If the Red Keep was stone and shadow, and Dragonstone wind and fire, then Sunspear was sun and silence. Princess Daenerys Targaryen, daughter of Aegon the Unworthy and wife to Prince Maron Martell, learned to walk its quiet halls like one learning a new tongue. The air was hotter, the winds dry and whispering, but the sea still sang its same ancient lullaby.
And slowly, something within her began to soften.
Prince Maron remained as he ever was—measured, observant, distant yet not unkind. He never pressed her, nor demanded affection she was not yet ready to give. He simply walked with her, shared meals and small conversations, and once, when she spoke fondly of her mother's love for gardens, he had said, "Then perhaps it is time I showed you something."
They rode out the next morning under a sapphire sky, the dunes golden, the breeze warm against their skin. A short ride west of Sunspear brought them to a place unlike any Daenerys had seen in the realm of her birth.
The Water Gardens stretched before her like a jewel set in the sand.
Mosaics of colored tile lined shallow pools. Fountains danced and sang with falling water. Fruit trees shaded winding paths. It was a paradise built not for lords or kings, but for joy. Laughter rang out among the palms—children splashing in the pools, racing down corridors, and picking oranges straight from the boughs. Some wore silks, others simple linen. Their faces bore every shade of sun and blood, highborn and smallfolk alike.
Daenerys turned to her husband in wonder. "This... this is yours?"
Maron inclined his head. "It is yours now, as well. I had them built during the reign of your father, when I was only a prince with dreams. I thought... if I were ever wed, I would have a place not of politics, but peace. A place to remember the realm we serve."
She looked again to the children, drenched and barefoot, laughing as they played.
"In King's Landing, children like these are separated by birth," she said. "They'd not share the same fountain, let alone the same sun."
"In Dorne, the sun does not care whose blood you carry," Maron said. "Nor do I."
Daenerys was quiet for a time. Then, to his surprise, she smiled—genuine and unguarded. "You have surprised me, husband."
"I hope I will do so often," he replied.
She laughed then. "Mayhap you will. May I stay here, a while longer? I should like to watch the children."
Maron bowed slightly, his expression unreadable but his voice warm. "As long as you wish."
They sat together on a stone bench beneath a lemon tree. A breeze lifted her silvery hair, and the scent of citrus and salt filled the air. One child, a small girl with dark curls and missing teeth, ran by with a wooden spear in hand, declaring herself Nymeria come again! Her brothers chased after her, laughing.
Daenerys watched them with a distant gaze. "I wonder," she murmured, "what kind of realm we might build if all our children could grow up in a place like this."
Prince Maron did not answer immediately, but when he did, his voice was low and certain. "A better one."