268 ACThe Water Gardens of Dorne
A year had passed since Mars confided his secret to Elia. The bond between them had grown unbreakable. Only Elia and Oberyn knew what stirred inside Mars — and both kept the truth, out of love, out of pride, and maybe a little fear.
By now, the simple droplet had become a tiny whirl of water. And sometimes, when Mars was angry or dreaming, the pools rippled on their own.
That afternoon, the three siblings lounged beneath a cluster of palms. Oberyn carved patterns into a tree trunk with his dagger, Elia read, and Mars stared up at the sky, letting tiny beads of water dance between his fingers.
"You know what you are?" Oberyn asked suddenly.
Mars blinked. "A Martell."
"More than that." Oberyn grinned crookedly. "You're a dragon's son. Dragons and sand vipers. You're like one of those old heroes from the songs."
Mars shrugged. "I'm just me."
"For now," Oberyn said. "But one day, all of Westeros will know your name. Mars Martell, the Water King. Or the Blood Dragon."
Elia chuckled softly. "Oberyn's been reading too many fairy tales."
"Maybe," Oberyn lifted his shoulders. "But a day will come when no one thinks only of Rhaegar Targaryen when they see a dragon."
Mars felt the tingling in his chest rise.
A droplet lifted from the waterskin beside him, hung in the air, and burst into a thousand sparkling shards in the sunlight.
"Maybe," he murmured.
In that moment, Mars knew his path was far from written — but one day, his name would echo among the songs of heroes.
He was no ordinary child.
He was Mars Martell.