Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/favourite/followed and even read this story. It really means the world to me and I am, once again, sorry for the lack of an update in so long. I hope this can make up for it.


The thumping stomp of unorganised dancing was the sound that greeted the Lannister princess as soon as her feet entered the hall of which the famed Dornish celebration was being held in. The sight that, undoubtedly, would be forever burned in to her glinting green eyes resembled that of a hunting pack of wolves having just hunted and still out for fresh meat to devour in a bloodlust rage.

She reminded herself that they were not in North nor did they bear any resemblance to the ice-cold stony faces of the Starks. She steeled her nerves, sucked in a breath for what appeared to be the final time, and braved a step into the sacred threshold.

All at once, the joyous music ceased its gleeful tune, the uncoordinated dancers halted their painfully humiliating dance and all dark pairs of eyes present in the, frankly massive, hall turned to the golden intruder. Tya ordinarily would have found the sight almost comical but ever since her lord father set his sights on marrying his second daughter to a man bent on the destruction of her former House, truth be told, she hadn't felt all that gleeful.

The watchful gaze of the snakes in their territory has the innocent princess all but biting her nails in nervous anticipation. Her instincts screamed at her to pick up her skirts and flee the scene as quick as her legs could carry her but he didn't dare move for fear of awakening the reptiles to come out and to play.

Maybe I shouldn't have come after all.

A sudden clapping originating from the far back where the nobility and high officials were seated startled her. She briefly refrained from leaping back in raw shock. Glancing quickly over at the hissing snakes, she could gather the feeling was most definitely mutual as the one particular man cleared his throat sharply and began to clap fervently:

Prince Doran smiled as more hesitant claps filled the large hall, the acoustics vibrating as the little lords and ladies obeyed their rulers silent commands.

"Princess Tya," he said with a warm smile, appearing for all intents and purposes as honest as she had ever witnessed him, despite her smart, Lannister instincts screaming at her not to trust this pompous Dornish prince. "I am honoured to see you here. This traditional celebration is one we Dornishmen take great pride in and, speaking for myself, I am thrilled at your being here. Truly, I had not expected your arrival and, may I say, I am happy to see you here, gracing us all with your presence."

And with that, the ruling prince of Dorne concluded his brief speech, lifting his glass cup to her by way of good will.

Princess Tya was instantly wary at his open invitation and was sure, judging by the confused glances being directed around the hall by fellow Dornishmen, she was not the only one.

Hesitant music once again breathed life into the halls after their prince's warm declaration of her invitation. Needless to announce, however, sly venomous glares - no matter how insignificant the gestures may be - were still fired at the young princess.

If looks could kill... She shuddered.

Her brilliantly green eyes desperately roamed the crowded hall for a friendly face which was becoming slowly more and more of a rarity in Tya's case. No self-respecting Dornishman would willingly align themselves with a Lannister maiden, not if they held their life in high esteem. The princess was learning, quickly becoming accustomed to the Dornish way of life.

You never know when certain knowledge may prove useful.

It soon became apparent to the golden maiden, however, that she had, in her uncertainty, remained firmly rooted to the ground, her feet holding her there. She could tell that her reluctance to move had created a strong dynamic pin in the dancing, going by the strangely abnormal cramped dancers currently squashing themselves into the walls to distance themselves from the higher among them (notably, her).

Although, Princess Tya had an inkling that their unwillingness to be deserving of her presence was along the lines of them excluding her from their cultural traditions rather than a show of respect.

Nonetheless, she came to the reasonably plausible conclusion that she could not remain standing in the same spot for the duration of the evening. Not only was she receiving deathly, accusatory glares for interfering in the Dornishmen's proud festival but it was also undoubtedly rude to continuously demand the spotlight.

It was a shame Cersei did not share the same manners as she did.

Wobbling precariously on shaky legs, Tya chanced the first step away from the centre. And another. And another. Already the annoyed Dornishfolk were edging away from the edge and back toward the centre, their frowns slowly dissipating the more the princess kept to the shadows until at last, their angry, judgemental daggers drifted away into nothingness and the song filled their souls.

Within the span of a blink of an eye, the princess was wiped clean from their memories and, sooner rather than later, they began to forget all about the golden forgery of a princess was filled their night with joy and celebration.

"Princess Tya! How wonderful it is to see you here, my princess."

Dayla.

Tya felt a small smile tug at the sharp corners of her mouth at her loyal handmaiden's words. "Thank the gods you're here," she said, utterly relieved she had finally located her friendly acquaintance. "You're the only one I can trust."

Her handmaiden did not blush at her princess' kind words nor did she bow or simper or curtsey at her presence. The Dornish maiden did not find the more traditional of Westeros' customs so terribly pleasing. It was not at all what she was used to. Instead, her outspoken and brazen handmaiden merely rolled her eyes at Tya's heartfelt declaration of emotion and grasped the sleeve of her dress with blatant excitement.

"Come, come. There's no need for that, my princess," was all she said. "Not when there's fun to be had."

Princess Tya's small smile, which had previously remained with delicate precision on her made-up face, began slipping considerably once her eyes caught sight of Dayla's longing stare being drawn to the centre of the hall where the graceful dancing was situated.

"No. No, Dayla," she whispered quietly, her breath coming out in little hisses of fear the more closer Dayla grew. "We can't- I can't. I can't spoil their celebration; it's not fair."

"Why will you be ruining the celebration, my princess?"

"You know why," she hissed; "I'm nothing more than a treacherous Lannister and all the world hates a treacherous Lannister." She would have thought that much would have been fairly obvious to grasp.

"No, you're not."

"I...what?"

"You are not a 'treacherous Lannister', as you say, any longer as I have stated numerous times in the past, my princess." Dayla sighed. "You are wed to Prince Oberyn now - you belong here. You are more of a Dornishman than the entirety of those dancing fools you seem so afraid of."

"But I'm not- I- I- I'm not a Martell," Tya feebly resisted against her handmaiden's sound logic, despite the true honesty she felt radiating behind every syllable.

"Then why did you come here?"

Tya sobered up in an instant.

But Dayla wasn't finished: "How can you possibly hope to change your people's views on you...if you can't even accomplish the same?"

That gave her considerable pause and she darted her eyes to where her people were currently dancing. Dayla noted this sudden change in her princess' demeanour and knew her words had penetrated Tya's façade.

"I'm going over to join the dancing so if you do decide to overcome your fears and truly connect with the people of Dorne, my princess, then you'll know where I'll be."

"No, Dayla, wait, I-" Tya felt the fear at losing her one and only sanctity to the snakes stalking their prey but her stubborn handmaiden either was too far out of earshot or deliberately choosing to ignore her futile pleas. Knowing her handmaiden, the latter would be the more predictable of the two.

Tya briefly considered ordering her handmaiden to remain by her in the same fashion the Westerland handmaidens would do so without the incentive. She had enough rank - she could do it and if any fool dared question her judgement then she could simply dangle her status as princess and if that failed to strike fear deep into the heart then Lord Tywin Lannister and her new brother bound by marriage, King Robert Baratheon, were nothing short of a letter away.

Even as the thought fluttered through her mind, she knew she could not. How could she? She could not win Dorne by changing the way it thought; the way it behaved and the way it spoke. What possible outcome could there be that would end with her on top? None. No, if she was going to be a Princess of Dorne then she would have to be the one to change - not the other way around.

But putting her new ploys into practice would prove another difficulty altogether and-

A sharp pair of eyes pierced through her newfound resolve with all the ease of carving a cake. Her breathing hitched. Without inclining her head to the side, she already knew the face that matched the cruel dark orbs currently glaring a thousand daggers into her.

Oberyn her mind supplied helpfully.

Your husband her hear quaked decidedly not so helpfully.

I knew it was a bad idea - you coming here. I said so, didn't I? You've gone and fallen straight into their trap, Tya. This was always what was going to happen and now there's no one here to bail you. You're on your own and now you're going to die on your own; a million miles from the place you once called home with no one here who loves you. Even Tyrion wouldn't dare venture in this unbearably hot deathbed. You'll forever be remembered as the Lannister Cursed with Stupidity.

Tya shook her head to banish those thoughts clean from her mind. They were the weak ramblings of a little Lannister and she was a Martell. She was unbroken, untameable and free.

She was Princess Martell and in the Light of the Seven Gods, the Seven Kingdoms and of every fucking Lannister she was going to retain that title before it disintegrated into the billowing dust that her fear transformed her into.

"My princess, would you care for a drink?"

She almost started at the unfamiliar tone spoken in gruff Dornish. A maid holding a delicate chalice filled to the brim graced her sight when she spun to directly face the maid - after all, regardless of her family reputation she was, first and foremost, a lady and a lady has prized manners and traditions to uphold.

A quick whiff of the foul substance was enough to cause her stomach to turn unpleasantly.

I don't like wine.

"No," she politely refused, "thank you."

A faint scoff reached her ears and it took her a while to realise it had originated from the Dornish maid herself.

"'How will you ever make it through life without making difficult decisions?'"

"On second thoughts," Tya interrupted with a loud grin, "I think I might have it after all," she said and, with a quick flick of the wrist, deftly grasped the cool glass and downed the contents in one in quite an unladylike action.

To say the Dornish lady was shocked would be an understatement. What was even more surprising was the brilliant grin that stretched Tya's pale face when she sucked in the last sip and handed the glass back with a polite Thank You Very Much.

And, with nothing else to do but simply stand and gape, the maid spun on her heel and stalked away, making the man's steely gaze on Tya's back all the more profound.

Before she could talk herself out of it in a voice that resembled that of her loving lord father, Princess Tya turned and faced her fear head on, her liquid courage acting as a strong guide.

And there he was: standing there all fierce and deadly and dangerous in the same countenance as he was not even two days previous on their wedding day. She boldly met his gaze - she did not flinch, not once. Not ever. There was something beautifully entrancing about the bottomless pits of his eyes; something hypnotic. She found she could not look away - not even as she tried.

In the end the spell was broken as soon and as swiftly as it was cast. A faint whimper of disappointment laced a small fraction of her mind even as the majority was screaming in silent relief.

Her eyes analysed the deadly viper standing at the end of the hall, more freely than she had previously without the poisonous stare piercing straight through her.

The man was every inch she remembered. The sharp features cut through her field of vision so bitingly she could feel the sting from where she stood. The sheer power and control he radiated had her all but shying away except something caught her eye.

It was a hand clutching the yellow fabric of her husband's royal clothing in a scrunched ball; incessantly; possessively. Specifically, it was a young, feminine hand seductively entrancing the man beneath the fine material. There was only one woman who possessed the power to perform such an action and provoke that intense response.

Ellaria Sand: the Dornish bastard fucking her husband.

Princess Tya remained there, standing in the shadows, acting as a human statue, her eyes glued to the actions of the little hussy. Her mouth, whispering filthy promises filled with the allure of lust. The golden-haired Martell knew Ellaria Sand by her promiscuous reputation only and Tya realised soon that it was unprecedented among the entirety of Dorne and maybe even the whole of Westeros.

It appeared from where she stood that the Sand had fully captivated the younger of the Martell brothers with her pretty lies and mouthy breath and began leading him out of the hall where Tya and the Viper had exchanged their lawful vows not two days before in sight of gods and men.

And not one of them lifted a finger, said a word.

All at once, she felt her nervous energy drain from her being and she ached from the hardship her life - more notably, her marriage - had become. Tya felt confused, lost, disorientated. How could she possibly hope to tame the wild beast that was Dorne if her Dornish husband was firmly under the spell of the beautiful Sand? For she most certainly could not without the support of her loving new family.

But as her gaze drifted toward the older man seated at the head of the table from which both her husband and his mistress had excused themselves from, her eyes whispered that all had not quite been lost, despite her instincts screaming at her in protest.

Steeling her resolve once more, Princess Tya perfected her dress, patted her elaborate hairstyle delicately, noting that not a single strand of golden hair had escaped its cruel confinements - a fact Tya took great pleasure in noting. With a fake smile plastered across her pale complexion, she placed one high heeled foot in front of the another, bracing for the deadly stares and evil looks to penetrate her Lannister mask as she braved stepping back into the light and strutting over to the high table as though she owned it.

"Prince Doran," she purred as her feet arrived at their destination. "Is this seat taken?"