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The dungeon beneath the Hall of Order was cold and damp, the kind of place that smelled like old stone and regret. Four women with bronze skin hung from thick iron chains bolted to the ceiling, their feet barely touching the floor.
Obara leaned against the wall in the corner, wrists chained behind her back. The cuts on her arms had scabbed over, but the look on her face was worse than any wound. Nymeria sat quietly, her usual calm expression strained. Tyene sprawled on the stone like a dead fish, still wincing from the Hound's earlier blow. Only Sarella curled in on herself, sniffling quietly.
"Big sister…" Sarella's voice was weak. "Did we really get it wrong?"
Obara didn't answer.
Sarella tried again. "That Corleone guy… he really saved Father?"
Still nothing.
"Did we kill the wrong man?"
Obara finally opened her eyes and glared. "We killed him. What's there left to confirm?"
Sarella shrank back, crying harder.
Nymeria sighed. "Tyene, can you please stop?"
Tyene pushed herself up on one elbow. "I just want to know what the hell is going on."
The four of them fell into a tense silence. Then Obara spoke, voice low and urgent. "We're not staying here."
Tyene's head snapped up. "You've got a plan?"
Obara looked at each of her sisters in turn. "We break out."
"Are you crazy?" Tyene hissed. "This is Corleone's dungeon. There are guards everywhere."
Obara smirked. "We're Sand Snakes. We don't need doors when we've got teeth."
Sarella looked between them, eyes wide. "But… what about Father? What if he wakes up and finds out we—"
Obara cut her off. "That's exactly why we leave. I'm not sitting here like some prisoner while he hears what we did from someone else."
Nymeria nodded slowly. "She's right. We go to ground, wait until Father's recovered, then head back to Dorne together."
Tyene grinned, vicious and eager. "I like it. We slip out, disappear for a while, and come back when the heat dies down."
Sarella opened her mouth, then closed it again. No one was listening to her anyway.
They were still arguing about the best way to escape when the heavy door at the end of the corridor creaked open.
A strip of light spilled across the floor. All four women went still, eyes locked on the doorway.
A slender figure stepped inside.
Red hair caught the torchlight. Sansa Stark wore a simple gray dress and carried a basket full of dirty guard uniforms. She kept her head down, moving straight toward the pile of laundry in the corner like the chained women didn't exist.
Tyene's face lit up. She recognized the girl from the laundry lane—the one she'd yelled at for being cold, the one who'd paid Lyla out of her own wages anyway. A sweet, simple little thing. Easy to play.
Tyene put on her friendliest smile. "Hey. You remember me?"
Sansa looked up. Those blue eyes were clear and calm.
"I remember you," she said softly. "You were the one who helped Lyla. Called me heartless."
Tyene's smile faltered for half a second, then came back stronger. "That was a misunderstanding! I thought you were being mean to her. We're friends now, right? I was hoping you could do us a tiny favor…"
Sansa tilted her head. "What kind of favor?"
Tyene lowered her voice. "Just… open these locks for us? We've got somewhere important to be."
Sansa studied her for a long moment. Then she nodded. "I can do that. The captain upstairs has all the keys. He likes me. I'll go ask him to lend them to me."
She turned to leave, then paused. "But even if you get out of here, the whole Hall of Order is locked down. You won't make it far on your own."
Tyene's heart was already racing with hope. "We'll figure it out! Just get us free!"
Sansa smiled, small and sweet. "I have a better idea. I'll take you to the man who runs this place. He's a friend of mine. He can get you out safely."
Before Tyene could answer, Sansa was already walking out. The Sand Snakes exchanged glances. Obara gave a short nod. They followed.
Sansa led them through the corridors without a word. Tyene kept track of the turns at first, then stopped bothering. The place was a maze. Eventually Sansa stopped in front of a heavy oak door.
"This is his office," she said quietly. "He's waiting inside."
She pushed the door open and stepped aside.
Tyene walked in first.
The room was large, lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on three walls. Moonlight poured through tall windows on the fourth. In the center sat a massive oak desk.
Behind it, Vito Corleone lounged in a chair, one hand lazily stroking the black cat in his lap. A cup of tea steamed on the desk. His dark eyes lifted to meet theirs, calm and unreadable.
Only Sarella, standing at the back, let out a tiny, tired sigh.
"I told you this was a bad idea…"
Corleone set his cup down. The cat blinked once, then went back to sleep.
"Welcome," he said, voice smooth. "Though I don't recall inviting any of you."
Tyene's face went white. She spun toward Sansa, finger shaking.
"You… you tricked us!"
Sansa stood in the doorway, moonlight catching her red hair. She smiled the same gentle smile she'd worn in the laundry lane.
"Tricked you?" she asked, tilting her head. "I just brought you to the person in charge. There isn't anyone better at running this place than him."
She looked at Corleone. "Right, my lord?"
Corleone raised his cup in a small toast, lips curving.
"Correct."
Obara moved first.
She exploded forward like a striking cat, hands reaching for Sansa's throat.
Sansa didn't flinch.
A weak but clear voice came from the shadowed corner of the room.
"Are you really going to attack someone… right in front of me?"
Every head turned.
In the far corner, half-hidden by shadows, sat a tall man wrapped head to toe in bandages. Only his face showed—gaunt, pale, eyes dark as pitch.
Oberyn Martell.
Obara's hands froze inches from Sansa's neck.
"Father…"
The word came out broken.
All four Sand Snakes rushed forward at once, dropping to their knees around his chair.
"Father, you're awake!"
"Are you hurt?"
"We were so scared—"
Oberyn looked at each of them in turn. There was no joy in his eyes. Only something heavy and complicated.
"Your mother," he said quietly. "She's dead."
The words hit like a hammer. Obara's face twisted with rage. "We know. We heard."
Tyene's voice shook. "Who did it, Father? Tell us. We'll kill them."
Oberyn studied his daughters for a long moment. Then his gaze slid across the room to the man behind the desk.
Corleone met his eyes without flinching.
Oberyn's voice was low, almost gentle.
"The one who started all of this… is sitting right there."
He nodded toward the door.
Two Black Hand men entered, dragging a beaten, half-conscious man between them. They dropped him in the center of the room.
Gelin.
His face was swollen and purple. One eye was completely shut. He could barely stay on his knees.
Obara stared. "This piece of shit…"
Tyene grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up. "You. You're one of the ones who tried to kill our father."
Gelin whimpered.
Oberyn's voice cut through the room, calm and cold.
"Tell them what you told me."
Gelin's remaining eye rolled toward the Sand Snakes. He swallowed hard, voice cracking.
"It… it was for Princess Arianne. But not the way you think."
Tyene's grip tightened. "Talk."
Gelin forced the words out between broken teeth.
"We wanted to frame the Yronwoods. Kill Prince Oberyn, make it look like they sent the assassins. Then Lord Anders would be finished. Quentyn would be taken as a hostage. Princess Arianne's claim would be safe forever."
He looked up at them, desperate.
"But she didn't know. Princess Arianne didn't order it. We did it to protect her. We thought… we thought it was the only way."
The room went dead silent.
Oberyn watched his daughters' faces. Tyene's rage faltered into something raw and uncertain. Obara's jaw clenched so hard the muscle jumped. Nymeria's eyes went distant. Sarella just looked sick.
Corleone leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, watching it all unfold like a man who had already seen the ending.