Author's Note: WOW! I'm so blown away by the response to the first chapter and I want to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed my story! I hope you guys like this chapter just as much as the first one!

Special thanks to Maddie Rose for beta-ing this story! :)

Don't forget to leave a review! They really make my day!

Chapter 2: Goodbyes

"Stark?" Maliya repeated incredulously, shock rushing through her. Her eyes were wide and betrayed, her posture stiff with a delayed sense of anger. "You would force me to marry the son of the man who helped the Usurper win my family's throne? I would much rather marry a Baratheon or a Lannister! At least from them I can learn some useful information! Winterfell is too far north – "

Prince Doran seemed to grow calmer the angrier she grew. "Renly Baratheon is betrothed to Margaery Tyrell and Joffrey Baratheon is not only far too young for you, but rumors have spread that he is an extremely unpleasant boy. Jaime Lannister is a knight in the Kingsguard so he cannot marry, and the only other male that remains is Lancel, who is a squire and not fit for someone of your station."

There was a barely restrained fury in Uncle Oberyn's as she mentioned marrying a Lannister. His face was dark and stormy, looking every bit of the famous Red Viper. "You are my niece," he growled in a warning voice. "You share my blood. I will not permit you to marry those Lannister bastards after what they have done. They do not deserve to touch you, let alone share the same air as you."

"But – " She tried to interrupt again, feeling panic rise up within her. This hadn't gone the way that she had wanted it to. She didn't want to become someone's wife, to stay meekly by his side while she bore him child after child. She could already feel the oppression of that life slowly causing whom she was as a person to disappear.

Seeing the distress on her face, the anger left his own as Uncle Oberyn got up from the couch and moved to sit next to her, putting a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. "Listen, Maliya," he murmured softly. "Your father has been receiving marriage proposals for you for years now. It's better that this happens now rather than later."

Maliya was shaking her head, glancing at her father. "But Arianne – "

"I have other plans for Arianne," Doran said in a firm voice.

"You wanted to go north," Oberyn reminded her, his sharp eyes catching hers. "And now you're going north. You wanted to help us avenge the death of your family. With the Starks, you have that opportunity."

Prince Doran's calm façade melted, his eyes worried and imploring as he saw the hurt that she tried so hard to hide. "Although you are not my true daughter, I love you as if you were, Maliya. I made a promise to your dead mother the day I realized you were still alive. I promised I would keep you safe, and while you may not agree with my decision, I hope you can understand it."

Maliya's shoulders slumped as she heaved a sigh, the fight and anger slowly trickling out of her. How was she supposed to argue with him when she could practically feel his love and concern? "So what happens now?" She asked in a begrudging voice. Confusing emotions were clashing through her. She was leaving Dorne and she might have the chance for revenge, but she also would have to marry a Stark.

Did she win this battle? Or lose?

"You will leave the day after tomorrow." Maliya's heart stuttered in her chest and she suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe. "The journey to Winterfell alone will take about two months, so that's four or more months away from Dorne. As much as I would love to be at your wedding, I cannot be away from Dorne for that long. Your uncle will accompany you to Winterfell in my stead."

Maliya surveyed him as he spoke, watching him closely enough to see his slight wince of pain as he shifted in his seat. "Are you in pain again?" She asked softly, the thought causing her stomach to twist fearfully. The thought of her father suffering from some unknown illness that may be bringing him closer to death was a terrifying concept. "Have you spoken to Maester Dallan?"

Prince Doran waved her worry away, another smile crossing his face in an effort to help him change the subject. "Don't be concerned about me. You should spend your time thinking about what you are going to bring with you to Winterfell. I've already asked our best seamstresses to begin making you warmer dresses and cloaks. You should return to your room and begin packing."

"Yes father," Maliya answered quietly, bowing her head slightly before standing.

"Don't look so solemn, Maliya!" Uncle Oberyn cried jovially, his eyes alight with a sense of mischievousness and excitement. "You got what you wanted, did you not? A chance to go north, live your own life and possibly get revenge?"

Maliya knew better than to continue arguing. "Of course, Uncle."

Uncle Oberyn went on, putting an arm around her shoulder and talking about how their trip to Winterfell was going to be her own adventure. Maliya smiled and nodded, tuning him out as they exited the sitting room. She knew that this was the best chance she was ever going to get to avenge her mother and brother.

She also knew that her father and her uncle's decision had been a joint effort to keep her safe, that they didn't really think she would be able to help them in any way.

But she would show them. She would find a way to get her revenge. No matter what it took.

Arianne was lounging on Maliya's bed, following her movements with worried eyes. Maliya had gone straight to her when their father had informed her that she was to marry. Arianne had been surprised, not only by the suddenness of the marriage but also with whom she was marrying. Usually, with high-ranking and royal families, marriages were made to profit each other, either by land, resources or standing. Winterfell was so far north, that Arianne didn't understand what her father hoped to gain by the marriage.

Maliya was putting on a brave face, but Arianne has known her sister since they adopted her at three years old. Arianne tilted her head to the side, studying her sister as she packed some things from her room. Maliya was several inches taller than her sister, her hair and skin a shade lighter, but her eyes a familiar looking brown. She was a beautiful girl, one that had many suitors chasing after her, but Maliya either didn't notice or didn't care.

"I don't think your new husband would like it if you brought that with you," Arianne commented drily, watching Maliya as she picked up her sword.

There was the low sound of metal ringing as she unsheathed the sword, a light in her eye that Arianne only saw when she was training. She traced the sun engraved on the sword handle. "Uncle Oberyn had this specially made for me three name days ago. It's balanced perfectly to my arm and my strength – I can't just leave it behind."

"Women in the north aren't allowed to fight," Arianne reminded Maliya as she sheathed her sword again, digging through her clothes in the large trunk at the foot of the bed and hiding it on the very bottom.

"Don't you think I know that?" Maliya snapped, straightening and throwing one of her famous glares Arianne's way. When Arianne only raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, Maliya sighed, wiping a weary hand over her face as she shut the lid of the trunk and fell backwards on the bed beside her. "I'm sorry," she murmured softly, looking over at Arianne. "I'm just…."

"I know," Arianne answered sympathetically, brushing a hand reassuringly through Maliya's hair.

"I thought I had prepared for this eventuality," Maliya continued in a low voice. "I'm of marrying age and a princess of the ruling house of Dorne. But the thought of leaving my family behind, of leaving you behind…." She trailed off, shaking her head.

Arianne slowly placed a hand over where Maliya was unconsciously picking her cuticles, a habit that indicated her nervousness. "You'll be alright, 'Liya," Arianne told her with a reassuring yet sad smile. "I don't want you to leave either, but you are strong, smart and beautiful, a deadly combination for any man that makes the mistake of underestimating you." She sighed. "Though I do wish you had taken my advice and had some experience with men before you married."

Maliya wrinkled her noise. "I was four and ten when you introduced me to sex, Ari, and I wanted nothing to do with it. Besides, if I wasn't a maid when I marry this Stark boy, they would call me a whore all throughout Westeros."

"It's no matter," Arianne said dismissively, waving a hand. "You would rather play with swords than with men, which I cannot presume to understand," she added under her breath, causing Maliya's lips to twitch. She pulled Maliya into a sitting position, looking her in the eye with a serious expression and speaking with a hard voice, one that made Maliya's amusement fade. "Listen carefully, little sister, for this advice might just save your life one day. Men think we're the weaker sex because we can be emotional and most of us don't know how to fight. But we have our own weapons, Maliya, and you'll have to start using them. I don't know this Stark boy, but if you want to survive this marriage you may have to use you body to manipulate him. Men, even cold-hearted, emotionless bastards, have a weakness and it hangs between their legs."

"That's the best advice that you will ever receive." Both Maliya and Arianne looked over to see the eldest Sand Snakes entering her room. Tyene was the one who had spoken, a knowing smirk on her lips and a glint in her eye. "You'll already be able to beat a man with one type of sword, but if you learn to handle the other sword, no man will be able to defeat or resist you."

Maliya's face flushed as she grasped what Tyene was implying, causing the rest to laugh at her innocence. "Oh shut up," she muttered, crossing her arms and glaring at them all. "At any moment, one of father's guards is going to march in here and tell me that it's time to leave for Winterfell. Is this how you want to spend your last moments with me?"

Obara snorted. "You make it sound as if you are dying."

"At times, it certainly feels like I am," Maliya muttered under her breath.

"Don't be so dramatic cousin," Nymeria chided, leaning against the bedpost. "We come bearing farewell gifts," she added, pulling a box out from behind her back. Maliya's eyes lit up as she took the box from Nymeria. A low gasp escaped her when she opened it. Inside were two sheathed daggers, one slightly smaller than the other, along with a leather circular object that Maliya picked up curiously. "It's a thigh holster, easily hidden by your dress," Nymeria explained, showing her the buckle and how the larger dagger fit. "No one will know it's there and the only one who will be able to find it would be your husband." She grinned as Tyene waggled her eyebrows suggestively before continuing on. "The smaller dagger can be hidden in your boot, easily accessibly whenever you need it."

"Wow," Maliya breathed, running her fingers over the beautiful daggers lightly. "Thank you, Nym."

Nymeria shrugged unconcernedly though there was a pleased smile on her face. "I'm next!" Tyene announced, stepping forward and playfully elbowing past Nymeria so she stood in front of Maliya. Maliya took the smaller box that she was handed and opened it to reveal two vials, one with a clear liquid and one tinted blue.

"Is this…?"

"The Long Farewell," Tyene answered, nodding. At the slightly unhappy look on Maliya's face, she continued quickly. "I know you think poison is cheap and underhanded, but this poison is very hard to come by and I want you to have all weapons at your disposal when you go north. You never know if you might need it."

"I don't like poison," Maliya agreed, looking down at the vials with distaste. "But I appreciate the thought behind the gift even if I hope that I don't have to use it."

Tyene tilted her head to the side for a moment before a smile crossed her face. "I'll accept that."

Arianne slipped from the bed, an excited look in her eye. "My turn," she told Maliya before striding over to a wardrobe that Maliya had previously thought was empty. Arianne pulled out an object wrapped in a cloth bag. When she unwrapped the bag and tossed it to the side, Maliya's breath caught in her chest. Arianne was holding a beautiful white dress, one that was completely different than anything Maliya had seen before.

"It's a wedding dress," Arianne said, watching her expression nervously. "Could you…. would you mind trying it on so that I can see if it fits?"

Maliya nodded wordlessly, not wanting the other girls to realize how just the sight of this dress terrified her. Arianne helped her out of the sleeveless orange dress, riding pants and boots that she had put on for the journey north. As soon as Arianne pulled the wedding dress over her shoulders, Maliya could tell that this dress was made of a heavier material than the light dresses of Dorne.

Arianne held up a looking glass so that Maliya could see the full effect. The dress felt heavy as well. The sleeves were long and fit as snugly as the bodice of the gown. The collar of the dress went around her neck, but there was an opening where the skin of her chest was visible until it met the material on the top of her breasts. The dress clung to her breasts and stomach, but flared outward when it reached her hips and fell till it hit the floor. An intricate golden pattern swirled over the dress, going up the sleeves and tracing down to the floor. It fit perfectly.

"Oh," Maliya heard Arianne breath when she stepped back to look at her properly. "Oh Maliya. You look absolutely stunning."

"A woman is not meant to wear that much cloth," she overheard Tyene whisper to her sisters.

"She does when she lives in the north," Obara reminded her.

Arianne ignored them, her uncertain eyes still on Maliya. "Do you like it?"

Maliya's throat felt tight, feeling incredibly torn. A part of her loved the dress, which was undeniably beautiful, but the other part still resented the fact that this only reinforced the fact that she was going to be married. "It's beautiful, Ari," she complimented softly. "Did you – did you make this?"

Arianne nodded, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. "Well, I designed it, but in order to finish this in two days I needed some help. I haven't slept more than three hours, but it was all worth it to see you looking like this." She paused. "I know I don't know much about fighting and weapons as our cousins do, but I figured this would be useful to you as well."

"I… I don't know what to say," Maliya murmured, reaching out to grasp Arianne's hand and hoping she could feel the gratitude that she didn't know how to put into words.

"I do," Tyene announced a smirk in her voice as she effectively ruined the moment. "With all that cloth is the way, that Stark boy sure is going to have a difficult time finding your – "

"Alright!" Obara interrupted loudly as Nymeria burst out laughing and Maliya rolled her eyes, throwing her a rude gesture. "You look beautiful, Maliya, a vision in white," she told her younger cousin in a softer voice. "But you should change out of that dress quickly. As you mentioned before, you're leaving any moment and I'm eager to give you my gift."

Maliya nodded, still looking at Arianne and trying to contain her panic. "Would you give us a minute, please?" She asked her Sand Snake cousins.

"Of course," Obara answered graciously, her eyes understanding as she ushered the other two out of the room. "Meet us down by the stables when you are ready."

The door closed behind them and Maliya let out the loud gasp that she had been holding, feeling cold and clammy as her heart hammered against her chest. She couldn't seem to draw in a proper breath. "Get me out of this dress!" She cried in a shrill voice, scrabbling at the high neck of the dress.

"Maliya!" Arianne watched her in shock and alarm for a moment before springing forward to help unlace the back of her dress. "Calm down!" She scolded, racing to help her out of the dress before she ended up tearing it. As soon as Maliya stepped out of the heavy dress, she grabbed a bedpost for support as she stood there, shaking with her eyes closed in just her slip. "What in the seven hells was that?" Arianne gasped, placing the dress on the bed before whirling to face Maliya.

"I'm sorry," Maliya muttered, still trying to take deeper breaths. "I just felt like the dress was suffocating me, like I couldn't breathe – " She broke off at the flash of hurt that crossed Arianne's face. "No, it wasn't the dress, it wasn't too tight!" She hurried to explain, mentally berating herself. "I love the dress, really I do! I don't know what happened."

Arianne's face grew sympathetic as Maliya sat heavily on the bed with a sigh. "You're scared," Arianne guessed, blinking in surprise. "I don't think I ever remember you being scared."

I spent the first year in Dorne terrified. Terrified that the Martells would hurt me and then terrified that others would find out who I really was and take me away from them.

Maliya wavered, not knowing if she should tell Arianne the truth. Even though she had wanted part of this, she was finding the emotions of leaving and the fear of the unknown a lot harder to deal with. "I know how to fight. I can sometimes understand politics and I understand how to be a Princess of Dorne. But all the rest… Living in the north, getting married, having sex with my husband - "

"Bearing children," Arianne supplied unhelpfully. Maliya blanched, considering for the first time that she would have to provide children to the one of the traitors to her family. "Whoa, Maliya?" Arianne asked in alarm, steadying Maliya as she swayed alarmingly.

"I am not old enough to be a mother," Maliya told her in a small voice, her face pale.

Arianne slipped an arm around Maliya's shoulders. "I know it may seem that way, sweet sister," she murmured in a quiet voice. "But women all over Westeros are having children at your age, it's an unfortunate fact of the world that we live in. You're a kind, wonderful person, 'Liya, you'll be a great mother."

"Will you come visit me?" Maliya asked, turning to Arianne with an almost desperate look in her eye, hating herself for sounding exactly how she felt - young and scared.

"Of course," Arianne smiled, pulling Maliya closer so her head rested on her shoulder. "Your flame burns bright, Maliya. Don't let the bitter wind of the north blow it out."

"Thank you," Maliya whispered in a thick voice. "Thank you for the dress, thank you for being my sister and thank you for loving me."

"There is no reason for thanks," Arianne assured her, taking her hands and pulling her up so she was standing. "Now come. We mustn't keep our cousins waiting – who knows what mischief they will get up to while they wait."

Maliya felt like herself as soon as her Dornish dress was on once more. She took the gifts from Tyene and Nymeria and hid them in the bottom of her trunk along with her sword and waited while Arianne carefully put the wedding dress away. "Sometimes I wish I were a man," Maliya admitted, making Arianne give a very unlady-like snort. "Then I wouldn't have to learn embroidery or the proper way to speak, I wouldn't bleed out of private places every month and have cramps that make me wish I was dead. I wouldn't have to leave my home in order to get married and men wouldn't look at me either as a good fuck or the future mother to their children."

"Oh Maliya," Arianne chuckled as they headed out of her room. "I am going to miss the positive way you see the world," she teased sarcastically. "You should learn to embrace your feminine side and use your sexuality to your advantage."

Maliya shook her head. "I'm not as ambitious as you, Arianne. I have no wish to rule." Just to kill the family that does.

"It's true," Arianne admitted. "I want to inherit father's seat on Sunspear. I am the eldest and his heir, therefore I should be the one to rule. But you don't have to only use your power as a woman to rule. You can use it for most anything."

"I'll keep that in mind," Maliya said with an affectionate smile, nodding at the servants who paused to bow or curtsy as they passed. "I have all the advice that you have given me stored in the back of my head. Sometimes it seems as though your voice is my conscience."

"As it should be," Arianne laughed, linking their arms together. A mischievous glint lit her eyes as she glanced at Maliya. "You know, I've asked around about your husband-to-be ever since I found out you were to marry him. They say he's very handsome."

Maliya rolled her eyes at the suggestive tone to her voice. "And who is 'they'?" Maliya asked in a dry tone, feeling both exasperated and grateful at her sister's need to know everything.

"Just people here and there," Arianne answered vaguely, waving her hand. "If the rumors are true, then this is good news, Maliya! It is so much easier to have good sex with a man you are attracted to. It is true that the first time hurts for a woman, but as you practice and learn each other's bodies the experiences you two will have can be very pleasurable – "

"Arianne – " Maliya tried to interrupt, shaking her head. She knew that her sister and cousins were very free and open with their sex lives, but she was tired of hearing about it.

"All I'm saying, 'Liya, is that you may be lucky. If this boy is as kind and honorable as they say, you may be one of the lucky ones and end up falling in love with him. As your older sister and your friend, this is what I hope for you."

Maliya wanted to tell her that she was going to be using her future husband and his family for information, not for pleasure or for love. She wished that she could tell Arianne everything. Who she really was and what Prince Doran and Oberyn had done to save her. But she knew the risks. If the ruling family found out she was alive, they would try to kill her. Arianne would be in danger just for being associated with her.

"I hope so too," Maliya lied with a smile.

"Finally!" Obara cried as they approached the stables. "Alright, you can bring him out!" She called into the open doorway.

"Him?" Maliya questioned curiously.

"You're going to like this gift," Obara told her proudly. "I promise."

Maliya saw movement coming from the stable and her jaw dropped as Nymeria and Tyene led out one of the most magnificent horses she had ever seen. His hair and coat were a beautiful black color, his neck was long and his head narrow. It was slightly smaller than a regular warhorse and right away Maliya knew what kind of horse this was. "Is that a – "

"Dornish sand steed," Obara finished, grinning at the flabbergasted look on Maliya's face. "He's young, only a year or two old, but he was trained from an early age by one of Dorne's best trainers. He's not strong enough to carry a fully armored man, but this boy can run for a full day and night and never tire," she boasted, patting the horse on the back. "I do believe he needs a name."

"You mean he's mine?" Maliya gasped, wonder written on her face.

"He's yours," Obara laughed, stepping away as Maliya approached.

She felt oddly nervous as she approached the beautiful horse. She took a deep breath to calm herself and tired to remember everything Obara had taught her about horses. Maliya began to walk slowly towards the horse from the side so he could see her. When she stepped up next to his head and held her hand out for him to sniff, he eyed her warily before lowering his nose to her hand. She grinned as he snuffled her hand before stepping closer and reaching out to pat his neck. She pet him slowly and carefully, letting him get used to the feel and smell of her before moving around by his head. A memory surfaced from when she was younger, a memory of Obara when she first taught her how to approach a horse. 'Horses greet each other by breathing on the other's nose.' Maliya exhaled onto his nose softly, laughing lightly when he blew back into her face, causing her hair to fly behind her.

"You remembered," Obara smiled quietly, watching them interact. "What are you going to name him? I find it's easier if you don't over think it. What's the first name that comes to mind?"

"Shadow," Maliya answered immediately, looking surprised at her choice but feeling that it fit perfectly.

"Shadow," Obara repeated, testing the name. "A bit cliché, but a good name all the same."

"Are you going to ride him?" Tyene asked excitedly.

"Without a saddle?" Arianne frowned.

"She doesn't need one," Obara smirked, watching as Maliya grabbed a fistful of Shadow's hair at the base of his neck and did a sort of running skip, jumping with all her strength and swinging her right leg over his back, twisting slightly until she was in a sitting position.

Arianne blinked in surprise. "Wow. That was… very impressive."

Maliya grinned down at them, the excitement rushing through her veins as she tightened her hold in Shadow's mane and pressed her heels into his side. She felt his powerful muscles bunching underneath him before he leapt forward into a run. An exhilarated laugh escaped her as Shadow demonstrated his speed, making her hair whip behind her as he practically flew over the ground.

She marveled at how easily Shadow responded to her touch as she experimented a couple of turns and commands. He was trained very well, that much was apparent. Maliya could feel his eagerness to run, so she squeezed her heels together once more. "Come on, Shadow," she urged in his ear, her enthusiasm quickly matching his. "Show me what you can do." Her grin widened as he broke into a gallop and reached his full speed.

Besides the hours she spent training, Maliya was hard pressed to find a time when she had felt freer than she did in that exact moment. The warm wind was making her hair and dress stream behind her and the adrenaline was pumping through her veins making her feel invincible as her body moved in time with Shadow's.

As she guided Shadow into a turn and headed back towards the stables, she saw a young boy of one and ten making his way to stand next to Arianne and the others. A genuine smile crossed her face as she slowed Shadow down. Her younger brother Trystane was staring up at her with wide, awe-filled eyes. Maliya had a special place in her heart for Trystane. He had been born two years after Maliya had arrived in Sunspear, and unlike Arianne, he did not remember life without her. Arianne, on the other hand, was old enough to remember Maliya's arrival, knew she wasn't Doran's true daughter and had asked a lot of questions growing up.

Maliya had learned from an early age to stick to what Doran had told her. For Arianne, all he had told her was that Maliya was part of the family now and allowed Arianne to draw her own conclusions. Arianne probably thought Maliya was Doran's bastard. For the public, all they knew was that Maliya had a fever and an illness after she was born and it wasn't until she had reached her third name day did she become healthy once more. As far as Maliya knew, everyone had accepted her presence gracefully and without complaint.

"Wow," Trystane breathed, the wind ruffling his black curls so he had to push them back away from his face. "Is that your horse?"

Maliya slid off of Shadow, patting his neck appreciatively – he wasn't even breathing heavily. "It is," Maliya answered as she tousled his hair once more, her grin widening as he slapped her hand away in annoyance. "Obara got him for me as a farewell gift. Isn't he magnificent?"

"A farewell gift?" Trystane repeated, his face crumpling into a crestfallen frown.

"Is something the matter?" Maliya asked, looking at him in concern.

He shuffled on his feet, looking sheepish. "I didn't get you a gift."

"Oh," Maliya exclaimed, feeling relieved that this was all it was. "I don't need a gift, you sweet boy," she murmured, pulling him closer. "All I need is one of your infamous hugs to remember you by."

"Maliya!" Trystane grumbled in embarrassment, his face flushing red as he glanced at his older cousins, who were watching the scene with smiles on their faces.

"Oh hush," she chided. "It may be the last hug I give you in a long while. Would you rather it happen now in front of family or later in front of all of Sunspear when I leave?" A smug grin spread across her face as he obliged and hugged her. She fondly ran a hand over his curls as his arms tightened, almost unable to believe how much he had grown in the past year. Just a few more inches and he would be as tall as her. Trystane, the boy who would convince her to steal pies from the kitchens was disappearing and the man, Prince Trystane of Dorne, was taking his place.

Her heart ached with sadness. More like than not, Maliya was going to miss seeing the man that he turned out to be.

Trystane suddenly pulled back, an excited look on his face. "I have an idea. I'll be back soon!"

They watched him run off and there was a short moment of confused silence before Arianne spoke. "We should head back as well. They would have collected your things by now, and the procession will be starting soon," she told them, waving one of the stable hands over as she spoke. "Have Maliya's horse saddled and brought over to the Old Palace," she ordered. The stable hand bowed and led Shadow away.

Overwhelmed by all the emotions she was currently feeling – sadness, love, gratitude, grief, fear – Maliya pulled a disgruntled Obara into a hug and then proceeded to hug each of her cousins in turn. Nymeria smiled at her and Tyene rolled her eyes, but none of them rejected her or pushed her away. "Thank you," Maliya told them sincerely, putting a hand over her heart. "Thank you for the generous and thoughtful gifts and thank you for teaching me everything you know."

"You will always be an honorary Sand Snake," Nymeria told her. "No matter how far north you travel." Maliya was horrified once more as her throat felt tight – those words meant more to her than they would ever know.

Tyene peered at her, looking both incredulous and confused. "Are you…. are you going to cry?"

Maliya sent her an affronted glare. "Of course not, Ty. When was the last time that you have ever seen me shed a tear?" Tyene paused to think on it and Maliya gave her a smug look. "Precisely. Tears are a weakness that men can use against us. You are the one that taught me that, Obara," she added, nodding to her cousin.

Tyene smirked, a hand on her hip. "That is such a close-minded view. We can also use our tears to manipulate men into giving us what we want. There is many a man who would say yes to anything so long as we stop crying."

Maliya could personally attest to that. For such a fearsome fighter, Tyene was very feminine and used her innocent persona to her advantage. Nobody would be able to guess that she could kill them in less than a minute. This meant that she was constantly underestimated, but Tyene preferred it this way. Maliya, on the other hand, knew she was being underestimated but it made her grind her teeth in frustration.

"Look who's here," Arianne said, nudging her arm. Maliya looked over to see two of her father's guards standing on the edge of the field, watching her expectantly. Arianne's face was solemn as she spoke once more. "It's time."

A short while later, Maliya was standing on the steps of the Old Palace surrounded by her family. A horse drawn wheelhouse was waiting for her at the bottom along with Shadow and numerous Martell guards on horseback. A colorfully dressed crowd of her Dornish people lined the streets, cheering and waving, hoping for a glimpse of the royal family.

"Listen to them," her father murmured, watching the crowd with a light in his eyes. "They love you, Maliya. They will be sad to see you go, but they are proud that you are helping Dorne's alliance with the northern territory of Westeros."

"Are you speaking for them or for you, father?" Maliya asked knowingly. He smiled at her and she knew she had her answer. "Will I be able to visit, after I'm married?" She asked in a casual voice.

"Of course," her father answered immediately. "But that will have to be a decision that you and your new husband agree on."

Maliya wrinkled her nose. "I can already guess that will get annoying really fast," she muttered under her breath.

Prince Doran laughed. "It is a part of marriage as you will soon learn. It may take a while to get used to the idea, but I know that you will be a great wife." I wouldn't be so sure, she thought sourly. There was a sad smile on his face as he pulled her into a hug. Maliya wrapped her arms tightly around her waist, closing her eyes as she rested her head on his chest. She took one last moment away from the world and allowed herself a moment of weakness. Her heart ached as she breathed in the familiar scent of her father for what would be the last time in a long time. Memories of him flashed through her mind – comforting her when she would have nightmares as a child, teaching her about the history of the world and always the love and pride in his eyes when he looked at her. Her real parents may have died, but Maliya was infinitely lucky to have grown up and learned from a man like Prince Doran.

When they pulled away, Maliya was composed once more with a dutiful smile on her face. "I'll miss you, father."

"I'll miss you too, sweet girl," he answered, putting a hand on her cheek. "I wish you the best with your marriage. I know the prospect of an arranged marriage isn't the most romantic notion, but just know that just because we want to choose who we marry, it doesn't mean it will always last." There was sadness in his eyes as he said this and she knew he was thinking of his estranged wife, Mellario. They had met many years ago when he was abroad, had fallen in love, gotten married and then came back to Dorne. Mellario birthed Arianne, Quentyn and Trystane, but she left when Maliya was still young. Doran couldn't tell her who Maliya was, and she accused him of sleeping with a whore and trying to raise the bastard as a royal. She was also angry and upset because Doran had sent Quentyn away when he was young to be fostered by another family. Mellario couldn't forgive him for this and ended up leaving him to go back to her home in Norvos. The whole thing affected her father more than he outwardly showed. "Write me when you arrive safely in Winterfell," He added, smiling down at her as he stepped back.

"I will," she promised before moving down the line.

Trystane was standing next to their father, his hands behind his back as he stared up at her almost shyly. "I got you something," he murmured softly, looking uncertain. He hesitated, then pulled a long rectangular box out from behind his box and thrust it at her.

Maliya looked down at it in, her eyebrows rising in surprise. It was a very familiar looking box, the edges and colors worn from years of use. "Your cyvasse game?" Maliya exclaimed, shock coloring her tone. "Are you giving this to me?"

Trystane nodded, his curls bouncing. "I didn't know what else to give you. You can teach your new family the game and then every time you play maybe it will help you remember me," he added, shuffling in slight embarrassment.

"Oh Trystane, you silly boy," Maliya chuckled, pulling him into a hug. This time he didn't protest, "Thank you for the game, I know how much you love it. But even though I love it, I won't need it to remember you. You're my younger brother, how can I forgot an obnoxious little pest like you?" She teased fondly. She felt his arms wrap around her back tightly before he stepped back, his little face composed as a prince's should be. She was proud of him – he was going to grow to be a great prince.

Arianne and the Sand Snakes were next. "Goodbye for now, sister," Arianne murmured, pulling Maliya into a tight hug. "I know we'll see each other again soon. I'm proud of you. Be brave," she added in a whisper so the others wouldn't hear.

"I love you," Maliya told her before reluctantly letting go and stepping back. Arianne's beautiful brown eyes were shining with tears as she smiled at her. She sniffed lightly and wrapped a reassuring arm about Trystane.

Maliya hugged each of the Sand Snakes, thanking them again for everything. They each gave her one last piece of advice.

"Trust no one but yourself," Obara warned with a solemn face. "Life is different up in the north – there are more secrets, lies and manipulations."

"Always keep a weapon on you," Nymeria whispered in her ear. "They never think to check your boot."

Tyene hugged her the tightest, the usual smirk on her face not quite covering the sorrowful look in her eyes. When she pulled back, she left two hands on Maliya's shoulders, making sure she caught Maliya's gaze before she began to speak. "I know you think that I'm… overly promiscuous. Don't be afraid to use my experiences if you feel you need to. I know how most men can be with women – they think they can own us, that they're superior to us just because of what's between their legs. Don't let them control you, Maliya," Tyene whispered furiously. "Never forget who you are and where you came from."

Maliya knew Tyene's comment was innocent. She meant Maliya's life as a Martell, of course, but when Maliya heard those words, it wasn't the Martell's she was thinking of. It was her mother and brother that appeared in her mind, the Targaryen family that had been cruelly ripped from her life.

Though she looked like a Martell, Maliya was a dragon. And it was something she would never forget.

"Thank you, Tyene," Maliya smiled at her gratefully. "I won't be quick to forget the advice you have given me, even the disturbing details that I wish I had never heard."

Tyene's smirk widened at her words as she stepped back. With an aching heart, she smiled down at the line of people that were her family. She realized, with a surprising jolt, that there was a small part of her that didn't want to leave. Her home here was safe, there were no unknowns and the people loved her. But deep down inside, she knew it was time to move on.

"Are you ready, Princess?" Maliya turned at the man's voice and saw Uncle Oberyn, grinning up at her. He was dressed in traditional Dornish clothes, sitting astride his red horse, looking both casual and regal, as if this was just any other day. Maliya felt a rush of affection toward him. This whole elaborate process – the heartfelt goodbyes, the Dornish crowds cheering as they lined the streets – only served to make her feel weary and slightly depressed. She wanted this to be over and done with.

Holding her head high and placing a smile on her lips, Maliya gracefully walked down the steps of the Old Palace and headed to where Uncle Oberyn was waiting, holding Shadow's reins. She gave the cyvasse game to a guard to put away and took the reins from her uncle, placing a foot in the stirrup and swinging herself up into the saddle. Not for the first time she appreciated Dorne's customs. The people of Dorne didn't care that she chose to ride a horse, unlike the rest of the Westeros, where a Princess would be shut up in the wheelhouse. It was currently holding all of her possessions, but Maliya knew that as they left Dorne and approached Winterfell, she would need to stay in there.

Uncle Oberyn signaled the front of the procession and as the horses began to walk, Maliya lifted her hand and waved to her family one last time. She caught the tears spilling down Arianne's cheeks, the sad look in Trystane's eyes and the sad smile on her father's face. A bittersweet feeling filled her, pressing down on her shoulders and seeping through her insides as she turned her back on her old life and began walking forward to her new one.

The journey to Winterfell was long, longer than she had even realized despite everyone's warnings. When they had first left Dorne, it had been Maliya's first time leaving stepping foot outside since she had been brought there at the age of three. There was a sense of wonder and excitement buzzing through her as she surveyed the unusual landscapes and people. The weather was different, the trees and flowers and cultures as well, and Maliya took it all in with wide eyes. They traveled through the Prince's Pass and then further north, giving King's Landing a wide berth.

The whole journey took over two months. By the time they were halfway there, Maliya was torn between wanting to delay the journey and in turn, her marriage. She was enjoying the casual, laidback aspect of their trip. There were no political obligations to worry about and she felt relieved to not feel like a Princess for a while. She and Uncle Oberyn spent a lot of time together, talking. He talked to her a lot about her mother and his childhood growing up with her and Doran. In the evening, when they had stopped traveling for the day, they would spar if they weren't spending the night in a town. Most nights, they would find an empty clearing and set up some tents.

The other half of her, the half that had a sore bum and thighs from riding a horse or bouncing along in the wheelhouse, longed for a proper bath and a comfortable bed.

She missed the bright, cheerful colors of Dorne. But she also missed the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore, the smell of the salt water that would drift through her windows and the heat of the sun warming her skin.

The further north they traveled, the colder the air grew, until the bitterness of it ate through her clothes and tried to reach her very bones. She had to change into the warmer dresses that her father made for her, along with leather gloves and a heavy cloak. It may have just been her imagination, but up north it seemed like the world was leeched of all color. The skies were gray and the grass and trees seemed to only be a dark green or brown.

She felt like she was growing colder as well as they drew closer to Winterfell. Uncle Oberyn shot her concerned glances as she drew further and further into herself. Her face was blank and emotionless most of the time, and to protect herself from the rest of the people of Westeros she pictured her heart becoming as cold as the stone walls of the castle that she was currently looking at.

"Winterfell," Uncle Oberyn announced unnecessarily. There was a small town on the outskirts of the wall that spanned over several acres. Several tall buildings peeped up over the walls, gray like the color of the sky. There were two protective walls around the castle, the inner one slightly larger than the outer, which had guard turrets along the top. It was larger than she had expected, but still smaller than the Old Palace of Dorne. "Come Maliya," he said gently. "It's time to meet your future husband."

Stifling a heavy sigh, Maliya nodded solemnly and slid off of Shadow's back, before shutting herself up in the wheelhouse and lacing her fingers on her lap, her appearance calm. She was a Princess of Dorne and daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. She could do this.

Robb stood with his hands behind his back, staring down through the window with a grave expression on his face. Any day now, his betrothed would be entering through the front gate of Winterfell and just a couple days later, they would be husband and wife. The thought caused a bitter taste in his mouth.

There was a soft knock at the door and the sound of footsteps walking across the floor. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw his mother standing next to him, looking up at him with concern and a hint of understanding. "The guards on the gate have spotted the Martell banners approaching. We should head down to the Keep and receive our guests." At the unrelenting, stony look on his face, his mother sighed. "Look Robb, I know you are not pleased with the prospect of an arranged marriage. I went through the same thing when I was your age."

Robb clenched his teeth. He had heard this story before. He loved his parents and admired the relationship that they had built. A part of him, however, had this notion that he would love his wife when he married, or at least have met her before the wedding. This same part of him resented his parents for springing this marriage on him and then expecting him to be alright with it. "I know my duties as the heir of Winterfell," he informed her, his voice emotionless.

"This alliance with the Martells bridges a rift formed six and ten years ago during Robert's Rebellion; it benefits both our houses."

"Yes," he mused quietly. "Political gains come before love when you're in a position of power."

His mother sent him a sharp look. "Although you don't know each other now, you and your betrothed can work to find a healthy level of respect that may develop into love. Your father and I built our love slowly, stone by stone over the years. The same can happen to you and your future wife if you put in the effort." She paused, and Robb tried to school his expression into one of polite indifference instead of the momentous doubt that he was currently feeling. "I hear she's quite beautiful – "

"We should go," Robb interrupted suddenly, turning to face her. She blinked up at him in surprise. "You said she was arriving shortly, did you not?"

There was a resigned look on her face, and his anger prickled once more when he thought he saw disappointment in his reaction. She sighed yet again. "Your father and I are proud of the man that you have become Robb. You are a good brother, a role model to your brothers and sisters and you have a sense of duty and honor that cannot be taught. I know you will make a good husband." Those last words coupled with the narrowing of her eyes was a clear warning. An implied or else… sounded in the back of his head.

Before he could respond, an excited young girl of three and ten walked quickly into the room, her blue Tully eyes alight with excitement. "What are you still doing up here?" Sansa gasped, striding across the room as quickly as her lady-like restraint would allow. She looped her arm through his and began to pull him out of the room. "They're opening the gates already! Oh, I still can't believe that you are to marry a princess, Robb!" Robb was torn between exasperation and amusement at the animation in her voice. His sister had dreamed of marrying a handsome prince ever since she was a little girl. When she heard of Robb's betrothal, she nearly squealed with excitement. "I bet she's beautiful," Sansa sighed.

Sansa had this romantic notion of love and married life, and Robb was loath to introduce her to the harsh reality of the real world. "I'm sure she's lovely," Robb told her, unable to help the fond smile that crossed his face at her answering grin.

"Do you think she'll like my dress?" Sansa asked, glancing down worriedly. "Maybe I should have worn my blue dress instead – "

"Stop fretting, Sansa," Robb interrupted, placing a reassuring hand on top of hers. "You look beautiful. I feel as if you are more nervous to meet my future wife than I am," he joked, chuckling.

Robb was then knocked off balance as Arya sprinted past them, Bran closely on her heels. She was holding one of Bran's boots in her hand, laughing loudly as Bran slipped and slid down the hall, yelling after her. "Arya!" Sansa hissed, her surprised eyes narrowing in outrage at her younger sister's behavior. "What in the seven hells do you think you're doing – " Her voice trailed off as both Arya and Bran disappeared around a corner.

Robb couldn't help but chuckle at his siblings' antics, feeling momentarily better than he had ever since he learned of his betrothal. Even though it felt like his entire life was changing, it was reassuring to know that his family would always remain the same. Sansa excused herself and hurried after them, a determined but furious expression on her face that would only serve to provoke Arya further.

By the time he reached the keep where they would greet the Martells, his family was already in line and waiting, though he could still hear Sansa and Arya bickering under their breath. Bran had both boots on and little Rickon was shifting back and forth on both feet, unable to stay still for too long. His father looked Robb over carefully as he approached before giving him an approving nod. Robb nodded back and took his place between his mother and Sansa, glancing over his shoulder to where Jon and Theon waited patiently behind them.

Jon had his brooding face on as was customary for him, but Theon gave him a wicked smirk and waggled his eyebrows. Robb rolled his eyes and looked forward again, remembering their conversations from earlier. Theon had been enlightening him on the promiscuity of the women from Dorne, poking fun at the fact that his wife will be more experienced than he in bed. Robb had to restrain himself from punching his friend in the face as he offered to give Robb tips so he didn't appear to be a blushing virgin on their wedding night.

Robb was startled from his thoughts as the gates began to open and several Guards on horses rode through, carrying the Martell banner, which was a red sun pierced by a yellow spear on an orange background. The guards parted and another man on a red horse appeared, a wheelhouse following behind him. The man looked around Winterfell and scanned the line of people waiting to greet them with a casual smile on his face, but Robb could see the sharp, calculating look in his eyes. He was an impressive man with an air of confidence about him. Robb knew that this must be Prince Oberyn.

He dismounted from his horse gracefully, handing the reins over to one of his guards before moving around to the side of the wheelhouse and opening the door. A smaller hand lightly grasped his, and Robb's shoulders stiffened as he got his first look at the woman that was to be his wife. He kept his expression blank as they approached, but his eyes took in all the details.

She was a thin girl, several inches shorter than him, the top of her head reaching just under his chin. Her black hair fell into ringlets down her back and her skin had an olive tone to it. Her nose was small and her lips were full. Robb wasn't blind; it was more than apparent that his future wife was a beautiful girl, probably one of the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. He watched as her brown eyes swept across the keep, casually moving down the line of his family before coming to rest on him.

Her eyes were strangely emotionless and there was no flicker of recognition on her face as she looked at him. It was at that moment that Robb came to realize that his wife wanted this marriage just as much as he did – which was not at all.

Author's Note: Maliya/Robb interactions are coming up next chapter! What would you guys like to see happen?

To my guest reviewers:

Kristina - Thanks so much for your review! I wish Rhaenys had lived as well, I think that there's so much that could have been done with her character. I'm so glad you like my interpretation of her so far, I hope I'm able to meet all your expectations!

Guest 1 - Thanks for your review! I'm sorry you didn't agree with the Rhaenys look a likes murder, but this is Game of Thrones! No one is safe, not even children.

Guest 2 - Thanks so much for your thoughtful review! I'm glad you think my story is interesting so far. Her brother will come back into the story and you'll find out what happened to him but not for much later :)

Guest 3 - Thanks! I agree that this type of love story might have been done before but I hope I'm able to keep your interest. I appreciate reading your opinions :)