Game of Thrones: Lord of the Flames

The Water Gardens lay three miles west of Sunspear, nestled along the shoreline. This private estate belonged to House Martell and was built as a retreat for Princess Daenerys, who was married to a Martell prince over a century ago to ensure Dorne's submission to the Iron Throne.

The salty sea breeze carried the crispness of autumn, cooling the heat of the glaring sun.

Samwell strolled through the gardens, observing the blood-orange trees casting dappled shadows that formed intricate patterns on the marble flooring.

Passing through an elegant archway, he stopped by a fountain. Scattered across the ground were an assortment of toys, remnants of children's laughter and playful splashes that seemed to linger in the air.

"Your Grace, Trystane Martell has been brought here," a guard announced.

Samwell turned around to see a boy of about thirteen or fourteen being led forward.

The boy had olive skin and straight black hair, his gaze soft and submissive. He bore a striking resemblance to Prince Doran.

Prince Doran Martell had three children. His eldest daughter, Arianne, was dead—killed in the chaos at Yronwood. His second son, Quentyn, perished in Slaver's Bay, burned to ash in his failed attempt to tame a dragon. This left the youngest, Trystane, as the first in line to inherit Sunspear.

As Oberyn "the Red Viper" Martell had no legitimate heirs, leaving behind only a host of illegitimate daughters, Trystane also carried the last vestiges of House Martell's main bloodline.

Despite their diminished influence due to recent years of strife, House Martell remained a powerful symbol. Their reputation might be battered, but their historical weight still loomed large over Dorne. To consolidate his rule over Dorne, Samwell knew he couldn't ignore their legacy.

Initially, Samwell had planned to use the bastard of House Yronwood as a vengeful proxy to eliminate the remaining Martells, avoiding the blame falling on him.

But that bastard had proven useless, routed by the Golden Company and unable even to approach Sunspear.

Now, Samwell had to clean up the mess himself.

Without a scapegoat, dealing with the Martells became far trickier.

"Your Grace," Trystane ventured cautiously, "you're not going to kill me, are you?"

Samwell raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I would?"

"I don't believe you will," Trystane replied, summoning his courage.

"And why not?" Samwell asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Because," Trystane said, mustering all his bravery, "a true king must embody mercy and forgiveness. Only then will more people surrender and swear fealty to you in the future."

Samwell's face turned cold. "Mercy isn't unconditional, nor indiscriminate. Your father lured me into a false alliance to assassinate me. Your sister feigned surrender only to poison my drink. Treachery flows in the veins of House Martell. Who's to say you won't one day stab me in the back?"

Trystane turned pale but clenched his teeth and answered, "Precisely because of this, you should show mercy."

"Oh?"

"If the noble lords of the Seven Kingdoms see that you can even forgive the Martells after their repeated betrayals, they will have no reason to doubt your fairness when they choose to surrender to you."

Samwell laughed heartily. "A good answer. Did you come up with that yourself, or did someone teach you?"

Trystane glanced behind him and admitted, "Lady Ellaria Sand taught me."

Following his gaze, Samwell saw Ellaria Sand, Oberyn Martell's paramour, observing from a distance.

Samwell had encountered her before during his time in King's Landing. She was still as striking as he remembered.

"Bring her here," Samwell ordered.

"Yes, Your Grace."

The guard quickly fetched Ellaria, who approached with a respectful greeting.

"Your Grace," she began sincerely, "I implore you to show mercy to House Martell. Not for our sake, but to help you better govern Dorne."

Samwell smiled faintly. "You don't seek vengeance for Oberyn Martell?"

Ellaria slowly shook her head.

"Whether you believe me or not, I've never wanted vengeance for Oberyn," she said. "You killed him in a fair duel on the battlefield. That's the most honorable death a warrior could ask for.

"Vengeance has never solved anything; it only breeds more hatred and bloodshed.

"Doran gave his life seeking revenge for his brother. Arianne caused countless deaths in her pursuit of vengeance for their father.

"Dorne has seen enough blood spilled. Since the Conquest, we've never endured so much death and devastation.

"The people of Dorne now crave peace. They want food on their tables and the assurance that they won't be dragged onto a battlefield for some noble's grudge.

"Your Grace, you've witnessed Dorne's exhaustion firsthand. The people are willing to submit to you, but only if you show mercy and give them hope."

Samwell studied the pair in silence for a long moment.

So long, in fact, that Ellaria and Trystane began to fear he would refuse their plea.

"I can forgive House Martell," Samwell finally said.

"Thank you, Your Grace!" The two bowed deeply, their faces bright with relief.

"But," Samwell added, "you must also pay for your past actions.

"First, House Martell will no longer bear the titles of Prince or Princess. You are demoted to the rank of Earl.

(Baron->Viscount->Earl->Duke)

"Second, House Martell's lands will be limited to Sunspear alone. The surrounding villages will be redistributed to other houses.

"Finally, Trystane will become my ward and accompany me back to Storm's End."

Trystane looked helplessly to Ellaria for guidance.

Ellaria sighed inwardly. She understood the harshness of these terms. Accepting them would reduce House Martell from rulers of Dorne to minor nobility, forever under Caesar's scrutiny and unlikely to rise again.

Yet, harsh as these terms were, she also knew they had no leverage to refuse. House Martell had no bargaining chips left.

Ellaria sighed again and asked, "If House Martell is reduced to a countship, who will rule Dorne?"

"Nathalie Dayne," Samwell replied. "When she arrives in Sunspear, you will join the other Dornish lords in swearing fealty to her."

At least Dayne was a Dornish noble, Ellaria thought to console herself.

"Understood, Your Grace. Thank you for your mercy."

Trystane reluctantly followed her lead, bowing to accept the terms.

Then, as if remembering something, he asked, "Your Grace, will I still be able to marry Princess Myrcella Baratheon? We're betrothed."

Samwell gave him an amused look. "The Lannisters stole Myrcella away. That engagement is void. But don't worry—I'll arrange a match fitting your new status."

I still want to marry Myrcella, Trystane thought but didn't dare voice.

"Yes, Your Grace. I will obey your arrangements," he said instead.

(End of Chapter)