Euron stood alone by the sea all night, letting the cold waves wash over his boots again and again. As the first light of dawn painted the Dornish horizon, his furrowed brow finally relaxed.
Amidst the crashing waves and deep contemplation, a simple yet brutally cruel truth became clear in his mind: Weakness itself is the original sin.
To break the shackles and master one's fate, the answer was simple—become strong enough. Strong enough to set the rules. Strong enough that problems were no longer problems.
When the morning sun of the second day fully leaped from the sea, Euron turned back toward Sunspear.
The gloom that had shrouded his brow the night before was gone, replaced by a deeper, sharper spirit. His steps were as steady as ever, and the trademark lazy smile returned to his lips, but his deep eyes held more unquestionable decisiveness and edge than before.
Carrying the salty tang of the sea breeze and the enlightenment of the night, he stepped back into the morning light of Sunspear.
Euron stopped a passing servant, his voice steady. "Where are the Prince and Princess?"
The servant bowed respectfully and led the way. When they entered the sun-drenched inner courtyard, Prince Doran was discussing something with Oberyn, Elia, and Arianne. Their conversation halted abruptly upon Euron's appearance, and their expressions shifted instantly—
Prince Doran's gaze was deep and unreadable, his fingers unconsciously tapping the armrest of his wheelchair; Oberyn's eyes flashed with unconcealed coldness; Arianne frowned directly, her face full of wariness; Elia lowered her eyes slightly, not looking up.
What surprised everyone most was Euron—he showed no fatigue from a sleepless night. Instead, his lips carried an unprecedented sharp smile. It was a smile of confident insight, as if the sea breeze last night had not only blown away his confusion but tempered his resolve.
This abnormal composure made the already delicate atmosphere even stranger.
Euron sat down calmly. Prince Doran waved his hand lightly to dismiss the servants. The stone hall was left with only them, the sound of distant waves faintly audible.
Prince Doran broke the silence first, his voice steady but scrutinizing. "I heard you sat alone by the sea all night. Presumably, you figured some things out?"
"Yes." Euron's answer was concise and powerful, his gaze clear without a trace of hesitation.
Suddenly, Oberyn leaned forward, his fingers pressing unconsciously on the edge of the table. "You always know what you want to do, but know that this time is different." His voice turned sharp. "How do you intend to explain this to Ashara?"
Everyone's eyes focused on Euron, waiting for his answer. Sunlight filtered through the stained glass onto the table, cutting the tense atmosphere into fragments of light and shadow.
Euron's gaze swept over everyone present, his voice steady and firm. "I will not tell Ashara about this right now, and I will absolutely not let my child be born as a bastard."
Silence fell over the hall, broken only by the faint sound of waves.
Euron continued, his eyes flashing with sharp light. "Actually, I had this idea long ago, and now it is even clearer. I will personally conquer the Stepstones and make those waters submit to the banner of the Iron Islands."
His voice rose. "At that time, Elia will become the Queen of the Stepstones, and our child will be the legitimate heir to the Stepstones."
Prince Doran's fingers tapped lightly on the armrest, a glint flashing in his eyes. "The Stepstones?" His tone held both surprise and deep thought. "Those pirate-infested islands?"
Oberyn and Arianne exchanged a glance, clearly shocked by this bold plan. Elia widened her eyes slightly, her hand unconsciously touching her abdomen, as if imagining a completely different future.
Euron nodded slightly. "Correct."
Prince Doran did not pursue further questions or offer judgment. He simply raised his hand elegantly to gesture at a dish on the table. "Autumn fish from the Sea of Dorne, caught just this morning. Taste it."
His tone was calm and natural, as if what Euron had just said was trivial.
Euron nodded understandingly and picked up his silver chopsticks. The others began to eat as well, knives and forks clinking softly against porcelain plates. The atmosphere at the table suddenly became unusually calm. Everyone focused on tasting the delicious fish, as if the thrilling dialogue and unspeakable secrets just moments ago had never happened.
Sunlight refracted through the stained glass, casting colorful spots on the silver tableware. The aroma of sea fish filled the air, temporarily masking all unresolved entanglements and schemes. In this moment of tranquility, only the soft sounds of chewing and the distant accompaniment of waves composed a seemingly harmonious picture.
Silence spread across the table, heavier than any words. Nothing was spoken, yet everything was expressed clearly.
Euron calmly tasted the delicious fish, understanding in his heart—Prince Doran didn't need to hear flowery promises or empty vows. This prince who had ruled Dorne for years had seen too many broken pledges and shattered alliances.
They wanted to see tangible action; they cared about the final result presented before their eyes. Amidst the subtle clinking of cutlery, a wordless consensus was forming: plans could be discussed, ambitions could be tolerated, but everything had to be proven with action and results.
Sunlight danced on the silverware, reflecting the unspoken expectations and scrutiny in everyone's eyes. On this seemingly calm dining table, a contest spoken through strength had just begun.
---
Breakfast ended in restrained silence, the clink of silver on porcelain exceptionally clear. As the servants cleared the plates, Prince Doran took a letter delivered by raven from his sleeve. The wax seal of the Citadel gleamed dully in the morning light.
He slowly unfolded the parchment, his voice calm but carrying undeniable weight. "News from the Citadel—they call it the 'False Spring'." The Prince's fingertip brushed over the handwriting. "Winter has not ended; the warmth of the Long Summer was but a brief illusion."
Everyone's eyes focused on the letter. Prince Doran continued, "Winter is about to descend again, but compared to the cruel season in memory, this winter will be much milder." His words echoed in the hall, like a stone cast into everyone's heart, stirring ripples.
Sunlight still streamed brightly into the room, but the news made everyone feel an invisible chill.
Prince Doran handed the secret letter bearing the Citadel's seal to Euron. The Dornish sun cast shifting shadows in his deep eyes. "Perhaps," the Prince's voice was steady as usual, yet carried unquestionable weight, "it is time for you to return to the Iron Islands."
Euron took the letter, feeling the texture of the parchment. "Now?" There was a trace of hesitation in his voice—leaving just after learning the truth of that matter?
"Otherwise?" Prince Doran tapped his armrest lightly, looking out at the shimmering Sea of Dorne. "There is nothing you can do here. And right now, the Iron Islands—" he paused deliberately, letting the meaning sink in, "—need you more."
Sea breeze flowed in through the open window, lifting the edge of the letter.
Euron had planned to stay in Dorne longer, but circumstances forced his hand. He nodded slightly. "I will depart tomorrow. I'll escort Ashara back to Starfall first, then return immediately to the Iron Islands."
But Prince Doran shook his head slowly. "It might be more appropriate for Ashara to stay in Sunspear for now." Noticing the doubt in Euron's eyes, he explained, "No one can predict the next move of the Mad King in King's Landing. If he directs his anger at House Dayne, Ashara's safety cannot be guaranteed."
Oberyn sneered at this, his tone clearly displeased. "We Dornishmen may not call ourselves knights, but we never harm innocent women and children, nor do we stoop to using hostages. If you don't believe us, take her with you."
Euron heard the anger in Oberyn's words and immediately stated, "In that case, I entrust Ashara to your care."
Arianne huffed coldly from the side, speaking decisively. "She is my best friend. Naturally, I will protect her."
When Euron was about to disappear around the corner of the corridor, Elia stepped forward quickly, looking at him solemnly. "Rest assured, we will take good care of Ashara. When the time is right, Dorne will prepare a generous dowry for her, awaiting your return to marry her."
Euron stopped and looked back. Sunlight flooded through the archway behind him, gilding his tall figure. His lips slowly curved into a complex smile.
"Thank you."
Without further words, he turned and left decisively. His footsteps echoed rhythmically in the stone corridor, fading away until they merged with the sound of the waves outside Sunspear. Elia stood there, watching his figure vanish into the bright halo, unmoving for a long time.
Only after Euron completely disappeared at the end of the corridor did Elia return to the dining room and speak softly. "Didn't we agree? Let this matter end here. Don't look at him like that anymore, as if there is some deep hatred. No one is to be blamed for this."
Oberyn turned abruptly, anger burning in his eyes. "Of course not! If we don't teach him a lesson, that bastard will only get more smug, thinking the women of House Martell can be trifled with at will!"
Arianne couldn't help but chime in. "Exactly! Forget about me, but Auntie, you've been hurt so badly..."
"Arianne!" Prince Doran interrupted suddenly, his voice cold as ice. "What face do you have to speak such words? At the root of it, this disaster started because of you. From today on, reflect on your actions in the palace. You are not to step half a foot out of Sunspear for a year. Stay by your aunt's side and care for her diligently."
Arianne lowered her head instantly, daring not speak again. Oberyn's face was iron-blue. He suddenly grabbed the spear on the table and strode out.
"Brother!" Elia called out urgently.
Oberyn didn't stop, leaving only one sentence behind: "Don't worry, I'll leave the bastard his life!" His voice carried suppressed rage. "But he has ruined the women of House Martell. If I don't beat him until he's half-crippled, I won't be able to swallow this anger!"
"Stab him twice for me too!" Arianne's voice followed.