NOVEL NEXT Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Shadows of a Prophecy
POV: Third Person
Dorne, Sunspear.
In the richly decorated room of Sunspear´s castle, the walls were adorned with tapestries telling tales of past victories and ancient legends. The adults of House Martell gathered around a large table, as the joyful laughter and conversation from the previous feast transformed into a murmur of concern and curiosity. The soft morning light filtered through the open windows, illuminating the faces of Doran, Mellario, Oberyn, and Ellaria.
Doran Martell, Lord of Sunspear, sat at the head of the table, his brow furrowed in thought as he scanned the parchment on which Quentyn's prophetic words had been inscribed. At his side, the ochre-skinned Mellario pressed a delicate hand to her lips, her wide eyes glimmering with a mix of fear and curiosity.
Oberyn, the Viper of Dorne, leaned back, his lips curled into a sardonic grin. Beside him, Ellaria Sand shifted restlessly in her seat, her dark eyes locked onto Doran, seeking clarification.
Quentyn Martell, was placed in his cradle to rest and could not hear the conversations and tension that his speeches caused. His sister, Arianne, played running through the castle corridors on the supervision of maids, ignoring the gravity of the situation around her.
"What do you make of this nonsense?" Oberyn was the first to break the silence in the room His tone half-teasing, half-serious. "A dragon prince? Melodies? Sorry, brother, but I must admit, my singing voice is far better."
Doran shot him a glare, dismissing the jest. "This is not a joke, Oberyn. There is too much at stake." His fingers drummed on the table. "What do you think it means?" He asked for the others. His voice was low but firm, like a leader facing a storm. — The words spoken by Quentyn … The prophecy.
Mellario adjusted her dress, looking anxiously at her husband. "He's just a child, Doran. How can such a small creature bear such a message?".
Oberyn, crossed his arms over his chest. "He may be small, but his words carry a weight we cannot ignore." He tilted his head, as if considering all the possibilities. — The prophecy… is it a sign from the Seven? Or perhaps... another god?
Ellaria looked at Oberyn, her face reflecting both admiration and concern. "Prophecies have the power to shape destiny. But they can also be a trap. We must be cautious, Oberyn. If people learn that a child is speaking about prophecy, we cannot predict how they will react."
Doran's brow furrowed. "How many people heard the prophecy?" He asked, looking around the table.
"Just us, Arianne, and a guard who was inside for protection" Mellario replied. — A servant was also present, bringing wine.
Ellaria leaned forward, her expression serious. "We need to silence them for Quentyn's safety. If word spreads, it could put him at risk."
Mellario nodded in agreement. "We cannot allow this to reach anyone outside this room."
Doran turned his gaze to Oberyn. "Can I trust you to handle this discreetly?".
Oberyn met his brother's gaze with a confident grin."Consider it done". He reply before getting up and left the room, leaving the other three behind.
Doran sighed, his eyes gazing out the window where the first rays of sunlight danced on the desert sand. "We need to understand every word. If there's a true meaning behind this, we cannot afford to ignore it. What Quentyn said could be the key to something greater."
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POV: Quentyn Martell
As the adults discussed what it meant to be the bearer of a prophecy, Quentyn remain resting in his crib. His tiny hands still clutched the wooden toy that his sister had left behind. he watches the sun shining in the open sky of Dorne through the window
"I hope they understand". Quentyn thought, a slight frustration permeating him. — The prophecy isn't just a warning; it's an opportunity. A chance to change the fate that is already laid out. "I've always been terrible with poetry. I only know that roses are red, violets are blue...".
He closed his eyes, recalling the words that had come from his mouth, feeling the weight of the implications. "well... It's not that difficult to figure out". At this moment he feels his eyes weigh — Damn! I pushed my body too much I'm exhausted! I just hope they don't accuse me of witchcraft while I'm sleeping. And so he let his tiredness take over to made him sleep.
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POV: Third Person
Back to the room where the adults are discussing. Doran question to those present: " So... what do we have so far?".
But before the women could respond the door to the room opens, revealing the presence of Oberyn, who walks back to his chair, carrying the same confident grin that he had when he left.
As Oberyn settled back into his chair, Mellario leaned forward with a knowing look. "So…" she prompted, her eyes narrowing with anticipation.
Oberyn flashed a playful grin. "It's been resolved."
Ellaria, ever quick to praise, chimed in with a smirk, "You handled that remarkably fast, Oberyn. I'm impressed."
He raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "For some things, I am efficient. For others… You already know I like to take my time" he answe with a teasing whisper.
Ellaria rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Your charm is as disarming as always."
Doran cleared his throat, redirecting the conversation. "Let's recap what we know so far".
Oberyn leaned back, eager to catch up on the latest developments. The three of them explained their understanding of Quentyn's prophecy, piecing together fragments of meaning like a puzzle.
Doran started: "The dragon prince of melodies shall claim his fight,'" he recited. "Who could that refer to? A Targaryen?"
"Perhaps," Mellario suggested softly, leaning closer. "But the 'crown that will spark the night'—is that a warning or a promise? But the rest of the prophecy… it feels dark." She glanced at the floor, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of the table.
Ellaria interjected, her voice sharp like a dagger. "Or an invitation to war. The last thing we need is more chaos in Westeros. Look around us." She gestured toward the open window, where wild winds danced with the scent of salt and blood from the shores of Dorne. "Everyone is vying for power, and if Quentyn's words hold any truth, we might soon find ourselves embroiled in something greater than we can imagine."
"The arena where roses of ice shall gleam…" Oberyn mused, a flicker of respect entering his tone. "A tournament, perhaps? Or a battlefield? Either way, we must tread carefully".
Doran nodded slowly, "And then 'innocent blood will stain the ground.' This speaks of war. It suggests a conflict, one that could ensnare our family. Quentyn's vision speaks not just of glory but of sacrifice".
"What does it mean for the sun queen and her daughter?" Mellario asked, her brow knitting with concern.
Oberyn's expression darkened, his gaze steady on Doran. "Do you think this has anything to do with Elia along with her daughter? If the prophecy refers to them, it could indicate a greater danger. The phrase about 'the sun queen with her daughter, in flames of sorrow'—it could be foreshadowing something terrible."
"Terrible indeed," Doran echoed, his eyes widening out of concern for his sister's safety.
Mellario shifted in her seat, a glint of mischief in her eyes despite the somber conversation. "And heed the call to sands afar, where shields will guard… Are we to gather our forces? Prepare for battle?"
"Only if we must," Doran replied firmly, "but we cannot act hastily. We don't know if this prophecy is true and and if it refers to our future".
Mellario looked at him irritated. "Do you think our son lied to us?"
Doran shakes his head. "sorry my love. I'm just raising the possibilities. After all, it's the first time I've seen a newborn's first words be a possible Prophecy of the future". He responds his wife with a voice low but firm.
"Misfortune chasing them in the form of a mountain," Ellaria reflected and helps to break the tension caused. "It speaks of danger, perhaps even betrayal, but we must support them".
Ellaria shook her head, her fierce expression betraying her doubts. "But can we trust them? Trusting means exposing ourselves to more treachery. What if they take our forces, our loyalty, and turn it against us?"
"Trust?" Oberyn said, laughter dancing in his voice. "In this world? Trust is as rare as sunlight beneath the stormy skies. But we cannot afford to act out of fear."
The room fell silent as they absorbed the gravity of Quentyn's words, the weight of a child's prophecy now resting heavily on their shoulders. They looked at each other, each contemplating the shadows of a possible war that loomed over them, uncertain of what fate awaited House Martell.
As they contemplated their next move, the winds outside howled louder, heralding the storms of change coming to Westeros—storms that would sweep them all into a fate they could only begin to imagine.