Almost there

12th day of 5th Moon, 259AC

Dorne, Yronwood lands.

The entire landscape was covered in a light mist and the sky was overcast, the ash-colored clouds seemed about to engulf everything in sight. Doran let out a contented sigh, and a smile spread across his face as he surveyed the terrain of northwestern Dorne.

The lands known as the Marches are very different to the rest of Dorne, the sand and dry arid lands are left behind and in their place are great green plains with hills and forests.

It reminds Doran of the landscape of some areas of Italy that he visited in his past life.

Here the temperatures drop a lot compared to the rest of the kingdom, while the average temperature of the center, south and east of Dorne ranges between 30 and 50 degrees Celsius the temperature in the Marches is much colder. Doran has only been in this area for a few days but from his studies (every day he uses a spell to find out the temperature in the morning, noon, afternoon, and night) he deduced that the temperature ranges between 24 and 36 degrees Celsius during the day , dropping to between 8 and -2 degrees Celsius at night.

Of course, his studies are not 100% accurate, he only studied the temperature of this area for a few days and during a season. To have a 100% accurate study he should carry out these tests during the 4 seasons.

"Well, from the looks of it, we should get to Yronwood castle before dark." Doran said as he looked into the distance.

They are currently on a hill quite far from the castle and the town that is near it. The castle looked like a dot smaller than the prince's thumb and the town was only slightly larger. Although Doran knows that the Yronwoods have a fairly large castle and the town, which used to be the capital of their kingdoms a millennia ago, has around 18,000 inhabitants.

Neither of them retain the grandeur of yesteryear.

Two and a half centuries ago the Conquerors, Aegon and Visenya, burned most Dornish fortifications to the ground. Sunspear and Shadow City were among the few that got spared. Many say it's because Aegon thought it was too beautiful to be burned, but Archmaester Timotty suggests the Targaryens did so to encourage House Martell's bannermen to turn against their overlords; they failed on that since the Dornish remained loyal.

Doran leans towards Archmaester Timotty` theory.

House Yronwood were among the Houses to see their ancestral home burn to the ground, a castle that had stood for eight millennia turned to rubble and ash. The Yronwoods, like the other houses, rebuilt their castles but the new constructions do not compare to the originals.

Due to the lack of gold and manpower at that time (The wars against the dragons caused many losses, lives and resources were lost and then the trade with the other kingdoms of the continent collapsed which considerably decreased their income. The Dornishmen had to look for opportunities in the east to offset losses on the continent, in the end that had the consequence of trade with Essos increasing exponentially which ended up benefiting Dorne in the long run) meant nobles had to settle for smaller castles.

The current castle of House Yronwood has two 25-meter-high dark gray walls. Between the walls is a moat filled with water and pikes for added protection. The interior of the castle can only be accessed through the three iron-reinforced wooden doors, each 15 centimeters thick.

One side of the castle contains a small forest with a red-leaved tree in the center, a weirwood imported from the North two centuries ago. The small forest occupies almost half of the enclosure. The other half has the Yron Keep (the innermost castle and stronghold of the castle complex, it has walls made of granite and is where the Yronwood family lives), the Yron Hall (a two-story rectangular building intended to receive visitors, hold court y a to eat), an Armory, the Maester's Turret (also library), Stables, Smithy, and a building for servants and guards to sleep. In between there are many courtyards. In total it has 8 towers near the walls.

Doran knows the structure of the castle by heart, having previously memorized it in preparation for his mission. That his grandmother had plans detailing every building within the castle didn't surprise Doran, nor does the list with information about the Yronwood servants.

From the town, Yrontown, he only knew a couple of facts. The town has wooden and stone buildings, the main streets are paved but the secondary ones are not. It is a fairly ordinary town, the highlight would be the lack of a sept.

`The Yronwoods are among the only Dornishmen who stand firm in their beliefs, all other houses, even if they don't worship the Seven, have a sept. It is a matter of appearances.`

"Yes, we're about 40 miles away. Though it might take us another day if this storm ends up being as bad as the last." Lothar replies with a tired voice as he looks at the dark sky.

In recent days there have been several storms with more rain than some Dornishmen have seen in a lifetime. At first they were happy and enjoyed the rare spectacle (in their part of Dorne at least, in the Marches storms and rain is more usual). That joy was soon gone, being drenched to the skin combined with the cold winds ruining the mood of the happiest of Dornishmen. Advancing in those conditions was a bad idea, Doran knew that if they continued doing so many of his men would end up getting sick, so he ordered to set up the camp. At least in the tents they were able to shelter from the rain, but that meant it would take much longer to reach their destination.

"If the storm is as bad as the last…" Doran sighs and looks up at the sky but his smile doesn't quite fade. To tell the truth, that doesn't bother Doran, unlike his men, he enjoys the rain and the cold weather because it brings back memories of England. "If it's just a little rain we won't stop."

"Sounds good to me. Shall I give the order to march?"

Doran nods and Lothar turns and marches back to the camp.

***

Riding down the hill Doran couldn't help but smile as he felt the first drops of rain on his skin. Luckily at the moment it was just a few drops of water, and thanks to a very useful spell Doran found out that the storm won't start until noon. Which will give them time to get a few miles away from where the storm will be fiercest.

Doran chuckled as he heard some knights curse the gods for the bad weather. The prince, unlike his men, had no complaints. Doran exulted in the freedom of simply galloping across the green plain with a light breeze ruffling his hair.

`We have to enjoy the simple pleasures of life.` Doran's expression darkens a bit. `Especially when there is a storm ahead.`

Although Doran has enjoyed the last few months traveling, he can't help but feel a little relieved to see his destiny draw ever closer. The stress caused by his mission has been bothering him since the night his Grandmama entrusted him with this task. It is his first mission and on his success depends all of Dorne!

A small part of Doran, the logical part of him, knows that the mission is not as difficult as it seems. Correction, it's not that difficult for a mage. With the large arsenal of spells at his disposal this mission will be quite easy, as long as he is careful and doesn't let arrogance cloud his judgment he should be able to complete the mission without problems. But nerves and fear of failing (of disappointing his family) makes this task seem monumentally more difficult, and the more time passes the more complicated it seems to get.

Fear of failure can be very crippling and Doran is as susceptible to it as anyone.

Over the years Doran will acquire more experience and therefore more self-confidence, in the future he will become a cunning and sharp-as-a-blade politician, a great schemer and a proficient ruler, but this is one of his first steps towards that. And the first steps are always the scarier.

***

Night of 12th day of 5th Moon, 259AC

Dorne, Yronwood castle

"I heard they call him the Black Prince because he only wears black." A fourteen year old young lady with brown hair and caramel eyes murmured as she looked at a boy her age. The boy has the same characteristics as the girl, from hair and eye color to facial features, the only difference is that the boy's features are rougher and more masculine.

They are the twins Nysterica and Ormond Yronwood, children of Lord Edgar Yronwood and grandchildren of the current Lord Yronwood.

Both are currently standing at the head of a group of more than a hundred made up of servants and guards. The twins are dressed in capes of fur and silk robes, with ostentatious embellishments.

Beside Ormond are their mother, Lady Brella, and their father. Their grandfather and Lord is nowhere to be seen.

"You just made it up." Ormond replied, his expression unchanged as he stood with his eyes fixed on the south gate of the castle; knowing that Prince Doran would enter at any moment. Ormond remained solemn and dignified, wanting to adequately represent his house in front of their future liege.

The same could not be said for his twin, Lady Nysterica seemed bored and she was looking for anything to entertain herself.

"Yes, but it could be true. We don't know much about the prince, only his deeds. The great genius of Dorne, the Bright Prince, the gift of the gods, the Blessed Child, blah blah blah…" Nysterica gestured with hand while rolling her eyes.

Ormond nodded curtly, having heard all these titles, and had to admit that like his sister he too was curious about the prince. About Doran, the boy who is two years younger than him and has already accomplished more than anyone he knows. Even his grandfather, who dislikes their rulers, recognizes and admires the prince's genius.

`Although that's not a good thing, at least not for us.` Ormond suppresses a scowl as he remembers his grandfather's scathing comments about him and his father. Lord Yronwood is very unsatisfied with his offsprings, not that Lord Edgar and Lord Ormond are bad heirs, on the contrary they are both smarter and more skilled than most, but pale in comparison to Prince Doran.

"I wonder if he is as handsome as the rumors." Continue muttering Nysterica.

Ormond gives his twin an odd look.

`Why does his appearance matter? Girls...` he shakes his head and quickly turns his towards the gate when he hears the clarinets.

"Shut up Nys, they're about to arrive." Ormond murmurs without even looking at his twin.

Nysterica was about to reply when the authoritative voice of their father cut her off.

"Shut up, both of you," Lord Edgar commands. The Yronwood heir suppresses a sigh at his children's behavior. `At least Ormond is behaving, but Nysterica...`

The sound of clip clopping hooves on stone began to be heard and all present turned their attention to the incoming group. Ormond leaned forward with a look of anticipation on his face as he ignored his sister's murmurs.

A few moments later the first members of the prince's party entered the south gate of Yronwood Castle. The first to enter were a dozen knights mounted on their steeds, all the armed men holding large banners bearing the sigil of a red sun pierced by a golden spear on an orange field.

More knights followed, some dressed in the traditional Dornish light armor, some of them wearing full armor. They all had the Martell sun on the breastplate.

Following that group, a man and a boy surrounded by more knights entered through the gate.

The boy had curly dark hair that reached his neck and his eyes were equally dark, Ormond could see those onyx spheres even from a distance of twenty meters. The boy's eyes were mysterious and captivating, as if they contained a great secret knowledge that bewitches and attracts you. The aura around him was magnanimous and seemed to inspire confidence and power.

Ormond didn't need confirmation, he knew that this was Prince Doran Nymeros Martell.

`Nys was wrong, he doesn't wear black.` thought the teen absently.

Doran wore a golden light Dornish armor with a silk crimson cloak, at his waist he carried a sword, a dagger, and a bag (a coinbag, Ormond thinks).

Ormond found it difficult to take his eyes off the prince, there is something in him, an aura, that attracts him like a fly to amber. But the teen wanted to see the knight who was to the right of the prince, ser Lothar the Fierce.

Ormond had heard a lot about the famous knight, Ser Lothar earned his nickname at just sixteen years old by beating everyone in a melee at Kings Landing nearly a decade ago. Since then he participated in some other tournaments, and won several times both the Melee and the Joust.

Ser Lothar wore full silver armor, with a blue cape and a sword strapped to his waist. He was not wearing a helmet and Ormond could see the face of the famous knight, Ser Lothar had brown hair, blue eyes and was clean shaven.

"Ser Lothar is handsome, but not as handsome as the prince." Ormond heard his sister murmur and had to agree. Appearances are not something the young lord cares about, but anyone can identify an attractive person. They are both handsome but Doran could also be described as beautiful.

`Prettier than some girls I know` Ormund thinks as he watches the prince dismount from his horse.

Prince Doran and Ser Lothar approach them and Ormond holds his breath, eager to meet them.