Arianne crossed the Water Gardens and reached the courtyard gallery where Doran sat, carrying a bottle of Summerwine and two cups.
Doran sat in his chair with the stack of battle reports spread across his knees. He looked up as his daughter approached.
Today, she wore a striking shade of lipstick, vivid as the midday sun.
Arianne sat across from him at the stone table, set down the cups, and filled them.
She did not speak at once. Instead, she raised her cup, took a sip, and set it down.
"Father," Arianne said softly, "I hear you've received fresh news from the north."
Doran nodded.
Arianne fell silent for a moment before speaking. "All of Westeros is opposing Targaryen now. The Westerlands, the North, the Vale, the Reach-they all stand against him."
"He has already occupied the Stormlands, the Riverlands, the Crownlands, and even the Westerlands, but what of it?"
"He only managed that because his sudden return to Westeros caught the Seven Kingdoms off guard. Now they've come to their senses, set aside their differences, and united. They won't give him another chance to defeat them one by one."
"He now faces the combined might of the Seven Kingdoms. Are we really going to side with him at a time like this?"
Doran looked at her without answering directly.
He picked up the stack of battle reports, weighed it in his hand, then returned it to his lap.
"He has fought nine battles and won all nine," Doran said. "From across the Narrow Sea all the way to Lannisport, he has not suffered a single defeat."
"He destroyed Stannis in the Battle of the Gullet, took King's Landing in a day, routed Robb Stark at the Trident, and drove the Lannisters from the Westerlands like a beaten dog."
"A