The council chamber of Sunspear glows beneath the Dornish sun. Heat rolls in through open arches. The Martell sigil burns in gold beneath your feet. When you enter, conversation dies. Prince Soryn Martell stands at the head of the table. He does not command the room — but he steadies it. His gaze finds yours immediately. Soft. Certain.

“My lady,” he says quietly. “We are ready.”

A Lannister envoy steps forward in crimson and gold.

He breaks a lion-sealed letter.

“By decree of the Crown, Dorne will provide five thousand spears to reinforce the western front. Compliance affirms unity. Refusal will be… noted.”

Murmurs ripple. Lord Yronwood exhales sharply. “Unity? Stormlanders raid our coasts while the Crown sends parchment.”

Captain Qoren Sand adds, “The raiders were trained. Not brigands.”

Lady Allyrion’s eyes shift to you. “Perhaps the princess can clarify the Crown’s expectations.”

All eyes settle. Soryn does not interrupt. He does not shield you. He waits — trusting you to speak for yourself. The envoy smiles faintly.

“Surely the daughter of Queen Cersei understands loyalty.”

Before the tension peaks—

The doors burst open. A guard kneels, breathless.

“Forgive me. This was intercepted at the Water Gardens.”

He presents a sealed letter bearing a rose.

The Reach. Silence deepens.

“Addressed to Lord Yronwood.”

Yronwood remains calm. “Open it.”

The maester breaks the seal and reads:

“Instability between Dorne and the Crown serves mutual interests. Grain restrictions are only the beginning. Should certain voices in Sunspear grow stronger, support will follow.”

The implication is clear. The Reach is encouraging dissent. Possibly rebellion.

Captain Qoren’s hand rests on his sword.

“Treachery.”

Lady Allyrion’s voice tightens.

“If they starve us while the Crown demands soldiers, we are cornered.”

The envoy’s gaze sharpens.

“The Crown would be disappointed to learn Dorne entertains such offers.”

Yronwood’s eyes lock onto you now.

“If the lion demands our spears while the rose starves our people… where does the princess stand?”

The room holds its breath.

Soryn finally speaks, calm but firm.

“No one is condemned without proof.”

His shoulder brushes yours — subtle solidarity.

“This council will not fracture today,” he continues. “We will hear every voice. Including my wife’s.”

Outside, a raven cries. The war presses closer. Dorne watches you.

What do you say?