When the merchant ship docked, its hull struck the pier with a dull thud.
Oberyn Martell was the first to set foot on Valyrian soil, his olive cloak stirring gently in the sea breeze. He narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the legendary island. This was his first time here.
"Livelier than I imagined," he said.
More than a dozen people disembarked behind him. Ellaria Sand walked at his side, her hair tied back. Her dark gauze gown was well tailored, flattering her figure without sacrificing dignity.
Her eyes swept over the guards on the pier, the Unsullied. They stood ramrod straight, their expressions unsettlingly stern.
Behind them came three young women.
Nymeria Sand's wheat-colored skin glowed with health in the sunlight, and two daggers hung at her waist. Tyene Sand walked with light, measured steps, a gentle smile on her face. She had the fairest skin, and her eyes constantly studied the goods and banners on the pier. Obara Sand was the oldest and tallest, with clearly defined muscles on her dark, toned arms. She held a Dornish spear.
The last to disembark was a man wearing a chain, though it was not a slave's shackle but the necklace of a Westerosi maester. He was Archmaester Marwyn, who had left the Citadel long ago. Avoiding the Citadel's pursuit along the way had cost him considerable time.
He had met the Dornish party in Lys. Since he already knew Oberyn, they had traveled together. This was not Marwyn's first visit to Valyria, but setting foot on this land again felt entirely different from before.
"Archmaester, don't fall behind," Oberyn called back to him. "The guards here don't look like the sort to tolerate wandering."
An Unsullied captain stepped forward, his voice devoid of emotion. "Prince Oberyn Martell."
"That's me." Oberyn