Sunspear and the Shadow City had profited off trade with Essos for centuries, functioning as a cultural turntable where Dornish influences mixed with the rich and cosmopolitan heritage of the Free Cities. Dorne offered wine, spices and silks which Essos greedily traded for glassware, Myrish lace and an incredible amount of exotic goods. However, trade was not the only thing that made it past the Stepstones, with trade came foreign people, and with foreign people came different customs. Dorne was used to this practice of syncretism, taking the useful and adapting in an everlasting marriage of Essosi and Dornish culture that had started with Nymeria’s arrival.

One of these customs had been especially swiftly adopted by the opulent Dornish in their search for comfort and luxury. The fact that it concerned an expensive custom made sure it was equally exclusive as it was enjoyable.

Sunspear was so much more than a fortress, it was the testament of the Martell’s prestige and power. William pitied the rest of Westeros for their glum and functional architecture that was clearly dictated by warfare and suffered from lack of imagination. Bland rock and rotten wood were their building materials of choice. Small minds, small lives, he thought as he descended the last steps leading down to what used to be extensive storage rooms. Fortunately, one of his ancestors had had the genius idea to turn them into underground baths and steam rooms. An additional floor lay underneath, containing the hypocaust which heated the tiled floor above.

Caryatids were carved from the sandstone or adorned alcoves, filling the spaces with their marble curves. A pattern of flowers, vines and tableaus of Dornish history decorated the walls, painted directly onto the stones as frescos. Essosi artists had been commissioned, William knew, to embellish and add lustre to Sunspear’s baths.

Aromas of scented oils and lavender drifted towards him as he passed a heavy wooden door. Behind it, he was greeted by both a relaxing heat, harp play and a Lyseni eunuch who took his dirty cloak. There was still sand and blood on his clothes and the staff was quick to dispense of them. After what had happened to Richard today, William needed a visit to the baths in order to calm his nerves and clear his head.

He downed the offered summer wine.

Or perhaps not clear his head yet. He had been out and about during the entire night, and then dealt with the aftermath of the accident. By the time he had taken care of things and assigned tasks to the right people, the sun loomed just past the horizon. Dawn had come.

William Martell wrapped a short towel around his waist and proceeded into the first of the domed rooms containing an ice cold bath. The cold took his breath away when he resurfaced, wrapped the cloth around his privates again and moved on into the next room.

A trio of naked women awaited him, having discarded the silk that would have just clung to their shapely bodies. They rubbed olive oil onto and into his skin, which they scraped off using a strigil. Cleaned, William proceeded and entered the sweating room. Stones gave off heat which filled the room, the temperature reminiscent of noon in the desert. However, the sweating room was humid instead of parchingly dry.

Nysterica had risen a few hours before the sun and not entirely by choice. Always an early riser, she had been disturbed by one of her girls who brought her the gossip of the court. Though she was not able to provide the full details of the matter, it seemed the Prince had suffered some harm the previous night. Worth knowing, even if Nysterica was not sure entirely what to think of it. Richard, while not necessarily volatile, was reckless at times. It was a trait that the Dayne woman did not appreciate in men nor ruler. 

As the morning ministrations were being handled, the woman returned with more news for Nysterica. Whatever her personal views on the Lady Nymeria, a working relationship had been formed. Very little would pass between them directly, circumstances that Nysterica was certain Nymeria preferred, but information was passed back and forth between intermediaries. 

“The bath house? Hours wasted getting ready and now they must be undone. Very well, if that’s what is desired.” It may have been phrased to her as request, but it ruffled her to know that it was more than that. How she despised feeling as if she was just one of the lady’s tools. 

At least it was William whom she was meant to deal with. Attractive, certainly, but more than that his personality suited her so much more so than his brother’s. If she must do this thing, then at least there would be something pleasant about it. 

Both Ellaria and Allyria would no doubt have wanted to accompany her, but luckily, both girls slept far later than they had any right to, and she could leave them behind without causing a disturbance. Nysterica chose two of her handmaidens to accompany her and moved down through the palace at a slow and methodical pace, she wanted to be sure that she would arrive after the younger prince. 

It took some time to undo the work of the morning in preparation of entering the steam filled rooms. It had to have been an expensive undertaking to build the baths, a superfluous investment, but one she wouldn’t be opposed to introducing in Starfall. 

“Leave me.” Nysterica had been stripped down to just a plush towel wrapped and tucked beneath her arms and which ended at the top of her thighs. Her long brown hair had been pulled back and piled into a large bun, though she knew by the time she was done, it too would be drenched from the moisture in the air and her sweat. 

She moved with the same confidence, arrogance, regardless of her lack of dress or how she immediately began to perspire upon entering the room. Deeply violet eyes scanned through the haze and found the shape of the man whom she sought. 

“Prince William, forgive my intrusion. May I join you?” 

William had sat down on a stone bench -condensated water covered its surface and caressed his skin with a refreshing touch. He had been alone and so had let the towel drop to either side of his waist. When a woman entered, her hair put up, he leisurely redid the cloth. Nudity in Dorne was not considered a sin, as opposed to the rest of prudish Westeros, but it would still be impolite to leave the crown jewels uncovered.

“These are baths, not a monastery,” he said, unable to keep the tiredness out of his voice. A chill ran down his spine as he felt a few beads of sudor trickle down. The air was hot and humid, and felt heavy on his lungs. “And from the looks of you, you’re not a Silent Sister.” What a waste that would have been, William could not help but think. The fact he was still capable of some wit, cheered him up somewhat.

Nysterica nodded her head in acceptance. She could hear the fatigue in his voice, and though she found his remarks on the snappish side, she smiled as she walked to take a seat near the prince. “Working with the dead is a higher calling than I would like to undertake.” She felt a few beads trickle down her face. It would be a pointless task to worry about such things, it was the entire purpose of the rooms, but the sensation remained a mixture of pleasure and annoyance. 

She glanced to the side, noticing the towel still laid haphazardly across William’s lap. Her own wrappings felt restrictive in the heaviness of the air, so thick it felt like she was breathing in liquid. “I hope the morning finds you better than last night.” She spoke offhandedly, her fingers digging into the knot of her towel to loosen it and let it drape, openly, about her body. Word would spread soon enough, and by now she was certain William was beyond questioning how quickly she could learn of various matters. 

William closed his eyes and took a deep laborious breath, filling his chest with the hot air permeated by incense, herbs and perfumed oils from Volantis. He processed Nysterica’s comment, and recounted how many hours had passed between Richard’s fall and him coming to the baths. By now most of the castle would know, with the exception of Myriah and his younger cousins, most likely. If they would hear Richard was worse than unwell, he would flay the person whose loose tongue was responsible for the indiscretion.

“Night falls to dawn,” he mocked, appreciating the appropriate weight of the Dayne words. William had always been sardonic, finding irony and cynicism amusing. “And words are wind,” he added. “Have you considered how many meanings that saying holds?” The prince wiped some sweat from his brow and scrutinised Nysterica’s face, her vicinity negating the steam filling the room. William poured some scented water on the scorching stones, coaxing a sizzling from them, as if rocks could scream, while the water turned into more steam. “It might mean that words are empty,” he continued, placing the ladle against the wooden bucket of tepid water. “Or that they travel quickly and freely.” For a moment he merely looked at the Dayne woman that had manifested in the fog like lady from a knightly fable, observing the peculiar violet eyes and making a clear effort not to let his eyes wander south. “It’s hard to conceal the bloody body of a Prince, my lady. Especially if a lot of people are aware to his tendency of nightly adventures, not to mention are there to witness him crack his skull at an illegal street race.” Some venom crawled in his words. 

He was waxing philosophical, something Nysterica found nearly amusing. Perhaps it was his fatigue, perhaps it was a thought that truly bothered him. “Wind can be a gale, destructive to anything in its path. Words are no different. At times vital to life, other times cutting.” She paused to wipe a few beads from around her eyes. The Prince’s accident and news of it, could certainly fall into that category. “It is too late to make it not happen, you are left to deal with the consequences. I do not envy you your place.” A reckless nature that William would not display so openly, it must pain him to be the one to deal with cleaning up his brother’s messes. Nysterica, even if she had capable siblings, would not put that responsibility on them. It would make her weak, and though she would not comment on it aloud, she thought it made the Prince weak to do so. 

“Mistakes,” she tread the line of insubordination, “are the only way some men will learn. And he has you, at least, and your mind.” A compliment, but one not given as an empty courtesy. It was the truth of the matter. 

Rumours would spread about their meeting here, but it would not be anything scandalous. This was not King’s Landing or Casterly Rock where a chance meeting in a corridor was already fuel enough for accusations of adultery. William cared little at this time, though. “I wish he had used his own head more, and not just for smashing walls. Now I -,” the prince glanced at Nysterica from the side, watching a droplet run down her arm, then corrected himself. “-We have to find a solution for Allyria. The problem this creates is not just a personal, but a political one.”

“Yes, it is a problem.” An obvious statement she made and then pressed her lips tightly together. Allyria was a problem in and of herself. Beautiful from head to toe, but with a mind as ill-suited to rule as the Prince it seemed. Nysterica knew her father’s disappointment in not being able to wed her to Richard and she knew too that if not for her inheritance, it would have been the wisest choice. But now, there were more complications she had to deal with. 

She turned her head to face him, “You have thought on this already. What do you propose?” It was a hard, inquisitive look, one that made clear she was going to judge every last word that passed on the subject. Wind or not. 

Maybe he did not pity the rest of Westeros one thing: Dornish women. They were all, as a rule, headstrong -obstinate even-, free and largely independent. Nymeria’s coming had brought liberal views on gender, and William was still not sure whether that was for the better or worse. His mother was one of those Dornish firebrands, qualities she had passed on to his sister Elia and probably Myriah as well. William’s aunt, Obara, was also a notorious vixen, which made him chuckle since she had married a Florent. And currently he was conversing with another, more calculated, version of the independent Dornish women. 

“Time is running short. Richard, if he lives, will be incommunicado for some time. We must find her a different husband.” William purposely used short sentences for a serious matter such as this. “Daemon would make a good candidate, since my cousins Guymon and Gerold are already betrothed, but the pickle is that he is only the youngest of us. Custom demands it is either my brother or I that marry first.” A weary smile brightened William’s face. “Unless your father would accept one of my uncle’s bastards.” The joke, perhaps insensitive, was made to dispel a foreboding feeling that overcame William.

Nysterica frowned, her brow furrowed with the lines of her displeasure. A fourth son as a good candidate? She had come here to see her sister married to the Prince, not a relative. An alliance, or friendship as the Lord Gerris demanded, could be formed of it. But it was not the kind Nysterica herself wanted. 

“I find it strange you do not offer yourself then. Surely my sister does not displease you so greatly? You are not in need of a strong woman, I would wager, but one to do her duties and do them well. Allyria is most certainly capable of that. Nor does it take much to keep her pleased, she can be petulant, but is easily swayed by a few kind words or a trifling gift.” She raised her eyebrows, as if daring him to counter the logic of it, regardless that it was slight mockery. Prince Toad she had called him on her first encounter after arriving in Sunspear, this was not so much worse. “Even if time is running short, I would not make a decision on her marriage fate until we better know Prince Richard’s condition. In the meantime, as you mentioned your uncle’s bastards, my father’s bastard Ellaria serves your sister. We can wed her to one of them and tie our bastard families as one.” An amusing proposition she thought, though she’d rather have Myriah in Starfall, she was a well-loved girl and found the chances of that unlikely. 

“That would be a neat little bow tied around an empty present,” he retorted, finding it harder and harder to concentrate as he felt anger tickling in the back of his head and arousal cackling in his core. He was careful not to give her the satisfaction of her noticing that, the last thing she needed was the confirmation that she could use her body as a weapon. “Should I marry your sister I would be playing the part of a father, not a husband. Richard might be able to entertain himself with a fresh maiden, just out of her childhood, but I cannot.” 

Nysterica’s laughter suddenly and briefly filled the dense air. “You are stubborn, William. When has marriage been about our own personal wants? I care little for my husband, and I actually did choose him. Not because I wanted him, but because he was the correct political decision.” An uncharacteristic sly grin danced across her lips. “It has not stopped from pursuing those that I do want.” And with that it was gone, though perhaps not accidentally, the towel slipped further down her back. “Marriage to Allyria may prove be painful at times, I won’t deny that. But I’m sure you can find your wants fulfilled elsewhere.” She leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath, her eyes closing for an extended moment. “It is the way of things, the games we play and the dances we step to. Sometimes, you have no choice.” 
Her laugh was still the same, William noticed. It had the same cadence, the same clarity reminiscent of a fountain and the same richness of a red wine. It was one of the first things Nysterica had been able to perfect and use. This time too, it worked disarmingly. “You say that as if that is new to you. Everyone that knows me is aware of it.” Some moderate self-derision never hurt anyone, and in fact made you seem more pleasant in the eyes of others. His eyes flicked down with the hem of the towel, then settled on her mouth as she sighed. “You seem to know a lot about these things. Perhaps you should teach me,” William suggested with a playfulness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Forced humility, that was a good one, though from William it seemed a genuine attempt at wit without sarcasm. She couldn’t fault him too much for that, she had a sharp tongue herself, and one that did not dull well. “It is good when a man recognizes his own flaws.” 

Nysterica cocked her head at the suggestion, turning it to face him once more. They were quite alone, servants and guards milled about outside their walls, certainly, but they were free from anyone of importance. “Are you such a fresh maiden yourself William? I could try to teach you,” she purred, the tease dripping with the huskiness of her voice. “But I’m worried you won’t be able to keep up with my lessons.” Her eyes, usually described as cold and uncaring, brightened and burned. A dalliance with the Prince would be a welcome diversion, it had been some time since she had found a man she considered so worthy of her time. The slim, dark haired wisp of a woman laid her hand on his thigh and gave it a rough squeeze. “We’ll take it slowly so as to not overwhelm you.” 

Of her affairs, Nysterica was always the one to make the first move, her issues with retaining power had made her the aggressive partner in her pairings. Though William may have suggested such a match, and though he was without a doubt the ranking member, she wouldn’t let that get in the way of her record. Without giving him a moment longer to think, she pressed her lips into his, and freed herself of the final constraints of the towel, discarding it to the floor.