The eting continued, with discussions focused on the details of the siege. At that mont, Daemon Sand stepped forward. The news he brought reignited the atmosphere in the tent.
"Your Grace, we've just received intelligence from Norvos. The true Prince Quentyn has set sail with fifteen thousand elite troops from Norvos and will soon land on the Crownlands' coast."
A low murmur rippled through the tent. This was a powerful new force.
Daemon continued, "Duskendale is now defenseless. The main forces of Kevan and Jai are tied up elsewhere by us. The Lannisters' attention is entirely focused here. If we can arrange for Prince Quentyn to land directly near Duskendale and launch a surprise attack, we could seize the town in one swift strike. At that point, Kevan and Jai will be caught between two fires, trapped in our encirclent!"
This bold plan imdiately sparked a reaction. Harry Strickland stroked his chin.
"If we take Duskendale, it would not only sever the Lannisters' supply lines but also allow us to capture the false king and the mad queen."
Young Aegon's face lit up with excitent. He was drawn to such aggressive strategies. He clapped his hands in approval.
"Commander Harry, send our fastest ships at once to provide support! Make sure Prince Quentyn's forces land at the right location and convey my orders!"
At that mont, Princess Arianne Martell stepped forward. Her eyes burned with loyalty to her house and an urgent desire to reunite with her brother. Her voice was firm.
"Your Grace, let go. I'll et Quentyn myself. No one represents Dorne better than I, nor could anyone make Quentyn understand more clearly that this is a united alliance, not a solitary military venture by Norvos. We will strike together, from within and without, to seize Duskendale for Your Grace!"
Young Aegon looked at his future queen, admiring her courage and initiative.
"Very well, Arianne. Your courage befits your station." He nodded in agreent. "But be sure to take every precaution. Obara, you will lead a detachnt of elite Dornish soldiers to escort Princess Arianne by ship to the rendezvous point. Your task is not only to et him, but to assist Prince Quentyn in surrounding Duskendale!"
"Aye, Your Grace." Obara Sand responded.
...
Duskendale.
After capturing the Lord of Duskendale, Cersei quickly regained control of the garrison with the help of The Mountain and her loyal Kingsguard. Just as she was basking in her success and preparing to regroup, news arrived from the port garrison.
A small boat had quietly approached Duskendale harbor the previous night. The guards discovered two captives aboard, tightly bound and gagged. To Cersei's shock, the prisoners were none other than Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne and his mistress, Ellaria Sand.
Accompanying the vessel was a parchnt letter. Cersei, puzzled, opened it—and the contents imdiately sparked her fury.
The letter ca from across the Narrow Sea. In it, the Easterner claid that Dorne had sent envoys to seek military support in exchange for Princess Myrcella, but he had refused. Instead, he had sent the "shaless Dornish envoys," Oberyn and Ellaria, to Duskendale. anwhile, he had kept Princess Myrcella for himself and, in a twisted turn of events, had the honor of marrying her as his seventh queen.
"They dared to sell my daughter!!" Cersei's shriek echoed through the room, her rage nearly consuming her reason.
She ripped the cloth from Oberyn and Ellaria's mouths, only to find they could make no sound but hoarse grunts—they were completely mute. Maester Qyburn had administered a special silencing potion months ago, leaving them unable to speak for months.
"Damned vipers! Mute vipers!" Cersei hissed, glaring at them with venom. She raised her hand and slapped Oberyn twice across the face, her nails drawing blood.
Oberyn could only glare at her, his eyes burning with fury.
Just then, the urgent toll of alarm bells sounded from outside the castle walls.
A soldier rushed in, breathless. "Your Grace! Trouble! Ships are flooding the harbor! Armies are landing—Norvos banners and Dorne sunspear flags!"
Cersei's face turned pale as understanding struck her. Madness and cruelty flashed in her eyes. "Drag those two Dornish vipers to the ramparts! Now!"
anwhile, outside Duskendale's walls.
Arianne Martell t her true brother, Quentyn Martell, for the first ti.
He had jet-black hair, the signature beauty mark of the Martell family, olive skin, and a handso, elongated face. His eyes, though, were what struck her the most—they mirrored those of her father and Prince Oberyn.
Quentyn wore a confident, almost devilish smile. As soon as he spotted Arianne, he strode forward, swept her into a sudden embrace, and planted a firm kiss on her cheek. His actions were bold and passionate.
"My princess sister!" Quentyn's voice carried a foreign accent, but was full of vitality. "I've been dying to et you. Until now, I only heard about you through Uncle Oberyn's stories."
Arianne was caught off guard by his sudden intimacy, a blush spreading across her cheeks. She instinctively adopted a more reserved deanor. "Quentyn... I never imagined Father would play such a move, hiding you away in Norvos for decades."
Quentyn let her go and waved his hand confidently. "Hiding in Sunspear's hothouse only breeds weakness, sister. Norvos—that's where a man truly forges his ttle. Mother misses you often."
At the ntion of their mother, Lady llario, Arianne's eyes stung with unshed tears. It had been far too long since she'd seen her.
Noticing the change in her expression, Quentyn quickly shifted the conversation. His eyes flashed with a warlike gleam. "Now is not the ti for sentintality, sister. The garrison at Duskendale is thin. This is our mont to avenge Aunt Elia and restore Dorne's honor. Let us take this town, capture that Lannister bastard king, and that madwoman Cersei, and bring them to trial!"
Arianne wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded fiercely. The Dornish fla of vengeance burned within her. "Yes!"
As the Norvos and Dornish forces began their siege, preparing to launch their assault, several figures appeared atop the gate tower of Duskendale.
When the figures bound and shoved to the battlents were recognized, Arianne, Quentyn, and Obara Sand below were stunned.
It was Prince Oberyn and Ellaria Sand.
They were clearly tortured, their expressions haggard, tightly bound.
Cersei Lannister stood behind them, her golden hair whipping in the wind. A maniacal, triumphant sneer curled on her lips as she held a dagger to Oberyn's throat. She shouted down at the city:
"Dorne vipers, look who it is! If you dare take another step, I'll slit his throat this instant!"
The Dornish army below the walls erupted in chaos. The sound of the attack horns suddenly ceased.
Reviews
All reviews (0)