"A privilege that even I did not have," Prince Qhorys said quietly, watching the departing figures of Princess Dareya and Lord Thaddues as they walked down the corridor leading towards the Old Palace.
His voice carried no envy—only resignation, as if he had long accepted that some doors in Dorne only opened for certain names or certain destinies.
Thaddues did not say anything. His attention was already ahead, drawn by the weight of the place they were entering.
The corridor into the Old Palace was noticeably different from the rest of Sunspear. The sandstone here was older, darker, worn smooth by centuries of passing footsteps. The air was cooler, almost damp in contrast to the desert heat outside, and the torches burned with a softer, steadier flame as though even fire respected this part of the palace.
"Who's your grandmother?" Thaddues finally asked while they walked.
Princess Dareya glanced at him, and for a brief moment something sparked in her eyes—pride, reverence, and something almost protective.
"She's a legend in Dorne," Dareya answered. "Her feats are the reason Dorne had peace with the dragons."
That answer was enough. It confirmed what Thaddues already suspected.
So it was really the Princess Deria he knew in his past life. How was she still alive?
Princess Dareya slowed slightly and looked at him more directly now. Her tone lowered.
"When you see her, Lord Peverell," she said carefully, "do not be indifferent."
Thaddues met her gaze.
"…why is that? " he asked quietly.
"You will know once you see her, " Princess Dareya said.
They continued walking.
However, the deeper they went, the more Thaddues felt it—the lingering presence of magic nearly forgotten by time. It seemed the Old Palace had once housed ancient sorceries. As for what kind of power had once dwelled there, he could not tell; since arriving in this world, he had never once touched its magic himself.
It was faint, weakened, but undeniably there—like embers buried under ash, refusing to fully die. He could also sensed it only reacted to magic intended to harm the Old Palace.
He stopped for half a second after passing a garden. It had a pond where the water shimmered under the night sky. Princess Dareya noticed immediately.
"What's the matter?" she said.
"Nothing." Thaddues replied. He did not say that he sensed traces of unfamiliar enchantment lingering within the garden, weak but present.
Princess Dareya did not discuss it further. Instead, they continued until they reached a chamber within the Old Palace.
The doors were massive.
Older than the rest of Sunspear, reinforced with iron that had long lost its shine. One of the household maids stood waiting. Without a word, she unlocked the door and pushed it open.
The room beyond was dim.
Large.
Quiet.
A heavy bed stood at its center, surrounded by thin veils of cotton that partially concealed the figure within. Even before stepping fully inside Thaddues could feel the traces of fading magic far more strongly here, clinging to the room like a memory that refused to leave.
They entered.
"Grandmother," Princess Dareya said respectfully, her voice soft but steady. "We are here as you commanded, with the wizard-noble Thaddues Peverell."
Reverence was unmistakable in her tone.
From within the bed came a voice. Old. Dragged by time. But still carrying authority.
"Lift the veil. I want to see the both of you."
A maid immediately stepped forward and obeyed.
The fabric was drawn aside and Thaddues finally saw her.
Princess Deria Martell lay upon the bed, her body frail with age, but not broken in presence.
She was undeniably old—her skin marked by deep lines of time, her hair turned silver-white and loosely draped across her shoulders, her form thin beneath the blankets. And yet, beauty remained.
Not youthful beauty.
Something far more enduring.
A dignity that age had not stolen, only refined.
Even lying upon her bed, she still carried the presence of someone who had once ruled without ever needing to raise her voice. Thaddeus thought, briefly, that in her youth she must have commanded the attention of entire courts without effort—simply by existing within the same room.
But what caught his attention was not her face.
A faint trace of magic in her blood, and the fading enchantment within her necklace.
A turquoise necklace rested against her chest, pulsing faintly with unfamiliar magic.
"An artifact?" Thaddues murmured.
Princess Deria smiled slightly, as if she had been waiting for that reaction. She touched the necklace gently.
Then she spoke.
"Everyone outside. Leave us. Let the wizard stay."
The maids stiffened immediately. Even Princess Dareya seemed taken aback.
"We cannot, Your Highness. Your safety is our duty—"
"Do not obey," Princess Deria interrupted calmly, "and tonight will be my end."
Silence fell instantly.
No one moved.
Then, slowly, the attendants retreated. Princess Dareya glanced at Thaddues one more time. Then the massive door closed behind them.
Now only Thaddues remained.
"So you recognize the artifact," Princess Deria said.
Thaddues nodded. Though he did not recognize the power within it, he knew at once that the necklace was an artifact. His mastery of different branches of magic made such things impossible to mistake.
"It's the reason I'm still alive," she continued. "It was given to me by a woman in a blue dress when I was on my way to King's Landing—carrying the dragon letter and the head of Meraxes, to secure peace with the dragonlords."
Her gaze drifted slightly, as if seeing something long past.
"The necklace remained with me when I descended from the throne… and brought peace to Dorne."
Thaddues exhaled slowly. For a brief moment, he debated whether the truth should be spoken aloud. In the end, he told her anyway.
"Yes," he said. "But it is defective, Your Highness. Its magic is fading."
Princess Deria gave a soft, tired smile.
"Its effect was enough, wizard-noble. I have lived enough. I am only waiting for Dareya to ascend the throne before I leave this world."
A pause settled.
Then she looked directly at him.
"And you might be wondering why I called you here."
"I am," Thaddues replied.
"It is because of what you can do," she said. "I have heard you intend to establish your own house here in Dorne. Do you wish to become a vassal of mine?"
Thaddues was silent for a moment.
"I am not fond of politics, Your Highness," he said finally. "And I dislike being under anyone."
That made Princess Deria laugh softly.
"Then you need not worry," she replied. "You will not be beneath anyone. You will hold equal standing with House Martell. A fief comparable to the great houses."
"That is a generous offer," Thaddues said, stunned. He didn't expect it at all.
Why would she offer him something like this? Was she not afraid of the consequences? Was her influence truly so vast?
"What do you want in return?" Thaddues knew she won't offer this for free.
Princess Deria's expression turned serious.
"Only this," she said. "If Dorne ever faces destruction that threatens the stability of the house, you will stand as a pillar of support."
Thaddues narrowed his eyes slightly. He didn't expect that. For a fleeting moment, he had expected some political arrangement involving Princess Dareya. But he didn't know the reason will be like this.
"If this involves the Iron Throne, I cannot accept," he stated.
If it concerned only House Martell, he could accept it. He had known the two princesses for only a few weeks, yet even in that short time, a bond had formed between them. Had they asked for his aid in desperate times, he likely would have given it regardless.
But if it involved the dragons, that was another matter entirely. Thaddues did not wish to make an enemy of the rulers of the realm—for to stand against them was, in truth, to stand against the realm itself.
Princess Deria's tone sharpened instantly.
"No worries. Dorne will never yield to the Iron Throne and they won't dare to invade my land. If ever they do, I will crawl out of my grave myself and end my own house before that happens." Her voice carried absolute certainty.
Thaddues almost coughed upon hearing it, as he knew Dorne will be part of the throne many years from now.
"I did not sacrifice my life's work to see Dorne become a vassal of any proclaimed lord of the realm."
Then she added, quieter but more dangerous. "And I have a weapon against them."
Thaddue's gaze sharpened.
"If they have forgotten what the dragon letter contained," Princess Deria continued, "I can use it to bring them to their knees."
That statement lingered heavily in the air.
Thaddues said nothing, but his curiosity deepened.
What kind of weapon could make even the Targaryens hesitate?
In the end, he exhaled once.
"I accept."
Refusing such an offer would be foolish. Having a noble backing in Dorne will ensure him a comfortable life. Few would dare move against a man standing beside House Martell itself.
Princess Deria nodded slightly, as if the answer had always been expected.
"Good."
Before he left, Thaddues reached into his cloak and retrieved a set of carefully prepared potions. He felt a quiet guilt—the peace bringer had offered more than he could ever fairly return, and this was the closest thing to balance he could manage.
"As a courtesy of our alliance," he said, placing them beside her bed, "these will not restore your youth. But they will strengthen your body. Perhaps extend your life by another decade."
Princess Deria studied the vials for a long moment.
Then she gave a faint, approving smile.
"You are more practical than most men I have met," she said.
"I prefer survival over pride," Thaddeus replied.
"That is why you are useful," she said simply.
For a moment, nothing more needed to be said.
And so the agreement was made.
Not with ceremony. Not with oaths—only with understanding.
TBC
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