So apparently a Winds Of Winter chapter has been released from this POV. I haven't read it and don't intend to. The only Winds of Winter chapter I'm sticking to is that involving Theon's prospective execution from Asha's POV. I'm keeping Arianne where she is; I have my plans...
Princess Arianne Martell
"My father awaits me within," she told the guards at the door. They bowed as they uncrossed their spears, and opened the door to Prince Doran's solar.
She strode through, finding her father sitting a chair on the balcony, deep in conversation with Areo Hotah. He looked not to the Water Gardens, but in a general north-westerly direction, towards the rest of Westeros.
It was a cool day, with a breeze, and Arianne's dress rustled gently, alerting Hotah to her presence.
"Father," she said, "I wish to talk."
"Face me south, Areo," Doran said. The Captain nodded, rotating the Prince of Dorne around to face his daughter. His skin was not pale, but it sagged, and his legs were thin. He smiled a kindly smile, though a drawn one. "My daughter. It gladdens me to see you, and saddens me to know there must be a reason. Why have you sought me out?"
"Father, I would take part, if I could, in your councils of war and allegiance. It is long past the time I should be married, and I should like some reason to remain here."
"I appreciate your attempts at tact."
Arianne smiled guinely at the humour. "I do try."
"As do I to find you the right engagement. As do I to find us the right allegiance. There are four claimants to the Westerosi throne. Dorne is unbowed, unbent, unbroken, undecided. We cannot support the Lannister boy, that much is certain. Beyond that nothing is clear."
"Surely I could not marry Stannis. We need no other Baratheon King, not after Robert."
"If we judged all men by their elder brothers, Eddard would have been rash, Oberyn calm, and Stannis a warmongering whoremaster. None of those have proven true, and Stannis for all his faults is a just man. I would not marry you to him, however, mayhaps a loyal follower of his, were such an alliance to occur."
Arianne frowned. "He has not extended such a proposal?"
"No," Doran reassured, "he has not. There is another possibility I am closer to considering, however. You have heard tell of Aegon Targaryen raising his banners in the Stormlands."
"His position is uncertain. Forces face him at all sides, and none of the Kingdoms will bow to him."
"Dorne could sway them. Over ten thousand spears and counting we have."
"Then back him! Distract the Tyrells with an attack on the Reach and send him support, so as to surround King's Landing and take it from the Tyrells and the Lannister scum."
"It is less simple than that, Arianne. To win Aegon the Seven Kingdoms would take a year at least. The Vale at least would not fall, resource-rich and undamaged. And to the east lies an indisputable claim with troops and dragons to back it. She could tear any claim of Aegon's, any army of Aegon's, any of his allies, lovers, wives, or whores to shreds. Daenerys Targaryen, Stormborn, could eliminate any army that currently stands in Westeros... And there is no news of Quentyn. He went to win her hand, as you know. If he is successful, we cannot support Aegon."
Doran's face had grown more and more grim. Areo wiped a bead of sweat of his brow, recieving a grateful nod in return.
"Daenerys would appear to be the solution, then."
"Would that we knew if we had allied with her or not. Dorne is safe for now. The future concerns me."
"Dorne is strong, perhaps strongest of all the Seven Kingdoms now. We can hold for however long Daenerys takes."
"The strongest? At a push, we can muster twenty thousand spears. We will not be defeated, but it is not enough to defeat our enemies. The Riverlands are weak, the Crownlands too, the Stormlands have forces struggling for them. The Reach is being ravaged by the Ironborn. At a push, we could subdue maybe two of these, maybe three. The Westerlands, however, are made of sterner stuff. They would retaliate and could drive is back if our forces were scattered , as they would be in such a scenario. We could not defend if Aegon nor the Ironborn turned on us. Strong we are, but not enough.
"The North has an odd sort of strength. It defends itself well. Whoever comes to hold it can defend it, as long as Winter lasts. Dornishmen would do badly against them.
"But the strongest area of Westeros right now is the Vale. Thirty to forty thousand they can muster, their strength is not depleted from fighting. They could take the Riverlands, then the Westerlands if they so chose, and sweep around the Trident to the Blackwater and capture King's Landing. From there, they could well hold with twenty thousand against any army they came across." Doran summarised, scowling.
Arianne frowned. "Is there no chance of an alliance there?"
"Unless you wish to marry a whining eight-year-old who was weaned from the teat last year, no. Robert Arryn is no man's answer. And that would not resolve the issue of a monarch of all Westeros."
"It could pave a path for our own choice."
"No ruling Queen can be seen as weak. If we give her her Throne, she will not thank us. If we give her our support and guidance when she asks, take the Reach and the Stormlands once she lands, then she will thank us. Waiting is our best opportunity."
"But then, who would I marry?"
"I know not," Doran confessed. "A loyalist high lord, most likely. It should be another year, at best."
"I thank you, father, for your trust in me." After all I've squandered, when I wished I'd understood.
Doran smiled. "I made mistakes, my child. I withheld trust for you because of your disobedience, but you disobeyed because you thought I had no trust."
"I'm sorry," Arianne said.
"As am I," Doran said, with a sad smile. "Areo, face me east. Arianne, join me on the balcony."
The chair creaked as it scratched the floor. Arianne strode forwards, grasping the balcony rail and gazing across the Water Gardens.
"There is far more to any view than we seem to think," Doran stated. "In most any direction one will find cities, towns, villages and farms. In these places, hundreds of smallfolk will live their daily lives. Most are unremarkable, but there are far more of them than there are lords and ladies. They are still people. They will make their livelihoods there, and that is their life, their world. The highborn, we can see differently. I look east, and I see towns and holdfasts and I can name the Lord of each and command them at will. I see the Stepstones, the Narrow Sea. I see Essos. I see Volantis, I see Daenerys Targaryen, and I see her dragons. The smallfolk see no further than the nearest town and the nearest farm or city."
Arianne frowned. "Do you mean to emphasise the size of the world, father, and our concerns?"
"I shall explain later. Areo, North, please." The chair creaked. "Now, I see Westeros. I see the Stormlands, the Crownlands, the Vale, the North, the Wall, North of the Wall. The smallfolk look that way, they see cold lands and unfriendly people and their nearest town or holdfast. North-west."
Areo shifted the chair.
"I see past the Dornish mountains, I see the Westerlands, I see the Riverlands, and I see the Iron Islands. Smallfolk see little and less. West."
The chair creaked again.
"I see past the Dornish Mountains to the Reach, I see the Ironmen reaving it, I see Oldtown. The smallfolk all see the same. A town or a holdfast. East."
Areo rotated the chair in a half-circle. Doran faced Arianne. "I mean to show you the truth of this world, Arianne. We great Lords, Ladies, Princes, we see these things, we see the world on immense scale. We can change it if we choose. But we have our boundaries, our consequences. I cannot stand and I cannot turn my chair. I cannot act for or against any King in Westeros. I cannot summon Quentyn and an alliance with Daenerys at will. And I cannot allow these smallfolk, these people, these men and women of Dorne, to die or suffer invasion because I made a mistake or I was too hasty. Theirs are small worlds, but ours are smaller than they think, too. All I can do is put us in what I believe to be the best position possible. When a chance comes, preferably Daenerys, we shall seize it. We can take the Stormlands, we can take the Reach. Nymeria and Tyene Sand scout King's Landing's weaknesses and make contacts in their pay, Obara claims a contact in Casterly Rock and Dorne is mustered."
"We are ready, then? To avenge Elia and Oberyn? To tear the Lannisters down?"
"They've done a rather good job themselves on that front, but no. We are ready to rise for the Queen."
"Is she ready?"
"When she is, Dorne will be. You can rest assured on that." Doran sighed. "I know not if I will be, my daughter. The years go ill for me, and I fear my time may come between now and the arrival of Daenerys." The Prince of Dorne smiled. "Arianne, my heir, my beautiful, wilful child, I beg of you; do not let this chance go when I am dead."
"I shall not, father," stated Arianne. "How could I fail to honour you? How could I live if I did? Your patience will pay itself off tenfold, I swear it. Dorne shall go on, and it shall be Unbowed-"
"Unbent-"
"Unbroken." Arianne drew a deep breath, bowed, kissed her father's forehead as he clasped her hand, and strode from the balcony with her back straight. She did not glance back as she left. She knew what she would see. An old, loving man gazing across lands he would never again walk.
That night, Doran Martell passed.