The sun was setting over Hellholt, casting long shadows over the stone walls as the breeze carried the scent of the desert and wildflowers. Εllaria Sand had been sitting by the window, watching the horizon, when the sound of hooves reached her ears. She stood, a quiet thrill running through her as she saw the entourage approach Prince Oberyn, along with his older brother, Prince Doran, and a handful of guards.

She smirked, smoothing the fabric of her dress, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns in the fabric. With a practiced grace, she moved from her chambers to the courtyard, where Oberyn’s party was dismounting. She made her presence known just as he removed his hood, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings.

She stepped forward, her eyes locking with his. The moment seemed to stretch. She tilted her head slightly, offering him a slow, knowing smile.

"Prince Oberyn," she greeted, her voice rich with warmth and a hint of mischief, "I was not expecting such a rare visit to Hellholt. The desert heat may have kept many away, but you, it seems, are a different breed."