Wow okay new story, obviously this is a major AU, and based in a verse where Arianne had been sent to Tyrosh to meet Viserys. Only I am not going by her serving as a cupbearer, as Doran had planned to go by! I am planning this verse and future events, but I tried this chapter out and so far I am excited in all honesty!
Also this is right after Willem Darry had died; meaning that Viserys has not sold his mother's belongings, and has not roamed the streets in fear, so he won't be maddened by his wrath as he is in canon. Nor does he abuse Dany. He will still be bitter and angry after what happened to him, but obviously not at such a thorough level. Since in canon Dany mentions that it was selling his mother's crown that made his smile die out.
Disclaimer;; I own nothing, the characters or locations are not mine, they all belong to GRRM.
Also English isn't my mother tongue, so bear with me please, and if there are any betas who wish to help me please to message me !
King Viserys Targaryen III; Tyrosh, 291 AL
Five years. They had decided to tell him this after five dreadful years of what, living in exile, feeling as if he had already been abandoned by everyone. It was all he had even dreamt of since he and his sister were forced into exile.
Before his passing, Ser Willem had insisted that it was much better that he refrained from speaking of the engagement until Prince Doran made the decision to contact him. He supposed that Darry had predicted that Viserys would have hopped on the first passage to Sunspear, as soon as he knew that he had a Dornish army waiting to fight for his cause, as well as a Dornish princess for his queen.
And in truth, it was exactly what he would have done if he knew. So perhaps it was for the very best, but he would never admit that out loud to anyone. His pride would not allow it. And his pride was all he had left to him save for his baby sister, Daenerys.
Or so he thought until Prince Doran sought to contact him.
It would be like Rhaegar and Elia come again. Only Viserys wouldn't forsake his kingdom and risk his birth right for some other woman. Next to nothing he knew of this Arianne… but never would he risk going into exile, even if he would grow hate her.
He remembered the look on Elia's face when the wolf bitch had been crowned with that blue crown of roses, and he would never bring such pain and shame on his wife, no matter what.
Those sad eyes haunted him.
Going to Dorne would be risky, to both Viserys and the Martells. Instead he was to meet his promised in Tyrosh, at the Archon's manse. He was nearly a man of six and ten, almost of age to be wed, whilst the Martell girl was a year younger than him.
"Vissie, does this look nice?" He heard a squeaky pipe behind him, as soft pattering of feet echoed the long hallway. Turning around he saw his little sister, in orange silks, a gift from the Martells
Seeing his own girl-child of a sister wearing the Martell's gift could do naught else but to please them.
The green-haired archon, with his bulging belly took the last Targaryens to the dining hall for breakfast. Daenerys indulged in her breakfast, as a hungry child might have. Indeed it was fortunate. That she finally back to her cheery sweet self, and seemed to have almost recovered from Ser Willem's death.
But it was even easier for Viserys; he was so used to it by now.
He couldn't stomach too much breakfast. For the rightful heir was elated but nervous. Anxious but excited. Hopeful but frightened.
It was easier when they stepped outside where he was to greet his promised princess. The Tyroshi air was cool, as the clouds were a stormy grey, showcasing the upcoming rain which would likely occur later.
It wasn't long before he noticed about a small group of about ten people striding towards them from a distance. There were no orange banners with the famous sun and spear of Dorne, and from what he would see each person had been fully concerned with their dark cloaks.
A tall olive-skinned man was the first to hop off his steed, greeting the archon as a stable boy attended to his horse. Viserys desperately tried to search for his bride-to-be, and almost failed to notice that the man, who had jumped off his horse, was a man he had known from long before.
Prince Oberyn…
Viserys's face was still, though his pale lilac eyes were in shock. So strange it was, to see a figure from his past life. The Red Viper may not have been a prominent person in his childhood, but the very sight of him was enough to make Viserys feel nostalgic all the same.
Nostalgic and hopeful.
Prince Oberyn walked to a brown mare, and helped down a small person from their own horse. The very person took their hood down, revealing her pretty face, thick curls and dark eyes.
It was her… he could tell.
"My king, it is an honour that we meet again, now let me introduce you to my niece and your own betrothed…"
At least she was lovely to look upon; in fact his eyes were practically glued to her.
Three days later…
Infuriating and insufferable, she was, the woman to be his queen. Viserys was no fool, he knew that the women of Dorne were not like other Westerosi ladies. They were freer more outspoken. Elia had been sweet and frail, but witty and strong. He had liked that, he had expected that of Arianne too.
Arianne had her late aunt's colouring, wit, large eyes and comely heart shaped face. But that is where it all ended.
Where Elia was a slender beauty, Arianne was robust already pertaining womanly curves most women at the age of twenty could only dream of acquiring. Curves leaving men speechless, whenever she would appear.
While Elia had a sweet wit, Arianne enjoyed talking back to him, challenging him.
While Elia beautiful and dainty, Arianne was striking and alluring.
Nothing he said could ever make that whelp shut up. Nothing, even though she had awoken the dragon countless of times.
It wasn't that she humiliated him by any means, but she challenged him in the worst and best ways. He couldn't stand her presence.
Yet she was all he ever thought about. Bloody wench. Somehow she was deeply rooted in his every thought. It was as he had been struck by her poison, she was the viper's niece after all. It was after dinner, and he had confined himself inside his chambers, announcing that he wasn't feeling very well.
He wasn't in truth. Viserys was usually one who could control himself in the company of others, never would he allow his feelings to overcome himself. He was a king, and he would push these feeling aside if he must. It was his duty.
He wasn't Rhaegar who had risked everything, all for that wolf bitch.
But sometimes it got too much; reminders of his mother broke him down. His sweet queen mother the one thing he would have given anything to have back.
His birth right, his loyalists, the new clothes and jewels and other fineries the Martells had gifted him with ever so generously.
In truth as horrid as it was, he would have given sweet little Dany to the Stranger if it meant he could feel the comfort of his mother's sweet embrace again.
The thought made him sick, but it was the horrid truth. And his guilt worsened every time he would remember his lady mother's last words before she passed.
"My boy… my sweet brave boy, you must be brave, for you and your sister. Protect her at all costs, I beg of you to protect her and to love her… please my boy, she needs you."
He had sworn to protect Daenerys with every fibre of his being, yet he would have given her up to have his own mother back. Because deep inside he blamed his innocent sweet little sister for his mother's death.
It was wrong; it made him hate himself more than he already did.
With time it had indeed gotten easier to black out these feelings, most days he was fine, most days he would find plenty of things to distract himself with, dreams of the keep, of the throne, of home.
But there were other days that were a lot more difficult, other days which would break him.
So he let him himself do something he hadn't permitted himself to do for years.
He cried.
Princess Arianne Nymeros Martell; Tyrosh, 291 AL
"Nuncle, he's too… grumpy, why can't he cheer up?"
Arianne had entered the fine chambers which had been assigned to her uncle, curling herself down on the divan as her head started to spin from the amount of wine she had been drinking during dinner.
Her uncle handed her a chalice which he had filled with water, she grabbed the cup sitting up, taking a sip. The response she from him, regarding her question was his dark brow rising.
"You know for being Doran's daughter you aren't very observant, I mean… is not obvious?"
Her nose crinkled as she shook her head. "No it is not," she mumbled, "now stop lecturing me, and tell me why my dearest betrothed can't bring himself to ever smile at me."
The boy was a stranger to her, but she wished to get on his good side, so that their marriage would be a pleasant one.
"Dearest niece, think of what happened during the rebellion, think of how this has affected the poor boy, think of how he cannot go home. The gods know how lonely he must be. Perhaps he needs a friend and who better than his queen to heal him?"
King Viserys Targaryen III; Tyrosh, 291 AL
"Your grace!"
Couldn't she knock? Why wouldn't she knock? Was this how she would act at all times, would she awaken the dragon at all costs?
He wanted to scold her; he truly did want to tell the girl off. But instead he only found himself gazing at her pretty smiling mouth which faltered slightly now.
"Would my king perhaps do me the honour of accompanying me for a walk? It is ever so lovely tonight."
A part of him wanted to say no, to ask her to leave him be for the night, to bury himself under his own blankets, and drown himself in his sorrow. But somehow he only found himself nodding, and slightly smiling at her even.
He even stopped thinking of his mother, as she smiled at him again. He found that he liked her pretty smile; he could tell that it was genuine, and being that it was meant for him made it all the more sweet.
"But of course." He said in a voice as courteous as he could muster, whilst offering her his own arm, which she immediately accepted to his pleasure.
Once they stepped out of his chambers, into the gardens she started to chat away, talking at an absolute nonstop pace. Something he had noticed her doing often, though for the first time he had found this trait to be endearing rather than infuriating.
"I'm sorry, your grace… I talk too much," the Dornish princess mumbled in embarrassment, almost as if she had read his mind, "why do you not tell me about yourself, I feel as if I know nothing about you."
About himself? What could he say? What could he tell her, the question itself made him wish to lock himself up in his room once more. He was nothing, nothing but a lonely boy filled with anger and anguish. There was nothing more to him than his own bitter loneliness.
No one had wanted to know anything about him, so it was not as if he knew what to say at all.
"Or if you don't wish to, you don't have to!" She piped up quickly, and grabbing his hand, a gesture catching him off guard.
He only looked at her. She may have been a ferocious little thing, but he could see that deep inside that his Dornish bride had a soft kind heart.
Just like Elia…
Just like his mother…
His pursed lips curled into a smile once more, as he only squeezed her dainty hand.
"Over time you will know, but this evening is pleasant and lovely, I do not wish to spoil it by such tales, let me forget and enjoy your sweet smile instead."
