Chapter Forty-Five

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In Stepstones, Oberyn Dryland was suddenly awakened for he heard a scream from across the beach.

"The Dornish army!" the voice screamed. "Their fleet-" And the voice was cut off.

Oberyn jumped off his bed and ran toward his small window that viewed the sea... But he saw no seawater, only a massive fleet of Dornish ships surrounding Stepstones...

His soldiers across the beach were fighting with the Dornish soldiers, and hundreds of burning arrows were being shot from the Dornish fleet upon the beach, killing Oberyn's men.

"Fuck..." Oberyn whispered to himself.

Suddenly he heard someone barge inside of his chamber. It was one of his soldiers, holding his slit open throat with his own hands. Oberyn rushed toward the man and held him by his shoulders, and held his head up so he wouldn't bleed as much... and so the soldier could tell him what the hell was going on their beach.

"My king–" The man choked on his own blood. "The Dornish... A Scorpion... is with them..." And with that, the guard died in Obryn's arms.

A Scorpion?! Oberyn thought to himself as he felt fear crawling across his body in the shape of a shiver. Scorpions are the most elite and brutal assassins that only serve the Prince or Princess of Dorne... Oberyn thought to himself bitterly. Princess Deria and her council want me to die a slow death...

Oberyn grabbed the soldier's sword and stood up. Oberyn opened his chamber door and began running toward where he could hear his men yelling and the sound of clashing swords was at its height.

He found his men engaged in a hallway with a few Dornish soldiers, whom they killed easily, but then Oberyn and his men heard light yet strong footsteps from the end of the hallway.

At the end of the hallway, a woman dressed in black, adorned with a cloak that seemed to blend seamlessly with the darkness, moved with the grace of a predatory cat. Her face was concealed by a fearsome scorpion mask, its pincers menacingly framing her cold and calculating brown eyes. She clutched a gleaming spear in her hands, its deadly point glinting in the candlelights.

As she approached the first group of Oberyn guards, they sensed something amiss, but it was too late. With a swift and fluid motion, she lunged forward, her spear piercing through the air like a viper striking its prey. The first guard fell silently, a gasp escaping his lips as he crumpled to the ground, not believing that his throat was slit... as if he had not noticed the blade.

The woman moved with astonishing speed, her acrobatic prowess allowing her to leap and twirl through the shadows. She dispatched the guards with a lethal combination of strikes and spins, her movements so fluid that it seemed as though the darkness itself had come alive to claim its victims.

The alarm echoed through the fortress as the woman continued her deadly dance. Soldiers rushed towards her, weapons drawn, but she moved with such agility that their attacks met only air. The scorpion-masked assassin twisted and turned, her spear a blur as it parried and struck with deadly precision.

One by one, the guards and soldiers of the King of Stepstones fell before her, their cries silenced by the merciless dance of death. The courtyard was stained with the blood of those who had dared to stand in her way while she was making her way through their stone-made stronghold... all by herself.

As the last opponent crumpled to the ground, the assassin stood amidst the chaos, her scorpion mask betraying no emotion... And her cold brown eyes met Oberyn's, as he watched his men's lifeless bodies.

Obryn looked at the woman with dread and anger in his eyes. "So our whore of a princess sent a Scorpion to end me. I believe she did not want me to slay half of her army before dying of boredom." Obryn raised his sword and pointed at the Scorpion.

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