#while many of their traditions are inspired by those of the caló people as i originally intended

[daeron-dondarrion]

Location: Dorne, Sunspear Open starter (1/3)

The Lord of Blackhaven had heard of the arrangements to travel to Stonehelm for the wedding of the Hand of the Queen and Lady Swann. Such news sparked a sense of relief, really. Such an event was a fine excuse to set foot on his homeland again, to breathe in the crisp air and smell the soil after rain of the Stormlands after the time spent in a foreign realm. Standing in the courtyard of the lodgings House Uller granted them, Daeron had begun mobilizing the retinue of House Dondarrion to ready themselves to leave Dorne.

Daeron would be seeing his lord father soon, no doubt. Reuniting with him was always a peculiar experience. Lord Emmon looked upon his only living son as if it was both the first and last time he’d see him, though inevitably his usual gruff manner found his father and it felt like sharing space with a stone statue. “Laster arte, aita...” he muttered under his breath, before he turned to one of his men. “Let us have everything packed, then. We ought to be ready to depart as soon as we’re given leave,” he ordered, his words accompanied by a sturdy pat on the man’s shoulder.