Collide

Later, when Hoster Tully asked her to come to Riverrun and meet his heir, she lit candles to the Maid in thanks, but Prince Doran had declined the invitation. (A Feast for Crows)

AU in which Viserys Targaryen died earlier than he did in the books, and Doran Martell agreed to the marriage between Arianne and Edmure Tully.

A/N: Yup, I know that Viserys dying earlier is such an oh-so-convenient plot device ; ) But I've been meaning to write Arianne/Edmure marriage AU for a while now, and this is the only way I could think of to make the marriage happen. For the purpose of this fic, the Arianne/Edmure wedding took place a year before the start of A Game of Thrones.


"How much longer?" Edmure fretted, not for the first time. "How far are we to Sunspear?"

Brynden Tully threw his nephew a sharp glance. "Speak louder, why don't you? Why not? Let's show these Dornishmen how desperate you are to wed their princess."

Hoster Tully was riding ahead of them, in the company of Lord Yronwood and his men, the Dornish honor guards that greeted the Tully wedding party at the Boneway, and were now escorting them to Sunspear. One of the men with Anders Yronwood was Quentyn Martell, Princess Arianne's own brother, fostered with the Yronwoods since he was a young boy. To his uncle's consternation, Edmure did not even try to hide his surprise upon being introduced to young Quentyn. "You look nothing like your sister," Edmure had blurted out.

Not as good-looking or as charming as your sister, was what Edmure was saying, Brynden knew. Luckily, Quentyn Martell did not seem to take offense. "You have seen my sister recently, Ser Edmure? I envy your good fortune. I myself have not seen Arianne since my father's nameday celebration last year."

Edmure was sulking. A grown man and he still sulked like a little boy. But never in his father's presence. Edmure saved his sulking for his sisters and his uncle, not for the father he had been trying to impress since practically the day he was born. "Who is desperate?" Edmure whispered furiously to his uncle. "I am not desperate. I am eager, excited, filled with joy and anticipation. You have been too long up the lonely mountain of the Vale to remember those things, Uncle."

"She must have made a great impression on you, on that one visit to Riverrun," said the Blackfish.

"We made a great impression on each other," Edmure said proudly. "Lord Tyrell wanted Princess Arianne too, you know. For his heir Willas. And Arianne picked me. Me. Not Willas Tyrell."

Her father picked the heir to Riverrun, you mean. But Brynden did not have the heart to wipe out that look of joy, pride and satisfaction on Edmure's face. "I suppose she is very beautiful?" He asked instead.

Edmure shrugged as if to say – such things do not concern me. His uncle knew better. Edmure's tone of voice when describing Arianne Martell's appearance in great detail betrayed his true feelings on the matter.

"I wonder what she is doing at this very moment?" Edmure asked, when he had finished extolling Arianne's virtues to his uncle.

"Waiting for you with eagerness, joy and anticipation, no doubt," the Blackfish replied dryly.


At that moment, Arianne was reflecting on the day that changed everything – the day her uncle Oberyn came home to Sunspear after traveling who knows where, his face dark as thunder, his mouth curled into a grimace. Oberyn stayed cloistered with Arianne's father in his solar for half a day, with everyone else being kept out of the room, even Areo Hotah, Doran Martell's shadow and captain of the guards.

Dying as she was to know what was being discussed between her father and her uncle, Arianne would have never asked her father, and her uncle refused to divulge anything.

"I have kept your share of secrets from your father, Arianne. There are secrets I must keep for my brother's sake as well," Oberyn told his niece, in a tone that told Arianne that arguing, or even pleading and wheedling, was pointless. That her uncle loved her was not something Arianne ever doubted, but she also knew her uncle was completely loyal to his brother.

Her father summoned Arianne to his solar that night. For a brief, shameful moment, Arianne wondered if something had happened to Quentyn, if he had been hurt in some way. Maybe even in a way that would make it impossible for him to be the next Prince of Dorne. She pushed the thought aside, as quickly as it came to her.

I do not wish any harm to come to Quentyn. How could I? I love him. He is my brother, just like Trystane is my brother, Arianne insisted to herself.

Perhaps Doran Martell meant to tell his daughter, "I will not steal your birthright, Arianne. You will rule Dorne after I am gone, as is your right." But of course he would not say that, since he had never admitted his desire to pass over his oldest child. If Arianne had not come across that letter he was writing to Quentyn when she was fourteen, she would still be living in ignorance, wrongly believing that her father loved her, that her father had faith in her ability to rule.

One day you will sit where I sit, and rule all of Dorne, Quentyn.

She had cried herself to sleep for days, haunted by her father's words. But she had not cried in front of her father, not once, since the day she read that letter. Her tears were not for her father, and neither was her grief or her sorrow.

Her father looked troubled. When he finally spoke, he spoke so abruptly that Arianne was not certain she had heard him correctly at first. "Which one do you want as your husband, Arianne? The heir to Highgarden, or the heir to Riverrun? You tried to sneak to Highgarden to meet Willas Tyrell, but you only lit candles for Edmure Tully. Does that mean Willas Tyrell is higher in your favor?"

Her uncle Oberyn had caught her trying to sneak to Highgarden, and brought her back to Sunspear to face her father. But how had her father known about the candles? Arianne glanced sharply at Areo Hotah. How could you, Hotah? You used to bounce me on your knees when I was a little girl. You used to call me your little princess. How could you betray me to my father?

But just like her uncle, Areo Hotah's primary loyalty was to her father, not to Arianne herself. Arianne knew that very well indeed.

"It was not Hotah who told me," Doran Martell said, as if he knew what suspicion was swirling in Arianne's mind. "I am the Prince of Dorne. Men and women seek my favor all day long. They will not hesitate to betray even you. Remember that, Arianne."

Arianne ignored her father's admonition. "Willas Tyrell or Edmure Tully. Well, well, am I to wed one of them now? Surely neither is old enough to make a suitable husband for me, Father. Lord Frey has remarried, true, but last I heard, Lord Estermont is still living and unmarried. Willas Tyrell and Edmure Tully are surely much too young for me, compared to those men you used to favor as my match."

Doran sighed, looking pained, whether from his gout-stricken legs, or because of his daughter's impertinence, Arianne could not tell. "If you would rather be wed to Lord Estermont, I can write to him this very moment," he told Arianne.

Areo Hotah was staring at Arianne intently, shaking his head slightly. She knew that look. Don't be a proud fool, my little princess, Hotah was warning her.

House Tyrell and House Tully would both be powerful allies for Arianne to have; House Estermont of Greenstone, not so. And she would need powerful allies on her side to thwart her father's plan to steal her birthright.

It also helped that Edmure Tully was not an old man with one foot in the grave. Even Edmure's father Hoster Tully was younger than most of the men Doran Martell had previously suggested as Arianne's husband. She supposed she was lucky that the widowed Lord Tully had harbored no intention to wed her himself, or her father might have accepted that proposal.

Arianne lowered her gaze and pretended to sound contrite. "I will wed whoever you wish, Father, be it Willas Tyrell or Edmure Tully."

"Willas Tyrell is an admirable young man by all accounts, and with my own condition, it is wrong of me to cast aspersion on his disability. But I would prefer a husband for you that can fight and lead men in battle, Arianne. That might prove to be of the utmost importance soon. Very soon, perhaps."

"Then I will wed Edmure Tully, Father," Arianne acquiesced.

The letter to Hoster Tully was quickly written, another invitation was quickly extended by Lord Tully for Arianne to visit Riverrun, and before she knew it, she was departing for Riverrun in the company of her uncle Oberyn. Edmure showed Arianne the castle, while Oberyn negotiated the betrothal and the marriage contract on his brother's behalf with Hoster Tully.

Arianne's first impression of Edmure Tully, with his red hair and his red beard, was that he looked like a figure from the picture books her mother used to read to her as a child. He was courteous and eager to please, perhaps too eager at times, but Arianne took that as a good sign, for her own purpose at least. She would need a husband who was eager to please her, in more ways than one.


Arianne's figure was still dancing and flickering in Edmure's mind. Her visit to Riverrun had been short, much too short for Edmure's liking, but everything about her was still etched in his memory. Her eyes, her lips, the touch of her hand, the feel of her hair, the -

Was it such a bad thing to want a beautiful wife? One who was pleasing to look at, pleasing to spend time with. One who laughed at his jokes, and made him laugh in return. One who spoke enthusiastically and volubly about her numerous cousins and their many mishaps and adventures, and listened attentively to tales of Edmure's own exploits.

Edmure spoke to his uncle. "It is a good match. She will be Princess of Dorne, and I will be –"

"You will be her prince consort, and that is all. You will not be ruling Dorne. Never forget that, Edmure. The Dornish are a prickly and proud bunch. They are quite used to be ruled by a woman. Their law of inheritance does not take into account whether the first child is male or female. What they will not accept is an outsider trying to rule them through his wife."

Edmure was offended. "Do you take me for a greedy, craven suitor, Uncle? I have no wish to rule Dorne at all. Riverrun is enough for me."

Mace Tyrell, ambitious, striving Mace Tyrell would have wanted his son to rule Dorne. Perhaps that was why Arianne had chosen Edmure as her husband, and not Willas Tyrell.

For some reason, that thought made Edmure sad. And slightly disappointed. Was his lack of ambition to rule Dorne his only advantage over Willas Tyrell in Arianne's eyes? Not looks, wit or temperament? Not charm, gallantry or bravery?

When she came to Riverrun, she told him about lighting candles to thank the gods when Hoster Tully first wrote to invite her to Riverrun to meet Edmure. She told him how disappointed she was when her father did not consent to accept the invitation. Edmure had blushed. "I thought perhaps it was you, Princess Arianne, who did not wish to come. Perhaps you were hoping for a better match than myself. I had heard that Lord Tyrell …"

Arianne had touched his arm, and smiled beguilingly. "Call me Arianne, please. Lord Tyrell did invite me to Highgarden to meet his son Willas. But I did not go. And now here I am, at Riverrun.

"Here you are, Arianne."


She was still waiting for her mother to arrive. Arianne had written to Mellario twice to confirm that she would be attending the wedding. The situation was made the more awkward by the presence of Lady Stark, Edmure's oldest sister, who had been asking about Arianne's mother. It was common knowledge in Dorne that the Prince of Dorne was living separately from his wife. But that was not common knowledge in other parts of the Seven Kingdoms.

Arianne wondered how her mother and father would react upon seeing one another. It had been years since her mother had been back in Dorne. Arianne and her brothers had been to Norvos a few times to visit her since she left, but Doran Martell had never gone to visit his wife. "She knows that she will always have a home here, if she wishes to come back. Why should I go to her?"

Because she will not come to you, and you will not go to her, and nothing will ever be resolved, Arianne thought.

Lady Stark, her husband and three of their children had arrived in Sunspear the day before. She was relieved to make good time from Winterfell, after worrying that they might arrive too late for the wedding. "Perhaps too good a time," Lady Stark continued. "I'm afraid we will be a nuisance to you and your lord father, Princess Arianne. Edmure, my lord father and the rest of the wedding party have not yet arrived, and the wedding is still days away."

"It is not be a bother at all," Arianne had assured Catelyn Stark. "My brother Trystane will be glad for the company of your children." And that had indeed proven to be the case. Trystane was glad to spend his time practicing his sword-fighting skill with the oldest Stark boy, and playing cyvasse with the two Stark daughters. The older daughter was a pretty maid called Sansa, who looked as innocent and as demure as Tyene, but Arianne suspected Sansa really was innocent and demure, and naïve besides. The younger Stark girl, Arya, had a fierce look to her that brought Obara to mind.

Arianne was determined to make a good impression on Catelyn Stark. She knew from the bits and pieces Edmure had told her about his childhood - mostly in his letters, which were more articulate than his speech - that Edmure thought of Catelyn more like a mother than a sister. And it would do her good to ally herself with Lady Stark and her husband, the Lord of Winterfell. She would have powerful allies on her side, should her father decide to proceed with his plan to disinherit her in favor of Quentyn.

But it was hard to know what Lady Stark was thinking. She was unfailingly courteous, a smile often gracing her face, but she was also very, very reserved. Was she pleased with the thought of her brother marrying Arianne Martell? Would she have wished for a different bride for Edmure? Arianne could not tell from Catelyn's words or expression. This was not a woman who revealed much of herself to others, and certainly not to Arianne.

It brought to mind Mellario's stories about the early days of her marriage. Doran's mother had not been pleased that her son had chosen his own bride, had chosen his own wife during his travel in the Free Cities for no stronger reason than love, when alliances could have been made with other Great Houses of Westeros. Her reception of Mellario had been chilly at first, thinking her an opportunist, or perhaps even a fortune hunter. Mellario had worked hard to win her heart, to convince the Princess of Dorne that she truly loved her son, yes, but more importantly, that she would make a good wife and consort to Doran Martell.

Pity that by the time Mellario had won over the heart of Doran's mother, her relations with her husband had already started to deteriorate, had already begun its long descent into irreconcilable differences.