#* filed as : dialogue ― ryon martell .

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addressed   to          :         denyse  martell   /   @ruinovs​

“  do  you  believe  in  omens  ?  ”  he  asks  denyse  after  a  few  moments  of  silence  in  their  now  shared  chambers  —  an  adjustment  in  itself  ,  even  without  denyse’s  injuries  .  he  plays  with  his  pendants  absentmindedly  ,  sliding  them  back  and  forth  along  their  chain  as  he  peers  out  the  window  to  the  courtyard  below  ,  where  just  days  before  they  had  been  wed  ,  punctuated  by  unspeakable  tragedy  .  “  it  would  be  better  if  you  did  not  ,  considering  .  ”  he  concludes  before  she  can  answer  ,  turning  back  towards  the  room  to  regard  her  .

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ryon himself had little to do with dorne's politics currently , aside from sitting in on his mother's council meetings to brood silently in the corner . his opinion was hardly asked for , and he preferred it that way —  for his own thoughts often conflicted with his mother's . he knew that nym was more even - minded than he , and thus what meagre logic he possessed told him he would need her more than ever whenever he may take the throne . " i wouldn't lay waste to it purposely , either . for the record . " he notes , a small smile finally breaking through the gloom that had haunted his features . " yes , we will give chase in the redwyne fleet , and then the vassals that are ungrateful will finally see the utility in my marrying denyse . "

        the  topic  had  been mentioned  before  in passing but this time it felt in possession of greater gravity that not even his small joke alleviated. nymeria stared at her brother.        ❝ i will be, and i can be now if it would help, ❞        she said with a nod, but it felt more like a promise.        ❝ you’d never lay waste to dorne even accidentally. you love it too much. ❞        anyone who thought otherwise was a fool. nymeria wasn’t blind to her brother’s flaws, but his love for their home was not amongst them. she felt similarly about dorne. a desire for adventure did coexist within her, but at the end of the day, dorne called to her, and she would always answer without hesitation.❝ i don’t believe that, but even so we will chase them across the narrow sea then and make them face justice. ❞

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addressed   to          :         desmera  fowler   /   @stxrfclls​

ryon’s  time  spent  away  from  his  family  was  now  minimal  ,  whether  his  mother  wished  for  him  to  be  constantly  present  or  not  .  it  kept  him  in  close  proximity  to  denyse  ,  as  well  ,  feeling  as  if  he  must  have  eyes  on  her  at  all  times  lest  she  disappear  in  the  time  it  takes  him  to  blink  .  but  he  could  only  force  his  company  on  the  women  in  his  life  for  so  long  before  they  grew  increasingly  weary  of  him  ,  and  thus  he  was  left  to  pace  sunspear’s  corridors  like  a  tornado  funnelled  between  mountains  .  his  feet  bring  him  to  the  fowler  apartments  once  more  without  the  permission  of  his  brain  ,  as  if  they  knew  respite  from  the  storm  lashing  in  his  mind  lay  beyond  the  ornate  door  .  the  guards  admit  him  without  much  pomp  and  circumstance  ,  but  still  he  knows  he  is  intruding  despite  his  natural  state  of  entitlement  that  is  born  of  his  princehood  .  “  i  realize  that  you  have  three  other  children  to  worry  about  ,  lady  desmera  ,  ”  ryon  starts  with  a  dismissive  wave  of  his  hand  —  serving  to  downplay  his  desire  for  her  listening  ear  ,  “  but  i  was  around  first  .  so  i  hoped  you  could  still  spare  me  a  moment  .  ”

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addressed   to          :         utp   /   @stxrfclls​

“  which  of  these  says  ‘  i’m  sorry  that  our  wedding  was  an  abysmal  horror  show  ?  ’  ”  he  asks  whoever  will  listen  ,  gripping  a  white  and  pink  flower  in  each  hand  ,  both  wilted  from  the  heat  and  having  been  plucked  from  their  branch  .  it  is  a  childish  gift  intended  for  denyse  ,  all  that  he  is  capable  of  coming  up  with  in  his  naturally  selfish  and  ungenerous  state  .  despite  that  ,  he  is  trying  —  a  recent  development  when  it  comes  to  his  relationship  with  his  new  wife  ,  and  likely  shocking  to  all  that  know  him  well  .  “  perhaps  both  .  or  neither  ,  ”  he  trails  off  ,  realizing  the  lameness  of  the  blooms  .

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addressed   to          :        nymeria martell   /  @wnterreign

location         :        the grand ballroom

there is a part of ryon that revels in the missteps of another region . since the events of sunspear , in the middle of which nestled his own wedding , the crown prince had simply been lying in wait for someone to inevitably do something worse — lifting the pressure off of house martell in the wake of his mother and grandmothers' decisions . his smugness , however , is outweighed by his worry —  his dislike for not knowing what was occurring beyond the ballroom's doors . " had you seen denyse today ? later than this morning ? " he questions his sister , reaching out to hold onto her elbow gingerly —  a gesture of both his own desperation for an answer and to offer her support .

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in quieter moments , ryon often thought he and abraxas were simply too similar to ever live in harmony . two serpents spitting venom , it was only in their nature to be combative . he knows what risk he runs when he says what he does to his uncle in the wake of both their losses , both too proud to admit they are in the same position . " she's mentioned them , " he answers , noting abraxas's change in topic and marking it down as a victory for him . " and i don't wish to make peace with the other kingdoms . the second we agree to anything , we sell them dorne's soul . " but he was not yet ruling prince , and thus his opinion would remain just that — an opinion .

abraxas  was  irritable  for  losing  to  a  tully  ,  not  even  to  the  victor  of  the  entire  tournament  like  his  nephew  had.  because  of  that  ,  he  bites  his  tongue  rather  than  snipping  back  even  if  his  nephew  has  clearly  chosen  violence.  gods  ,  he  was  cursed  with  family  members  who  could  irritate  him  so  perfectly.  a  skill  ,  one  brax  had  used  on  his  own  family  at  their  age  and  was  now  reaping  the  repercussions  of  it.  "  has  your  mother  invited  you  into  the  talks  ?  "  he  asks  instead  ,  clearly  not  wishing  to  talk  about  the  joust  any  longer.  damned  sport.  instead  he  does  his  job  ,  keeping  track  of  things  and  making  a  mental  list  of  what  to  set  his  little  spies  to.

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addressed   to          :         denyse  redwyne   /   @ruinovs​

location          :          the  tower  of  the  sun  .

the  one  place  in  sunspear  that  was  not  overrun  with  perspiring  nobles  was  the  very  top  of  the  tower  of  the  sun  .  rising  up  into  the  dornish  sky  ,  it  is  the  first  thing  that  the  visitors  would  have  seen  on  their  approach  ,  whether  by  land  or  sea  —  however  ,  very  few  of  them  would  get  to  see  the  inside  of  it  .  the  trek  up  the  staircase  was  long  ,  but  worth  it  for  the  view  —  the  reason  he  had  dragged  denyse  up  to  the  top  floor  ,  where  they  shared  the  room  with  the  twin  high  seats  ,  one  bearing  the  martell  spear  ,  the  other  the  rhoynish  sun  .  “  do  you  want  to  sit  in  one  ?  ”  he  asks  after  a  moment  of  silence  ,  knowing  that  it  was  technically  very  against  the  rules  ,  looking  at  denyse  out  of  the  corner  of  his eye  .

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addressed   to          :         denyse martell   /   @ruinovs

being in the reach once again so soon after departing from the arbor to return home felt like a cruel joke to ryon , played on him by the seven to atone for all of his past transgressions . counteracting that feeling is the knowledge that denyse herself is happy to be home once again — and happier to be out of sunspear . he himself has beegrudgingly become accustomed to the sweet scent of the reach's air , along with being constantly surrounded by flowers as they are now . " i hope you are prepared for a long and successful reign as queen of love and beauty , denyse . " he quips , breaking a comfortable silence between husband and wife . though it is but a joke , it is also true that ryon has never been lacking in hubris nor confidence in his abilities .

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addressed   to          :         utp   /   @crwngolds​

sunspear  lay  under  a  thick  blanket  of  collective  misery  .  the  nobles  held  there  for  an  undefined  amount  of  time  were  angry  because  they  wished  to  leave  ,  and  the  members  of  his  own  house  wished  for  nothing  more  than  to  see  the  back  of  them  —  but  that  could  not  happen  as  long  as  the  culprits  still  walked  free  .  a  heavy  sigh  exits  the  crown  prince  as  he  hears  another  approach  ,  eyes  already  searching  for  an  escape  route  .  “  perhaps  our  guards  truly  are  useless  ,  ”  he  drawls  ,  turning  to  face  whomever  it  is  that  has  joined  him  .

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addressed   to          :         utp   /   @silverflcmes​

“  the  ruling  princess  is  still  not  available  for  audience  ,  ”  ryon  informs  ,  tone  more  blasé  and  dismissive  than  perhaps  is  warranted  .  already  ,  the  crown  prince  is  inching  away  from  the  aging  lady  that  he  speaks  to  ,  searching  for  any  excuse  to  depart  from  the  immediate  area  as  soon  as  humanly  possible  . “  and  last  time  i  checked  ,  the  crown  was  not  yet  perched  upon  my  head  —  ”  dark  eyes  scan  the  corridor  ,  widening  as  he  lays  eyes  on  another  .  “  i’ve  been  waiting  for  you  ,  ”  a  lie  delivered  effortlessly  ,  turning  away  from  the  lady  and  thus  her  prying  questions  .

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addressed   to          :         tyene  martell   /   @goldcnhaze​

seeing  his  mother  in  her  sick  bed  had  been  a  shock  to  ryon’s  system  .  he  knew  her  to  be  strong  ,  a  pillar  of  steadfastness  to  the  region  .  the  realization  that  she  was  only  human  —  that  she  could  not  be  the  immortal  figure  he’d  seen  her  as  when  he  was  a  young  boy  had  been  a  blow  ,  regardless  of  his  present  age  .  that  said  ,  he  hadn’t  a  clue  how  to  act  around  someone  who  was  ill  or  how  to  care  for  his  mother  in  a  way  that  would  be  at  all  effective  .  as  a  result  ,  he  had  spent  most  of  his  time  with  tyene  as  of  late  in  relative  silence  ,  both  out  of  a  lack  of  appropriate  conversation  topics  and  a  reluctance  to  bring  up  the  fact  that  he  and  denyse  had  agreed  to  leave  for  the  arbor  without  first  consulting  tyene  herself  .  “  are  you  sure  you  don’t  need  anything  from  the  kitchens  ,  mother  ?  ”  he  asks  for  a  third  time  ,  though  he  does  not  mean  to  be  so  obvious  in  his  ploy  to  escape  his  own  awkward  silence  for  even  a  moment  .

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addressed   to          :        brynden tully   /  @qcyqoyi

location         :        the grand ballroom

ryon was not so versed in diplomacy . his political persona was not yet fleshed out , any responsibilities given to him by his mother merely for show . the princess of dorne was no fool — her son , though he had long since aged into adulthood , had not yet grown into the crown that waited for him . forced proximity with nobles of great houses of other regions put him in a position he resented — one in which he represented dorne . " i would not wish to be the tyrells , currently , " he notes to the lord of the riverlands rather than standing in a prolonged , impatient silence that could only spell trouble .

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the imbeciles of the realm found amusement in prodding at him — something ryon had come to know throughout the facades of peace that had brought them together over the past few years . yet , despite categorizing himself apart from said imbeciles , ryon would almost always rise to their antagonization . horns would soon lock , both opponents equally bull - headed . he could not help it , he'd insist if asked . it was just the way he was made up — built of heat and snake venom . " i would have stuck his head on my lance like a favour if i thought they would still let me joust in the next round afterwards . " comes his response , accompanied by a shrug and a half smile offered in his uncle's direction .

there was never any wonder in his mind as to why his nephew found himself on the receiving end of barbed jabs with a reputation of being easily riled up . residual after affects of the inquisitions while in dorne were to be expected , little surprise that it had been in public by an islander though the aftermath had brought a chuckle to his lips . ❝ i would have knocked him harder from his horse . ❞ had anyone attempted such a stunt with mavrick his vision would have clouded with red . they did , after all , possess the same temper just opposite ways of handling things .

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addressed   to          :         timur blacktyde   /   @qcyqoyi

ryon's irritation with the blacktyde's presence in nymeria's life had nothing to do with the nature of their relationship . he was not overly protective of nymeria , for he had never had a need to be . he did not wish her a life with no adventure , no thrill or momentousness . he only wished her to remain out of harm's way . it seemed the blacktyde had sailed her directly into it . " the grand maester at sunspear told me countless times as a child that the ironborn were known for their prowess on the sea , " he starts upon his approach , " it's pretty unfortunate that now he'll have to be stripped of his chain for spreading misinformation . " he shrugs , for the comment is clearly a jest . he pokes at the ironborn lord's skin , hoping to get only slightly under it . his anger following learning of his sister's accident had expired upon realizing she would be fine , but his skepticism of timur had not .

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addressed   to          :         nymeria  martell   /   @wnterreign​

“  my  apologies  ,  lady  toland  ,  ”  ryon  locks  eyes  with  nymeria  as  soon  as  she  enters  his  sightline  ,  the  widening  of  them  suggesting  that  he’s  pleading  she  play  along  .  “  i  promised  my  sister  i  would  dance  with  her  at  least  once  .  ”  not  the  case  ,  for  ryon  was  no  dancer  .  but  he  would  much  prefer  to  make  a  fool  of  himself  in  dance  than  endure  even  a  single  second  more  of  the  aging  dornish  lady  suggesting  ways  in  which  he  could  ensure  his  new  bride’s  enduring  happiness  .  “  nymeria  ,  ”  he  calls  her  by  her  full  name  ,  invoking  whatever  authority  he  had  as  her  eldest  brother  ,  offering  his  arm  in  an  almost  insistent  manner  .  

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addressed   to          :         viyana  martell   /   @feuillemorts​​

location          :          the  water  gardens  .

ryon  could  remember  many  a  time  that  he  was  sat  down  with  his  aunt  to  learn  of  the  dornish  laws  .  he  was  still  and  never  had  been  patient  —  it  had  taken  time  ,  but  his  passion  for  dorne  and  its  wellbeing  had  propelled  him  through  his  studies  nonetheless  .  he  had  nothing  but  respect  for  his  mother’s  siblings  ,  she  included  .  despite  the  irritability  he  felt  as  of  late  ,  he  could  never  deny  his  aunts  or  uncles  their  wishes  of  him  ,  and  so  he  showed  his  face  every  so  often  to  avoid  any  potential  scorn  and  scolding  .  walking  arm  in  arm  with  viyana  ,  he  narrows  his  eyes  slightly  at  the  sheer  crowdedness  of  the  water  gardens  .  “  remember  when  the  water  gardens  were  a  private  retreat  for  our  house  only  ,  aunt  viyana  ?  gods  ,  those  were  the  days  .  ”