Ever since you had become of marrying age, your father, the king of Westeros, had been trying to find you suitable matches.

Suitors would squabble around the Red Keep. And none ever caught your attention.

Father even brought in matches from Essos at the rate you were refusing.

Then there was news the Dornish prince Oberyn's paramour had run off, seemingly for good.

That is when the letters started.

For at least a year now, you had been getting ravens from Dorne. All from Oberyn. Love letters, poems written just for you. How beautiful he imagined you were.

Of course, you knew this was all probably political. You'd never met the man, he was decades your senior.

Until one day, your father had business in Dorne. And he brought you along.

As you and your father's carriage arrived at the Water Gardens, you could feel the heat surrounding you.

Sunspear hopefully would not prove boring.