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NYMERIA MARTELL

, tanning her already brown skin a darker color as she moved through the sands beneath her, swiping the spear toward Obara's feet, catching the older girl off-guard slightly, but not enough to cause her to give up her position. Obara retaliated with a swipe of the blade, the steel snagging her shoulder, blood pulsing from the wound.

"That's not fair," Nymeria teased, the two girls circling each other again, sweat dripping down her face, cooling her down as the sun rays beat down on her, head pulsing and eyes itching.

Obara smirked at her cousin's remark, arcing the daggers toward Nymeria, the latter raising the spear above her head, blocking the blow. "Who said I was fighting fair?" The older girl retorted.

Nymeria returned the smirk and used the shaft to push the older girl back, jabbing her chin with the blunt end, knocking her back.

Her foot collided with Obara's gut, knocking the wind out of her, causing the girl to fall to her knees, shock crossing her face. Nymeria stood proudly, pointed end of the spear facing the older girl, eyebrows raised in victory.

"You're right," Nymeria responded, "Who said we had to fight fair?"

The two of them shared a chuckle before Nymeria grabbed Obara's hand, helping her out of the unbearably hot sand. They unstrapped their sandals, seeking refuge underneath the makeshift tent while their toes sank into the red grains, warming and relaxing their tired feet while they reached for their waterskins.

"You're getting better," Obara panted, draining every last drop of her skin. Nymeria rolled her eyes. The girl didn't know when to stop. Always impatient. She took a big gulp of the once cold water, letting it dribble down her chin before pouring some into her hands, splashing it across her face, waking her up and cooling her off.

Nymeria scoffed at Obara's comment, "I beat you, I think I deserve a little more than "getting better"

Obara rolled her eyes, dark brown like her father's, "Whatever you want to think,"

Nymeria bit her lip, standing up and wiping the sweat from her brow. "Then how about another one?" She challenged, a thrill rushing through her veins at the thought. She loved a good spar. And Obara was always willing.

But this time her cousin shook her head, staring off toward Sunspear, the castle a few paces away, a familiar figure dressed in yellow robes appearing over the sand dunes. "I believe you have more important matters to attend to,"

Nymeria groaned inwardly, collecting her daggers, leaving Obara's spear leaning against the tent as she sheathed the weapons. Clipping her belt over her hips, the yellow tunic blew behind her as the wind began to pick up, blowing sand in her face.

Her Uncles were the closest people she had to fathers in her life, having raised her from birth. Oberyn always said that she reminded them of her mother, the only woman either of them would listen to.

But she knew she had plenty of her father in her. It was in her outlook, it was when she negotiated for peace instead of war, it was the deeply entrenched honor that not even the Martells could snuff out.

It was why Uncle Doran was training her to take Oberyn's place when Arianne became Princess. She needed a court representative, and with a Lannister on the throne, it was vital that they did not cause trouble, no matter how much they wanted to.

Nymeria's blood boiled every time she thought of that heinous woman and her family lording over the Seven Kingdoms, pretending to be better than what she actually was.

That whole family was made up of monsters.

"Ah, there you are 'Meria," Oberyn spoke up, the two of them meeting halfway and walking back to Sunspear, sandy dunes replaced with bright brick paths and towering leafy trees, The towering Threefold gate passing over them, allowing them to bypass the labyrinth of walls and narrow passageways that made up the outer portion of Sunspear, "Doran was looking for you."

Nymeria rolled her eyes, "When is he not?"

Oberyn chuckled at his niece's comment, relishing in the summery day, "He says it's a matter of urgency,"

"Which we both know means he has another suitor he's ready to throw me at," She quipped, a tired smirk on her face before letting out a groan, "Was he this insistent with you and Elia?" She asked, invoking the dead woman's name.

It had taken too long to for the family to get comfortable saying Elia's name again.

Now that they were, Nymeria wanted to learn all she could about the poor woman. She knew that many in Dorne saw Elia when they looked at her. An endless reminder of their lost princess.

It was an insatiable curiosity. A fascination that had yet to end. Thankfully, her Uncles were happy to regale her with their childhood stories, even if it hurt to mention her.

"He was more insistent with me," Oberyn chuckled, as if recalling a fond memory, "He and I had many meetings like the one you will be having now, endless attempts to get me to settle down"

Nymeria's lips parted to release an involuntary laugh, the thought of her Uncle tied up at the Sept too ludicrous for words.

"But Elia..." Oberyn paused, like he was tasting the name in his mouth, swishing it back and forth before continuing, "Doran wouldn't let anyone near her. He was convinced no one would ever be good enough for her." He sighed, stopping just outside of the Tower of the Sun, the wind blowing through the open corridors, stone and sand sifting slightly, as if moved by Oberyn's testimony. "He was right."

Her Uncle clenched his hand, staring off toward King's Landing, fury darkening his gaze. Nymeria joined him, a comforting hand on his shoulder, swallowing the lump in her throat as she stared toward the last place her mother was seen alive. Before Tywin Lannister and Gregor Clegane bashed her head in alongside her children's.

Nymeria was the lucky one, they would whisper.

Made a Martell when she should've been a bastard.

Taken in by her Uncles.

Loved by her cousin.

Such a pretty girl, they would say, exactly like her mother, let's hope she doesn't meet the same fate.

The door crashed open, and Nymeria whipped around, catching sight of her irritated cousin, who no doubt was furious with Doran again.

Arianne huffed as she stormed toward the balcony overlooking the bright oasis in the center of Sunspear, inhaling deeply.

"What did he do this time?" Nymeria asked, pulling herself away from Oberyn to comfort her irritated cousin.

Arianne huffed, blowing a thick dark ringlet away from her face, "Nothing, and that's the problem. He never leaves the gardens and when he finally does he wants nothing to do with me."

Nymeria leaned against the stone pillar, sending Arianne a sympathetic look, "Surely he must have wanted to see you. Why else would he come all this way?"

Arianne scoffed, blue silks swishing as she paced back and forth, "For you." She crossed her arms, shaking her head in a very unladylike manner.

Nymeria's eyebrows creased in confusion, wondering why her Uncle would travel all this way just for a meeting of potential suitors.

"I told him," Arianne admitted proudly, "About Daemon, about Sir Gerold, and he said nothing. That's all he does is nothing!" The girl huffed again, "He's weak. Ever since he decided to make Quentyn his heir..." She trailed off, and Nymeria stared at her cousin.

She pitied her. Arianne had every right to the throne of Dorne. She was the firstborn after all. But instead, Doran had taken leave of his senses, passing her over for Quentyn.

He never even gave her an explanation.

"It's unfair," Nymeria supported, guilt tugging at her gut as she spoke out against her Uncle, "You deserve to rule Dorne. It's your right, and he'll see that soon enough."

Arianne paused, looking up from the ground. She nodded, holding her chin up high as she pressed forward. "I am Arianne Martell, the Princess of Dorne." She smiled at the title, and something glazed over her gaze, "Thank you for reminding me, cousin," She placed her hand on Nymeria's arm, squeezing it tightly.

Nymeria returned the smile before heading into the Tower of the Sun, Doran sitting on the orange and gold seat, the spear inlaid behind him, and Oberyn's, bearing the sun, sat empty. Unused. Waiting for someone to inherit it.

Nymeria hoped it would be her. She and Arianne ruling like sisters, just as it should be.

"You wanted to see me, Uncle?" Nymeria asked, trying to pretend like she didn't know what this was about.

Doran straightened up, his face breaking out in pain as he tried to hide it. Nymeria knew his gout was getting worse. It had been spread everywhere, even in the darkest corners of Shadow City. The bright dome of the tower and stained glass that encircled the room scattered the sunlight on the pale stone floor, an orange rug the only decoration that had lasted since the Rhoynar integration. Colors danced on the stone, the wide circular hall big enough to hold hundreds.

"Yes," He strained, shifting in his seat, "I have plans for you."

Nymeria tensed. She did not like the sound of that. If his treatment of Arianne was any indication, she was next. And this meant that this would be her last days in Sunspear. Her last days with Obara and Tyene and Arianne. Her last days as a Martell.

He cleared his throat, leaning forward slightly, "I'm sending you North. I had discussed it with Lord Stark and he is more than willing to accommodate you."

"You're what?" Nymeria snarled, stomach knotting up at the thought of living in that winter wasteland.

Doran didn't answer her.

"I won't do it," She promised, gritting her teeth and tilting her chin upward, "I won't go and live with those savages. Especially after what they did to Mother. I won't, you can't make me."

"I can and you will," Doran shut her down, "And they did not kill your mother,"

"No, but they helped." Nymeria snapped, her temper spilling forth, patience wearing thin, "They started the war, they were the reason Lannister turned, and Lord Stark's best friend gave the order to murder her and my half-siblings, so don't you—"

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" Doran bellowed, jumping to his feet, anger blazing in his eyes as he stared down his niece. Nymeria stumbled back, having never seen him like this before, "I ordered you north, and north you shall go."

"You ordered me?" She scoffed out, voice thick as she spun the words in her mouth. She watched as he gently lowered himself in his wheelchair, his seat now empty. He looked less imposing. And suddenly Nymeria was struck with a realization.

Arianne was right.

Doran was weak.

Not just physically. And they couldn't let themselves be pushed around anymore.

"Don't I at least get an explanation?" She asked, her temper still raging, face growing hot. Doran didn't answer and Nymeria huffed, "If you're sending me to the other side of the continent I at least deserve to know why," She spoke through gritted teeth, crossing her arms, "You owe me that."

"No, I don't." Doran responded sharply, his gaze withering, "I am your Prince and you will do as I say, now go pack, your ship is waiting."

Nymeria let out a frustrated yell, storming out in a way all too reminiscent of Arianne earlier.

OBERYN MARTELL

He didn't miss the blur of yellow and black that moved past him as he entered the Tower behind her, Doran hanging his head in his palm as the doors shut behind their niece.

He resisted the urge to smirk. Nymeria and Arianne were just like him and Doran in their youth, believing they knew better than the adults that ruled them.

Oberyn knew that Nymeria was more fearful than angry. She had never left Sunspear. Never left Dorne. Doran had treated her just like he had treated her mother. Hiding her away and refusing suitors until the right one came along.

It was his behavior that had caused Elia to marry the Dragon Prince in the first place. She would have been happy with Ser Arthur. She would have been happy anywhere except the capital, but Doran couldn't get his head far enough out of his ass, and the Martells had been paying for it ever since.

Oberyn loved his brother, truly, but his plans had yet to come to fruition, and now here he was, hiding them again from the family he loved.

"Let me guess," Oberyn smirked, letting his emotions free, "Ruling is easier than daughters and nieces?"

Doran's eyes locked with his brother's, the grey lining his once dark mane becoming more pronounced underneath the dornish sun. "I don't know how you do it brother," Doran admitted, sighing as he let his hand fall to his side, "I can barely handle two of them, let alone eight."

Oberyn shrugged, his eyes scanning the bright fashion decorating the abandoned Tower of the Sun. He imagined it filled with thousands of people, their own vassal houses bowing before them like in the days of Queen Nymeria.

"You should be lucky none of them want to rule," Oberyn teased, trying to imagine Obara or Tyene sitting on the illuminated chairs. He switched his gaze to Doran, who was now being lead down the stairs by Maester Caleotte, trying to hide his pain. Oberyn strode by his side, following his brother outside toward the docks, where Nymeria was waiting to board The Mother Rhoyne and sail to Winterfell.

"She is the only thing we have left of our sister," Oberyn breached the topic carefully, knowing how hot-blooded Doran could get when he was questioned, "And you are sending her away to rot among those who started the war that got Elia killed."

Doran stopped at the outer wall, the balcony giving him a perfect view of the carrack that was headed North. Areo Hotah stood at attention, intimidating the crew into loading the trunks and horses faster.

The guard was loyal to House Martell, and it was unbelievable that Doran was letting him out of his sight, let alone sending him almost three thousand miles away.

Doran waved the Maester away, and when Caleotte was gone, he turned toward Oberyn, "We need more allies than the Targaryens if we want to avenge her," He spoke clearly, still believing in his plan, "Arianne will secure our place in the capital, but we need more. We need weaknesses." Doran's hand gripped the arm of his wheelchair tighter, eyes never leaving the horizon, "Jon Arryn is dead and Robert Baratheon is headed north, alongside his lady wife."

Oberyn bristled at the thought of the Lady Lannister. He had almost been unlucky enough to be her husband instead of the fat oaf.

He still recalled the insult paid to Elia that day. Tywin Lannister's offer of a dwarf as a husband to his beautiful sister.

It made his blood boil whenever he thought about it, and Oberyn often wondered if Tywin had been thinking of that day when he gave the order to rape and murder Elia and her children.

"You think he plans to name Eddard Stark hand of the king," Oberyn focused back on the conversation at hand, blood still boiling.

Doran nodded his head, "I know it. And if Nymeria can not only report back about the King and Queen but gain the North's sympathy, then perhaps we may have Wolves and Dragons on our side."

Oberyn watched the small figure of his niece board the ship, the last of the crew loading the last of her belongings into the carrack. "They will tear her apart," Oberyn spoke freely, taking a chance with his statement, "A daughter of Dorne does not belong among wolves and lions. She will suffer the same fate Elia did in court."

Doran shook his head, "Nymeria is not her mother."

Silence fell over the two brothers as they watched the ramp disappear, the ship beginning to sail away.

The sound of rustling paper was heard and Oberyn turned to find a scroll shoved in his face. "What's this?" He asked, recognizing the sigil from his days studying in Oldtown, wondering what the Maesters could be worrying about now.

"This is an order," Doran announced, his eyes meeting Oberyn's, "I need you to head to Oldtown. There are several scrolls and books I need you to consult."

Oberyn froze, his blood boiling again. "No." He spat, "I won't do that to her."

Doran's disapproval would shake the strongest men, but Oberyn had been on the receiving end of it for years. Nothing would compel him to dig that up. Not after what had happened.

She didn't deserve it. It was an insult to her. Surely his brother recognized that?

Oberyn tried to meet Doran's eyes once more. When his brother refused, Oberyn resigned himself to the awful truth.

Doran's plan was simply more important.

"When do I leave?" He asked, trying to keep his temper from getting the best of him. It was a dangerous endeavor. One that shamed not only his sister, but their whole house.

Doran still refused to look at him, "Tonight."