[CENTER][sup][h1][img]https://i.ibb.co/fdBBsfJF/photo-1756916475115-3bf0209b728d-fm-jpg-q-60-w-3000-auto-format-fit-crop-ixlib-rb-4-1.jpg[/img]
[b][color=khaki]S U M M E R H A L L[/color][/b][/h1][/sup][/CENTER]

“Your husband is going to kill me.” 

Dyanna rolled her eyes at the dramatic man beside her. Her head shook with a chuckle, sandy hair rustled by the pleasant summer breeze. “Most likely, regardless of what you do. Better to enjoy the time you have left.” She shifted atop her horse, a proper Dornish sandsteed, pale brown with white socks and a bright blaze down her nose. The mare nickered softly beneath her, irritable at being made to stand still.  

“Dyanna…” Ser Ulrick started, his tone soft but pointed. “What exactly is enjoyable about testing the Stranger? Wouldn’t it be better to be inside the gardens with wine and women?” He was displeased that she had chosen to ride out alone except that he had been allowed to follow, and he had made it known the entire way out. He did not think she had heard most of it, the speed of their travel sending his protestations as just noise on the wind. 

She huffed. “I’d share the wine but the women are all yours. If you manage to fill the castle with sand, [i]you[/i] will be the one sweeping up before he returns.” Purple eyes winced, a momentary lapse of bravado. [i]When he returns.[/i] Always when, not if, always. Her heart ached with a familiar pressure behind her ribs but the smile returned as she gave a pointed stare. “You know there are too many ears, even in the gardens.” Her pause was brief, just to catch her breath, “I received word from my sister, though the letter seems to have been delayed. I expect we’ll hear of Prince Maron’s arrival any day now.” 

The sandsteed felt the tension through the saddle and kicked at the ground, snorting her shared displeasure. Dyanna pat the creature's neck without thinking, soothing both of them. 

“I know that look. You cannot join them.” Ulrick reached across to grip his cousin’s hand. “That would be foolish and your dragon will blame me.” His eyes pleaded even as his voice remained firm. 

“You do not allow it?” One eyebrow shot up though she turned her hand beneath his and held it. “I think that would make him angrier.” A sigh slipped past her lips regardless. “I don’t seek to ride off to war, cousin, but I cannot sit idle and do nothing. Something is going to happen, something…” Her voice trailed off, her jaw setting firm. 

Her gaze drifted ahead of them. The green and brown fields hid a land that wide and flat under the bleached summer sky. Hints of mountains were in the distance, smudged by a heat haze. The Dayne woman breathed deeply in the silence, dry grass and warm stone, not the scented pleasures of Starfall or of what they had managed to build within Summerhall. She held it for a moment of shared understanding between them, where no words were needed.  

Ulrick did not prod her further. He had been privy to all manner of correspondence and discussions to not know and agree with what she thought gathered around them. The threat drew closer day by day it seemed, like the heavy gray stormclouds that lurked in a distance. Always possible that they move on in another direction and yet somehow always instead striking when you least wanted it. Her good-brother was nearer than her husband, but not close enough. “Do you wish you had returned to the capital?” He asked at last though he knew the answer. 

Dyanna let out a sharp sound, shaken from her reverie. “I will take men with swords over that stinking nest of snakes any day.” The childhood romance that King’s Landing had once been to her was long dead and buried. Maekar had come of it, but nothing had made her happier than when he promised her that they would reside in Summerhall. And here, at least, their children would be spared the treatment their Dornish blood would earn them. Or at least they could be better protected. Few dared it when Maekar was there, even those who had been raised as marchers. 

“Do you think they’ve made it to the Twins yet?” She didn’t have to say who she meant. His last letter had been short and terse, and she could feel his annoyance through the way the quill had dug into the paper, the tears and weeping ink it had left behind. Dyanna could picture him writing it, a soothing daydream even if in it his lips were pressed in a thin line, and a vein along his forehead pulsed. 

Ulrick scratched at his chin in thought. “Could have. If mud and blood hasn’t delayed them.” It was a bleak statement, but honest. The Riverlands offered misery in the best of times. “They sound an ugly place, I hear the Freys aren’t much better.” The knight chose his next words carefully, lips pressed between teeth in thought. “Suppose there won’t be too many temptations for your husband, at least.” 

She groaned. “Can you imagine? I pity a woman who thinks to throw herself at him, out of all of them.” Baelor would surely be firm but kind in his rejection, Aerys wouldn’t have known the woman was there. Her husband would roar for the fucking cunt to be removed from his presence before she’d finished her approach. Dyanna might not have tried hard to smooth away that specific lack of tact. She might even find it enjoyable to watch from behind a goblet so that she could hide her grin. [i]That[/i] particular concern many women had when their men rode off was not one she shared. 

Ulrick’s arm swivelled suddenly, his mount stomping to turn to whatever had grabbed his attention. Dyanna stiffened, ears sharpening to the sound of hoofbeats, rhythmic and growing from the distance. Her stomach rose into her throat. Perhaps this has been a foolish decision. 

He shifted his horse in front of her, a wall of muscle and readiness. But all that approached was the single rider and even at a distance, both Daynes could see the colors marking him as one of theirs. The rider’s horse was lathered and the rider himself caked in dust from a hard ride. His face was creased and darkened from having spent too many days under the sun.

“My lady, Ser.” He hailed some distance out. His voice carried an urgency even through the wheeze of a hard ride. Dyanna did not recognize him though Ulrick did and he rode forward to meet the man.  Dyanna pulled up quickly before he could think to leave her out of the news. 

“Lord Maron has been sighted, just a day out, maybe two.” He was a Stormlander and before he could continue, Dyanna corrected him. 

“[i]Prince[/i]  Maron.” She did not offer the correction harshly, but she would not allow poor manners to take root. 

The man straightened and cleared his throat, his sunburned cheeks reddening. “Of course, Prince Maron, forgive me, my lady. He and his men, they’ve come up through the Boneway.” 

Dyanna and Ulrick shared a look. The Prince of Dorne riding north into the marches. That was unheard of, no matter the long history of animosity. Dornish raided, House Martell was alleged to support any number of campaigns against the border houses, yet House Martell had never once seen fit to send their own north in a warband. 

“There was more, ser.” He hesitated, his eyes sliding to Ulrick, instinctive but uncertain. “The tin mines have been set upon. Some burn from within, workers are fleeing while they can.” 

The mines were just south of them, the edge of the Red Mountains that gave way to the flat plains they now stood upon. They were contested grounds and always had been. At least half a dozen lords had half a dozen claims and disputes that never fully resolved. Who would they each blame? Who would decide to act first and clarify later? Dyanna turned the pieces over in her mind. The prince’s arrival was timed with a sudden attack on the mines, but she was still missing something. It didn’t fully fit and the shape of it was not clear to her. Not yet, anyways. 

Before Ulrick could speak, Dyanna urged her mount forward. 

“Return to Summerhall. Rinse the road off and eat something hearty. She gave a soft, affirming smile. “Speak to no one else of what you’ve told us.” She watched him go until the dust closed behind him. 

“I need you to ride to our prince,” she said quietly. “I need to call upon the friends we’ve made.”