The Last Sand Snake of Dorne (Game of Thrones Fanfic)

Chapter 1: The Last of the Sandsnakes

"Awooooooo!" The boy burst from the bushes, tin sword in hand. His face was flushed in heat, breathless and he went barefoot. But his skin was white as milk, a shock of dark red hair hardly kept by a copper ring swinging by his side. Gwyen screwed her nose and pushed him in the puddle, laughing.

"You're no wolf, Rhoy!" she called out as she danced out of his muddy fingers.

"You're no snake either, Gwyen!" he growled and furiously brushed the dirt molds that had clung to his hair. Gwyen stuck her tongue out at him, but helped him up after all. Rhoy Snow was her friend, and she loved running with him than being cooped up in her stuffy dornish halls back in Sunspear. Her lady aunt, Princess Arianne, had never denied her access to the Water Gardens, nor did she at the beach and waterfronts. She had stayed there for far longer than she had expected, five or six days had passed. Still no word, however, when she was coming home.

Rhoy tossed his sword to a clump of bushes and sat underneath the shade of a blood orange tree, picking up a ripe fruit and bit it, the juice running down his chin. Gwyen followed, already dirty and looking unlady-like in her mud-and-leaf smeared summer dress. The sky-blue cloth wound around her chest and neck, the skirt cut at the sides as she would always choose running than walking. Above the silk on her chest, she wore copper mail that shone like polished pennies in the light, the sun a red beryl and the spear of Martell golden and piercing it. It showed she was of the Red Viper's brood. One of the Sandsnakes.

"Suppose the war's over..." Gwyen stated as Rhoy offered her a slice of the orange. "Will you go back to the Vale? Or Winterfell?" She was deeply saddened by the thought of it. The war had taken her grandfather, her aunts, her family. Rhoy may be the next.

He laughed softly. "That is an impossible thought, Gwyen. m'lady."

She pushed him to the ground and glowered at him. She is a Sandsnake, but she never liked the term princess or M'lady. She was far from being a lady. But near nine. Three years younger than Rhoy. "Why not?" she retorted.

"Because I'm to be your Queensguard, and still call you M'lady, m'lady," he laughed harder. He was a head taller than her still, and they have talked about him being a knight and her being his queen more than often. Gwyen couldn't escape being the heir of Oberyn Martell. Nor her mother, Lady Loreza Sand. They both knew that.

"That's quite enough, Rhoy."

Both their heads turned to see Lord Merrys of House Qorgyle looking st Rhoy sternly. Lord Merrys was a barrel-chested man, three black scorpions emblazed on each of his red gauntlets and armed with a longsword he had lovingly named Stinger. He had taken charge of Gwyen everytime she made a visit to the Water Gardens, in behalf of her lady mother, to see her safely off and back again. He was hardly stern with her, gentle and funny at most times, but he was the most somber man Gwyen had ever met, always trying to make amends when she had done something wrong, and keeping her as proper without cuts or bruises. Quite better than a septa, and almost like a father to her though he was only five-and-twenty and still unmarried.

She quickly scrambled to her feet, and tried to fix her nest of dark brown hair but succeeded only in tearing out the knots. Lord Merrys sighed but a grin was on his face as he gently released the clumps. "M'lady, you shouldn't be listening to Rhoy too much. I bet he has had enough ale." Rhoy's face reddened, and muttered as he stalked sway in the bushes to look for his sword. Gwyen knew at once.

"Princess Arianne wants to see you, m'lady," Lord Merrys told her quickly, as if hearing her thoughts.

The sun shone shafts through the pillars, bouncing on the water that slopped almost quietly in her aunt's pool, a shoal of tiny silver fish swimming by. Princess Arianne was beatiful, and still the beauty had remained in her eyes despite the wrinkly folds that sagged her face, thin white streaks running through her ebony hair. She sat facing the ocean, wearing the same blue of Gwyen's dress, but no mail. A ring of copper encircled her forehead, red rubies glinting like blood against her sloped forehead. "Gwyen." Even her voice was papery thin, ruled by age.

She stopped by her aunt's feet and kissed her veined hand. The princess of Dorne smiled, and looked at her niece up and down approvingly. "You almost look like a woman, like your mother, when she was your age," she smiled sadly. Then she trembled, like making a huge effort, "Child, dear one, you have to go far away."

It was like a slap in the face. "But why?" She clutched her frail aunt's hand. "Why?"

Lord Merrys took over when her aunt was reduced to tears. "Ser Gerry, a newly made knight was killed in his sleep, two days past. That is why you are still here with Princess Arianne, m'lady. Your mother..." he trailed off, but Princess Arianne laid a trembling hand on his arm.

"What of my mother?" she asked suddenly, her heart wrenching in dread. "Did she say anything? Should I go back home in Sunspear?"

Princess Arianne cupped her face. "You are the last of the Sandsnakes, Gwyen. The last one."