It begins

Dorna drummed her fingers impatiently on the arm of her throne as she sat upon it, her dark eyes showing her growing irritation as she looked around the throne room, taking in the hundreds of assembled nobles and knights. All the noble houses of Dorne are gathered before her, from greatest to least. All but one.

The most important for the occasion.

'The party can't start without the guest of honor,' she thinks as she suppresses a grimace.

House Yronwood has not yet arrived.

According to her spies, they should arrive shortly, their ship has been sighted from the lighthouse but the princess cannot shake a feeling of restlessness.

This is the final step, all the pieces are in place. All that remains is for the Yronwood to arrive for the show to begin. Whenever her plans are in the final stretch she can't help but feel more anxious than usual, the nerves before the show always irritate her nerves.

She looks around the room.

Her husband is chatting with Lord Toland and Lord Dalt, they are discussing some topic animatedly. Her eldest grandchild is entertaining the heirs of various houses, all those children are listening to every word that comes out of Doran's mouth as if it were the most important thing in the world.

The girls in particular don't stop giggling and sending him suggestive looks, looks that Doran deliberately or obviously ignores.

Not even she could tell, her grandson never showed interest in the pleasures of the flesh. She remembers that both Obella and Lewyn already showed interest in such things at that age but Doran seems to have little or no interest in such matters.

`He is almost two and ten, there are only a few days left for his nameday. At that age Obella already had her eyes on Trystanne, Lewyn on Genna, and I on Arthur. Ha! It seems that the last few Martell generations all decided on their partners at a young age. Doran on the other hand... Hmmm, I remember seeing him blush around Rhaella several times. Was he ashamed or...? That girl would make a great princess consort. Well, only time will tell.`

The younger members of the family are not present. Olyvvar, Elia, and Oberyn are too young to witness this kind of thing. Their father is with them, something quite rare these days.

Preparing Dorne's defenses is a task that requires the Morning Sword's full attention, and Trytanne barely has time to greet his children, much less spend quality time together.

Holding back an irritated sigh, Dorna continues to survey the room. She saw her aunt Maya chatting with her good friend Lady Wyl, and Lord Dayne is looking at Doran with a frown.

The princess wonders briefly what his problem is.

`Oh! He must have been offended when Doran's Tour was called off before reaching Starfall. That old curmudgeon...' She smiles briefly, Jason Dayne is not someone she likes at all. In fact he was the main reason she was against her daughter's marriage at first. Luckily Trystanne is nothing like his father.

`Father, if only he knew`

Doran approaches and whispers something to her.

"They are already here."

She nods and straightens her posture. Her bored gaze is replaced by a steady, sharp one.

"We present Lord Edgar Yronwood, his wife Lady Brella Yronwood. Their children, Lord Ormond and Lady Nysterica." Announce a servant.

The doors to the room open and a dozen Martell guards escort a family inside. Edgar looks somber, looking around the room suspiciously.

As soon as they disembarked from their ship, several dozen Martell guards awaited them at the dock with orders to escort them directly to the throne room. They were not even given time to wash up, nor were they allowed Yronwood guards to accompany them. Edgar has every reason in the world to be suspicious, and the Princess of Dorne's merciless smile confirms his fears.

Dorna Nymeros Martell looks at him like a viper would look at its cornered prey, a look devoid of mercy.

Edgar and his family walk to the front of the throne, after which all four bow.

"Welcome to Sunspear, my lords and ladies." The princess smiles.

"I thank you for your… warm welcome." Edgar wants to say something else but he bites his tongue.

His son looks up at Prince Doran and smiles brightly at him, unaware of the tension around him. Doran looks away and grimaces.

"As you all know, the reason why I have called you all here is not to celebrate the nameday of my grandson." The princess pauses and looks around the room. All eyes are on her. "War is approaching, my lords and ladies."

The nobles began to murmur among themselves.

"War? What war?" The most clueless look around, waiting for someone to clarify the situation.

"In the east the Blackfyres are preparing their forces for another war." Maya Martell Toland raises her voice. "Those damn lizards want our land and wealth, half a dozen times they tried to take what is ours, half a dozen times we defeated them. Each time they run away with their tails between their legs but they always come back. They are worse than any vermin."

"What is the king doing to prepare the realm for war?" Shouts Lord Dayne.

"Nothing." Answer Edwyn Dalt. "The dragon hides in his castle and waits for the kingdoms to bleed before responding to the threat." He spits with disdain.

"Damn coward." Spit out another noble.

"Dalt watch what you say with that mocking tongue of yours, remember that it is the King of Westeros you speak of. When you speak of the king do it with courtesy or I assure you that you will have reason to regret it. Remember where you are, this is Sunspear, House Martell is cousin of House Targaryens." Jason Dayne glares at Lord Dalt.

"Cousins?! Ha!" Dalt laughs in his face. "You are blind and deaf Dayne. Did you forget all the insults? All the times the Targaryens offended our rulers, our kingdom?!"

"Aye! When those damn stormalder barbarians invaded our kingdom what did that king of yours do?!" Lord Fowler joins Lord Dalt.

"Aegon Targaryen is our king, yours and mine, Lord Harold"

"What the dragon is, is your nephew." Lord Harold Fowler looks at Lord Dayne with disdain.

"Don't change the subject Lord Dayne. Remind all of us in this room how Aegon Targaryen responded to the Stormlander invasion." Lady Wyl looks at him grimly.

Jason Dayne fidgets for a moment before answering confidently.

"He answered according to his position as king. The stability of kingdoms is more important than minor disputes between lords."

"Minor disputes?!"

"Thousands of Dornish men and women died in that 'minor dispute'! Our prince consort nearly lost his life!" Dalt yells as he strides toward Lord Dayne. He grabs him by the doublet's neck and spits in his face. "Aren't those lives worth anything to you?! You Targaryen lickspittles!"

"Let me go right now or you'll pay dearly, Dalt!" Lord Dayne tries to break free of the younger lord's grasp but Lord Dalt is much stronger physically and the attempts are in vain.

"Is that a threat, Dayne?"

"Enough! Stop this madness!" The Princess of Dorne rises from her throne and glares at the crowd. "If you want to act like children, I welcome you to do so in the cells."

Edwyn Dalt lets go of Jason Dayne and takes a few steps back.

"I lost my temper, my most sincere apologies princess." He makes a reference.

Dorna nods and turns her gaze to Dayne, who grudgingly apologizes.

"I gathered you all here not to watch you act like angry children, but to prepare Dorne for war."

"My princess, forgive my audacity but I have to ask: What is the Crown doing to prepare the realm for the upcoming war?" Lord Toland's tone is respectful and courteous.

"Nothing." The princess's response provokes another wave of murmurs. "The king has other things to attend to." The bitterness and irritation in her tone are crystal clear.

She raises a hand and the whispering ceases, such is the authority of the Princess of Dorne.

"But we will not sit idly by, my good son has already started preparations for war."

"Is that why you summoned us? To call the banners?" asks Lord Gargalen.

"No, Lord Tremond. I summoned you here for a trial."

"A trail?" asks Lord Tremond confused.

"Indeed, a trial against a house here present. A house who betrayed Dorne one last time."

The nobles look at each other nervously.

"Guards, seize Lord Edgar Yronwood and his family."