"Every morning the maple leaves.
Every morning another chapter where the hero shifts
from one foot to the other. Every morning the same big
and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out
You will be alone always and then you will die."- Richard Siken
Chapter 1
"I wonder if the rumors are true, that the whores of the north have the coldest cunts in all of Westeros?"
"My dear Uncle, I doubt Ellaria would be pleased to learn of you cavorting with Northern whores."
"What Ellaria doesn't know, won't hurt her." Oberyn Martell chuckled ruefully to his niece
Mal Martell looked over her shoulder at her lecherous uncle from atop her horse. "Perhaps not, but I'm sure my darling cousins wouldn't want another sibling. They're the Sand Snakes not the Snow Snakes.
Mal's Uncle tipped his head back and let out a loud bark. "No, I suppose not. In any case, Martells belong in Dorne, not in this gods-forsaken land.
Mal shot her Uncle a dry look before spurting her horse forward. It had been a month since she left Sunspear by sea. After a tempestuous journey, the Dornish party had arrived at White Harbor and besides being a little green around the gills they were all perfectly safe and were now making the journey from White Harbor to Winterfell.
It had been a surprise to Mal when her father, Prince Doran, told her she would leave for Winterfell to marry the Stark heir. She always believed that her elder sister Arianne would marry first, being that she would one day run Dorne. Mal let out a small chuckle when she thought about what Arianne would do in her place. Her elder sister was always more fiery than Mal. Arianne took after their Uncle, the Red Viper, whereas Mal was her father's daughter through and through. She didn't put up a fight when she was told of her betrothal, she didn't have to. Her Uncle put up the biggest fight for her, first in opposal of the betrothal and second in opposal of escorting her there. Nothing moved her father, and now here they both were: the prince and princess of Dorne both riding to Winterfell to deliver Mal to her new husband.
Mal flipped her long, black curls, over her shoulder "My father knows what he's doing. It's a beautiful country. I think I could be happy here."
Oberyn snorted "It's a barren, frigid land, and my balls have nearly frozen off since we landed here. I don't doubt that the Starks will be just as cold."
Mal smirked coyly at her Uncle. "Well, I don't know. Lord Stark has five children, six if you count his bastard, Starks must not be entirely cold-blooded; at least, not where it counts."
The Red Viper barked at that "Very nice, Niece, we shall make you a true Martell, yet. A shame for you'll be another Stark soon enough."
"I am a Martell, no matter what you, my cousins or even my sister thinks. Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken I will always be a Martell." She started rather fiercely
The pair fell quiet at that, lost in their own thoughts as the large Dornish party wound in and out of forests and uneven terrain to deliver the Dornish Princess to her new home.
"And what of my betrothed," thought Mal, "He must be as anxious as I am, this Robb Stark. How does it feel to have a girl, a princess of Dorne no less, travel across Westeros to be his bride? Surely he must be pissing in his breeches, a boy no older than I, eighteen, to marry a complete stranger?" Mal frowned as she studied the landscape of the North. "At least he'll have his family with him. Nothing will really change for him, except for getting a new wife. He'll still have Winterfell, and the North and he'll still be a Stark. It is I who has to change everything for him. He better be damn good-looking. I'd hate to have to come all this way to marry a boy who looks like a pig in leathers." Mal shivered and pulled her fur cloak tighter around her as a chill traveled through the trees and assaulted the Dornish party. "I shall freeze to my death here. My tomb shall read 'Here lies Mal, Lady of Winterfell and Princess of Dorne, her blood was too hot for the North.'" A thought sprang to her head and she grinned mischievously. "They shall bury me next to my husband where his tomb shall read 'Here lies Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, his body couldn't handle the heat.'"
"My Princess," a solider in her train jolted Mal out of her thoughts, "We'll be reaching Winterfell in less than an hour, under your father's orders you must now travel in the litter and put on your veil for the official meeting between you and the Starks"
Mal sighed before answering a conformation and sliding of her horse. It was Dornish tradition that the bride would hide her face before the ceremony under a veil. It was a tradition that, in Mal's opinion, didn't make much sense here in the North. The veils were usually made from thin fabrics of silk or satin, something that complemented the style of dress worn in Dorne. Prince Doran had ordered a veil of thick lace to be made to complement Mal's warm woolen dress.
"You look like you're in mourning. I thought the Starks bought a wife, not a widow" Her Uncle bluntly told her as he helped her put on her veil and settle her in the litter.
Mal glared at him but through the veil nothing could be seen. "If you keep talking like that, I shall send you back to Dorne without your balls. Poor Ellaria, started off with a lover, and will end with a eunuch."
The Dornish prince grinned roguishly at his youngest niece "I hope you enjoy my balls, think of them as your wedding present." He laughed and shouted for the train to continue on.
In another hour, I shall meet the Starks and my future husband. In a few days, I shall be Mal Stark. There is no turning back now.
-A/N: This story starts about a year before the events of the series/books.
