The dawn after the dark flight to Dragonstone, King Aegon I Targaryen returned to Aegonfort.
He came alone, grim and cold, the sun rising pale and thin behind him.The court gathered at once in the Great Hall, lords and ladies standing stiff in their cloaks and armor, whispers echoing like ghosts between the black stone walls.
Queen Visenya Targaryen was the first to speak.
"You should have let me strike them down," she said, voice sharp as Valyrian steel.Her hand rested on Dark Sister at her hip. "Peace with Dorne is an illusion. They will rise again as soon as we sheath our swords."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the lords — especially from the Marchers, whose lands had been scorched by Dornish raids, whose sons and brothers had been left to rot in the burning sands.
Lord Orys Baratheon, grim-faced and one-handed, added: "The Wyl still mocks us, Your Grace. The Daynes burn Oldtown's fields. Hellholt laughed when they felled Meraxes. Should we now sign our shame with ink?"
Aegon listened to them all, silent.
The morning light slanted through the windows, gilding the Iron Throne in red and gold.Behind Aegon, the skull of Meraxes brooded, dark and hollow.
At last, the Dragon spoke.
"This war has cost us much," said Aegon. His voice was low, and weary. "And would cost us more, if it continues. Blood for blood…fire for fire…until no men remain to rule what we have burned."
He unrolled a parchment upon the table — the Treaty of Sunspear, sealed in red and black wax.
"I have agreed to Prince Nymor's terms," he said. "There will be peace between Dorne and the Iron Throne."
An uproar burst forth.
"My sons died for nothing?" roared Lord Blackmont."The Dornish will break their oaths the moment it suits them!" cried Lady Caron.
Visenya's gaze was like cold iron.
"You do this because of that letter," she said. It was not a question.
Aegon's face gave nothing away.He merely set his bloodstained hand atop the treaty.
The court fell silent.
Many would wonder, in the years to come, what words had been penned by Prince Nymor Martell — or perhaps by old Princess Meria before her death.
Some said it was a father's plea to another, heavy with grief.Others whispered it contained the names of every knight and lord who had died, a ledger of guilt.
The darker tales spoke of threats — the Faceless Men of Braavos, hired to slip a dagger between the ribs of Aenys, Aegon's beloved young heir.Still others, more superstitious, claimed sorcery: a letter inked with Queen Rhaenys's blood, a spell too potent even for the Dragonlord to deny.
But Aegon spoke no word of what he had read.
He burned the letter to ash and took the secret to his grave.
That morning, with a hand still marked by blood, King Aegon I Targaryen placed his seal upon the Treaty of Sunspear.
Thus ended the First Dornish War.
The war drums fell silent.The swords were sheathed.And for the first time since Aegon's Conquest, the realm knew peace…however uneasy.
But all who had seen the king that day would remember the look in his eyes.
The Dragon slept, yes — but he did not forget.