The sun is shining bright, the wind is howling in the sails, the wood is creaking underfoot, as soft waves hit against 'Brightstar' in the portside.

'Fine weather' - your father says.

And he is bloody right, though he soon regretted those words.

Ah, Dorne, even if many see it as just a barren desert with Sunspear stuck into it somewhere, to you and Baelor it isn't, it is the home of your grandmother, the home of house Nymeros-Martell, the fiercest and most resilient of families in all of Westeros! And it is... beautiful. Well, when you're not getting scorched alive by the sun, that is.

Which, fortunately for you, you aren't.

While in Dorne, when 'Brightstar' still stood in the harbor of Sunspear, waiting to sail back home north to the capital, you - the child of prince Baelor Breakspear -, have come up with a 'wonderful' idea... you wish to go for a swim. And not in the Water Gardens, no, a proper swim, in the sea. On your father's interjection on possible sharks, you quipped with 'There is no sharks in Dorne.', which, to Baelor's annoyance was confirmed by his cousin Prince Arlan Martell, and your mind was set.

So, dragged off back to 'Brightstar', standing on deck, watching you splash around in the bottomless pit of the blue Summer Sea waters, your father... well, he is slightly concerned.

'No sharks,' - Baelor keeps reminding himself, still doesn't mean that swimming in open sea is a good idea, even if just by the ship. Ah, of course you would come up with it, you, possibly the most troublesome of his children, certainly with a full-Dornish attitude.

"Are you done splashing there, you siren?" - Breakspear leans on the edge of the board, watching you, not letting his eyes drift for a second. He knows your answer is going to be 'no', and, honestly, if something happens and you will force him to dive there to save you, it's your ass on the line.

But... even Baelor couldn't deny that it does seem so... comfortingly liberating down there.