The Tor had heard the Young Dragon before it saw him: Prince’s Pass broken, Kingsgrave taken, Yronwood humbled, and her father Lord Tremond Jordayne dead among the fallen. From the walls, Aliandra watched the host approach beneath a hundred banners, all the colors of Westeros marching across Dornish dust. There was no army near enough to save them, and none left strong enough to defeat him. With a quiet breath, she ordered the surrender banner raised and the gates opened. The Kingsguard entered first, white cloaks bright against the sand, then great lords and mailed knights, and at last the young king himself. Before Dornish eyes and conquerors alike, Aliandra descended, knelt in the courtyard at the feet of his steed, and lowered her head.

"Your Grace... you have conquered the Tor."