Sorry this took so long!

Jon Connington

Aegon looked exactly like his father had. Silver hair, purple eyes, dark armour with red ornaments. Nobody could doubt his parentage in this very moment, and Jon was glad about that, because this could very well the day this war was decided. Next to Aegon was Arianne Martell, Doran Martells daughter and heir. She had dark hair and eyes like Elia, but other than that she did not look much like her deceased aunt. Jon wasn't sure wether that was good or not. He had never liked Elia, this quiet, clever woman from Dorne with whom he had never known wether she was secretly making fun of him or not.

Arianne wasn't stupid, but she lacked Elia's calm, patient mind. Doran Martell's daughter wanted things to progress, she wanted this war, she wanted her fathers army to join Aegon. Jon wasn't about to argue. Without Dorne, nobody would ever believe that Aegon was the real Aegon Targaryen. But Jon knew that the real problem wasn't Arianne. He had to convince Prince Doran.

Doran Martell was one of those men with whom you never really knew what they thought or were going to do. Jon had been so sure that if given the chance, they would immediately support anybody who might bring down the Lannisters, but Doran had only sent his daughter with a small envoy.

At least Arianne and Aegon got along well. Arianne was older than Aegon, and if the looks she shot him were any indication, no maiden. She wanted the young king, even though he was oblivious. Let's hope it stays that way, Jon thought. If Aegon took Arianne to bed, he might feel compelled to marry her, and that was something they could not have. Aegon needed to marry Daenerys, because only Daenerys had dragons. Also, if they married, nobody would dare question Aegons parentage.

Lost in thoughts, Jon nearly run over a young dornish woman.

"I'm sorry, my lady." He said.

"Not your fault, my lord." The woman replied. She wore man's clothing, but seemed to well educated to be a servant.

"I'm Elia Sand. You didn't by any chance see my cousin Arianne, did you?" She asked. Elia Sand. The young Lady Lance. One of the infamous Sand Snakes, Oberyn Martells bastard daughters.

"I did see her, she was just talking to the king." He answered.

"Oh." She seemed to think about what to do know. "Have you ever been to Dorne?" She asked.

"Yes, my lady." Jon was not sure what she wanted.

"And did you like it?" She asked.

"Yes. It is a fascinating country." He replied politely.

"Fascinating." She snorted. "It's a boring country. I always wanted to see the world, Lord Connington. I went on this trip in the hope of seeing the seven Kingdoms, but now I'm captive inside this castle."

"I would not say you are captive. It is simply safer for you to stay inside, especially as we do not want anybody outside this castel to know that your uncle considers joining our side." The girl had to be fourteen or fifteen, old enough to understand such things. Girls had been wed and bed at younger age.

"You are one to talk. You've seen the Seven Kingdoms, you've travelled the free cities. You have been free. I haven't." There was fierceness in her voice, and longing.

"Well, my time in the free cities was not something I particularily enjoyed, you know. I was in exile." He told the girl.

"Still." She said. Jon had to remember that she was Oberyn Martells daughter. He had only met the Red Viper a few times, and even those few meetings had been enough for Jon to realize that nothing could ever truly pin the man in one place. His daughter was probably the same.

"Oh, here you are!" A voice from the door said. Jon turned around to see Arianne Martell.

"My princess" He said.

"My lord." She answered. Then she looked at Elia. "Elia! I've been looking for you. There is a letter from your mother in your room."

Jon saw the smile on Elias face as the girl took off. Then he turned to Arianne.

"What will you write your father?" He asked.

"Well, it seems pretty clear to me that Aegon is truly my cousin. Therefore I will tell him exactly that." She smiled seductively. Jon turned away disgustedly. It seemed that really all dornish women were wanton.

Yet he forced himself to smile politely. His king needed the dornish.

I'm sorry this is so short, I don't have much time lately.