The Dornish sun beat mercilessly upon the gathering as Queen Daenora the first of her name dismounted her silver mare. Her golden-black armor gleamed in the harsh light, though she had removed her helm, letting her long silver hair spill freely. She had come under the peace banner, her banners of the three-headed dragon of her house flying high alongside the spears of the Dornishmen.

The Dornish lords waited at the foot of a sandstone hill, their faces inscrutable, their colors muted against the dusty landscape. Daenora’s lilac eyes swept over them, lingering on the supposed leader of this rebellion. She had spent months quelling their resistance, breaking their fortresses and scattering their armies. Now, at last, they had sent word of surrender.

Her voice rang clear as she addressed them, "I come here as your queen, not your conqueror. Bend the knee, and I shall grant you the same mercy I offered Sunspear. Dorne will have its peace, under the crown of the Seven Kingdoms. I offer to end this bloodshed."