Chapter 2: Remembrance and Revenge

Rhevan did not want to be here.

Had he been given a choice he would have never returned. But unfortunately for him, that was not the case.

The choice taken out of his hands, by both the High Lords of Dorne that chose him to be their Prince. And by his Dreams.

Dragon Dreams.

That is what they were called according to the woman he met in Essos during his adventure in the East.

Dragon Dreams are special dreams that are known to have a premonition-like quality to them. They affect those with the blood of the dragon. They often involve dragons but not always.

He has been plagued by these dreams his entire life.

Often starting out a vague vision of something to come, often too obscure for him to make out. Then as the more time passes they continue every night over and over again. Increasing in both clarity and intensity. So much so that it would often get to the point where he would wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night.

They didn't stop until he did whatever it was that the dreams wanted him to accomplish.

It was those dreams that led him to Essos in the first place. They were also the reason he returned home when he did.

Now it is his dreams, along with his new subjects, that have made him return to this grim place that holds too many memories to count.

From the moment Rhevan saw the large dark castle of Dragonstone, from the deck of the ship they had taken there, his mind was lost.

Lost in memories of a different time.

A better time.

A time when smiles came as easy as breathing. A time when there were no onerous responsibilities weighing so heavily upon him it felt as though he were going to be crushed into a fine paste. A time when the hardest task he had was to try and stomach his greens because Uncle Arthur said it was how he grew so strong.

A time when everyone he loved was still alive.

Lost in remembrance, he was simply going through the motions as the ship hands prepared the small row boat that would take them to the beachfront.

The very same beachfront that he spent countless hours playing as a child. Playing Tag or Knights and Bandits or Florian and Jonquil or any other fun games that came to their minds. Making sand castles and swimming in the shallow shore waters with the other local children and his best friend Rhae.

Rhaenys.

The Naerys to his Dragonknight as their mothers would often refer to them.

His eyes nearly tear up, as they always do, at just the thought of her.

Born only moons apart, they were inseparable from the moment they met as babes.

One of the earliest memories he can recall is of her naming him her sworn sword.

He can't hold back the somber amusement he feels as he remembers the amount of childish pride he took in his new appointment. He would shadow her everywhere she went, wooden play sword at his hip, taking his job as seriously as a child of 3 namedays can.

He failed her.

He'll never forget the day he got news of her and her family's tragic demise.

The unimaginable anguish he felt in that moment was soul crushing. To this day he still feels a sharp pain in his heart at the thought of it.

Even now, a man grown, he can't help but think that had he been there he could have done something. Foolish he knows, he was only 5 at the time having just recently celebrated his name day in Starfall.

When his mother found out she was pregnant it gave Elia the perfect excuse to dismiss her best friend from court. Hoping to spare them both from the glorified imprisonment that she and her children were forced to suffer under by Aerys.

If they had stayed, he would have protected her from that fucking monster Amory Lorch.

Maybe he would have fought the sick fuck, jamming his training sword into Lorch's throat so hard it crushed his windpipe. Maybe he would have snuck up on him from behind and slit his throat. Maybe he would have taken her into one of the secret passages and they could have hid there until someone saved them. Maybe he would have taken her place, get stabbed half a hundred times while she flees to safety.

Or more likely she'd be the one slitting Lorch's throat from behind. She wouldn't have fled. She was far too brave to even think about doing something as cowardly as that.

"I'm a dragon Rhevy, a dornish dragon, I fear nothing." She once told him when he asked if she was scared to climb the tallest tree in the Godswood of the Red Keep. She then proceeded to climb to not looking down once until she reached a low branch sturdy enough for her to sit on. The look of triumph and challenge that burned in her dark indigo eyes is one still ingrained in his memory to this day.

He climbed up right after her, not wanting to be shown up by the young princess he was supposed to be protecting. They spent the rest of the day hiding up there talking about everything and nothing.

Of course when it was time to go inside they had a bit of a problem getting down, the ground feeling as if it was miles away to their young minds. He was hesitant, not wanting to get hurt or worse. She was as well, but only for a short moment before she stubbornly glared at the ground below and prepared for the journey down. Luckily, Ser Jaime wasn't far away, he was guarding her that day. He got them down from the tree with ease and more importantly he didn't tell their mothers about it.

Yes, she was far too proud to run away and leave him to die alone. She would have stood shoulder to shoulder with him and they would have killed the bastard. Then they would have gone to her mother's room and saved Elia and Egg from that monster.

But that wasn't the case.

He wasn't there.

He was missing in action when her killer broke down her father's door.

He was absent when she was dragged from under Rhaegar's bed.

He was nowhere to be found as she was stabbed over and over and over again.

He was safe in Dorne when she needed her sworn sword most.

He would give his life a million times over, spend the rest of eternity burning in the hottest pits of the seven hells, if it meant she could breath once more.

He would give anything, do anything, if it meant he could go back in time and be there for her in the moment she needed him most.

To give her a chance to live.

To experience life.

But no.

That was now impossible, all because of the actions of one disgusting creature.

A creature he killed.

Killing Lorch was one of the most satisfying things he'd ever done.

The shock on his face when he recognized who had abducted him and the reason for it.

Watching the terror in his eyes when he realized what his fate was.

Hearing him scream in agony until his voice was lost while his skin was peeled from his body was music to The Mourning Star's ears.

While normally Rhevan wouldn't consider himself a sadistic person. He was never one to feel pleasure in the pain of others. Usually feeling more detached than anything else when takes someone's life.

This was different.

This was retribution.

This was justice.

This was revenge.

It felt amazing to rid the world of that demon.

It felt euphoric to see the light leave his eyes and know that freak that killed his best friend had suffered a gruesome end at his hands.

But the euphoria didn't last long.

Because at the end of the day, she was still gone. And nothing would bring her back.

He'd never hear her laugh or see her smile or listen to her go on and on about whatever kind of mischief she and Belarion got up to while he was practicing in the training yard ever again.

Killing Lorch didn't change that.

The temporary bliss couldn't heal the crushing pain in his heart that had been there since the moment his mother told him of Rhae's fate.

A debilitating hole in his soul that has never been filled and likely never will be.

He would have remained lost in his sorrowful depressing memories had his shoulder not been hit lightly by a hand to his left.

Looking to the left he sees Daemon looking at him with a concerned expression.

Rhevan ignores it and looks forward only to be slightly surprised to see the shiny bald head of Varys bowed low right in front of him.

So lost in old pain he didn't even notice them getting on the small row boat. Let alone getting to shore and departing.

Gathering his barings and mentally preparing himself what comes next, he takes a silent deep breath and looks at the spider's head, waiting for him to finish his little show of mock deference.

Once the spider looks up he stares right into his eyes. He can feel Varys' unease, a common emotion people have when they lock eyes with him. Though can get little else from the strong mind of the spymaster.

He knows of the powerful lure his gaze commands. It's something he got from his Mother. Only enhanced by the potent magic coursing through his veins courtesy of the Dragon's blood given to him by his Father.

The ability to feel someone's emotions, and in some cases even read their surface thoughts, with nothing more than a glance.

"Lead the way." he tells the spider before looking up at the grim castle once more.

He ignores whatever simpering words the spider says next in favor of looking at his two companions.

They know this place holds a lot of memories for him so they gave him his space and silence on their way to shore. Though he knows they are worried for him by the worry he saw in Dae's eyes a moment ago. No doubt if he were to look to Drey his expression would be similar.

"I'm fine. Let's keep moving, we have questions we need answers to." He says in a low tone so the spider doesn't hear him.

They begin to make their way up the many stairs leading to the main keep before Drey gets ready to speak but Varys speaks first.

"I'll admit, I'm curious about your sudden reappearance your grace." The spider begins. Rhevan just rolls his eyes at the spy's blatant attempt to fish for information.

"You know what they say about curiosity Lord Spider. Perhaps you should simply mind your business lest you end up like the cat." Daemon japes. That ever smug smile, that rubs nearly everyone he meets the wrong way, present on his handsome face.

Ser Daemon Sand has sky blue eyes and shoulder length sandy brown hair. Also known as The Bastard of Godgrace, he is the bastard son of Ser Ryon Allyrion. He is one of the finest knights in all of Dorne and also, a childhood friend of Rhevan.

Though they didn't get along when they first met in the Water Gardens years ago.

Rhevan being a young boy, nervous about being in a new place, still grieving over the loss of all his closest family in such a short amount of time. He was a shy sad child at the time he met Daemon and heard he was a bastard too. Hoping to make a new friend, he approached the older boy. Daemon, though only being a few years older than him, had thought him nothing but a baby and brushed him off calling him such while telling to go run back to his mother before making a joke about her being dead.

Rhevan was enraged by the cruel comments and started throwing punches at the older boy demanding he apologize. Daemon, who while surprised at first, recovered quickly and defended himself from the wild attacks with ease. Daemon had begun squiring for Oberyn Martell moons earlier and was more adept at fighting not to mention larger and stronger. Beating up a young Rhevan before walking away laughing. He thought it was over after putting the little brat in his place.

He was wrong, it was far from over.

Everyday from the moment he would see Daemon, Rhevan would immediately attack him. It didn't matter where, it didn't matter when. From the moment they made eye contact the brawling began. With Rhevan on the losing end every time. But he didn't care, he would get his apology and Daemon being the stubborn boy he was, and still is, he refused to do so. So it continued.

That was, until Rhevan began to win. He adapted to the way Daemon would fight him and started learning to read his movements. After his first win, leaving the older boy with a broken nose, he demanded the apology but the stubborn boy refused. Claiming Rhevan won by luck and that he'd never do so again.

He was wrong once again.

It was him who never won again. Day after day, Rhevan would find him and beat him up demanding an apology until the Bastard of Godsgrace finally gave in.

Rhevan forgave him easily and they had been friends ever since.

"Daemon please don't threaten one of the Dragon Queen's advisors. I'd rather you not get us in a situation we have to fight our way out of. Again." The exasperated voice of Andrey Dalt calls out, sounding as though this isn't the first time he has spoken these words to Daemon.

Drey is a comely man, short dark hair and dark brown eyes make up his face. He's the most serious of the trio. While he is a good fighter and knight, he'd rather avoid confrontation if possible. Preferring diplomacy over a blade. No doubt the influence of Doran Martell for whom he was a cupbearer in his youth.

Their journey to friendship much simpler. He and Rhevan have always been acquainted in their youth but never friends. Andrey admitted he was always a bit jealous of him because of how much attention Doran paid to him during his visits to the Water Gardens. Always wondering what it was about the arrogant Dayne bastard that intrigued the man he idolized so much.

They became friends in their later years when they were, coincidentally, studying at the Citadel at the same time. Kind of knowing each other from their youth and being the only Dornish men around their age there, they naturally gravitated to each other. Finding out they had a lot in common and that Rhevan wasn't as full of himself as he had first thought they became fast friends.

Andrey and Daemon knew each other longer but none would call what they had before a friendship. Daemon squired for Oberyn Martell and he and Drey were often in the same space. Unfortunately their personalities were too different and they clashed often. Daemon is cocky where Andrey is more humble. Andrey prefers to take things seriously while Dae loves his japes and is more laid back.

They only became friends when they both decided to go with Rhevan to Essos.

"Relax little Drey Drey I'm only messing with our dear arachnid here." He says with a big smile, using his childhood nickname for Andrey, making said man narrow his eyes. Dae walks closer to Varys and puts an arm over his shoulder.

"We are going to be allies soon, what's a few jokes between friends, right Lord Spider?" He continues cheekily to the man he is currently leaning against.

"You will learn everything you wish, when you hear me tell your queen Spider. I'd rather not have to repeat myself." Rhevan cuts in, speaking to Varys, before Drey can snipe back for that little drey drey comment. Knowing if he let them, they'd argue for the whole journey to the keep.

"Of course my prince I understand. But if you could just answer one question for me? Is it true that the sand snakes murdered their uncle and cousin?" Varys asks, looking uncomfortable. No doubt because of the increased tightness of Dae's grip on him as he finished asking his question.

"That is what I intend to find out, Lord Varys. Who better to learn the truth from then the accused themselves." Rhevan replies, words having a hard edge to them. He didn't want to believe the other Lords when they told him but they had proof.

Several maids and servants from the palace had gotten away when the sand snakes staged their coup.

They separated into seven small groups and traveled to the closest Lords around Sunspear in order to inform them of the betrayal. Only two of the groups made it to their destinations, the others no doubt hunted down and killed. One group made it to The Tor and spoke with Lord Trebor Jordayne. While the other made it to Lord Tremond Gargalen of Salt Shore.

When the Lords got the news they immediately sent out ravens to the rest of the Lords in Dorne and they planned a secret meeting in order to deal with this problem. They went to Sunspear with all their combined forces in order to confront the accused kinslayers but they weren't there. Having gone to Dragonstone to ally with the Dragon Queen. A few days after they arrived they met in the palace and decided, whether the accusations were true or not they would not follow a group of bastards regardless of their royal blood. That's when they began their discussions on who would rule Dorne next.

With House Yronwood being the second strongest house behind House Martell in terms of both wealth and military might and with Lord Anders being decently liked, he was the obvious choice. And he nearly won, had Rhevan not arrived when he did.

He had finally finished his business in Essos and was looking forward to seeing the Martells, including the Sand Snakes and Ellaria, again after years away. He planned on telling about everything he had seen and done. Also explain why he went missing for those 4 years. Imagine his surprise when he got to Sunspear and not only were the Martells dead but, the main culprit was their own family.

He had heard about Oberyn's death.

He was furious. Not just to lose a man he thought another Uncle to him, but to do so to the same monster that killed Elia and Egg.

He felt for Doran truly.

To lose both your brother and sister to the same rabid animal. That was devastating.

He could only imagine the pain Ellaria, and Oberyn's daughters were going through.

Apparently, enough pain to make them lose their minds and kill the last bit of family they had left.

He didn't want to believe it when the lords told him.

The sand snakes were like family to him. They all grew up together.

Played in the Waters Gardens as children.

Learned to fight together in the training yard in their adolescence.

Introduced each other to the pleasures of the flesh as they grew older.

To learn they killed their own uncle.

His Prince.

The man who didn't look down on him because of his heritage and treated him the same as he would any of his own blood.

The man that taught him so much about life.

The man took him out of Starfall after the death of his mother and brought him to the Water Gardens to be surrounded by love and laughter.

The man that taught him how to deal with the grief of losing everything he loved in such a short period of time.

Had it not been for Doran Martell taking pity on a young and angry bastard boy at his lowest, Rhevan would have died a long time ago.

And now that man is dead.

Him and his young son killed by their own family.

Allegedly.

Ellaria and her brood had better pray to whatever fucking gods they believe in that these claims are false.

Because if they are truly guilty of these crimes against his family.

He would have his revenge.

"So Lord Varys, my new friend, you are a eunuch yes? Tell me, do you still feel excitement when you see a large pair of tits? Do you get a tingle down there when you see a fat ass jiggling right in front of your eyes? Surely you've been to your share of brothels in your time in King's Landing, does that not get your blood flowing?" Daemon continues wiggling his eyebrows, messing with the Spider as they make their way up the seemingly endless stairs.

Rhevan and Drey make eye contact for a moment. Rhevan smirks amused at Daemon's games while Drey just sighs and rolls his eyes.

"I have yet to see any sign of a dragon. Perhaps the rumors are false, created by her people to spread fear in her enemies." Drey says quietly to Rhevan, as Dae keeps the Spider distracted.

"No, they are real. I can sense them. They are resting in the Dragonmont." Rhevan responds, he felt the dragons the moment his mind was pulled out of reminisce. They were large and powerful of that, he was sure.

Andrey lets out a sigh. "Of course they are real. Because nothing we do can ever be simple for us, can it." He bemoans, getting a chuckle out of his fearless leader.

"Simple is boring Drey. What's life without challenge?" Rhevan questions, smirking at Drey knowing what his response would be.

"You have been spending too much time with Daemon. You are starting to pick up his reckless habits." Drey predictably responds. Simply blaming Daemon just because. He continues speaking, though getting back on topic.

"I guess you were correct in your choice to leave Emperion behind in Dorne. His presence would have definitely caused more problems." Drey continues.

"Yeah. Emperion is as proud as they come. Had he came with us, I have no doubt he would already be at the Dragonmont puffing out his chest acting as though he was their superior and they should swear allegiance, or whatever the dragon equivalent is, to him. Even though he is younger and smaller than they are." Rhevan responds, smiling while thinking about his dragon. His partner was an arrogant little guy. Looking down upon everything and everyone except Rhevan himself since he hatched.

"Well hopefully we can come to an agreement with her grace and we won't have to worry about another Dance on our hands." Drey says, before quieting down, looking forward at the large castle they were closing in on.

"Hopefully my friend, hopefully."

When they finally reach the throne room Rhevan was not surprised to find it empty.

The Spider said that his Queen and her counsel were having a war meeting. Such a thing would be best done in The Chamber of the Painted Table. His thought proven correct by the presence of unsullied guards standing in front of the door that led into said room. Dothraki guards standing next to the throne itself. They rose to their feet once they noticed strangers coming inside the room.

"I will inform my queen of your arrival Prince Rhevan." The spider says simply before moving towards the large doors of the war room.

"So." Daemon begins, "You plan on bending the knee her Royal Highness?" Asking his question to Rhevan while walking towards the Dothraki with a smirk on his face, no doubt planning on antagonizing them.

"Leave them alone Dae. We don't need you starting any fights right now. Especially with the Dragon Queen right in the other room. It wouldn't make for a good first impression." Andrey tells his friend hoping to stop him from doing something foolish. He then proceeds to give his opinion on the matter.

"It would be a wise choice. The Dragon Queen holds the most cards. Unless she makes grievous mistakes in her planning of the war. She will no doubt sit on the Iron Throne soon." This was a conversation they had many times on the boat on the way to Dragonstone. Drey wanted them to join her, while Dae was more reluctant.

"I still don't think it's a good idea. I mean those Northern barbarians got their independence, why shouldn't we have ours? The only reason Dorne even joined the seven kingdoms in the first place was because we choose to. Dragons couldn't make us bow before, why should we do so now?" Daemon gives his usual answer. He wanted Rhevan to name himself High King of Dorne and just rule the south, without having to follow anyone else.

"I don't know." Rhevan begins, answering Daemon's original question before continuing.

"The reason most of the Dornish lords had no problem with Ellaria and her brood taking over was because they were promised revenge on those that wronged them. A promise I told them I would follow through with. Fighting the Lannisters alone would be difficult, they have the advantage everywhere. From armies, to their navy, to money. It would be near impossible to beat them alone." He finishes his thought. The sand snakes had the right idea, joining the dragon queen in order to get the revenge they desired so much.

"I will decide when I actually have a conversation with her. There are a lot of hearsay about what type of person she is. I would like to meet her in person and get a gauge on who she is myself before making such an important decision." Rhevan responds, before turning toward the doors behind the throne seeing Varys head their way.

Curiously, he is alone.

"Her grace has asked that you come with me to the Chambers of the Painted Table to meet with her. Alone" He states once he is close enough and his words garners three different responses from the Dornishmen.

"Hell no."

"I don't believe that would be wise."

"Very well. Lead the way."

They all look at each other after speaking. Dae and Drey lock eyes for a long moment as though surprised they agree with one another. Before Drey gets ready to give his reasons for his belief. But he does not get the chance as Rhevan cuts him off.

"I'll be fine. I doubt she'll have me killed the moment I walk in the room." Rhevan states before looking to Varys and speaking.

"Let's go meet your queen."

"Right this way my Prince." Varys simpers while leading him to the chambers.

Rhevan looks back to his friends briefly, before speaking to them in a hushed tone.

"If you hear any sort of commotion be prepared to rush in. I don't think we'll have to fight our way out of this castle but I'd rather be safe than sorry." He tells them as they nod their heads in response before following the spider.

As they near the chamber he can hear the muffled heated words of one of the room's occupants. When the door opens everything goes quiet.

Rhevan uses that opportunity to look around the room and measure each of its occupants.

First he looks to the person closest to him and the door. That being The Queen of Thorns herself. Olenna Tyrell.

Her eyes lock with his and he can't discern any emotion coming from her.

Her mind is a fortress.

He could've tried to force himself into her mind to learn what she is thinking but she would notice. Breaking into someone's mind was not a pleasant experience for them.

Not the kind of first impression he wants to make. Besides he likes the old rose.

It has been a long time since he'd seen the elderly lady. Having met her a few times at several tourneys in Highgarden he participated in.

His heart went out to her, he knows what it's like to lose everything. He wouldn't wish that pain on anyone.

His eyes then move to the stone faced unsullied to his left. Rhevan can only assume that this was the commander of the queen's unsullied army. He is alert and tense. Ready to run Rhevan through with his spear should he make any sudden moves against his Queen.

Next to him was a beautiful young woman that seemed around the same age as the Queen herself. She was looking at him with curiosity and a bit of fear. He's not sure why she's scared of him, he doesn't think he looks scary at all.

More devastatingly Handsome.

Getting back on track, he looks to the short man standing close to her.

Tyrion Lannister. The man who's freedom Oberyn died fighting for. Rhevan's eyes narrow a bit at the thought. He knows it's not the little Lannister's fault, Oberyn was a grown man and he made his own decisions. It was just unfortunate that his life ended the way it did. Fighting for the member of the family that caused such pain to his own.

Tyrion Lannister was nervous. His mind is strong so it's hard to get a full read on his emotions but Rhevan catches that much. He was also anxious. As though he knew something was about to happen and he couldn't wait to watch it.

Taking his eyes off the Lion of Casterly Rock, his eyes move to the most important person in the room.

Daenerys Targaryen.

Words could barely do her justice.

He had traveled all across the world. He has seen people of all different shapes, sizes, and colors. Never has he seen anyone so breathtaking.

From her hair, an otherworldly silver-gold color done up in an intricate braid with a few curly strands falling on each side of her heart shaped face, framing it.

To her well manicured eyebrows sit right under her forehead, a dainty nose bracketed by high cheekbones and plump pink lips that finish off her look. She is a vision. Inhumanly beautiful.

But her face itself isn't what he thinks is her most beautiful feature.

It's her eyes.

They are a color he has seen before but he can't quite think of it at the moment.

They are a light, almost pale, violet color.

So expressive that he doesn't need magic to read the emotions she is displaying. She is like an open book. So easy to read. Even as she keeps her face stone still.

Her eyes give all of her secrets away.

Before he can reveal those secrets though, he sees the person slightly behind her shift slightly in his peripheral. Pulling his attention away.

He looks at the man and he can barely stop the smile that is attempting to force its way to his face.

Ser Barristan the Bold.

His old mentor.

A man who was his second favorite Kingsguard as a child, behind his Uncle.

A legend.

For both his skill with a blade and his valor as a knight.

A friend.

For being the man that took a bastard boy of 10 namedays under his wing and teaching him how to be a man and knight of integrity.

The man that knighted him at 13 for his actions in the Greyjoy Rebellion. Actions that he would not have had the courage nor the skills to accomplish had it not been for the knight before him.

Looking into the light blue eyes of his old friend he sees that they are a little moist. No doubt he, like everyone else in Westeros, thought Rhevan dead for the last four years. Only to find out he is still alive, moments ago when Varys told them.

He'll have to catch up with the old knight after he finishes with his more urgent business. Speaking of…

His eyes continue moving as he examines the next two people in his vision.

The Greyjoys.

Yara Greyjoy locked eyes with him. Strong and unyielding. She looked as though she was challenging him to some sort of battle he had no idea he was involved in.

Theon Greyjoy tried to look him in the eyes for only a moment before he put his head down and folded in on himself. Like a cowering animal, hoping against hope that the larger predator won't see him and eat him alive.

Quite the contrast.

He doesn't think about it long before his eyes settle on the last of the people that occupy the chamber.

The moment his eyes lock with Ellaria Sands he knows the truth.

He doesn't have to dig into her mind to know.

The pure fear on her face says it all.

He knows she did it.

She killed Doran Martell.

And it absolutely infuriated him.

It's been a long time since he has felt this kind of pure anger.

Like molten lava replaced the blood in his veins. Pumping unadulterated rage through is heart and brain.

He can hardly think.

All he wants to do is tear her limb from limb while she begs for mercy. Mercy she would not receive.

Yes that sounded like a marvelous idea.

In fact he should do that right n-

"Your Grace." He hears Varys say and it snaps him out of his fury-clouded thoughts.

He turns his eyes back to the Dragon Queen as Varys begins his introduction.

"May I introduce, Ser Rhevan Dayne. The Sword of the Morning. The new ruling Prince of Dorne." He finishes.

The moment he does, the queen's eyes move from the spider back to him.

In that moment their eyes lock once again.

In that moment he begins reading the book of expressiveness that is Daenerys Targaryen.

Interestingly enough, her emotions have changed a bit.

Before, she was just curious. No doubt measuring him. Trying to see what kind of man he is.

Now. There is a different emotion in those eyes.

Something darker. Something heavier. Something hotter.

Something he can recognize easily. For she is not the first woman to pin him with such a look. Not by a long shot.

She is looking at him with pure lust.

If he was only half interested in her before, she now has his full undivided attention.

She looks as though she wants to speak before the beautiful woman beside her takes a step forward and begins.

"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains." She states proudly. As though she were speaking of her own name.

"Damn that's a lot of titles." He thinks to himself before, opening his mouth and speaking for the first time.

"A pleasure, Your Grace." He greets her simply. With a slight bow of his head. Eyes never leaving hers.

"The pleasure is all mine, Prince Rhevan." She responds, causing his eyebrow to raise a bit at her use of his new title. Her voice is powerful just like the rest of her. An authoritative edge to it. But still soft and feminine.

A short gasp of shock was heard to his right, snapping him out of whatever trance the mother of dragons put him under.

He looks to the voice and sees Ellaria and her brood looking at the Queen with betrayal in their eyes.

He's happy they made a sound. It reminded him of what it was he was supposed to be doing here. Of his top priority.

Justice for the Martells.

He can ogle the Dragon Queen later. Now it was time for action.

His goal was to have the sand snakes brought back to Dorne to answer for their crimes in front of all the high lords of Dorne.

He isn't a fool though. He knows they won't just agree to follow him. Blood will shed.

He can't wait.

"My Queen thi-" Ellaria begins but stops as she sees him headed toward her. Her body, along with the rest of her traitorous band of bitches, tense up tightly. Ready to strike him at any moment.

He stops right in front of her and looks her straight in the eyes. Only one question burning at the tip of his tongue.

"Why?" He says in a near whisper. But it is completely silent in the chamber so he has no doubt everyone heard him clearly.

And yet..

"What?" The fool closest to him asks dumbly. As though the three letter word he spoke to her was said in some obscure language that she couldn't comprehend.

"Why. did. you. kill. him?" This time he speaks louder, breaking every word apart just to make sure she can fully understand him. He doesn't give her the chance to answer this time though.

"Did he not show all of you love? Did he not treat all of you as though you were his own blood? Disregarding your bastard blood and acted as though you were his true born nieces? As though you were truly his good sister?" He continues, more ranting now than looking for an actual explanation.

"He gave you shelter when he didn't have to, made sure you would never go hungry, made sure you were always protected from the dangers of the world. Something that very few others would have done for their brother's bastards." Now looking at each of the sand snakes, none of them making eye contact with him. All three of their heads down as if ashamed of their actions.

It's too late to be ashamed.

"He gave you a home filled with love, laughter and family. And how do you repay him? By murdering him and his son?" Heavy emotion coloring his words.

"He was weak. The Lannisters ordered their dog to murder his sister and her children and what does he do? Let his son marry their little whore. And then their dog murders his brother, my love, and still he sat in his chair did nothing." Ellaria spat out with enough venom to kill a hundred war elephants.

"They even had the audacity to sneak into Sunspear, killing good loyal men along the way, in order to get the little blonde bitch out of Dorne. And what does he do in retaliation? Nothing." She continues finding her resolve.

"Doran was weak. He would have let them get away with coming to Dorne and spilling more of the blood of our brethren in order to stay friendly with the monsters that cause our family such heartache." Nymeria cuts in. She continues, trying to appeal to him.

"They killed my father. Surely you of all people understand Rhevan. Elia was like a mother to you and Rhaenys was-" He cuts her off. Tired of listening to their flimsy justifications.

"Enough! Oberyn died because of his own actions. No one forced him to fight the mountain. He chose to. He knew the consequences and went along with it anyway and it cost him his life. I understand. Oberyn's death caused you all great pain. I'm sorry you had to go through that, but it's no excuse." He barks strongly, blood boiling as he reaches his breaking point. He takes a deep breath trying to calm down as he begins to speak his final piece.

"Oberyn died trying to avenge his sisters murder. And how do you honor him? How do you make sure your father and lover's legacy lives on? By killing his brother. In what kind of fucked up twisted way do you try to justify that? Saying he was weak? He was a coward? No. I will not accept your weak excuses. You will come with me back to Dorne where you will be put on trial for the murder of your liege lord." He announces to them. He knows the sand snakes though. They won't listen.

This will only end one way.

"And what if we refuse." Obara states. Spear clenched tightly in her hands. Body coiled and ready to strike.

"It wasn't a request. You will be returning to Dorne. What condition you will be in upon your arrival is entirely up to you." He responds, tone resolute. Eyes hard and unwavering but his body relaxed and ready.

A heavy, leading silence joined the already charged atmosphere of the room.

A moment passed.

Then another.

Another.

Then suddenly, as if a horn blew propelling them into action, everyone begins to move.

As swift as a viper strike Ellaria grips the dagger at her hip with her left hand, as she pulls it from its sheath Rhevan's own left hand quickly covers hers, while his right hand snaps forward and grips the back of her head.

In one harsh motion he pushes her head down with all his might and smashes her face against the hard wood of the painted table. A loud crunch is heard throughout the room as her nose gives way.

Right after the fierce blow, he let's go of the back of her head then gives her left wrist a sharp twist snapping it causing her to drop the dagger in her hand. He quickly snatches the dagger as it leaves her grip with his right hand before forcing her left hand on the table palm down and pinning it there with her own blade. Dug in so deeply that the hilt of the knife is nearly touching the back of her hand.

He immediately switches his focus to the eldest sand snake as she steps toward him thrusting her spear forward attempting to carve his heart out. He turns his body fully in her direction, at the same time, partially pulling Dawn from its sheath just enough to parry the deadly sharp point.

Once again in one brutally efficient motion, the Demon of Dorne's left hand lets go of Dawn, letting the beautiful milk glass blade slide back into his sheath, he uses his now free hand to grabs the shaft of the spear pulling it toward him along with Obara while his right arm moving behind his back and he unsheathes his own dagger.

It's hilt a shiny silver and it's pommel shaped in the head of a dragon with rubies for eyes. The blade itself is as dark as smoke with distinctive ripple patterns all throughout it.

As Obara draws closer she pulls her own dagger and swings it forward only to be easily countered by Rhevan. He then sends a devastating knee straight into her sternum. Buckling the viper's eldest child, he then turns his dagger reverse grip and jams it into the back of her right thigh causing her to scream in agony. But he's not done. He flips the spear, still in his left hand, and thrusts it into her left leg dropping her instantly. Her legs, no longer of use.

Not even a split second later he hears something cutting through the air heading towards him. He quickly raises his left arm to defend himself as the whip that was going for his neck tightly coils around his forearm instead. His leather gauntlet stopping the hard rope of the whip from shredding his skin. Nymeria pulling on it hard trying to keep him in place.

His eyes are on her but his focus is not, as he sees Tyene rushing him from the corner of his eye. He watches her move in on him, dagger ready to pierce through his neck. He waits for the right moment before pulling hard on the whip, causing Nymeria to stumble a bit, moving the rope right into the path of Tyene's blade. The youngest sand snake cuts straight through her sister's whip, freeing Rhevans arm.

Acting fast, Rhevan grabs Tyene outstretched right wrist with his right hand, keeping it straighten, before he takes his left palm and swings it upward with as much force as he can right into the elbow of the young woman snapping her arm in two.

Tyene barely makes a sound. Eyes widen in shock. Her mind not having truly processed the fact that her arm is now mangled. He doesn't give her mind the chance to do so as he pulls his left leg back before bringing it forward and delivering a punishing kick into her right knee. Buckling it inward, snapping her leg like a twig.

As she crumbles to the ground, wailing loudly, his eyes turn to the final standing traitor. In three quick strides he is right in her face ready to drop her as he did to the rest of them before she yells out.

"Wait! Wait! Rhevan I surrender!" Drooping what's left of her whip, throwing her hands up in the air, and shutting her eyes tightly. Hoping he doesn't demolish her as he did the rest of her co-conspirators.

He doesn't.

He stops in front of her looking at her face waiting for her to open her eyes, which she does after a while, realizing he isn't going to hit her.

They lock eyes for a few moments before Rhevan turns his back to her to look at the rest of the traitors.

Ellaria still unconscious, face bloodied, body slumped on the ground at an awkward angle because her left hand is still pinned to the painted table.

Obara on the ground close by groaning and twitching, as if trying to move but being unable to do so. Suffering from some sort of paralysis, no doubt from whatever poison she puts on her spear. A spear that is currently deeply embedded in her left thigh.

Tyene lays not far from her paralyzed sister. Her eyes open but blank. In a catatonic state of shock from having both her right arm and leg broken successively.

He thought for a moment that maybe he should feel bad. These are women he grew up with. He loved and cherished at one point in time. He should perhaps feel remorse or guilt for brutalizing them in such a way.

But then he thinks about what they did to Doran and Trystane.

Killing them in cold blood. Their own family.

No, they don't deserve remorse.

In fact they deserve far worse than the damage he dealt them.

He looks toward the front of the table and sees Ser Barristan has his sword and ready, holding it in front of himself and his Queen. His eyes not on Rhevan but on the downed Sands as if waiting for them to make some sort of miraculous recovery and suddenly attack.

Looking at the Queen, her eyes already on him so they connect immediately. Her position shifted, so a stream of light from the midday sun is now shining directly on her face, illuminating her irises. They are doubtlessly the most captivating sight he had ever seen. It is in that moment he remembers where he has seen that color before.

It is the color of the background that holds the white sword and falling star of House Dayne.

Lilac.

The color of his house.

As he stares deeply into her eyes, mesmerized by the sight of them, he feels a plethora of different emotions swimming in within them.

There are so many it's hard to tell them apart from one other. He catches a few though.

Shock and awe, which does wonders for his ego. Being able to invoke such emotions from a woman with three very large dragons is quite the feat.

Worry and Relief, which amuses him to no end. It seems the Dragon Queen didn't know if he'd be able to win but was happy he did.

Lust and desire, which causes a slight stir in his loins. It's the second such time he's felt that type of emotion coming from her. He may have to do something about that.

Before he can get a feel for any of the other emotions he sees swimming around in her enthralling gaze. A different emotion takes over all of her features.

Fear.

Not of him.

But for him.

As her gaze shifts sight behind him, she looks as though she is ready to yell out a warning to him but her words are stuck in her throat.

Her fear, while appreciated, is unnecessary though for he knows what is threatening to end him from behind. Or rather who.

Nymeria.

He knew her surrender was a ruse. He has known her and the others for most of his life. He knows that the sand snakes do not simply give up. They let you believe they did, so you can lower your guard, then they strike. He expected this. This is exactly what he wanted. It would be much easier to get them all to Dorne if they are incapacitated. Less likely for some of the shiphands to end up as casualties.

He felt her swift behind him and knew she was beginning her attack. She takes a light step forward and lunges at him, dagger in hand aimed for his spine. At the last moment he pivots on his right foot, turning his body around to face her, at the same time dodging the blade. Cocking his left fist back, he uses the momentum of his pirouette to put as much force as he can into his left hand as he swings it forward and cracks her right in the face.

His knuckles on her jaw, he can feel it give away and shatter under the pressure of his blow.

She crumples to the floor immediately. As if a mummer's puppet whose strings were cut. Incapacitated. Just like the rest of her little group.

It is only a moment later that the doors slam open and Andrey and Daemon come flying in, swords in hand. Looking ready to fight their way out of the castle itself before their eyes land on him. Then they look down at the four Sands laid out around him. Then to all the other occupants in the room.

They pause for a moment and look to one another. No sure what to make of the sight before them.

So Rhevan decides to break the silence.

"You're late."