Oberyn had with his daughters. As for the ‘alliance’ Viserys had proposed, Doran already planned to find a way to diplomatically decline it.
Meanwhile, Viserys was seated in a specially designed cool room, sipping herbal tea. The room featured a clever design with small holes on the inside walls and larger ones on the outside, allowing a gentle airflow that kept the space refreshingly cool. Viserys recognized the ingenuity of the Rhoynar, who had mastered the relationship between air and temperature.
As he waited, Viserys pondered what offer might truly capture Prince Doran’s interest. After careful consideration, he realized he had little to offer beyond himself. A marriage alliance with House Martell, however, seemed risky. While short-term cooperation was acceptable, binding his interests to Dorne in the long run could do more harm than good.
From his golden eagle’s vantage point, Viserys could see Oberyn meeting with Doran, but he had no idea what was being discussed. He mused that perhaps raising a flock of ravens to carry messages could give him more control over information, freeing him from dependence on others.
As the minutes ticked by, Viserys grew more certain that his caution was warranted. He had been waiting in the cool room for nearly half an hour, yet Doran had not summoned him. If Doran wasn’t ill, then it was clear that Viserys’s current strength wasn’t enough to command his respect.
“Dragon, I need a dragon...” Viserys muttered to himself, longing for the day when a dragon would be reborn.
'According to the calendar, it’s a year before the Red Comet appeared,' he reflected.
Just then, he saw Oberyn approaching the cool room.
“Prince,” Viserys stood to greet him.
“Viserys, we’ll need to wait a bit longer. You’ll see Doran soon,” Oberyn said.
“No problem,” Viserys replied with a smile. He knew well enough that the one seeking help had to be patient.
Meanwhile, Arianne and Manfrey were making their way to the meeting. The two sat in silence in the carriage, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Arianne broke the silence.
“Uncle Manfrey, why did Father summon us so suddenly?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.