When Euron and his party appeared beneath the massive arched gates of Sunspear, Prince Doran Martell was already waiting. With him stood Euron's father, Quellon Greyjoy; his mother, Lady Sancha; the Greyjoy kin; his niece and nephew, whom he hadn't seen in a long time; and various lords and key figures from the Iron Islands.
The fierce Dornish sun beat down on the dust-covered travelers.
Almost immediately, all eyes were drawn to the small bundle wrapped in soft Dornish silk in Ashara Dayne's arms.
Before anyone could ask where this unexpected infant came from, Ashara stepped forward. Her gaze was clear and steady as she met the curious and scrutinizing looks. In a calm voice, she offered a natural explanation:
"We found this child on the road. A tragedy born of the fires of war... he has no father, no mother, no one to rely on. We could not bear to leave him in the wilderness, so we decided to adopt him and raise him as our own."
Her words flowed smoothly, presented as an undeniable fact. Prince Doran's deep gaze swept slowly over the infant, Ashara, and Euron. His wise face betrayed little emotion, only a slight nod of acknowledgment. Quellon Greyjoy let out a gruff grunt, typical of an old-school Ironborn leader—he seemed to disapprove of such "womanish mercy," but he did not openly object.
And so, under the witness of sun and sand, the infant named Daeron entered Sunspear for the first time as the "adopted son of House Greyjoy." His life began shrouded in lies, yet full of unknown potential.
After brief welcomes and embraces, Arianne Martell—Prince Doran's eldest daughter—stepped in with the passionate assertiveness of a Dornish princess. She linked her arm through Ashara's and flashed a charming smile. "Alright, my dear future Lady Greyjoy. By tradition, the bride and groom cannot see each other before the wedding." Without giving anyone a chance to argue, she whisked Ashara—and the baby—away from the crowd toward her own chambers in the palace.
Once inside the private room, draped with gauzy curtains and filled with Dornish ambiance, the teasing smile on Arianne's face faded slightly. She closed the door and lowered her voice, speaking with the familiarity of a sister and a hint of curiosity.
"Tell me the truth, Ashara. This little one..." She pointed at the sleeping baby. "Is this some bastard Euron sired with an unknown woman, and now he's making you clean up the mess?"
Ashara's beautiful eyes widened instantly. There was no guilt in them, only the fiery, offended anger of a Dornish woman. "Arianne! What nonsense are you spouting!" Her voice rose in agitation, but she quickly checked herself not to wake the child, lowering it to a decisive whisper. "Of course not! If you guess wildly again, I'll tell everyone about the time you stole Arbor Gold from the Prince's cellar and passed out in the fountain when you were little!"
The two women dissolved into giggles and playful teasing.
---
The next morning, the carved arched doors of Sunspear's greatest hall were thrown open to the rising sun.
Prince Doran Martell sat on the high seat, flanked by Dornish nobility on one side and the Iron Islands delegation on the other.
Prince Doran presided over the ceremony himself, with Arthur Dayne standing by his side. Doran conducted the "Blood Oath" procedure. Attendants unfurled the massive Sun and Spear banner of House Martell alongside the Falling Star of House Dayne. A septon in pale green robes, following ancient Dornish faith traditions, recited the genealogies of both noble houses in a melodious tone, ensuring the couple shared no blood relation within three generations.
The prohibition against close-kin marriage in Dornish law was treated with solemn gravity here.
Then, Quellon Greyjoy strode forward. The Lord of the Iron Islands did not present a parchment scroll. Instead, he took an ancient stone axe from a wooden box held by an attendant. The axe was wrapped in seaweed and smelled strongly of brine—this was the "Token of the Salt King."
He slammed the stone axe heavily onto the floor and loudly declared that his son, Euron, had "withstood the test of wind and waves and was cursed by no god." According to thousand-year-old Ironborn tradition, if a cursed man touched this sacred object, it would trigger an omen. The axe remained silent and still, proving the Drowned God's approval of the union.
With both traditions satisfied, Prince Doran waved his hand lightly. Attendants brought forward the marriage cloth, embroidered with the Martell golden spear and the Dayne falling star on one side, and the Greyjoy golden kraken on the other. Sunlight streamed through the colored windows onto the intertwined sigils, seeming to gild this cross-sea alliance with divine favor.
Next came the exchange of the "Marriage Covenant," where the families exchanged gifts. Euron would present his gift to the bride, and Ashara would bring her dowry.
Under the gaze of all, Euron Greyjoy stepped forward.
When Euron claimed his gift was too large for the hall and required everyone to move, a curious stream of people followed him out to the beach, now painted gold and red by the morning sun.
The sea breeze whispered, and the waves murmured.
To the astonishment of the crowd, a massive shadow suddenly rose from the sea nearby. Water cascaded off its smooth skin like a waterfall. The creature slowly raised its upper body, its size already exceeding the largest warship in the harbor.
It had the sleek lower body of a fish, scales shimmering with rainbow luster in the sun, but its upper body had the silhouette of a cat. On its round head sat two cute, swiveling ears, and a pair of huge, clear vertical pupils examined the crowd on the shore with curiosity. At the end of its forelimbs were retracted claws that looked sharp yet somehow clumsy and endearing.
This giant "Sea Cat" let out a low, rumbling sound—not terrifying, but a thunderous purr of happiness. It lowered its head, bringing its massive snout gently toward Ashara on the beach.
Euron's voice carried a smile as breezy as the ocean air, tinged with pride. "This is my gift. A loyal and intelligent Sea Cat. It will obey your command, Ashara."
As everyone held their breath, Ashara showed no fear. She walked forward, extending a slender hand to gently touch the giant creature's wet, cool cheek. The Sea Cat narrowed its massive pupils in enjoyment, the purring in its throat growing louder until the sand beneath their feet vibrated.
Ashara looked up, her voice clear and firm as she responded to Euron's gift. "In the name of Dorne, I accept your gift."
This declaration adhered to Dornish tradition—the bride must actively respond, symbolizing that in this marriage, both parties were equal from the start.
Arthur Dayne stepped forward. His posture was as straight as a pine, his voice steady and powerful. "As Ashara's brother, representing House Dayne of Starfall, the dowry for our bride is—the entirety of the Greenblood merchant fleet, consisting of twelve galleys, and all their trade rights."
This dowry was not land or a castle, but the fleet that controlled the trade lifeline of Dorne's mother river, the Greenblood. Its value and strategic significance were self-evident.
On the beach, the giant Sea Cat, the smiling bride, the bold groom, and the generous brother formed a strange yet harmonious picture.
---
Three days later, as the first rays of sun dyed the Dornish sands red, Sunspear awoke.
In Dorne, the early morning is considered an auspicious time; the rising sun symbolizes life and hope, perfectly fitting the "new beginning" of a wedding.
Euron Greyjoy rode a magnificent "Sand Steed," a gift from Sunspear. The horse's body was painted with the golden kraken of the Iron Islands, its tentacles winding with the movement of the horse's muscles, looking as if it were swimming through the sea of sand. Behind him followed twelve of the Iron Islands' finest warriors. Clad in uniform black oiled leather armor and wearing helmets carved into fierce kraken shapes, they marched silently, casting imposing shadows in the Dornish dawn. The procession moved through the waking city, straight to the Tower of the Sun where Ashara waited.
Ashara stood quietly before the city gates. Her sisters—including Princess Arianne—clustered around her, a beautiful sight. She wore traditional Dornish wedding attire: a gown of pure white linen, light and breathable, cut simply but elegantly. The robe was embroidered with gold and red threads depicting the intertwined Sun of House Martell and the Star of House Dayne. Her face was covered by a thin white veil, obscuring her features but revealing a pair of calm, bright eyes that shone like the most precious stars in the desert.
Euron reined in his horse and dismounted. He walked to Ashara, stopping three paces away. Following tradition, he offered "The Drowned God's Greeting," his voice deep and magnetic behind the kraken helm. "With the waves of the Drowned God, carrying the power of salt and wind, I come to knock upon the doors of Dorne."
Ashara met his gaze through the veil. Her response was clear and firm, containing the pride of Dorne and the embrace of the oasis. "With the oasis of Dorne, carrying the blessing of sand and stars, I embrace your ocean here."
After the exchange of vows, Arthur Dayne stepped forward.
Arthur had set aside his white cloak and wore the finery of House Dayne. He looked deeply at his sister, then solemnly took her hand. He stepped forward and placed it firmly into Euron's waiting palm.
"She is the most cherished star of Starfall, the light of House Dayne," Arthur's voice held a tremor imperceptible to most, filled with the weight of the handover. "Now, I place her in your hands, Euron Greyjoy."
Euron nodded solemnly, closing his fingers tight around Ashara's hand.
Two hands—one representing the sand and stars of Dorne, the other the salt and iron of the Islands—clasped firmly together under the rising sun. They turned to the crowd, raising their joined hands high, greeted by the cheers of all who watched.
Arianne and Elia watched from the crowd below. Their expressions were complex—blessings, envy, unwillingness, helplessness... but all masked by smiles. Only Oberyn cast occasional glances their way, his eyes holding a trace of worry and heartache.
The "Heart Tree Plaza" of Sunspear was silent. The pale branches of the thousand-year-old weirwood stretched like bleached bones in the morning light, its canopy of blood-red leaves like countless watching eyes.
Euron and Ashara walked hand in hand to the ancient tree. The snow-white wedding dress and the pitch-black armor knelt together at the roots, a covenant of salt and sand.
A green-robed septon poured water from the Greenblood out of a silver ewer carved with sunbursts. The clear water refracted emerald light against the silver.
The septon chanted prayers to the Seven. "May the breath of the desert entwine your fates, may the light of Starfall water your bloodline—"
Ashara held up the silver ewer, Euron placed his hand over hers, and together they poured the river water into the cracks of the tree roots.
The moment the water seeped into the pale bark, tender green shoots sprouted from the cracks, eliciting low gasps of wonder from the Dornish nobles.
Euron took a rusted copper conch shell. He gently placed Ashara's right hand into the opening, and the inner wall of the shell immediately glowed with a pearlescent light. "Witnessed by the waves of the Drowned God that etch the stone for a thousand years, I, Euron Greyjoy, swear by the keels of my fleet to guard you, Ashara Dayne, until the four seas run dry and the krakens turn to dust!"
Ashara guided Euron's left hand to press against the bleeding carved face of the Heart Tree. When his palm touched the warm sap, the red leaves of the canopy rustled without wind. "The oasis of Dorne remembers the path of every grain of sand. I, Ashara Dayne, swear by the flow of the Greenblood to embrace you, Euron Greyjoy, until the red sun is extinguished and the dunes swallow the stars!"
With the vows spoken, the ceremony concluded.
Prince Doran clapped his hands lightly and smiled. "The Seven and the Drowned God share this wedding feast today." Attendants brought out seven barrels of golden wine, pouring them into the plaza's fountain pool, signaling the official start of the banquet.
---
The Palm Court instantly transformed into a sea of joy and feasting.
Tall palm trees rustled in the evening breeze, surrounding a central fountain spraying cool water. Light and water interwove, illuminating the laughing faces of the guests.
Servers wove through the crowd with gilded trays, presenting the hospitality of Dorne. Crystal goblets were filled with amber "Summerwine," brewed from sun-drenched grapes at the edge of the desert—bursting with fruit notes and just the right amount of body. Following closely were delicacies of the nomads—"Roasted Camel Hump." The meat was tender and rich, dusted with Dornish red pepper and cumin, sizzling over the fire with a domineering, enticing aroma. For a sweet start, "Honeyed Dates," carefully marinated in honey from the Greenblood, were served in small porcelain bowls, their golden translucence symbolizing a wish for a "sweet beginning" to the marriage.
The arrival of the main course marked the grand entrance of Iron Islands elements. Most eye-catching was the "Salt-Baked Kraken Fin." A gift from the cold depths of the Iron Islands, the massive fin had been marinated in brine for a long time. Roasted until the skin was slightly charred, the meat inside was incredibly firm and springy, full of the power of the ocean. It was paired with the staple of the Ironborn, "Black Rye Seaweed Bread." The dark bread was mixed with dried, crushed seaweed, offering the rustic aroma of rye and the unique umami and saltiness of the sea—a taste of home for the Ironmen.
Connecting the ocean and the desert was the "Greenblood River Fish." This fatty, delicious fish from Dorne's life-giving river symbolized the shared resources and future connection of the two lands. Pan-fried to a golden crisp on the outside, the flesh inside was snow-white and tender, drizzled with lemon juice and herbs. The rich layers of flavor won unanimous praise from guests of both lands.
The charred scent of roast meat, the fragrance of wine, the brine of seafood, and the heat of spices mingled in the air—just like the wedding itself, a hearty embrace between the sands of Dorne and the seas of the Iron Islands.
As the aroma of fine wine lingered in the Palm Court, the grand gift-giving ceremony began.
Envoys from across the world and nobles of the Seven Kingdoms presented their blessings and gifts, each carrying different meanings and calculations.
An envoy from Lys presented a necklace set with legendary "Mermaid's Tears" gems. The representative from Tyrosh brought tapestries of colors so vivid they verged on eerie. Myr offered a set of exquisitely crafted crystal lenses.
The special envoy from the Iron Bank of Braavos did not show gold but presented a contract—a promise to provide the Greyjoy family with a massive interest-free loan at a critical moment in the future. Behind this gift lay cold calculation and long-term investment.
The combined gift from House Tyrell of Highgarden and House Redwyne of the Arbor was not wine, but a living work of art—a dual-colored rose bush, carefully cultivated to bloom with both gold and bronze roses. This rare plant was potted in a massive jade basin carved with vines and krakens.
The Tyrell envoy announced loudly, "Highgarden presents 'The Oath of Gold and Bronze'—its roots come from the most fertile soil of the Reach, symbolizing the endless vitality and loyalty of House Tyrell." The Redwyne envoy stepped up to add, "The Arbor has watered it with dew rich in sea salt. May its fragrance linger on the dunes of Dorne and drift across the sea to the reefs of the Iron Islands."
House Lannister's gift was simple and direct—several iron-bound wooden chests, heavy enough to require strong men to lift, standing as tall as Tyrion himself. When opened, the golden light refracted by the neatly stacked Gold Dragons inside nearly outshone the torches in the courtyard. Tyrion winked at Euron. "This was my suggestion. I thought you'd appreciate something practical."
Euron laughed and patted Tyrion on the shoulder, genuinely happy that the Imp had come to his wedding in person.
House Tully of the Riverlands sent a silver trout sculpture crafted by master artisans. House Arryn of the Vale presented a pair of precious young falcons, their sharp eyes predicting the pride and freedom of the mountains. The gift from the North was notably rustic—several large chests of the finest furs and heavy velvet, practical and substantial, much like the character of the Northerners.
Two gifts drew the most attention.
King Robert's gift was escorted by the Gold Cloaks of King's Landing—a massive, complete dragon skull. The bone was stark white, carrying an ancient pressure. Once a symbol of the Targaryen dynasty's power, it was now given by the new King, an unspoken but thorough negation of the old era's power.
Euron remembered a night before the Battle of the Trident, joking with Robert that he wanted a giant dragon skull for his great hall because it would look majestic. Robert chose this gift to tell Euron: I remember everything you said to me. We are friends!
The representative of the Pirate Alliance of the Stepstones and the Disputed Lands, Euron's old friend and the new leader, Edwin Ramirez, presented with both hands a crown made of black iron, gold, and the teeth of various sea monsters—the Crown of the Stepstones Kings. Its symbolic meaning far outweighed its material value. This gift from the outlaws of the sea was a veiled probe and an offer of loyalty. The envoys from Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr reacted most visibly to this sight.
The gift list unfolded like a scroll, from the craft and wealth of the Free Cities to the politics of the Seven Kingdoms, the King's shocking gift, and the pirate's crown. This wedding in Sunspear had become a subtle stage for all factions to display their power and signal their intent.
The feast in the Palm Court reached its climax on waves of music and laughter.
Dornish musicians plucked unique lutes, the rhythm fast and passionate like a desert squall. Mingled with this were the deep, heavy conch horns and war drums of the Iron Islands. Initially distinct, the two melodies strangely began to weave together, raising the curtain for the performances to follow.
First came the famous Dornish Scorpion Dance. The dancers were not soft women, but a group of lean, tough men and women. Their bronze skin was painted with white scorpion patterns, and they wore sharp metal finger guards. Their dance was filled with dangerous, tense beauty—bodies crouching low like scorpions, twisting, and suddenly springing up. Every pause felt like the precursor to a fatal strike. Their sharp eyes boldly provoked and engaged the guests, fully displaying the fiery, uninhibited nature of the Dornish people, drawing rounds of cheers.
Before the heat of Dorne faded, the warriors of the Iron Islands announced their entry with a unified war cry that seemed to tear the night sky. They had no complex steps, performing instead with raw power. Shirtless, displaying scars and powerful muscles, they beat their swords against their shields, stomping in a heavy, unified rhythm. Their war song was ancient and desolate, telling of the Drowned God, battles at sea, and fallen heroes. Every collective stomp and roar made the ground tremble slightly, filled with a wild, blood-pumping power that moved even the Dornishmen present.
Two performances—one tricky as fire, one fierce as the sea—alternated in the Palm Court, pushing the banquet's atmosphere to its peak. Guests held their breath at the thrilling moves of the Scorpion Dance, then boiled with excitement at the Ironborn war cries.
As the noise of the banquet began to wind down, following ancient Dornish tradition, the guests clustered around the newlyweds for the final ritual before the bedding. The air was thick with wine and joy.
First came the "Test" for Euron—answering questions about Dornish history.
"How did Starfall get its name?" an elder of House Dayne asked loudly.
Euron answered without hesitation, his voice cutting clearly through the noise. "Legend says a falling star tore through the night sky and crashed there. The ancestors of House Dayne built Starfall where it landed, and the heart of the meteor was forged into the ancestral sword, 'Dawn'."
"Correct!" Cheers erupted from the crowd, but a wine cup was still thrust in front of him. "Correct answers must also drink! A reward for an Ironborn knowing our history so well!"
More tricky questions followed, like "What is the legend behind the 'Sword and Falling Star' sigil?" Euron handled most with ease, showing the preparation and respect he had for this union.
But right or wrong, the result was the same—he was force-fed wine by enthusiastic Dornishmen and boisterous Ironborn alike. It wasn't a test anymore; it was a carnival where host and guest rejoiced together.
The traditional "Blessing of Strength" was tacitly skipped by everyone. Euron's feat of challenging and defeating half of Dorne's warriors before the Tourney at Harrenhal was proof enough of his valor; no ceremony was needed to confirm it.
After the revelry, the ritual turned solemn.
Two handmaidens held burning olive oil torches, symbolizing the light illuminating the couple's future, guiding Euron and Ashara out of the courtyard toward their bridal chamber.
Above the door of the chamber hung a "Dual-House Tapestry" woven specifically for this night. The left half depicted the sacred sword "Dawn" and a falling star of House Dayne; the right half showed the golden kraken of House Greyjoy roiling in steel-grey waves. The symbols of the two families sat tightly adjacent, forecasting the connection of blood and fate.
Outside the door, a Greenblood Septon and a Drowned Man priest stood side by side. In two ancient tongues, they offered blessings from different gods.
The Septon's voice was gentle and distant: "May the blessings of the Seven entwine your bed, bringing the stability and vitality of the earth; may His branches shelter your dreams, guarding the peace of the long night."
The Drowned Man's voice was deep and powerful, carrying the salt of the sea breeze: "May the waves of the Drowned God wash away your fatigue, granting you the vigor of the deep sea; may storms navigate your love, and may the salt of the sea add flavor to your vows."
As the blessings faded, the door was gently closed.
Outside lay the blessings of two worlds merging; inside lay a new life that began with an alliance but faced an unknown future.
When the last of the noise was shut out by the heavy door, only the two of them remained in the room.
The air was filled with the warm scent of spices and candles, replacing the mix of wine and noise from the feast. The day-long ceremonies, the countless faces requiring smiles, the endless toasts... all the fatigue and tension quietly dissipated in this moment.
Euron turned. He gently cupped Ashara's hands in his own, completely enveloping them in his solid palms, roughened by years of gripping a sword. He held them tight. He didn't speak, only looked deep into her eyes.
His bride stood before him, tall and straight as a Dornish palm. Her dark hair shone with a soft luster in the candlelight, contrasting with her skin, white as jade. But most breathtaking were her violet eyes. Stripped of the dignity and reserve she wore for the guests, they now held only water-like tenderness and pure kindness, clearly reflecting his image. A surging, almost unreal happiness washed over him, stronger and deeper than the satisfaction of conquering any sea or winning any battle.
Ashara felt the warmth and strength from his palms. Her fingers moved slightly, gently gripping his hands in return—a silent, firm response. She looked up. Under his focused gaze, a lovely blush she couldn't suppress spread across her pale cheeks, like the most beautiful rosy clouds at a Dornish dawn.
She watched Euron slowly, with a cherished solemnity, lower his head toward her. Her heart beat like a drum. Her long lashes fluttered like the wings of a startled butterfly. Then, following the pull of her heart and the boundless tranquility of the moment, she gently, expectantly closed her eyes.
The room filled with the colors of spring...