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SUNSPEAR - THREE YEARS AGO
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MYRIAH
The hot Dornish sun made her feel like she was boiling in a kettle of water. Her modest grey dress was sweat-drenched with dried dark blood all over her skirts, enough to cause a stir. People turned their heads and whispered as she strode through the bazaars, right towards the gates of Sunspear. But Myriah couldn't care less about the way she looked at the moment. All she wanted was her father to see what has happened to her. Compared to the skin of Prince Doran's subjects, the young woman was as pale as snow with dark circles under her eyes and messy hair. But the struggles of the past months had marked not just her face, they had marked her whole body, too.
She was more skin and bones than flesh and blood. She was broken, widowed, childless and lonely. She had more of a ghost than woman. A ghost that sought revenge.
A direwolf's skin clutched to her chest, she stepped through the open gates of the Old Palace, and feel a strong hand on each of her arms holding her back.
"Get lost." One guard spat with a Dornish accent.
"You get your dirty hands off me, you bastard!" Myriah hissed back at him. "I demand to see my coward of a father."
"And I demand to see Margaery Tyrell's cunt, but that ain't happening either." The other one said.
She examined their golden leather armor, studded with the Sun-and-Spear of her father's house, which they wore so proudly. "I am Myriah Martell, the Queen in the North. Let me through or I won't just find another way in but also a way to send you to a place worse than the seven hells." Her green eyes sparkled at them while she bristled with rage. The guards now took a closer look at her, brows furrowed. "Go and fetch someone who had been here twelve years ago. Someone who as a brain to remember me or at least to remember a hint of courtesy."
They mumbled into each other's ears. All Myriah could hear were No's and What If's, until one of them asked: "Do you have any proof?"
"Do I have any proof? DO I HAVE ANY PROOF? I am standing right in front of you, my dead husband's blood on my dress, his dead wolf's skin in my hands. Surely you have heard what has happened to Robb Stark, his reign, and his kingdom." Myriah was too angry to be sad. "I cannot return north and everywhere else lions would hunt me down, so now I have come to the last place where I thought I was still welcome. I was born here. This is where the few remains of my family live. My father, my brother, my uncle and all my cousins, bastard or trueborn. So get out of my way, you imbeciles."
Without waiting for an answer, she shook them off and rushed past them into the palace. Walking the halls of Sunspear was strange to her. In her dreams, she had walked them a thousand times, recalling every staircase, every door. Yet, they seemed so unfamiliar, now that she had aged. The only way Myriah remembered well enough was the one leading up to the Tower of the Sun, from where House Martell had ruled for hundreds of years.
