Hi!

I'm sorry for those who followed this fanfiction and waited. I was delayed by exams and other planifications. But now, I'm free, and I have more time to concentrate on it.

This chapter is with Arianne Martell's POV. The next will be about that infamous man in the snows, who might MAYBE just meet someone you may know. Some dragon queen, perhaps?

Theme song: "Castle", Halsey

Good reading!

...

Arianne I

The wind was as soft and warm as a paramour's caress, this night, Arianne Martell, princess of Dorne, thought. She could feel it touch her skin from her cheek to her breasts tenderly, delicately, as if discovering it for the first time. It wasn't always that way though, for it could be violent and sharp as a snake, and just as lethal.

She was no delicate lady though, waiting to be touched, to be kissed, but too afraid of her own desires. She welcomed it all the same. This dry, thick, warm air was hers since the moment she was born, and instead of cutting her, she felt its pleasures like a true Dornishwoman would. It was in her blood. However, it was like an over-eager lover: either too gentle, either too pressing. Now, it was just good.

The princess closed her eyes and sighed.

Every day was just like the other. Waiting. Drinking. Loving. Playing Cyvasse. Bathing. Waiting. Drinking. Loving…

Waiting was not really what bothered Arianne generally. In waiting, she found pleasure in imagining what could happen. What would happen, actually. Certainty came to her the more the time passed.

But that kind of waiting, so near the release, was suffocating and numbing, and did not bring any certainty. Only doubts.

She stretched herself like a cat, trying to get rid of the numbness spreading in her members. Her dress stuck to her like a second skin, and the dampness of it made her shiver.

She had bathed today. She had decided it suddenly, surprising Ser Daemon Sand when she took off her clothes and jumped in the water. She asked him to join her with a sneaky smile. The sun had been so hot, and the water so fresh. He refused, saying he'd rather look at a snake than play with it.

That man seemed so satisfied with himself she almost evoked the memory of her uncle Oberyn, for it seemed THAT snake surely hadn't bothered him. But then it all came back to her and she went silent, turning away from him.

He could laugh all he wanted. She did not care. Not anymore. It was all just a game, wild and sensual, fangs against fangs. A battle of teasing and desiring, but never daring.

She did not need that in her life. She could have any man she wanted with a blink of an eye. Her lovers always came back to her, one way or another. This one will surely, she thought. Sooner or later.

Well, all except one now. Arys Oakheart… her sweet knight had died because of her. Or maybe thanks to her, she didn't really know. She was still a little bit convinced that he charged Areo Hotah in the hope to escape her. Men were fools when it came to love and honor. And, from the pretty songs that had been written after Daenerys Targaryen's murder by her lover, it was still a subject that poets found solace in.

Love, lust, power and betrayal. All the ingredients of a catastrophe, but also of a good story. In any other day, she would have loved to hear it. But that story had taken such a strong hold on her own that she couldn't bear to listen to it anymore. She had seen enough of the different parts that composed it, and now, she was determinate to make her own way, and to let go of these ghosts of the past.

Some of them being in her own family.

Each night, she recited their names in her mind, as if afraid to forget.

Ellaria, Obara, Nymeria, Tyene… She had done everything to set them free when they were confined in the Spear Tower of Sunspear. And they had betrayed her, by leaving her here, all alone, an unofficial prisoner in the Water Gardens, carefully watched day and night while they killed her father.

She had loved Tyene as a sister. But she still left her. She still betrayed her.

Arianne couldn't really blame her. She had followed her mother, as she always did. It stung, nonetheless. And it stung even more when she learned of her death, and the cruel way her body had been treated.

But then, Obara, Nymeria… it was them who killed Trystane, her little brother. Arianne missed Trystane the most. Young, hopeful Trystane, always playing it easy for his princess to catch on.

And Myrcella… Arianne had been fond of her, of that naïve, though clever little girl who claimed herself in love with her betrothed. That girl was full of dreams and songs. She would have deserved to be queen, and if Arianne had had her way, she would have been.

Had Queen Cersei Lannister been one day like that? Arianne wondered. Mother and daughter had been apart for so long, and now, it seemed death only brought them together. Would they still get along? The mad Queen and the little girl with flowers and sunlight in her hair?

No, Myrcella hadn't deserved it, for what happened to her was entirely against what Dorne swore to its people. No harm could come to little girls here, for Dorne knew the real cost of daughters.

But now ? Where were they now ?

Only Ellaria remained, still stuck in her cells at King's Landing, and, if the rumors were true, still staring at her daughter's rotting body. Young King Bran didn't even have the decency, once in power, to bury her. Or maybe he did not really care actually. But he still held her hostage, for killing her would be killing one of the last memories of Oberyn Martell, memories that were still cherished all over Dorne. And keeping her was the surest way to keep the Sand Snakes at bay.

But not her. Not Arianne Martell, daughter of the sun.

Ellaria was alive. Good for her. But not for long.

Arianne had no regrets now. The woman her uncle loved, the one who hated revenge, had died with him. Now she was only the shadow of a bitter woman. A powerless shadow forced to see again and again the consequences of her actions.

There were now only five sand snakes then. Sarella, Elia, Obella, Dorea and Loreza. Only three of them, the oldest ones, could fight now, and knew their own mind. Dorea and Loreza were both still too young, though their skills seemed promising. She could still remember little Loreza trying to catch a snake with her own hands and managing to extract its poison without even getting bitten. And Dorea, that little minx, agile as a monkey, able to steal from even the most careful of guards. Both girls were now kept carefully by her brother's side. If only she could reach them…

That was all that was left.

At least, sand snakes that were known. Oberyn had never really known how to take count of all of his bastards.

It was said, she learned, that some snakes could eat other ones of their species, even the ones who had birthed them. What better revenge, she thought, but to turn these little snakes against the one who called herself their mother?

The idea was terrifying, but she also found it quite captivating.

But not for now, no. This would be for another time. Now, she had a birthright to claim.

Elia's answer was not here though. Elia, the one she had to save so many times for her careless behaviors. Little Elia she had cared for like a mother. Would she choose to be with her? Or will she choose her real mother?

Obella, though younger, was much more ruthless than she was. And she had already chosen, though Arianne would have preferred it to be her way. She would fight her own battles and preferred to go directly in King's Landing, in hopes of saving Ellaria. Dorne's affairs did not concern her, she said. Not anymore.

Well, she would find it more of her concern when she returned, Arianne thought.

She tasted the chicken, which had been seasoned with lemons and honey. The flesh was tasty, with a little bit of bitterness. As a child, she had always been fond of sweet things. But not anymore. And the bitterness agreed with her. She took one of the grilled almonds that accompanied it and put it in her mouth slowly, letting her tongue caress one side of the dried fruit as she closed her eyes in bliss. The fruit was crunchy under her teeth and added a lovely taste of smoke to the plate. She licked her fingers with greed.

Daemon Sand's eyes were on her, but she couldn't read what were in them. Was that desire? Irritation? Longing? She did not know anymore. All that she knew now was that he was her shield and that he had taken her maidenhead once. She wouldn't mind if he did that again. She even asked him again, but he refused.

His loss, she thought as she looked at Feather, who was presenting her with cold drinks.

She had once prevented Elia from amusing herself too much with him. But then… Who was preventing HER, now?

The night had only just begun, after all.

She played the cyvasse once with him, and then with Daemon. The first was easily won. But the second… It was more stimulating, for sure. However, it was too long for her taste, as she was impatient tonight.

"You're distracted, princess," Daemon remarked.

She did not answer, only rolled her eyes as she put the Spearman in front of his Elephant. Her Dragon was still unused, at the back, like his. It was like the two creatures were staring defiantly at each other, daring the other to make the first move.

She put her chin in her hands, waiting for him as she reflected on what was left to her. What was left of her family.

Her lady mother was long sick now, since the day her father died. It was said she wouldn't survive long, especially when she heard of her daughter's imprisonment in the Water Gardens, and her sons ' fates.

About her brother Quentyn, though… She knew that he had once longed for something he called destiny. And that destiny was intertwined closely with a Targaryen queen. He tried to reach for her, but as he went closer to the Dragon's bay and lost himself in it, she was already gone, fighting her own wars.

All he had when he returned was a crushed dream and the sight of the dragon queen's silhouette in her ship as he landed, her silver hair flowing with the wind, towards him. If only he had been there just ten minutes before, he had said. He could have met her half way. If only the captain had accepted to chase her, and not to wait the next morning.

Then, it was too late, and their father had asked him to go back to him, for another queen was gathering her troops. To ally oneself now with the dragon queen was too risky.

What a fool, she had thought at the time. He had worried her, for, even if he had wed the little queen, would she have been nice to him? Arianne had already heard people saying she disposed of her brother to have a better claim on the Iron Throne. And then, after all that happened to King's Landing…

But it did not matter anymore. When Quentyn returned, their father was dead, and she was a prisoner in her own home, caged like a wild animal.

Quentyn had not done anything then. He had fled, like the rest of them. And he had sat in her father's place when it was sure for him to do so. Her little brother, the one she had known so little but cared so much, had not even deigned to look at her in the eyes at that moment. Only in front of him, as if something was waiting for him at the horizon. But what? She didn't know.

One piece was moved. Then another. The dragons were still in place, staring.

Now, her little brother was in the seat where she was supposed to be, and he kept her locked in the Water Gardens like a bird in a golden cage.

She was no bird, though, singing for him as it pleased him. She had seen how he tried to give support to Daenerys Targaryen when she was away. She had tried to tell him once not to interfere, because nothing was sure. Nothing was certain, with the Targaryen. You just had to look at what happened to poor princess Elia, her aunt. Their father would have been ashamed, for him to jump so carelessly into such scheme, without even knowing what it could cost. Prince Doran was everything but careful in his alliances. He would have wanted the little queen to come to him, to ask for him. After all, Quentyn had already come to Meeren, and for no result whatsoever.

But her brother tried to anyway. He had begged and begged, eagerly proclaimed he wanted to see her himself. To see that little queen he wanted to marry, like the fool he was. As if life was like these pretty songs minstrels used to seduce young maiden. And when she died, that dream died too. He had bowed like the rest of them, and then let a foreigner, some unknown Northern child rule them, jeopardizing Dorne's independence in hopes to fulfill another dream, one she could only guess of the content.

But now, here she had been, with the hope of another Targaryen coming to help her. What an irony.

She had waited for that dragon's help, fake as he may be, when days became weeks, and then months. But he never came. He disappeared as if he had been nothing but a cloud of dust in the night.

Now, she could only count on herself, and few ones.

At least, for these few ones, there was still a need for confirmation.

And this one may be contained in the little paper one of the serving girls left her this morning. She dared not look at it at the moment, afraid of what she might find in it. Afraid of another disappointment.

But now, as the moon was full and the wind soothing… And as she set her dragon in the place of Daemon's King, she felt fierce and victorious. She saw him staring at it and she relaxed more on the soft cushions. She let out a little sigh of satisfaction and threw her head back.

Ilayna Sand, she was named. Ten years old, daughter of some squire and a whore. She had found her bathing in one of the pool one day, without the guards knowing, and decided to hire her, despite them. Trusting her was another story, and it had taken time and a few trials for Arianne to decide to use her.

She was at first hesitant, for it came against what she had learned. Innocence was something that should be protected. But when Myrcella died, she realized she could not stay with that reasoning. Little girls were exploited everywhere. But they would not be killed in Dorne, she decided. Not without weapon, at least.

The little girl was fierce and loyal, and she could get her way anywhere without getting noticed. And she certainly had skills with knives. She had become her shadow, and then much more. Her eyes and ears.

This one would be safe. She had promised it to her. And she intended to keep that promise this time.

She took the little paper the girl gave her and smiled. It was not what she had expected, but she welcomed it nonetheless. It was signed 'A. S.'. An 'S' that almost looked like an 'F', which made her wonder what kind of name the one sending this to her took, after all.

The young king was ill, or so it seemed. Words had been spread (or rather sung, as she corrected herself), just as she wanted it to. Good. It was a pretty thing to hear, she thought bemusedly. A smile danced on her lips, opening them to show her little white teeth.

The bastard of Godsgrace's eyes were still on her, unreadable.

"What are you staring at me for, now?" She said, with annoyance in her tone as she disregarded the paper to glare at him.

"You're playing with fire."

She smiled and rolled her eyes.

"As if you never tasted it."

She raised up and took her glass. Daemon Sand caught her wrist as she was about to leave and forced her to sit down and look at him in the eyes.

His hand on her cheek was hard, but surprisingly soft.

"Are you sure you want to do it?" He said.

She raised one eyebrow.

"Will you try to stop me?"

He leaned in, his eyes sparkling in the night. In the dark, they almost seemed black, and she could barely see his irises.

"You know I won't."

The bells rang, loud and clear, and she found herself counting. The noise, surprising them, had just as much set them apart.

Daemon stayed still, looking at her. His hand was on the hilt of his swords. He was on guard. But even he, she knew, could not hear anything beside the bells.

He had not to fear though. Not if he stayed by her side. Not if all worked according to plan.

The cyvasse stayed that way, with her dragon taking his king. And at that time, she realized. Why hadn't he used his?

She stared at him with that question in mind, then waited for the inevitable to arrive.

When, after some time, they finally appeared, she found relief beyond compare. She did not raise up, only took another sip of wine to regain her composure.

"I've been waiting." She said.

Sarella Sand nodded with a smirk, drops of blood still apparent on her tunic. Blood of their enemies.

"We've been delayed,"

She was free now. The realization by it was exhilarating.

Elia was here too. She dropped her weapon on the floor, near Arianne's knees. Her eyes were downcast, but her jaws were squeezed determinately.

She would be with them.

There was no Areo Hotah to stop her now.

They would learn that dragons weren't the only ones who could burn.

Arianne smirked.

"So now it truly begins."