Chapter 37: I Declare, A Free Dorne

Ashara stood in front of the window of the Water Gardens, where she saw a huge mass of men crowding the front of the Palace. Noises like bees humming entered her ears as the smallfolk talked amongst themselves.

These days, there is only one topic conversation for the smallfolk to talk about.

‘Princess Elia has returned, why still fight for the mad king?’

This question spreads all over Dorne, from the coastal villages near Sunspear, to the Mountainous region of the Torentines. Indeed, the smallfolk has been restless for a couple of weeks because of this particular question. The distrust between the crown and the Dornish is escalating quickly, especially that the crown heard rumours of Princess Elia’s and the two Targaryen siblings’ wellbeing, coupled by the known fact that Prince Lewyn had abandoned his oath, it seems that the tension will break sooner or later.

Yet Dorne is still paying war taxes to King's Landing.

Not to mention, Martell soldiers were now spreading recruitment notices for the war, and all the smallfolk thought that they would be called to fight for the Mad King. But as the recruitment was going, The Martells suddenly called all the lords that resided in Dorne, and they held a private council.

This private council was still going on in the chamber of the Old Palace of Sunspear. Speculation sprouts from the smallfolk, countless theories spread, but none confirmed.

Until today.

The Martells gathered the smallfolk that lived near Sunspear and told them that an announcement by Prince Doran himself will be held in the front of the Water Gardens. Of course, the Smallfolk who were curious came, so the Water Gardens’ front gate was suddenly filled with men and women around the region.

Ashara, who was looking at the masses while caressing her bulging stomach, could only sigh at the sight. Suddenly, a feeling of touch could be felt by Ashara, someone had held her hand that was caressing her stomach, and Ashara smiled at the feeling.

“Are you well, my lady?” the voice behind her asked.

“This is the third time you’ve asked me that question, Morian.” Ashara rolled her eyes in amusement.

“Is it a sin for a husband to be worried about his wife’s well-being?” the man behind her, Morian, asked another question. He kissed the woman’s neck lovingly, making the Lady smile.

Ashara just shook her head in amusement, and continued to caress her bulging belly. “Does it have to be now?” she asked him. “You will definitely have to leave after this madness, and I will give birth to our son alone.”

“It must be now, Ashara. I am sorry.” Morian sighed. “They are at their most vulnerable state. They simply cannot do anything to stop us.”

“My prince…” Ashara mumbled. “At least, give him a name.”

“Are you sure that it is a boy?” Morian hummed to her ear.

“I know that it is a boy.” she said confidently. “So please, give him a worthy name.”

“Then…” Morian caressed Ashara’s belly, smiling. “I shall name you Maron of house Nymeros Martell, may you bring growth and prosperity to Dorne.”

—

A platform stood just right in front of the Water Gardens’s front gate. Guards wearing the Iconic golden Martell armour were guarding the platform, and two men stood at the side of the gate, bearing the so-called ‘rifles’ that Prince Morian had created.

Soon, an entourage of men quickly walked out of the palace. In front, the gout-ridden Doran Martell. It was the first time that he revealed himself to the smallfolk with his wheelchair, but he didn’t seem to mind. The one who pushed his chair was Lewyn Martell, and besides the two of them were Elia, Oberyn, and Morian respectively. Elia was holding his son, while his daughter followed beside her, curious about the smallfolk in front of her, while Morian was followed by Ashara with her bulging belly. Behind them were the lords and ladies of Dorne, equipped with cloaks bearing their coat of arms.

It was a sight to behold by the smallfolk, they barely see something like this, perhaps it is even a once in a lifetime opportunity. The smallfolk quickly realise that this announcement is not a small matter, and they focused on what the nobles were doing.

Prince Doran, along with the Martell family took the platform. Doran sat in the middle, looking solemnly at his people. Then, Morian took a step.

“People of Dorne!” he shouted, his voice echoed throughout the sky. “House Martell and the other houses have been the protector of this barren yet sacred land for centuries! We have protected you from invaders that plagued our history! We have shielded you from greedy slavers that haunt our coasts! And in return, you have stood with us when Targaryen dragons burned our villages! you helped us when Daeron I pillaged our towns!”

The smallfolk cheered and nodded at Morian’s words, but still confused on what would be the end of this speech. But, the smallfolk got their answers when Morian continued.

“And now! As your prince, I ask you! When we, the Dornish, go north, What kind of treatment have you gotten?!”

Silence. Not one single smallfolk spoke. Instead, some of them clenched their fists, some of them frowned, some of them lowered their heads.

“Sandy Dornishmen! Salty Dornishmen!” Prince Morian called. “Tell me, have you been mocked just because of the colour of your skin?!”

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At first, a small group of people shouted in agreement, but as time went by, it had a domino effect. Almost all of the smallfolk who had travelled to the north, especially merchants, shouted too.

“People of Dorne! Tell me! Have you been shunned because of your passionate nature!? That those envious northerners are jealous of our giant cocks and big tits because they worry that their husbands and wives will be tempted?!”

The smallfolk quickly laughed, even the lords and ladies too.

“Now I ask you People of Dorne!” Prince Morian continued again. “The King has mocked us! The King has mocked our little Princess Rhaenys that she smelled Dornish, as if we are but a slave to him! What has become of us Proud Dornish to be treated like a slave!”

The smallfolk’s blood was boiling, shouting profanities, insulting the king repeatedly, not caring about the consequences.

“The King took Elia as a hostage so we’ll be dragged to his meaningless wars! Fortunately, we have successfully saved her!” shouted Morian, and the crowd cheered again. “So I ask you this, People of Dorne! Is the Mad King worthy of our loyalty?! Is being called a region of the seven kingdoms worth it for the countless mistreatment we have suffered?!”

“No!”

“Fuck the king! Long live Prince Doran!”

“Revenge for Princess Elia!”

The crowd continued to be stirred up, and it’s getting harder and harder to control them, but Morian kept continuing.

“People of Dorne! I ask you this! Will you fight for Freedom?! Or stay in your homes only to become slaves for the rest of your lives?!”

“Freedom!”

“Freedom!”

“Freedom! Long live Prince Doran! Long live Prince Morian!”

Morian finally calmed down. He turned towards his Doran, to which the Princes just nodded at one another.

Finally, Morian turned to the Lords and Ladies that stood in front of the smallfolk. “My Lord and ladies! Your subjects have spoken! Will you give them your blessing to fight for freedom?!”

One by one, all the lords and ladies stepped up and knelt in front of Prince Doran.

“I, Lady Delonne of House Allyrion, pledge my allegiance to Prince Doran of House Martell, rightful ruler of Dorne.”

“I, Lady Larra of House Blackmont, pledge my allegiance to Prince Doran of House Martell, rightful ruler of Dorne.”

“I, Lord Trebor of House Jordayne, pledge my allegiance to Prince Doran of House Martell, rightful ruler of Dorne.”

“I, Lord Anders, of House Yronwood, pledge my allegiance to Prince Doran of House Martell, rightful ruler of Dorne.”

“I, Lord Quentyn of House Qorgyle, pledge…”

One by one, all the lords and ladies knelt in front of Doran, pledging their allegiances as the smallfolk cheered. Once the last of the lords had given their pledge, all eyes were on Doran, and he could only silently sigh. He looked at his brother Morian, who was looking at him solemnly, took a moment to calm down.

Finally, Doran stood up from his seat, much to everyone's surprise. His face looked like he was in pain, Lewyn offered help, but he refused. He stood on the podium, in front of the lords and ladies and the smallfolk, and declared.

“I, Prince Doran of House Martell, Protector of the Rhoynar and the Greenblood accept your pledge of allegiance. And I Declare, A Free Dorne.”

And at that moment, amongst the loud cheers and shouts, ravens started flying in the air, sending news to the lords and ladies of Westeros about the event that had happened here.

The spark of war is bright beneath all the cheers, and all knew it, yet they kept going, confident in their ability to fight back the invaders once again.

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