Nymeria Sand did not set out immediately. Having just arrived at High Hermitage after a long journey, both her party and their horses needed rest. They didn't depart until after noon.
Arthur brought only Vic as his standard-bearer, flying the banner of Starfall.
Nymeria, however, brought all her retainers. They flew not only the golden spear piercing a red sun of House Martell but also the hooded blue hawk of House Fowler of Skyreach.
"Snow, you didn't stay comfortably in the North. Are you not afraid the Dornish heat will melt you?"
Riding on horseback, Nymeria Sand looked exceedingly elegant. She wore shimmering lilac robes, and a great silk cloak of cream and copper fluttered with every breeze.
Beneath the silk cloak, she concealed a veritable arsenal of daggers and blades.
She rode a golden sand steed with a mane like fine white silk.
Born of Prince Oberyn "The Red Viper" Martell and a noblewoman of Volantis, Nymeria Sand possessed striking beauty and immense charm, often referred to simply as Lady Nym.
"Only fire can melt a man," Arthur replied. "A noble bastard unwilling to be ordinary, a younger son traveling the world to seek his own fortune—this is a time-honored tradition in Westeros."
Lady Nym glanced at him sideways and smiled. "Snow, tell me how you defeated the Vulture King and those wildlings."
On the ride north, Arthur and Lady Nym chatted idly to pass the time, sharing stories and observations. By the time they arrived beneath the yellow banner of the vulture flying over the Blackmont camp, they were fairly acquainted.
After announcing their names and identities, a white-haired old knight from the Blackmont army escorted them into the command tent, while their retinues were asked to wait outside.
Inside the tent were several knights, their shields bearing their respective family sigils. Arthur only recognized one: the black vulture carrying a pink infant on a yellow field, the sigil of House Blackmont.
Lady Nym clearly noticed the shield as well and addressed its owner. "You are Ser Elwyn?"
"Yes. And I presume you are Nymeria Sand?" Ser Elwyn Blackmont sat in his chair with no intention of rising, scrutinizing the two who entered.
"And you are Arthur Snow, the commander of Starfall's army? You have a lot of..."
"Ser! I am here as the envoy of my uncle, Prince Doran Martell." Lady Nym cut him off before he could finish.
"Your liege lady, Countess Larra Blackmont, has sworn fealty to Prince Doran."
"Yes, this is known to all," the old knight who had escorted them nodded.
Other knights in the tent chimed in:
"House Blackmont has always guarded the northern marches for Dorne, defending against wildlings and Reachers."
"Our loyalty to Prince Doran is beyond question."
Lady Nym nodded with satisfaction. "Loyal Sers."
"Now that the Vulture King is dead and the wildlings destroyed, I require you to withdraw your troops back to Blackmont and escort Lady Alerie safely to High Hermitage."
"That is unfair," Ser Elwyn spoke up. "Starfall requested our aid. We came here and gained nothing. Starfall not only refuses to give us what we deserve but also disrespects us."
Ser Elwyn produced a letter. "In his previous letter to me, this bastard threatened me, saying they had already killed one vulture that trespassed and wouldn't mind killing a second."
Arthur looked at Ser Elwyn coldly. "Respect is mutual. Did you think of respecting Starfall when you looted its smallfolk along the way? Did you think of Starfall when you detained Lady Alerie?"
"Furthermore, I must correct one point. I made no threat in that letter; I merely stated a fact."
As Arthur's words fell, the atmosphere in the tent turned icy.
Ser Elwyn's face flushed red. "Insolence! Miles, Phil, seize this bastard who slanders and insults House Blackmont!"
Two guards rushed in from outside. Arthur's right hand went to the hilt of Zhan Lu, his eyes fixed on Ser Elwyn.
"Argh!"
Just as a guard reached for Arthur, a dagger flew through the air and pierced his hand.
The guard clutched his impaled hand, howling in pain.
Ser Elwyn sprang from his seat, hand on his sword hilt. "Nymeria Sand! What is the meaning of this?"
Lady Nym looked at Ser Elwyn calmly. "I summoned Arthur Snow here. You dare arrest him in front of me?"
"Ser Elwyn, I initially doubted the rumors that you detained a messenger. Now it seems they spoke the truth."
Ser Elwyn insisted, "Snow slanders House Blackmont! Lady Alerie was injured and is merely resting at Blackmont."
"Ser, we both know the truth of the matter. Words won't take a piece of flesh from you, but knives will." Nymeria pulled the dagger from the guard's hand.
"Back to the point. Do you truly intend to refuse my order to withdraw and release the hostage?"
Ser Elwyn hissed through gritted teeth, "It is unfair!"
Nymeria wiped the blood from her dagger with a silk cloth. "The army of House Fowler is already on its way to High Hermitage on Prince Doran's orders. Perhaps when they arrive, we can discuss 'fairness' again?"
"But..."
Thud!
Before Elwyn could argue further, Nymeria stabbed the dagger into the table.
"Do you insist on forcing my father, Oberyn Martell, to lead tens of thousands of Dornish spears to your castle gates to negotiate with you?"
"You must have heard my father's reputation. If he comes to talk, it won't just be about fairness."
When Nymeria mentioned the name Oberyn Martell, Arthur could palpably feel the knights in the tent remove their hands from their sword hilts.
Ser Elwyn's face was ashen, his eyes darting around, speechless.
"Lady Nym, please quell your anger." The old knight hurriedly stepped forward. "We will withdraw. We will withdraw. Since the Vulture King is dead, we have no reason to remain here."
Ser Elwyn sat back in his chair, turning his head away. "We will send Lady Alerie back."
Walking out of the Blackmont tent, Arthur let out a long breath. When Elwyn ordered his arrest, he had planned to take Elwyn hostage directly.
If that failed, he would have taken Nymeria hostage—at least to escape first and worry about the rest later.
He hadn't expected Nymeria Sand to protect him so fiercely, drawing a blade without hesitation.
Her verbal threats were seasoned and perfectly timed. Of course, the weight of her uncle and father's names played a key role.
But having status requires knowing how to use it. It depends heavily on timing and context. The classic counter-example is shouting "My father is [Name]!" at the wrong time.
Lady Nym: "Snow, if I hadn't acted, what would you have done? Would you really have drawn your sword?"
Arthur answered truthfully, "Naturally. Draw sword, take a hostage, escape first. Survive to think about the rest later."
Lady Nym: "Do you know why I drew my blade?"
Arthur: "My Lady wished to uphold justice."
"Justice?" Lady Nym paused, then giggled.
"I am neither a knight nor a high lord. What justice do I uphold?"
"It's simply because you look more pleasing to the eye than that Blackmont lot. Especially those violet eyes of yours."
"My father once told me that beauty is a woman's weapon. I think that saying applies to men as well."
It wasn't until Nymeria mounted her golden sand steed that Arthur realized what she meant. "Did... did I just get flirted with?"