Wife of the Wolf, Husband of the Sun.
Book 2
Chapter One-Hundred and Fifteen
Doran grinned happily as his grandson babbled happily on his mother's lap and the prince reached out to tickle the boy under his chin and Doran felt his grin grow wider as the boy laughed louder, it had been too long since there had been a babe in the family, and Doran finally had the chance to dote on one as he wished to do so.
Being the Prince of Dorne always came first, before being a husband, before being a father, before anything but now he was able to be freer and be as attentive as he wished to be.
Arianne had the rule in Sunspear and she had been doing very well to his eyes, he had eyes in the old palace of course, and everything they told him pleased him greatly, he had raised Arianne for one purpose since she had been a little girl and she had grown into it like a sunflower, thriving under Dorne's sun. A true Martell, and he did not doubt that she would be one of the greatest Princesses that Dorne had ever seen.
He had taught her well.
And she had children of her own now, she had been wed to Arys Oakheart a year after she had become a woman grown and not long after they were wed Arianne had fallen pregnant with her first child and nine moon turns later Eddard Martell came squealing into the world, pink-cheeked and with a headful of brown hair and then two years later his brother Oberyn had followed him.
And then, two years after Oberyn, came Aron Martell. A happy boy, and one who was doted on by all and no less by Doran himself. His duties had meant that he could not be as tender and attentive as a father to Arianne and Quentyn as he might have wished but he could be so to Trystane, and even more so as a grandparent to his grandsons.
Doran reached for a pomegranate, ignoring the shooting pain in his joints at the movement, and used his knife to slice it in half. He emptied out the round fruit of its innards into a small bowl and once that was done he plucked up one of the red seeds and handed it out for the little boy to take.
"Thank you gapa," the toddler burbled happily with a grin that only contained a handful of teeth before he popped the seed into his mouth and then made grabbing motions with his hands towards Doran.
The prince laughed at the sight and picked up the bowl he had placed the pomegranate seeds in and handed it over to Arianne who held it in her free hand while she kept her other hand around her youngest's middle so he would not slip from her lap, her son taking up handfuls of the seeds and shoving them into his mouth, his fingers turning red with the juice of the fruit.
Once the boy had finished his bowl Arianne picked him up and handed him to his septa, pressing a kiss to his curls before the holy woman carried the boy away. His daughter took her seat back and reached for an orange, large and perfectly ripe. "The children have missed you, I am glad that you invited us to come and see you."
"I have missed them as well," It had been well over a year since he had seen any of them before they had come to the Water Gardens, and it had been a delight to have them so close. Eddard had taken to the pools well, wrestling boys larger than him down and climbing trees to collect blood oranges.
Oberyn, unlike the man he was named after, preferred to askew playing with the other children to build castles out of the sand, decorating the towers he crafted with shells and bits of colored glass that he pulled out of the sea, though if any of them were to give him any praise for his skill then he would simply blush and rush off to hide somewhere.
"You could see them more often if you returned with us to Sunspear, I know that you love it here father but you are still the Lord of Sunspear, that's where you belong." At his daughter's words, Doran could not help but sigh, she had the right of it of course and it was perhaps selfish of him to shut himself away in the Water Gardens while Arianne dealt with the day-to-day of ruling Dorne.
But had he not earned the right to be selfish? He had spent so much time plotting to make Dorne stronger, to make it more of a player north of the mountains. He had plotted to make his sister the Lady of Winterfell, and in the end, it was because of him that she was now a queen. Elia might have worked to secure the votes of the Valemen and the Stormlanders and the Riverlands but he had been the one who made sure that Dorne backed her husband.
He had not seen Elia since before the rebellion, they sent letters to one another but the letters from his sister were cool and courteous, as polite as a queen should be but nothing more than that. He still remembered the feeling of her hand slapping him when she learned how he had used Ashara and daughter, the sting as his sister's ring had broken the skin of her cheek, and the wet sensation of his blood trickling down.
He had tried to mend the gap, he had sent her letters filled with apologies, had sent her gifts, and even once a long letter explaining his reasons for why he had done what he did in full, which he had placed in Oberyn's hands to make sure no one would intercept it and while his younger brother told him that he had given Elia the letter himself and he had watched her read it, it had done naught to move her to forgiveness.
After that he had stopped trying, he knew that Elia had spoken the truth that day when she said that she would never forgive him for what he had done but he had not wanted to believe her, he had done it for her as much as for Dorne. But if she would not be moved then he had to move, Elia was a Queen and she was a good one at that. She had power and status, she could hate him as much as she liked.
He would do it all again.
"It is my place," He agreed with her, even if reluctantly. "But I am an old man and a sick one as well, you are the future of Dorne. I know that many and more of my lords think that I am weak, I am content to let them think that. When they come to Sunspear let them see you in the high seat, let them see all the faith and trust and power that I have placed with you. Let them think of Doran Martell as nothing more than an old, done man who is content to sit and lounge under the sun, that pleases me."
"As you say, father," Arianne acquiesced, he knew that he had taught Arianne well in that moment. He was about to tell her that he was proud of her when a knock came on the door of his solar.
"Come," Doran said and his daughter's husband walked in, Arianne smiled at the sight of Arys and walked over to him to press a kiss on his cheek, and the knight of the Reach smiled at Arianne before wrapping his arm around her waist. "Ser."
"Goodfather," Arys greeted with a smile and a nod of his head, Doran had not been certain of the match at first but Arianne had been insistent, and Elia had made it clear in a letter that she supported the match, both as Arianne's aunt and as the queen as well, wounds needed to be healed with the Reach, she had written and Arys Oakheart was Lady Oakheart's youngest son, he would never expect to rule anything so he would make a decent consort in that regard.
And he had grown used to his role well enough, according to Doran's agents at least. To be certain there had been some friction at first, he was a man of the Reach after all and he would have been fed lies about Dorne and their people since he was old enough to understand words, and since the rebellion had occurred Doran doubted that the lords of the Reach spoke of them any sweeter.
But Arys was a dutiful man, he had learned that he would be second to Arianne and, even though it hurt Doran to admit it to himself, it seemed that he had become a better consort than Mellario ever had. Arys might have been from North of the mountains but he was from Westerosi, he could understand what a consort needed to do. With Mel, it had been like she had come from a different world.
He hide his bitterness behind a smile. "Go back to your boys Arianne, spend this time with them and enjoy them while you are young. Duty can wait for a few more days." Arianne nodded then and kissed his cheek before she and her husband withdrew from his solar, leaving Doran alone with his thoughts and the salty breeze of the sea blowing in, rustling the sheer silk curtains.
He watched the children at their play until his supper was brought to him, flatbreads cut open and filled with a mixture of chickpea paste and chicken meat, heavily spiced as he liked, a bowl of snake stew with a dollop of mint sauce, a glass of sweet sharbat and a bowl of sweet cream and raspberries to cool his tongue. His gout would not thank him for it but that was a problem for the future, for the moment his stomach was happy.
Once his plate and cup were taken away he heard laughter coming from below his balcony and wheeled himself over to look over the edge, a smile tugged at his lips to see Trystane and his betrothed chasing one another among the trees and fountains. Talia Forrester had been one of many matches made with the North after the rebellion and it had been a lucrative one for House Martell.
Trees had not been something that Dorne had ever been abundant in, the wood they had been able to harvest had been to put to use in making spears and bows and saddles as that had always seemed more of use to them. With a betrothal to House Forrester had come a very rewarding ironwood contract and when the ironwood had flowed into Dorne they had made more spears, more bows, and more saddles.
And ships as well.
They had never been a power at sea, not since Nymeria had burned her fleet but since the rebellion where they had to be dependent on the Ironborn, Doran had sought to rectify that as quickly as could. Thus, the match of his youngest son to the youngest daughter of Ironrath had been prudent indeed. Building a fleet took time, they had little experience in it but slowly a fleet began to grow.
And happily enough Trystane liked the girl as well, he had told him once that Talia had a lovely voice and he loved nothing more than to listen to her sing. Talia seemed content enough as well, from what he had observed.
He prayed it remained that way.
He watched them for a time until his attention was drawn to something else, walking arm in arm was his brother and his paramour Ser Daemon Sand. He wished he could claim it was a pair that he approved of but he did not, Oberyn had never been the same since he had returned from the war. The wound he had suffered had slowed him and it had only gotten worse as he grew older, he needed a stick to help him walk now.
He choose Daemon because he was young and strong and comely and reminds him of himself when he was that age, and he is close as well. And Daemon choose Oberyn because he could not have Arianne. Doran sighed and shook his head, he knew it was not a matter that he could easily broch with Oberyn as it would simply lead to another argument.
There had been too many arguments with Oberyn over the years, Obara had needed to be punished for what she had done at the Golden Tooth and he had cursed Eddard Stark more than once for not being able to do it himself. He knew that if he took Obara's head then his brother would never forgive him however so he had her confined to Lady Nyssa's castle, it was a slap on the wrist in truth but it was the best he could do to punish her and keep his family somewhat together.
Caleotte came then and delivered him some reports, Lord Flower's son who had the rule in Skyreach while his father and sisters were in the capital had taken Lord Uller's bastard daughter as a paramour, there was a good twenty years between them but he wished them well of it. There had been sights of a kraken of the Fingers, and the Golden Company had quit their latest contract which was very, very odd.
And alarming.
He was puzzling over what that meant when Caleotte came back. "Prince Doran, forgive me for interrupting you but...there is a young woman here to see you. It looks as though she has walked all the way from Planky Town, she claimed that her ship came in from Volantis the night before, and, well, and she claims to be Lady Ashara's daughter, Lauryn Sand."
Doran was startled then and his arm went out and knocked his empty glass down onto the ground, for a moment he stared down at the shards and didn't know what to think. A ghost come back to haunt me.
Doran breathed deep. "Bring her to me, now."
Caleotte nodded and scurried out of the solar, Doran had Aero wheel him in front of his table and stand at his side while they waited for her.
When Caleotte brought her in, it took all he had not to gasp at the sight of her. Apart from her eyes, which were Stark grey, she looked like Ashara. She was much thinner than Ashara had ever been, her hair was in knots and her skin was badly burnt which spoke to hours upon hours of exposure to the sun without any sort of covering at all. She looked like the perfect example of a poor wretch.
Doran breathed deep through his nose and offered her what he hoped looked like a comforting smile, even as it felt like crabs were pinching him from the inside. "Greetings to you, Lauryn. I am Doran Martell, Lord of Sunspear and Prince of Dorne. How may I aid you?"
The girl opened her mouth and tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked sob. Tears flooded her eyes and she fell to her knees, Doran was about to order Aero to help her to her feet but the girl spoke before he could. "Please, please my lord. Please, don't turn me out. I've nowhere else to go."
"My mother, Lady Ashara, when my Father died she had to work in a sick ward to treat the men who suffered from the pale mare, she did it for pennies to keep me and my brother fed. But the mare took her to, and then I had to...to...," The girl sobbed again, "I had to care for my brother, and then he became a sellsword and he was lost in the disputed lands."
"I am all alone in the world now, but my mother spoke of Dorne and House Martell and a princess she was like a sister too, I saved every coin I had to book passage and the people in Planky Town said I would find you here," Lauryn said in between sobs, she seemed moments away from being sick if she did not calm down as her breath kept catching with each one she took. "Please my lord, Please take pity on me."
This is your doing, a traitorous voice sounded from deep within his mind. You used Ashara and the poor girl when she was little more than a babe, and nothing more than pieces in your scheme and look what happened after you had no more use for them.
It's not my fault, was what he wanted to think. If Brandon Stark had not abandoned them to come back across the Narrow Sea then he never would have died, Ashara would not have died. Her son would not have died and her daughter would not have had to cross half the world to try and find a speck of pity.
But his heart told him the truth with each pang of guilt he felt. "Please," He said as he gestured for Aero to help her to her feet. "There is no need for this, my lady. You may remain here for as long as you may wish, and I will send a letter to Starfall, did your mother ever mention Starfall to you? They will have a place for you, I am certain of that."
His words did little to calm the girl, it only made her sob harder and Caleotte took the girl away to give her a cup of dream wine to help her sleep and Doran tilted his head back and shut his eyes.
And every single inch of him burned.
End of Chapter One-Hundred and Fifteen.
So, some things to point out
1. The younger sand snakes, as in Oberyn's daughters with Ellaria, don't exist in this fic.
2. Arianne's relationship with Doran is radically different, as he never plotted to make her a queen now she was raised to be the princess of Dorne and thus he trusts her a great deal more.
3. Oberyn is not a physical fighter anymore, that might seem a small detail but keep it in mind.
Next chapter, we go back to a P.O.V we've not had in a while.