Prologue

Larys Cassel had spent the last eight years of her life at the Water Gardens. A skinny, coltish girl, with a head of curls black as ink and eyes even blacker, had arrived in Dorne to live with her mother's family for a while. Amongst the flailing limbs and kicking feet of so many children, no one took notice of her. She was not particularly remarkable to look at, unless it was the remarks of other mothers that she'd be a pretty one, as soon as her body caught up with her arms and legs.

And caught up they had. She grew to be a beautiful young woman, creamy tan skin a shade paler than the golden hues of the other girls, with silken curls tumbling down her back, eyes large and shining, lips full and red, and curves to send any man reeling. Now, the other mothers eyed her bosom and wide hips and remarked on what a perfect wife she'd make for their son. Rather, a perfect brood mare.

But the women and their sons were to be disappointed, for a raven had arrived, from the North. There lay the wishes of a family to see her again, in their home at Winterfell. Larys did not mind, she had been born in the North, and though her mother had been Dornish, her father, Rodrik Cassel, was a Northman through and through. Dorne was beautiful, with its warm weather, delicious food, and glorious sand-steeds, but it was not home. Not to her.

The morning of her departure came swift. She had said goodbye to the few friends she had the day before, although they were not the sort you missed much, and now stood beside her sand-steed mare, a leaving gift from her very rich merchant uncle, and kissed each of her tiny cousins farewell.

"Why do you have to go?" whined little Elia, fists clenching the skirt of Larys' dress. "The North is cold and full of monsters!"

Elmar, a blue-eyed boy of three, waved around a stick in his chubby fist.

"I'll defend you! I'll come with you and beat all those smelly savages!" he roared.

"Elia! What have you been teaching him?", she exclaimed, before bending over, gently detaching her hand. "I'm as much Northern as I am Dornish, so unless you are calling me a savage, both of you should act like the knight and lady you are. Otherwise, all I will remember of you both is two children acting like babies."

They looked at her stricken.

"No, you aren't a savage!"

"I am not a bab-"

Larys laughed and swooped down to kiss them both.

"I know darlings, you'll both be absolutely perfect for me, and you're parents, won't you?"

The nodded firmly, chests puffed like robins, bravely holding back tears now they realised she really was going.

She moved to her Aunt Anya, who embraced her and wished her the best of luck, and came to her uncle. Efran stood tall, dark hair pulled into a knot, his face lined and comely, but sad.

"Sweet Larys," he murmured. "You look so much like you're mother."

"I am glad, Uncle- better her than you," she whispered, eyes sparkling with mirth.

He laughed and pulled her close, briefly, but incredibly for the normally formidable man. She climbed her horse, and he held the reigns one last moment.

"Remember, you are always welcome here."

"I know, Uncle, I know," she smiled.

And so, without looking back, Larys rode away from her family, and towards her future.

The road south to Sunspear was a well travelled one, lined with carriages filled with goods, Ladies and their entourage, and families from every background. It was a short journey, merely an hour, before she found herself gazing upon the magnificent dome of the Tower of the Sun, and the white, gold-crowned Spear Tower piercing the cloudless sky. Larys had ridden to Sunspear a thousand times before, but never had it seemed to so beautiful until she was about to leave.

The chiffon of her dress rustled in the mildest breeze, a blessing in such heat, and with it came the smell of salt and sea. Excitement churned in her stomach.

Riding through Shadowtown was the same as ever, filled with the sounds of yelling merchants, laughing children, and indignant buyers. The smell of sweat was strong, the smell of spices stronger, and the sun glared off the white-washed walls of the mud houses. She jumped off her horse, wandering through the winding alleys in the general direction of the port. Here she bought herself more perfume oils, the scent musky and erotic, with a slight hint of lemon, and gifts for her family. For her father, she bought an ornate dagger, not too extravagant, as she knew he would appreciate that, but sharp and very well-made. For her cousin Jory, who she remembered to be quite handsome, she bought a leather jerkin designed to be strong but light and flexible. And for her younger sister, Beth, she bought a beautiful yellow dress dusted with diamonds and flakes of gold.

At last, she came to the port, filled with ships from every corner of the known world, from Myr, from Yi Ti, from Braavos, with goods worth their weight in gold. And tucked against the Winding Wall of the Old Palace, was an inn, the Sailors Fist, sandwiched between a fish-mongers and a brothel. As she lead her horse over to a stable-boy with a copper, she entered the Inn, and on the innkeeper's instruction, up the stairs and to the seventh room from the window. She opened the door.

"Gods Eli, could you not handle one day without shoving some whore's cunt full with gold?" she yelled, the woman in question leaping off him with a scream.

The man climbed off the bed, in all his naked glory, dark hair tousled like a mane around his head. He turned to the whore who was scrambling to put on her clothes, which were so thin and flimsy it made no difference at all.

"How come you scream louder for her than me?" he exclaimed, mildly insulted.

The whore only glanced at him briefly, before grabbing the gold on the table and scurrying out of the room like a kicked dog. He looked around the room as if expecting another to pop out from behind the bed, before calmly pulling on his breeches and lounging on the bed.

"You might want to close that," he said nodding at the open door behind her. "The other one is due in a minute."

"Only a minute?" she said acidly, shutting the door and sitting on the chair beside it.

"So?" she prodded.

"So what?"

Larys raised her eyes to the heavens and prayed for guidance.

"When does the ship leave?"

"Oh!" he cried, jumping off the bed and scrambling for his clothes. "Now!"

"Gods Eli," she hissed. "If you aren't the biggest fool I've ever met."

With that, Larys rose with all the dignity of a great lady, dusting off her dress lest she catch the pox, and swept from her cousin's room.