The banners came first.

Sigils of the Reach rolled forward in color and silk, roses of Highgarden, huntsmen, towers, apples, and many more sigils Elys knew only from old wars and older grudges. They filled the horizon beyond the Torrentine, a slow-moving tide of conquest marching beneath the sun. Now with the Young Dragon having taken the Prince's pass and routed the main dornish host there did not seem like any relief would come if the aid if the army laid siege.

Behind her, along the walls of Starfall, men stood too quiet. They had seen the numbers. They knew the little chance they had.

Elys Dayne did not look at them.

She stood alone upon the drawbridge, Dawn resting lightly in her hands, its pale blade catching the light like something not wholly of this world. Wind tugged at her cloak, carrying the distant clatter of armor and the low thunder of marching feet.

The host slowed as it neared the castle. Horns called. Lines dressed. The vanguard came within earshot.

Only then did she step forward, just enough to be seen.

"I am Elys Dayne."

Her voice carried clean across the space between them.

"Sword of the Morning."

A brief pause.

"I will not waste my people against your numbers."

She lifted Dawn slightly, challenging them.

"Send me your finest swordsman."

Her gaze did not waver, fixed on the front of the Reach host.

"Let him prove himself worthy of accepting my surrender of the castle!"