( Interlude I )
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Greenstone-Estermont International Airport, Principality of Dorne, 1036 AC
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Greenstone-Estermont Airport, it is currently noon local time, the outside temperature is seven-and-twenty degrees and the weather is sunny with some sparse clouds. We thank you for having flown with Dornish Airlines and hope to see you again soon."
Gerold took one last look outside of the window, before packing up his bags and joining the line of eager holiday-goers waiting to join the line off of the plane.
It had been a smooth 3-hour long flight from Oldtown, and the weather could not have been better. He had a breathtaking view of the Red Mountains up to the Lakes of Heroes along Summerhall, the Rainwood National Park, then the Estermont Archipelago, with an overfly of the Dornish submarine base as a final welcome.
Gerold was impatient. Ever since his parents moved to Greenstone, two years ago, he had always wanted to visit this island. After all, he'd never been. Born and raised in Sunsgarden, near Sunspear, then having moved to Meteor Port for High School, and finally gone to Oldtown for his medical studies, he'd never seen Greenstone, not even on a vacation.
But it was there that his parents decided to retire, and it was thus that he found himself in the 'unbowed archipelago', a speck of Dornish dust off of the United Kingdom of Westeros.
Gerold put on his backpack and left the plane, following the crowd into the terminal.
Most of them were Honeywiner or Reacher holidaygoers, looking to bask in the sun and look at the beautiful reefs of Estermont. Some, like him, were just Dornishmen trying to go home for the Spring recess.
His sister would not arrive until later that week. A medical student too, she preferred to stay at Prince Quentyn University, in Sunspear. Just as prestigious as the Citadel, the oldest institution in the world, but closer to home. Gerold was always the most adventurous, though, and he was even considering to move to White Harbor or Seagard, in the North, for an eventual Masters afterwards.
The mysteries of the North did call him…
But Gerold was also an avid history buff, and, for that, Greenstone was one of the best places to go, along with Summerhall, of course.
He had visited the palace of heroes, during the winter, when the tourist season had died down. He'd gone from the High Lakes to the Great Palace, seen Azor Ahai Peak and the Valley of the Crowned, King Aemon's Rest and the Great Crypt…he wished he'd started interesting himself in Dornish history sooner.
Of course, the Dornish cursus in Middle and High School did give him an overview, from the founding of Starfall till the coming of Princess Nymeria, from the Dragon's Wroth to the Dornish Wars, from the Unification to the Lionslayer's ascension, from the era of broken promises to the War of Independence, and from the Reacher Revolutions to today.
This had all been taught to him, but he cared little.
That was until he moved to Oldtown, and his friend group revived his interest for history, by taking him to the Hightower Museum, or the many galleries and War museums in the city, as well as the old castles or the memorials to those destroyed during the Reacher Revolutions.
That's when he started gaining back an interest in Dornish history, specifically the Second Age of Heroes, or, for the Dornish, the First Dornish Golden Age.
Gerold anxiously looked at his Estermont guide.
He had planned to go see the brand-new War and Navy Museum in the fortress of Greenstone, which closed at Six, before going home to his parents, who lived on the outskirts of the city. Luckily, he did not have to wait long, and found himself outside the airport in no time. The bus then dropped him off on Princess Nymeria Quay, in the center of Greenstone, in no less than half an hour.
From there, Gerold walked a few minutes along to Prince Quentyn Square.
Princess Nymeria Quay, Prince Quentyn Square…the Dornish really only knew how to christen their places with three names. Princess Nymeria, the founder of the Principality of Dorne, Prince Quentyn, who ushered the first golden age and made Dorne into the great power it is known as today, and Princess Aliandra, who ushered in the second golden age and led Dorne to independence.
From Prince Quentyn Square, he could see the large star-shaped castle which commanded the entrance to the port of Greenstone, with the submarine base on the other side, and the civilian port reaching far on the inside, lined up with yachts and sailboats.
Four flags floated near the castle entrance: that of Dorne, of course, alongside the flag of the Province of Estermont, the city of Greenstone, and the Westerosi Union.
There, he did not have to wait long to get a ticket allowing him entry into the castle and war museum. A quick show of his Citadel card got him the student discount, and he quickly entered the main courtyard of the castle, a gigantic open-air area, with the flag of Dorne prominently towering over everything else.
On the ground, carved into the limestone, was a large map of Greenstone, with the armories of Dorne and the ominous words right under them: 'Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken'.
Gerold continued to walk to the museum entrance, where he found who he was looking for. A man, not older than eight-and-twenty, tall, with a black beard and short hair.
Maron, a friend from middle school, had moved to Greenstone for his girlfriend, who found a job there which suited her. As for Maron, he followed her, and, as a History student, soon managed to be hired as a tour guide for Greenstone's Tourism Office.
Now, he showed the great places of Greenstone to the public, from Nature sanctuaries, to the War graves, all the way to the great summer residences of the Dornish royalty.
Today, though, he was off, but he did agree to give Gerold a small tour of the War and Naval Museum.
After reminiscing over old memories, Maron led Gerold into the galleries.
The first ones detailed Greenstone before Dorne. The constant fighting against the Slaver raids, and their incorporation into the Kingdom of the Storm, their privileged links with Dorne, notably the Tor and Ghost Hill, and the history of Greenstone during Targaryen rule.
Then came the Dornish period.
The first painting was a great one, leading into the "Dornish Hall". A painting of the fall of Greenstone, in 301 AC.
One could see the old castle of Greenstone, struck with Martell banners, in ruins, before the sea, where a massive armada of ships was present.
In the foreground, a man with a turtle-engraved armor was kneeling, handing the keys of Greenstone over to another man, silver-haired, with a seahorse on his own armor, his head turned to two of his captains, magnanimously accepting the surrender of the city.
The caption read 'Lord Aurane Silverwaters accepts Eldon Estermont's surrender at Greenstone'.
"In fact, Aurane Silverwaters did not bear that name until he was knighted, almost five-and-ten years later," Maron told him. "Back then, he was just known as Aurane Waters, the bastard brother of the much more famed Monford Velaryon. And as for Eldon Estermont, he was not present at Greenstone, since he was captured by Dornish forces at the Battle of Kinrock. A castellan was the one who capitulated the city to Aurane."
"Did Aegon VI actually honor that promise?" Gerold asked.
"Aegon VI actually honored almost all his promises concerning Dorne proper," Maron replied. "It was the Stepstones that ushered in the 'Era of Broken Promises'."
Gerold nodded, looking at the paintings, then at the objects laid before him.
There were many swords, bows and arrows, as well as replicas of cogs, galleys and fast frigates.
"Then why was Greenstone known as 'the troubled island'?" Gerold asked.
"Good question," Maron answered, leading him towards another painting.
This one showed the knighting of another man in turtle armor, by a man in a rich dress, with laurels upon his head. The title read 'Prince Quentyn declares Aemon Estermont lord of Greenstone'.
"The Estermonts were Stormlanders, through and through. Although they did trade with the Dornish, they did not consider themselves as such."
"Really?" Gerold scoffed. "But they're more Dornish than some Blackmontese!"
"Back then, the resentment towards Dorne was still strong, though not as strong as certain regions of the Marches. 'Banditry' was still a major issue, and was not wiped out until many marriages with the Estermonts helped fizzle it out," Maron explained. "In fact, Greenstone's relative isolation compared to the rest of Dorne made it easy for the Stormlanders to exert influence, at least until the disgrace of the Swanns. Which meant that Greenstone was almost as rebel-infested as Harveston at such points that Prince Quentyn himself considered giving back the isle before his abdication."
"This never happened, though." Gerold turned back.
"Of course not." Maron shook his head. "Eventually, the lower classes noticed that they were much more well-off than their companions on the mainland, and the same could be said for the middle and upper classes. It took much longer, because of the sea, and the fact that the ruling family was not of Dornish origin, but in four generations, Estermont was finally free of rebels."
"A hundred years…" Gerold whispered. "That's longer than Harveston or Starpike!"
"Or even the regions around Blackhaven and Fawnton," Maron acquiesced. "But the Estermonts did have the advantage of coming out of the War for the Crown and the War for the Dawn relatively unscathed compared to the Selmys, for example. They still retained a lot of influence, and weeding it out or 'Dornishing' it was not an easy task."
Gerold nodded, and stepped into another room, one with a lot of paintings, from more modern eras. The largest one was one of the current star-shaped fort of Greenstone, intact, Dornish banners floating proudly above, while a fleet burned in the harbor.
"The Siege of Greenstone." Gerold smiled.
"Indeed!" Maron acquiesced. "They held for six hundred and three days. Supplied from the sea by the Dornish fleet, Greenstone held long enough for the columns of the Dornish armies of Princess Aliandra to come and relieve the Estermont Strait after the fall of Weeping Town, in a decisive victory that allowed Dorne to become independent."
"A folly that King Aegon XII thought he could take the islands." Gerold scoffed.
"He was confident in the power of his military but did not anticipate that his kingdom was so fragile. Dorne fought, and Dorne won. There were no dragons left to help him, then." Maron looked at the victorious figure of Princess Aliandra, hands raised to the sky. "And most importantly, Dorne did not lose any territory. We would have to wait for the Reacher Revolutions, no less than thirty years later, to finally see Dornish territory conquered once more."
"Conquered but not broken. Starpike is still Dornish," Gerold pointed out. "Of course, but they still held it and some of the Marches for some time."
"Aye, if not for our alliance with the Targaryens to hold off the Empire of the Reach, who knows, they could've stayed that way for a long time," Maron replied.
"I think that Dorne and the Targaryen's combined economic power would've crushed the Reach economically. The Iron Throne would've funded Northern campaigns for years, but we digress…" Gerold answered, moving on to another room.
This one was full of rich porcelain from Yi-Ti, carvings and sculptures from the Free Cities, idols from Sothoryos and golden jewels from the Summer Islands.
"Eventually, Greenstone grew into a center of trade, and blossomed thanks to the privileges that Dorne enjoyed," Maron explained. "Greenstone grew rich, and Prince Quentyn's love for travels helped it get favorable trade deals. Some of his own works are kept here. Look."
Gerold moved to a glass container, which showed a book with some writing and the sketches of sea beasts.
"Travels to the Summer Islands and Naath, Volume 3," Gerold read. "Is it an original?"
"That's something you won't see in Sunspear!" Maron nodded. "The Lionslayer liked Greenstone, and its turtles especially. Did you know he established here the first ever protected area? He closed off beaches so that turtles could lay their eggs in peace, and all that protected by local guards hired for the job! Insane, don't you think?"
"I find it tame compared to what else he did…" Gerold scoffed.
"There's a reason Prince Quentyn is one of our most famous princes." Maron shrugged. "Inventor, scientist, doctor, explorer, warrior, ruler, patron of the arts, there are little lives that have been more fulfilling than his, but come…"
Maron led Gerold into another room. This one was darker, but still showed some exhibits.
Inside one of the glass cages in the room was a statue of Prince Quentyn, looking over a map and charts of Greenstone, eyes towards the sea. Behind him were three deities: Jaelys, the Rhoynar goddess of trade, Sylrana, the Rhoynar goddess of the sea, and Hyleos, the Rhoynar god of the wind. Each were presenting him with a different gift: a crown of gold for Jaelys, a ship for Sylrana, and Dornish and Estermontese-colored sails for Hyleos.
"The statue was presented by Garth Estermont to Princess Mariah in recognition of Prince Quentyn's help in the development of the city. It overlooked his tomb, in Nymeria's Sept, in the Palace of Sunspear. Have you seen it?" Maron asked.
"It's been a while, but I think I remember." Gerold nodded. "Prince Quentyn's tomb is in its own chapel, with a sort of statue with him and his Valyrian steel sword. His wife's tomb is beside him, along with that of his paramour and his six children. There are engravings, paintings and murals describing his deeds and travels all over, but I forgot that there were these sculptures."
"They were moved here about thirty years ago to make way for copies. Sunspear thought it better to send us the original, which now stands here."
"Keeper of the broken heart…" Gerold murmured.
"What?" Maron raised an eyebrow.
"Well, Prince Quentyn died of a broken heart, no? That's what the histories say." Gerold shrugged. "He had to face the loss of his paramour, his wife, his siblings, all but one of his cousins…"
"In a sense, yes, Prince Quentyn was one of the last of the great figures of the Second Age of Heroes to pass away, just a year before Jarlinna Arya Stark and two before Edric Dayne…" Maron looked up to the statue. "But Princess Margaery died almost six years prior, and Princess Nymeria almost nine. Trystane Celys had died eleven years before and Arianne Targaryen just seven years before that. Hardly a broken heart."
"Then why the myth?" Gerold asked.
"After the death of Trystane Celys just a year after Myrcella Celys', and Arianne Targaryen's death just six months after Prince Daeron's, it was poetic enough for Prince Quentyn to also be laid as having died of a broken heart," Maron explained. "It makes for good stories. The last sibling, dying the same way as the others. The most likely thing is that he just died of heart failure, in his sleep, at the age of eight-and-seventy, and having have lived through the War for the Throne, the War for the Dawn, the Era of Broken Promises and the Three Regencies. A life well-lived…"
"Princess Mariah and Prince Gerris carried on his legacy afterwards, leading Dorne through the reign of King Aemon and King Jaehaerys III…" Gerold whispered.
"Peace for a time…at least until the Second Dance of Dragons, two hundred years later, which ended the Neverending peace," Maron agreed. "At least, Dorne had the good sense to stay out, not repeating the mistakes of the past."
"And the foundations laid by Prince Quentyn helped us gain our independence, many years later. Something he desperately wished for, but would never obtain."
"His successors made him proud."
With that, Gerold took one last look at the statue, and, following Maron, stepped forwards into a brightly-lit corridor.
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