[Event] Beneath the Sun, the Ocean dwells

[M:] Yeah, I can make fancy titles that don't mean anything too!

##Sunspear, Dorne

How many years had it been since Syfrid Harlaw last sailed these warm waters, how many wars? The seasons had come and passed, and somewhere along the way, he had became old. His once formidable strength was long gone, his muscle turned to fat, his steel to velvet, iron to gold. Yet of the men who ventured to the Free Cities in the days of yesteryear, the gods had spared him and perhaps a handful others. Theomore, uncle Harlon, Lark, Regnar the Runt, Fair Frydda, all were gone, yet he remained.

He was a dying breed, Syfrid knew that. Theomore's whelp was the Harlaw of Harlaw now, ruling from the castle his father, Syfrid's brother, had raised. Syfrid's eldest was already widowed, Aemma's betrothal broken, Andrik knighted and married, to a Reachman of all people, and now, it seemed, it was Talya's turn.

As a diplomat, it fell to him to ensure the prosperity of House Harlaw and its allies, to aid his nephew wherever he could, and make personal sacrifices, like sending his only son to a man he respected, but did not know. But as a father, he had to see to the wellbeing of his children, which often meant making decisions to the detriment of the larger picture. It meant declining a valuable marriage in favour of love. The two were nigh-opposites, always at odds, always fighting, and he suspected that they always would as long as he drew breath.

But maybe, just maybe, Syfrid thought as he watched Talya approach the bow of the Water Dance, there was a chance that the sides could be sated, just this once. Dorne was by wide and large a fiery wasteland, not unlike the depictions of hell in the Seven Pointed Star, but like the Isles, they had their safe harbours, places where life could flourish and prosper. Sunspear was one of them, a tall structure with a town lumbering underneath its tall walls. Rodrik had visited, years ago, back when he still had two hands, and Syfrid had seen it as a young man.

Had it changed much? Changed like the swirling dunes or the tempers of the men in the mountains and marches? He was about to find out.