Chapter 1

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Rosaerys in image 



"Messenger Daemon, from Dorne. What a pleasure to have you here all the way from Westeros." Queen Rosaerys was a visual beauty, as she sat among the large throne room. She was a woman of age now, it being nearly 16 years since her father's death. She was the splitting image of him, her eyes had soon darkened to a vivid indigo, and her cheekbones jutting from her face but it was her hair that captivated them all. It shined silver in some lights, and gold in others; and hung in long tendrils to her waist, curling gently at the tips. Her handmaidens always braided it in an intricate fashion around the back of her head, causing the angles of her face to become more prominent. 

Her aunt Daenerys, despite being younger than she, was just as striking. More softer around the face, yet still holding a look of Targaryen danger to it. They were two ancient Queens in an age not ready for their return. 

"Forgive me, your Grace; I understand it is a bad time but a letter has arrived from Westeros and I'm sure you must be interested." Rosaerys raised a brow at the quibbling man in front of her, the small enveloped parchment held delicately between his clenched fingers.




"Come forward, let me see it." Her voice was soft, echoing through the halls surrounded by guards and followers. The young Targaryen was one of the last of her name, the only other survivor being Daenerys. Delicate crowns sat on both of their heads as they were willing to listen to the whims and desires of those around them, a intricate throne housing the two Targaryen girls. 

The parchment now lay in her hands, and with a quick slip of her finger, the wax seal broke. 

"It has no stamping." It was clear for him to hear, as she turned her eyes between the letter and the interceptor. 




"No, your Grace-" Before he could finish, she cut him off. 




"Then how am I to know whether this is a folly letter?" The man seemed to blunder for a moment, her hand raised to stop the guards for a moment. 




"That's why it is so important, House Martell is wishing to communicate but they understand that in doing so they anger the Crown. The Martell's do not wish this, instead they want to strike when they are least expecting." 

This caught Rosaerys attention, her back straightened as her eyes peered down at the man. Her mother had been a Martell, and she loved that women so dearly. A flash of pain ran through her eyes before quickly smoldering it, this was not a time that she wanted to remember. 




"And how do I know that I can trust these Martell's, they are part of the Seven Kingdoms, are they not? They have a place among the small council. Just because they are Martell's, does not mean I should trust them." 




"Please pardon my rude tone, I don't mean to offend. But the letter will explain most of this." Rose nodded before gently pulling it out and unfolding, reading the cursive Valyrian. 

'My future Queen, 

I must introduce myself, I am Prince Oberyn of House Martell, the younger brother of Doran, and the closest of all of Elia's siblings. It has taken me decades to find you, and now that I have, it has come to light that now is the best time to do so. The Usurper Joffrey is sat on the Iron Throne, and it won't be long before his engagement to the Tyrell line is finally carried through, and more bastards babes will be created to carry on this line. 

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