In Two Months, He Did What I Had Planned to Prepare for a Lifetime

Water Gardens.

There was no smoke of war here, only the fragrance of blood oranges and the laughter of children at play.

Pink marble paved the ground, while water lilies floated in the clear pools.

Sunlight filtered through gaps in the leaves, scattering mottled patterns below.

Doran Martell sat in his wheelchair.

His legs were covered by a thick blanket, though Dorne's weather was not cold at the moment.

Gout was like an invisible venomous insect, constantly gnawing at his joints.

The swelling, heat, and searing pain turned every slight movement into torture.

Yet none of it showed on his face.

He silently watched the children playing by the pool, his gaze somewhat clouded, like a pool of stagnant water.

Arianne Martell stood before him.

She wore a silk robe, thin and breathable. Though only thirteen, her figure had already begun to reveal seductive, full curves.

She held a letter in her hand.

The paper was somewhat wrinkled, bearing traces of sweat that had soaked into it and dried.

It was a letter written personally by Oberyn Martell.

An urgent letter sent back from the Stormlands.

"Read it."

Doran Martell's voice was soft, as though even speaking might tug at the pain in his joints.

The corners of Arianne Martell's mouth curled into an almost imperceptible smile.

She unfolded the letter and cleared her throat.

She had already read the letter once.

Every word in it filled her with an inexplicable excitement.

That excitement came not only from the letter's contents, but from the expression she was about to see on her father's face.

She desperately wanted to see this weak old man, who always pretended to be unruffled and lifeless, reveal a look of panic.

"Dear brother."

Arianne Martell's voice was crisp and pleasant, with a hint of provocation.