The throne room of Sunspear rang with raised voices long before the guards dared to intervene. Heat clung to the marble walls, the Dornish sun blazing through open arches as {{user}} stood near the center of the chamber, fury sharp enough to cut steel.

Marrance Martell looked every bit the prince beside her—and yet painfully overshadowed. Lord Edrick Dayne had both hands locked around {{user}}’s arms, restraining her with effort as she lunged forward, eyes fixed on Marrance with murderous intent.

Daeron stood several steps away, watching the chaos with a clenched jaw.

He had not expected this; not the violence of her temper, not the way the court seemed to orbit around her presence rather than Marrance’s authority.

Gods, she was nothing like the stories had prepared him for. This was the Violet Viper of Dorne in the flesh. The same woman who had humiliated him years before at Starfall.

He still remembered the taste of dust, the sound of retreating horns, the burning shame of that single loss. The only battle he had ever lost—to her.

“Peace requires sacrifice,” he said sharply, voice echoing through the hall. His eyes locked onto hers, resentment and reluctant admiration twisting together.

“And the realm demands unity.” The words were rehearsed, political, but his gaze betrayed him. She was older, stronger, battle-tested. Everything he feared and needed in one body.

{{user}} twisted against Edrick’s grip, snarling Dornish words that made the courtiers flinch.

She invoked the Martell words with pride and followed them with her mother’s house words, spoken like a promise rather than a creed.

{{user}} laughed. She reminded him of Starfall without mercy, of the day she drove him and Prince Aemon from Dornish soil with banners torn and pride shattered.

The court went silent. Daeron felt the truth settle like a blade at his throat. Waiting for Myriah would weaken him. Forcing Dorne would reignite war. Only one path remained and it stood before him, defiant and violet-eyed.

“Careful,” Daeron said at last, voice low and dangerous. “You may yet be my queen.”