Chapter 1: The Prince & Princess

Destiny Martell stood in the middle of the Sept of Baelor. She was a petite and healthy girl of just 16 years. Her tanned olive skin glistened like gold as the sun shone through from the high windows of the sept. A sheet of orange silk, deep like rust, draped across her frame, hugging her curves in all the right places, leaving only her shoulders to her waist bare, with her sleek deep mocha brown colored hair blanketing the nude skin underneath. Destiny was facing the altar and did not see the man behind her enter the sept.

As she bent down to kneel in prayer, the man called out, "My princess."

Destiny halted and immediately stood up when she heard the familiar voice. "Father?" she asked as she turned to face the man.

It was her lord father's face and she was the splitting image of him, except for her eyes, which were deep violet like her mother's. He was thin and frail as he walked slowly towards her with his gilded cane adorned with their house sigil, the Sunspear. She looked at her father's face, examining his olive skin, the same as her's, yet when the sun hit his face, it did not shine golden like hers did. His face showed wrinkles and crow's feet, where her's only showed her youth and radiance. He was old and nearing his 56th nameday, but it was a miracle when he began walking again at the age of 40. You see, Doran, Prince of Dorne and House Martell, was confined to life in a wheelchair for the better half of his royal life. It was his first time back in the Capitol after his sister Elia's wedding to Rhaegar Targaryen.

"My sweet daughter," cooed Prince Doran as Destiny ran into his open arms.

"The journey must have tired you!" Destiny stated worrily. Her lord father was always of delicate health and she worried for him every day.

"I've missed you, Destiny, my sweet Sunspear. The Water Gardens are too quiet without you," her father said.

She smirked when she heard him call her by her childhood nickname. "Oh, father. It's only been half a year since I've left home! Six moons have barely passed," sang Destiny playfully with a grin plastered on her face.

"I haven't been to a party in ages, let alone a royal wedding. This ought to be a fun ordeal," Prince Doran joked as he took his daughter's hand as they walked out of the Sept of Baelor, arm in arm, as father and daughter.

Destiny guided her father carefully down the steps leading back to the Red Keep. Although he could walk perfectly on his own, Prince Doran was easily tired, though he didn't let his guard down in front of others, even his sweet Sunspear daughter. She wondered why he wasn't accompanied by his guards. It wasn't safe for him to walk alone. He was prone to falls and injuries.

"So, my dear, sweet Sunspear, pray tell what worries you so?" questioned Prince Doran to his daughter in a caring tone.

Destiny returned her father's question with a confused looked in her eyes. "Father?"

"Why were you in the Sept of Baelor? You never pray. Let alone to the Sevens. Don't tell me you've suddenly started believing in the New Gods," Prince Doran smirked.

"It's nothing... father. It's quiet there, that's all." She replied in a whisper, avoiding his gaze. "Shall we head to your chambers? Where is my dear uncle, by the way?" She continued.

"Probably under another whore's skirt," called a voice from down the hall. It was Jamie Lannister wearing his white cloak that represented the King's Guard.

"Ser Jaime, you look every bit the... golden... lion," Prince Doran greeted a smile while his eyes trailed to Jaime's gilded steel hand.

Anger briefly flashed in Jaime's eyes before he immediately concealed it and retorted back, "Prince Doran, so nice to see you...up and about. "Princess Destiny," he nodded towards her quickly before addressing her father again, "I trust the Martells will be joining us for supper? Oberyn and his paramour play-thing included?"

Prince Doran nodded, while Destiny curtsied, her eyes downcast to avoid staring at his golden hand. Jaime marched off in the opposite direction. His armor clanking in the distance. Despite being left with one hand, he was still Lord Commander of the King's Guard. Destiny couldn't help but notice that Ser Jaime looked every bit the handsome and valiant knight even if had only one hand left. She wondered if he could still fight. It was only then did her father shake her.

"My sweet Sunspear, my chambers are this way," Prince Doran reminded Destiny.

With a brief nod, Destiny starting guiding her father back to his room. The Red Keep was not a friendly place for his father. Far too many steps in the Palace. Luckily, we reached his room soon. His guard, Ser Alistair Sand, was on post outside his bedroom door. Although he was born a bastard, bastards were treated with equal respect in Thorne. Ser Alistair was a tall man of 6 feet, yet he was slender and quick on his feet. Despite wearing a heavy suit of armor, Alistar was agile. When he removed his helmet, Destiny could see his receding hair line and salt and pepper beard; he had aged much over the years while serving the Princes of Dorne. Alistair gave Prince Doran a curt salute and Destiny a small smile before opening the large wooden door.

As Destiny escorted her father into the room, she helped him settle down in a large mahogany lounge chair before she glance around the room. It was not a large room. Her quarters were twice as large, she thought. Her brows furrowed and she turned to her father angrily, "How dare they!" she began until her father interrupted her.

"I asked for a modest room. There is no need for me to have to walk back and forth from my bed and to the door. They are housing hundreds of noblemen for King Joffrey's wedding. There is no need to waste such space on a cripple," Prince Doran said to her, already knowing what was on his daughter's mind.

"You are not a cripple," Destiny said as she rolled her eyes. Her father was here for all of half an hour and he was already reading her like a book.

Prince Doran smiled gently at his daughter. She had all of the Martell strength and vigor. She looked exactly like him, he thought, except for the slight slant to her eyes and its shocking shade of violet that told everyone they were not of Westeros. No matter that she looked and dressed every bit a Dornish princess, was raised and educated like the highborn she is, and her accent of the Common Tongue flawless, yet her eyes still told of her true heritage.

"My sweet Sunspear, I must rest. Thank you for escorting me to my chambers. Please leave me and call for my servants. Go and get ready for tonight as we must dine with the lions," Prince Doran said to his daughter.

Destiny knew this was her cue to leave. "Yes, father," Destiny said as she went to kiss him on his forehead, but Prince Doran was already beginning to close his eyes; his head resting peacefully on a lounge cushion.

Destiny walked to the door to leave the room, but first she glanced back to her father. She couldn't believe he finally left Dorne, she thought to herself in wonderment. She left his chambers and smiled to Ser Alistair before heading to her quarters to get ready for tonight's pre-wedding feast.