260 ACSunspear, Dorne
The night hung heavy over Sunspear, thick with heat and silence. No stars pierced the dark sky, and even the restless waves of the Narrow Sea seemed subdued, their usual roar reduced to a soft, mournful whisper against the stone walls.
In one of the private chambers of Princess Loreza Martell, the sounds of labor filled the air. Candlelight flickered, sending restless shadows dancing across the walls as midwives whispered hurried instructions and servants lingered nervously by the doors.
"Another push, Your Grace!" called the midwife, her voice tight with strain.
Loreza gritted her teeth. She would not scream. Not for the gods. Not for the dead. And certainly not for the ghosts of Summerhall.Sweat clung to her brow, her dark hair matted against her temples. Her obsidian eyes burned with pain, fury, and sheer defiance.
Then, at last, a clear, sharp cry tore through the heavy air.
"A boy, Your Grace!" the midwife announced, lifting the blood-slicked infant into the flickering light.
Loreza pushed herself upright and took the child into her arms. Dark hair, thick and already curling, clung to the newborn's head — but it was the eyes that stole her breath.Golden. Like molten sunfire.
For a single heartbeat, she forgot pain and grief.
"Mars," she whispered. "My little Mars."
Outside the chamber, two small figures waited. Elia, barely four, her wide dark eyes filled with quiet wonder. And beside her, Oberyn — only three, but already restless, his expression filled with mischievous spark.
"Can I see him?" Oberyn called, fists planted on his small hips.
Loreza managed a weary smile and nodded. "Come."
The children rushed inside. Oberyn reached the cradle first, peering in. He grinned when the baby's strange, golden eyes blinked up at him.
"He looks like a little fire-demon."
Loreza laughed softly — the first sound of joy in days.