No Son of His/Martell
Myriah stares after Nyall, stricken. "Lewyn Martell would never spill his own brother's blood for any gain. Nyall is no son of his."
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"No son of his? Do you mean Nyall is not really a Martell?"
"He's Martell blood, sure enough." She sighs. "But more than blood makes a lord. He has none of Ser Lewyn's loyalty or decency, only ambition."
"Nyall grew up in Essos. He can never be a true son of Dorne."
"Were you and Ser Lewyn lovers?"
"Aye. Kingsguard take a vow of chastity, but Ser Lewyn thought that was Northern nonsense." She smiles. "He said he'd send me and the babe to Dorne."
"Bastards are more accepted in Dorne."
"Tell me about Ser Lewyn."
"He was a demon in the lists, but so gentle with me," she says fondly. "He came north to defend his sister when she was queen."
"Ser Lewyn's son sounds a better lord for Dorne than Prince Doran."
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"I raised Nyall to be a good lord, so he could claim a title in Dorne," Myriah says bitterly. "But now he shall have nothing from me but my curse."
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"I raised Nyall to be a good lord, so he could claim a title in Dorne," Myriah says bitterly. "But now he shall have nothing from me but my curse."