Chapter 72: Dornish Lionheart
…
Richard POV
Princess Elia's actions had caught me completely by surprise. The girl I remembered from two years ago had been gentle and somewhat shy, particularly whenever too much attention fell upon her. The young woman I encountered in the market was different.
She had run through a crowded street to reach me, clung to my chest in front of her companions and guards, and then invited me to stay at the Old Palace.
Perhaps being home in Dorne had given her greater confidence. Whatever the reason, her newfound boldness intrigued me.
It now appeared that I would remain in Dorne longer than originally planned.
That was not necessarily a bad thing. Dorne could become important to my future ambitions. Its ports provided direct access to the Narrow Sea, while its distance from the Iron Throne allowed certain affairs to be conducted without unwanted scrutiny.
For now, however, I had more immediate matters to handle.
I had entered one of the poorest districts of Sunspear.
The narrow streets were crowded with beggars, laborers, and orphans. Old buildings leaned toward one another, their sun-faded walls cracked by age. Torn lengths of cloth hung between the rooftops, providing small patches of shade against the Dornish sun.
My three knights followed behind me.
Alfred Parren followed several paces behind me, while Loren and Androw walked at his sides. All three had traded their finer clothing for the plain garments of travelers, though swords remained concealed beneath their cloaks.
As we moved deeper into the district, I noticed several people watching us.
An old beggar sat against a wall with his face hidden beneath a ragged hood. A woman selling bruised fruit quietly tracked our movements. Two boys seated beside a dry fountain stopped speaking as we passed.
They appeared to be ordinary inhabitants of the slums.
Some of them belonged to the Lionheart family.
Conrad had recruited and trained the Dornish branch himself. Even I could not identify every member with certainty.
That alone impressed me.
Had I possessed the senses of an ordinary man, their disguises might have deceived me completely. My hearing, however, caught the whispers passing through the streets.
"That is him," someone murmured from a nearby alley.
"The Founder?" another voice asked in awe.
"Yes. Maintain your disguise," the first speaker warned quietly. "The best way to honor him is to perform your duty."
No one approached me or openly bowed. They understood that protecting their identities mattered more than displaying their loyalty.
Still, word of my arrival spread throughout the district.
A familiar face eventually caught my attention.
A teenage boy sat beside a crumbling wall with a wooden bowl before him. Dust covered his clothing, and tangled hair framed his face. To anyone passing, he appeared to be another starving orphan begging for copper.
His disguise was convincing.
I still recognized him.
Humphrey had been the first boy I had ever helped, long before the Lionheart family had grown into what it was today. According to Conrad's letter, he would guide us to the hideout.
I stopped before him and placed a silver coin in his bowl.
Humphrey reached toward my hand as though pleading for another. Instead, he clasped my wrist and briefly bowed his head in the old Lionheart gesture of respect.
"Welcome to Dorne, Boss," Humphrey whispered. "Conrad awaits you."
"Lead the way," I instructed him.
"At once," Humphrey replied.
He collected his bowl and rose.
Humphrey led us away from the main street and into a maze of narrow alleys. After several turns, we stopped before a neglected house squeezed between two larger buildings.
He knocked three times, paused, and then knocked twice more.
An elderly woman opened the door and allowed us inside without a word.
We followed Humphrey into a rear storeroom. After moving several sacks of grain, he revealed a wooden door built into the floor.
A steep staircase led into a damp basement containing broken furniture and abandoned barrels. Humphrey removed a loose stone from the far wall and pulled the iron lever concealed behind it.
Part of the floor shifted aside, revealing a ladder descending into darkness.
Humphrey climbed down first. I followed, with Alfred, Loren, and Androw behind me.
The ladder ended within an ancient stone tunnel illuminated by carefully placed oil lamps. Some sections had been reinforced with fresh timber, while others remained sealed beneath collapsed earth.
Conrad had written to me about the tunnels. They had once allowed Dornish soldiers to travel unseen and move supplies during the Targaryen invasions. Most had gone unused for more than a century, but Conrad had restored much of the network beneath the slums.
The passage eventually ended at a heavy wooden door. A hooded man watched us through a narrow opening.
"What blooms beneath the burning sun?" the doorman asked.
"The flower that refuses to die," Humphrey answered.
Several locks shifted before the door opened.
The doorman recognized me immediately. He lowered his hood and bowed deeply.
"Welcome, Lord Richard," the doorman greeted me.
"Remain vigilant," I instructed him.
"Always, Boss," the doorman promised.
Beyond him stood a vast underground chamber. Corridors branched toward storerooms, sleeping quarters, armories, and other sections of the tunnel network.
Men and women moved throughout the hideout carrying messages, supplies, and weapons. Some were dressed as merchants or laborers. Others wore the clothing of beggars, sailors, and servants.
No one remained idle.
Conrad had not merely gathered criminals beneath Sunspear. He had built an organized and disciplined branch of the Lionheart family in Dorne.
Humphrey guided us to another guarded entrance.
"Conrad is waiting inside," Humphrey informed me.
I entered the concealed chamber.
It had been furnished like a spacious solar. Rugs covered the stone floor, shelves held ledgers and rolled messages, and a large wooden table stood beneath several hanging lamps.
Conrad was studying a collection of reports with his younger brother, Lyman.
He had grown older since our last meeting. A thin scar crossed his chin, and there was a new confidence in the way he carried himself.
The moment he saw me, he rose.
Conrad walked around the table and stopped a respectful pace away. He placed one fist over his heart and bowed his head before offering me his forearm.
I clasped it and pulled him into a brief embrace.
Years ago, Conrad and I had sealed our bond through a blood-brother oath. He was one of the few people who had witnessed my adamantium claws emerge from between my knuckles.
I had used one of those claws to cut our palms during the ritual. Conrad had watched the wound in my hand close before the blood upon it had dried.
He knew what I was capable of, yet his loyalty had never been born from fear. We had fought, killed, and helped build the Lionheart family together. There were few men I trusted as completely as him.
"It is an honor to welcome you to Dorne, Richard," Conrad said with genuine warmth.
"It is good to see you again," I replied. "You have done well here."
"I carried out the duty you entrusted to me," Conrad answered. "Everything here serves you and the family."
"You accomplished more than I expected," I told him as I surveyed the chamber. "I chose the right man to lead Dorne."
Conrad bowed his head.
"I command this branch only because you entrusted it to me," Conrad declared. "Dorne remains yours, and your word remains final throughout the Lionheart family."
"I know," I replied. "That is why I chose you."
Lyman stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"Welcome to Dorne, Boss," Lyman greeted me.
"You have grown since I last saw you," I observed.
"I have worked hard to become useful to the family," Lyman answered respectfully.
Alfred, Loren, and Androw entered behind me. Humphrey removed his beggar's robe and joined us.
Conrad unrolled a large map across the table. It showed the Narrow Sea, southern Westeros, and the western coast of Essos. Several wooden markers had been placed around Tyrosh.
We gathered around it.
"How many people do we have in the city?" I asked.
"Forty-seven sworn members of the family," Conrad reported. "Twenty-five are among the finest assassins under my command. Another two hundred sailors, craftsmen, laborers, and servants now work within the businesses they established."
"Do those two hundred know who truly employs them?" Alfred asked.
"No," Conrad answered. "They know our people only as merchants and employers. None of them know our people as Lionheart men."
"That is best," Alfred agreed. "A man cannot reveal a secret he does not possess."
"How well have our people settled into the city?" I asked.
"Better than expected," Conrad answered. "Some work along the docks. Others have become merchants, guards, clerks, and craftsmen. They rent homes, pay the proper fees, and conduct legitimate business. Two warehouses near the eastern harbor already produce a steady profit."
"Have they attracted any suspicion?" Loren asked.
"None," Conrad replied. "They entered in small groups and became part of the city before anyone had reason to connect them. To Tyrosh, they are merely merchants and workers from Dorne and the Stepstones."
"And their defensive preparations?" Androw asked.
"Weapons and supplies are hidden within both warehouses," Conrad reported. "Safe houses have been established throughout the surrounding streets. If necessary, our people can abandon one identity and assume another without leaving the city."
Conrad had followed my instructions perfectly.
The Lionheart family would not enter Tyrosh as an invading force. It would grow quietly within the city, becoming part of its trade, labor, and daily life. By the time anyone recognized the extent of our influence, removing us would be nearly impossible.
I moved one of the wooden markers onto Tyrosh.
"We will not rush this," I told them. "Control gained too quickly is easily lost. Our roots must grow deep enough to survive before we reach for anything greater."
Every man around the table listened in silence.
"Our people can remain as they are for months or years if necessary," I continued. "They will build wealth, relationships, and influence. No one makes a significant move until I give the order."
"It will be done exactly as you command," Conrad promised.
"What comes after Tyrosh?" Lyman asked respectfully.
"That will depend upon what I find when I arrive," I answered. "I want to see the harbor, warehouses, magisters, and merchant families for myself. Until then, our people will continue gathering information."
Conrad placed several reports beside the map.
"They have begun recording the city's rivalries, debts, trade disputes, and political alliances," Conrad explained. "Nothing has been acted upon. They are awaiting your judgment."
"Good," I replied. "Information gathered patiently is worth more than territory seized blindly."
"There is no urgency," Conrad assured me. "Our people are secure and fully assimilated. They can continue their present work without attracting notice."
"That is precisely what they will do," I decided.
I turned toward Alfred.
"Continue overseeing the resupply of our ships," I instructed him. "Spread the purchases among several merchants so no single order appears unusual."
"At once, Boss," Alfred answered.
I looked toward Humphrey next.
"You will assist Alfred and keep every purchase separate from Conrad's operations," I ordered.
"It will be done," Humphrey replied with a respectful bow.
"Loren and Androw will remain with me," I continued. "Conrad will maintain command of Dorne, and Lyman will prepare a complete copy of the Tyrosh reports for my journey."
Each man acknowledged his orders.
Only then did Conrad mention the invitation I had received.
"Will your stay at the Old Palace affect our preparations?" Conrad asked.
"No," I answered. "There was never any need to depart immediately. I will remain in Sunspear for a week, perhaps longer, while the ships are resupplied."
Conrad accepted the decision without question.
"Then everything will be ready whenever you choose to leave," Conrad promised.
The meeting continued until I had reviewed the reports and approved the next stage of our work. Nothing in Tyrosh required immediate intervention. Our people were secure, profitable, and nearly invisible.
That was exactly as I wanted it.
Several hours had passed by the time we finished.
Conrad rolled up the map while Lyman gathered the reports I would take with me.
"You have built something remarkable here," I told Conrad.
"I built it upon the foundation you gave me," Conrad replied. "I will guard it until you command otherwise."
I clasped his forearm once more.
"I expect nothing less, brother," I told him.
Conrad bowed his head.
I left the chamber with Loren and Androw following behind me. Alfred and Humphrey remained to oversee the ships, while Conrad and Lyman returned to their work.
As I made my way back through the tunnels, my thoughts returned to Tyrosh.
There was no need to hurry. The Lionheart family had already taken root within the city, and those roots would continue spreading quietly until I was ready to act.
For the coming week, Dorne would hold my attention. I had promised Princess Elia that I would come to the Old Palace. It was time to keep that promise.
…
Oberyn Martell POV
My elder sister had been waiting at the gates of the Old Palace for nearly half an hour. At first, I assumed she had merely come to enjoy the evening air. Then I noticed how quickly she turned toward the road whenever she heard approaching hooves.
She had also changed her dress.
Elia wore a light gown in the colors of House Martell, with golden thread worked along its edges. Her hair had been carefully arranged and decorated with small golden ornaments. She had clearly put considerable thought into her appearance, though she pretended otherwise.
Ashara Dayne and Ellaria Sand waited beside her. Their whispered conversation repeatedly ended in laughter, usually followed by Elia telling them to be quiet.
I had arrived only moments earlier, having asked a servant where my sister had gone. Now I stood several steps behind them beneath the shade of the gatehouse.
None of them had noticed me yet.
"He said he would come," Elia murmured as she looked toward the road again.
"He will," Ashara assured her.
"Unless he fled Sunspear after you nearly crushed him in the market," Ellaria teased.
"I did not crush him," Elia protested.
"You wrapped both arms around him and refused to let go," Ellaria reminded her.
"I had nearly fallen," Elia insisted.
"And clinging to his chest helped you recover?" Ashara asked innocently.
Elia narrowed her eyes at both of them.
"You promised never to speak of that again," Elia accused them.
"We made no such promise," Ellaria replied.
Both girls laughed.
I folded my arms across my chest.
Who were they talking about?
I had heard nothing about Elia meeting a man in the market, much less throwing herself into his arms. Whoever he was, she now stood outside the gates dressed as though she were waiting for a suitor.
I stepped out from beneath the gatehouse.
"Who exactly are you waiting for?" I asked.
Elia turned sharply.
"How long have you been standing there?" Elia asked.
"Long enough to hear that you nearly crushed some unfortunate man in the market," I replied.
"I did not crush him," Elia protested again.
Ashara covered her smile with one hand, while Ellaria made no effort to hide hers.
"That still does not answer my question," I reminded Elia. "Who is he?"
Elia hesitated.
That hesitation told me more than any answer could have.
When she failed to speak, Ellaria answered for her.
"Lord Galahad Neméos," Ellaria revealed.
The name immediately brought back memories of the Westerlands.
"Galahad?" I asked as I looked toward my sister. "You are waiting for Galahad?"
"The very same," Ashara confirmed.
Of all the men Elia might have been waiting for, I had not expected him.
I had met Galahad two years earlier during our visit to Lannisport. What began as mutual curiosity soon developed into companionship. He was calm where I was restless and guarded where I was open, yet we respected one another from the beginning.
Then I witnessed him fight.
Galahad was the greatest swordsman I had ever encountered.
I watched renowned knights struggle merely to follow his movements during the tourney at Lannisport. He fought with remarkable speed and precision, defeating every opponent placed before him before ultimately claiming victory.
I tested his skill myself on several occasions.
Spear in hand, I faced him with every feint, thrust, and trick I knew. Not once did I manage to best him. I never even forced him to exert himself. No matter how quickly I attacked or how often I changed my approach, Galahad turned me aside with effortless control.
I could not even make the man sweat.
That fact still bothered me more than I cared to admit.
He had also spent a surprising amount of time with Elia.
I remembered seeing them speak during the festivities. I remembered their dance and the way she watched him afterward. At one point, they had even disappeared from the feast together.
During the tourney, I had asked Galahad what he thought of my sister. He told me they were merely companions. His answer had been respectful, and at the time, I had found no reason to press him further.
I dismissed Elia's interest as a temporary infatuation born from the excitement of our time in the Westerlands.
Looking at her now, I realized how badly I had misjudged the situation.
This was not a passing fascination.
My elder sister stood at the gates of Sunspear like a woman waiting for her lover to return from war. Every distant rider captured her attention, and every passing moment deepened the impatience in her eyes.
She had carried these feelings for two years.
Somehow, I had failed to notice.
"You love him," I said.
Elia's eyes widened.
"I never said that," Elia replied quickly.
"You did not need to," I told her.
Color rose into her cheeks.
Ashara and Ellaria exchanged knowing smiles.
"You both knew?" I asked them.
"For some time," Ellaria admitted.
"Elia speaks about him often," Ashara explained.
"How often?" I asked.
"Very often," Ashara and Ellaria answered together.
Elia glared at them.
The betrayal written across her face nearly made me laugh.
Instead, I studied my sister more carefully.
"You have carried these feelings since the tourney at Lannisport?" I asked.
Elia turned toward the road rather than answering.
Her silence told me everything.
Elia was older than me by a year and had never needed her younger brother to protect her from her own choices. She was more than capable of deciding whom she wished to love.
That did not mean I would ignore whatever intentions Galahad might have toward her.
I respected him. I considered him a companion, and there were few men whose skill I admired more.
But my sister's heart was involved.
Two years ago, I had asked Galahad a single question and accepted his answer without pressing further. Perhaps his answer had been true at the time. Perhaps it remained true now.
Either way, I intended to learn more.
The sound of approaching horses drew our attention toward the road.
A small group of riders appeared in the distance.
Elia noticed them immediately.
Her entire face brightened.
Even from afar, the man riding at their head was easy to recognize. His golden hair caught the dying sunlight, while a dark cloak moved behind him in the evening wind. Two armed knights rode at his sides.
Galahad had come.
Elia stepped forward before remembering herself. She stopped, smoothed the front of her gown, and lifted her chin in an attempt to appear composed.
She failed.
Her smile revealed everything.
"He came," Elia whispered.
"I told you he would," Ashara replied.
Galahad and his knights slowed as they approached the gates. He dismounted with an easy movement and handed his reins to a waiting servant.
Elia walked forward to meet him.
"Welcome to the Old Palace, Galahad," Elia greeted him warmly.
"It is an honor to be here, Princess," Galahad replied with a bow.
When he raised his head, his gaze rested upon Elia.
There was unmistakable fondness in his expression, though whether it was the affection of a friend or something deeper, I could not yet tell.
Then Galahad noticed me.
Recognition passed across his face, followed by a genuine smile.
"Prince Oberyn," Galahad greeted me. "It has been far too long."
"Two years," I replied as I stepped forward. "You have kept us waiting."
We clasped forearms in greeting.
It was good to see him again. Whatever concerns I held for Elia, Galahad remained a man I respected and a companion whose company I had once enjoyed.
Still, I looked from Galahad to my sister and caught her watching him with the same helpless smile she had worn since his arrival.
Two years ago, I had allowed the matter to pass after a single question. This time, I intended to discover exactly what place my sister held in Galahad's heart.