Ch 2. Arianne I
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293 AC
Arianne opened her eyes and cursed.
She hadn't meant to fall asleep in the instance this was all a trick. Arianne could not- did not- trust anybody in this foreign castle. She was taken because she trusted blindly in men and their words. Arianne should've known better; she knew her father's word couldn't be trusted, and he was the crown Prince of Dorne. With her life still her own, at least for the moment, Arianne took stock of the room she'd woken up in.
The room looked fit to live in but carried a faint, foul stench. Arianne felt sore in the worst ways, but the bed was comfortable enough yet couldn't compare to her room in Sunspear. The sole window was covered with white painted shutters alluding to the time of day with bright slim strips of light peaking out between the panels. She lived to see the sunrise, which was a blessing. How far this blessing carried her was still to be determined, but Arianne would not act so empty-headed again as to endanger herself and others.
She vaguely remembered the strange, dark trot to Hellhold and what she'd done before passing out for the night. Arianne spotted the remnants of her dress tossed in the corner next to a metal tub still half full of water with a towel between it and the bed. The tub, towel, and change of clothes were all in here to greet her last night, so Arianne took a quick wash and changed into these brown sleeping clothes before passing out soon as her head touched the flat pillow.
A knock at the door made her jolt, and Arianne worried about who it was. Logic and experience said a handmaid had come to wake her up and help her prepare, but what if it wasn't? Arianne slid her hand underneath the pillow to grip the handle of the knife she smuggled in and didn't answer the door. She wanted to see what they'd do if she was still asleep. Would they take advantage and barge in? Would they wait her out?
Arianne couldn't be sure of the intentions of whoever rescued her. This could all be one big ploy for her to drop her guard, and she would not be tricked again. Waking up in this keep- Hellholt was it?- meant little in the way of true safety. Arriane believed she would not be truly safe until she was back amongst her family, shielded by the walls of Sunspear and guarded by Martell spears. She did not care if it was Lord Uller behind the door; Arianne had a knife and was willing if not ready to use it.
Ullers were not to be trusted. Everything Arianne ever heard about them told her so. Ullers had an ill reputation for being half-mad, with the other half being worse. Men were burned to death within these halls, or so she heard, and Arriane would not trust anyone who would do something so despicable. Some even say one of the sister-wives of Aegon I Rhaynes Targaryen was tortured to death here after being shot down. The fear of what these half-mad, half-worse Ullers would do to her lurked in the back of her mind, but Arianne would slit throats before letting anyone get their hands on her again as those mercenaries did.
Those mercenaries were paid to disguise themselves as Vaith guardsmen; to kidnap her and Tyene– Wait! Tyene! Where was she? Was she okay? Wh–
"Arianne!" Another knock was followed by a voice so familiar it bounced Arianne off the bed and towards the door. "Are you–,"
Arianne yanked the door open, saw the pale skin and golden hair of her cousin, and thought to do nothing more than bring her into a tight, almost desperate embrace.
"Oh!" Tyene sounded surprised but hugged her right back. Arianne shut her eyes and let herself feel some semblance of peace holding her sister in all but blood safe and sound in her arms.
After a long moment, a finger prodded her in the ribs. "Arianne, we best get inside," Tyene said, "Your hair looks indecent right now, and we do not have all day. We are expected at breakfast."
Arianne pulled back with her brow crinkled. "What do you mean?"
"Inside, inside," Tyene motioned and took Arianne by the wrist to tug her into the room. The door was shut, and Arianne saw Tyene had something in her arms that looked like clothes. As a matter of fact, Tyene wore a dress Arianne had never seen her in, a light yellow and white high-waisted dress with short fluttering sleeves.
"You like?" Tyene had noticed her staring and spun with a beatific smile. "A handmaid brought it to me earlier, and she gave me this one to give to you."
"Why?" Arianne could not help but ask for more reasons than one.
"We needed new clothes obviously. A-after what happened, I much prefer this to…Well, I am happy with it. I rather like it, and," Tyene let the extra dress unfold for Arianne to see. "I think you'll like this too."
In Tyene's hands was a pretty, deep blue and gold dress that almost bought Arianne's attention. Almost but not enough.
"Tyene," Arianne softened her voice. A million thoughts whirled through her head, a million feelings she did not have the time to identify besides one big one. Guilt. "A-about what happened…I—I'm sorry for, for getting you involved in—,"
"Arianne," Tyene's voice was gentle but firm. Tyene shut her eyes and took a slow, deep breath in and out. When she opened them again, their blue was calm like the pools in the Water Gardens. "I do not blame you. There is no need to apologize to me for what happened."
That did not sound right to Arianne. No, she had not listened when Tyene tried to dissuade her from trying to go, she had not brought any protection, and she did not have a single thought in her empty head other than meeting some old lord's son half a world away!
"I feel I must. This was all my fault," she decided aloud. Arianne felt her eyes begin to burn, more so after Tyene took her hand. "I-I was a fool, Tyene. I did not think this would happen. I thought, I thought…"
Tyene pulled her into a hug, and Arianne could not stop the few tears from falling. Her fortifying breath was rickety, but, in her heart, Arianne felt she did not deserve to cry. If anyone did, it was Tyene. Those men were horrid dogs, and Arianne felt horrid for letting them do as they had done.
Oh, how she wished she could have been the one to gut those men. Arianne wished she had slit their throats or sliced off their hands for touching her and Tyene. Arianne hoped, no, she prayed then and there that those men received no mercy from the Stranger. She prayed that the lord of all Seven Hells tortured them for the rest of eternity.
"Arianne," Tyene pat her on the shoulder frantically. "You're squeezing me too tight."
Arianne finished her prayer and then let go. She searched Tyene's beautiful eyes for any holdback, any sign that this forgiveness only eclipsed her truest feelings. Arianne found none of that and could not believe it.
"How do you forgive me so easily for this grievous mistake, Tyene?" Arianne needed to know. If she were in Tyene's place…
"Because it was a mistake. You did not intend for that to happen, and you did not intend to get me hurt. Those men did, and they...paid for it, alright? So now, I would like to move on and get you into this dress to meet this Lord Uller so we can get something to eat," Tyene said.
Arianne was stunned by the heart that beat in her cousin's chest: so kind, so good, and so understanding. For a time, all of Arianne's paranoia about the situation was shunted away. They had not harmed Tyene and even gifted them new dresses when they did not need to. Arianne couldn't let go of the thought that this was an elaborate, clever trick. A plot to kill or capture them disguised behind good intentions and gifts. The question that begged was if Arianne should tell Tyene of her worries.
Looking at her cousin's face, knowing the horrible treatment Tyene endured because of Arianne's foolishness, she did not want to burden her cousin even more. If they were to be walking into a trap with this breakfast, Arianne would be the one to handle it; she had to be. Arianne was the Princess, and Tyene was simply a bastard. The connection between Tyene and her father was not one easily made, and that meant she was not as valuable. Arianne could convince them to let her go in exchange for her cooperation. But what would she do if all else failed?
That question plagued Arianne as she changed into the dress. It was a nice color, but the dress was made for a thinner girl, which would explain why Tyene's fit her so well. Tyene brandished a hairbrush from somewhere and helped with Arianne's hair, but even the familiarity of Tyene humming a song while brushing wasn't enough to help Arianne's worries.
Soon enough, the two were on their way to breakfast. Arm in arm, she and Tyene walked down the hall, the bright, Dornish sunlight beaming through the intricate window grates, and Arianne wondered if her uncle was out there scouring the red sands for them. Would he be proud that she had been able to sneak a knife in her dress so well that even Tyene had not noticed? Knowing uncle Oberyn, he would be if he was not dead like those mercenaries mocked.
Arianne doubted there was a Dornishman capable of besting her uncle in a fair fight, but her people were notorious for not fighting fair. Her uncle was a key example of that fact. If Uncle Oberyn was dead, though, all seven hells would break loose in Dorne. War would just be the start. Her heart constricted just thinking about her uncle bleeding out in the sands like those mercenaries. No, he could not be dead. He was the Red Viper, and vipers were notoriously hard to slay.
What would happen if the Ullers harmed her, Arianne wondered. Her father had his chosen heir in Quentyn and did not care what she did or where she ended up. Did that mean he did not care what happened to her? Were there men even out searching for them? No, Arianne reasoned, even if her father would look for them, uncle Oberyn would. If not for Arianne, then for Tyene. Suddenly, Tyene's arm tensed, and Arianne pulled herself from her thoughts to see what the cause was.
Arianne found the cause standing veiled and bedecked in red and gold at the end of the hall. The woman was the tallest Arianne had seen, and she filled out the two-piece top and gown with narrow hips and bronze skin. The woman's hair was hidden beneath her head covering; for all Arianne could guess, the woman could have been bald.
What was most curious to Arianne was not the veil, which was not an uncommon sight in Dorne, but the markings along the woman's hands. They were pitch-black, intricate lines and odd, angular shapes that went from her fingertips down to her wrists. Eye-catching was how Arianne would describe the woman or perhaps fascinating.
"Princess Arianne," the woman bowed, and her voice held an accent Arianne had never heard before. "Lady Tyene. I am glad to see you awake and well. I am Nikala, and I will lead you both to the dining hall for a private breakfast with my Lord and his son. If you both will follow me."
As they followed the woman's lead, a part of Arianne found everything about her suspicious. Arianne wanted to question, poke, and prod at the peculiar woman but didn't know where to start.
Tyene lent in and whispered. "She was the one who gave me the dresses this morning. She's a little...tall, right?"
Arianne nodded. Tyene was too polite to say what she probably thought, but Arianne was not.
"Strange I would say," Arianne whispered back and smiled a little at Tyene's slight reprimanding push. "What? She does not resemble any Dornishwoman I have ever seen. Nothing about this so far has been typical."
"You are right, I guess, but are we not safe here? Are House Uller allies to House Martell? That may be true, but it could be she is not truly Dornish like me. That does not make her strange."
"Unless she is. Those markings on her hands? Have you ever seen a woman have something like that?"
Tyene shook her head as they turned a corner. The woman, Nikala, had not paused in her walk, nor had she made an issue of her and Tyene lagging. No doubt she knew they were whispering to each other, but she could not hear them. She and Tyene had mastered the art of talking so no one else could hear, and Nymeria was ever so mad when they did it.
The thought of her other cousins reminded Arianne that they no doubt were worried grey about them. It poked at the guilt in the shadow of her heart, but Tyene did not let her stew.
"No, never," Tyene narrowed her eyes like she wished to see through the back of the woman's head. "Do you think they mean anything?"
Arianne shrugged. "Mayhaps, but I have no idea what."
"Do you think I should ask?"
Nikala led them around a corner, and, before Arianne could answer, they seemed to have arrived. They were in a hallway that opened at the end on either side with a wide, arched doorway garnished with golden drapes and braced by two tall, dark-skinned Uller guardsmen with spears in their hands.
Their heads were wrapped, their faces shaved, and they wore less than Martell guards wore wearing only trousers and waist wraps. Because of this lack of armor, Arianne could see...symbols branded onto their chests. The one on the right had a crescent shape and the other an arrowhead. Tyene tensed against her arm the closer they got, and Arianne would be lying if she said the men did not make her nervous either.
At the sight of the three of them, one of the guards went inside, no doubt to alert Lord Uller of their presence. Nikala waited patiently, so Arianne and Tyene did too. Arianne tried not to feel nervous, but it was an effort in futility. This meeting may very well mean life or death for her and Tyene. How anyone could be calm, she did not know.
The guard returned, nodded to their guide, and the drapes were parted. Arianne took a deep breath, raised her head, and stood straight. She was the princess of Dorne, its heir to the eyes of Dorne, and she would accept whatever responsibility that may come with it, good or bad.
"Presenting Princess Arianne and Lady Tyene, my Lord," Arianne heard Nikala say as they entered.
The first thing Arianne noticed was that the hall was long and grey like ash with long tables and benches on either side. Atop the dais at the high table, was the lord of the castle and beside him his son.
Standing side by side, Lord Uller looked old. Not as old as any of the 'suitors' Arianne's father presented to her, but the wrinkles on his face and the grey in his hair betrayed him. Dressed in olive green and grey, he looked healthy and fit but washed out in comparison to his son who looked...like a prince.
He was dark-skinned like Nikala and built to weather a sandstorm. He wore dark green with one side of his shoulder and chest exposed. He had a burn on his chest too that looked like a series of cresting waves. His waist was wrapped with a gold cloth that matched the bracers on his wrists and necklace around his neck. When he smiled at them, at Arianne, she felt her breath catch.
"Welcome princess," Lord Uller's authoritative voice felt like it carried well past her to the guards outside with little effort. He inclined his head respectfully. "And Lady Tyene. It gladdens me to see you awake and well. I hope the dresses were to your liking. I confess I have only one daughter, and she is much older than you are. Her...older things were all I had fit for two young ladies such as yourselves."
Tyene looked at her, and Arianne had to remind herself to take the lead here. She stepped forward and nodded, half respectful and half answering. "The dresses were more than adequate, my lord. We greatly appreciate all you have done to aid us thus far. You have our sincerest thanks."
Lord Uller nodded back, a good sign, and moved on to introducing tall, dark, and hands-uh, his son.
"May I introduce my son, Toren," He gestured to the young man, and Toren stepped forward. "It is he you should be thanking. He was the one who ventured out and rescued you."
"Yes, of course," Arianne said. "Thank you very much, Toren, for what you did for us that night. Were it not for you...Well, we would not be having this conversation, I assume. I will remember your heroism and service to us for the rest of my days."
"Mine as well," Tyene added on.
He accepted the thanks graciously, humbly, if the demure bow of his head was any indication. "Many thanks to the princess and the lady for your kind words. I only did as my father tasked me to. I am glad to have been of help to you two and am glad to see you both are okay."
How old was he, Arianne wondered suddenly, because the words out of his mouth felt mature, unlike the other boys she interacted with. It was not a slight to Daemon or the Dalts, but they could be...immature at times, even boyish. This Toren seemed a man grown already. Arianne did not expect this from the masked man who slaughtered his way through a dozen mercenaries.
"Come, come," Lord Uller beckoned them up the dais to the table. "Please, have a seat. I am sure you two must be famished. Brigands are not notorious for feeding their selection of food."
She and Tyene found seats at the high table, and Tyene took the seat nearest to Toren while Arianne took the seat by Lord Ulle. Standing off to the side, Nikala, clapped twice, and servants quickly filed out with platters of food like sausages, fresh bread, and a selection of fruit.
Arianne did not realize how hungry she was until the food was in front of her face. It smelled so good, her mouth felt close to watering, but she withheld from taking a bit until she had seen Lord Uller take his. Tyene didn't wait half as long and immediately tucked in. After a few bites, Arianne did not feel sick or felt like she was going to die. Tyene's hair had not fallen out, nor had she collapsed suddenly to the floor. Everyone ate their fill, and slowly throughout the quiet meal, Arianne felt herself easing up. If there was to be a plot, it felt overdue at this point.
Once the food was set out, conversation was halted as everyone focused more on eating than speaking. Arianne did not want to seem rude or improper speaking with her mouth full of food, so she waited until the kitchen hands retreated with the plates and whatever was left.
"You called them brigands earlier, Lord Uller, am I correct?" She began as the food settled comfortably in her belly. Arianne thought about doing this as she ate, the value of the truth. To call them brigands felt like an injustice to what she and Tyene had gone through and what they supposedly had planned for them. Those men were more than mere outlaws.
"I did," Lord Uller answered. "I only assumed so due to what my outriders relayed to me. Anyone knowledgeable of where they were would not set up camp next to the Brimstone."
"Why is that?"
"The water is undrinkable for many, so it is not a resource but, in reality, a trap. We have caught many outlaws and unwanted persons due to the lure of it."
How interesting, but Arianne was getting off track. "I brought it up because I do not believe they were simple outlaws, my lord."
At this, the man seemed to eye her like a desert hawk. Of course, no man liked to be corrected by a woman, especially not in the halls of their own home. Arianne knew her father did not take her mother's input often.
"Hmm, then what do you believe they were, princess?"
"Mercenaries. Bought and paid for by the enemies of House Martell," There, she just came out and said it. To her relief, Lord Uller did not laugh or scoff at her. He did not go bug-eyed or overreact. He did as her father did and calmly digested what she told him. Unlike her father, though, Lord Uller replied.
"It is possible," he began slowly, piece by piece. Arianne knew what she said could doom her, but she needed to see what he had to say. "Mayhaps even more than likely."
"I'd vouch for the possibility, father," Toren spoke up in support of her, and Arianne felt a drop of relief. "They were...not the typical rabble we deal with. These men were well armed and had enough wine to drink themselves into a near stupor. That is not typical of any brigands I have ever encountered; most of them are too poor to feed themselves truthfully."
"Yes, the first patrol of outriders did bring back well cared for arms and armor. I assumed theft."
"Gifted is more like, my lord," Arianne felt her heat rate pick up as she remembered the trickery. Oh, it burned to remember her foolishness and how those men laughed at her. "They disguised themselves as loyal men only to take us captive. They mentioned delivering us to their sponsor and getting rich off it."
Lord Uller drummed his fingers dully on the hardwood table a few times as he accepted her words. He opened his mouth to reply when a faint yelling cut him off. Everyone in the room became alert immediately. Toren pushed away from the table and stood, eyes glued to the draped entrance.
The noise continued, and Arianne guessed it came from outside the keep or near the entrance perhaps. The words were indecipherable, but she felt the volume of it. The sound of it was passingly familiar to Arianne, but she did not think much of it.
"Father," Toren turned to Lord Uller, a question across his tense shoulders, a desire written across his brow. "What is your command?"
Arianne found her eyes switching to Lord Uller, who, against the odds, still sat calmly in his seat. When he rose, he did so with no rush and beckoned his son to calm down.
What was going on? Arianne felt eyes on her and found Tyene biting her lip with worry. The same questions Arianne had swam in her eyes, and Arianne did not have any answers to give her. Perhaps Arianne had chosen wrong, and the trap was sprung. Perhaps the enemy came looking for them and had tracked her here. A million possibilities ran through her mind, and very few of them she liked.
"Hold," Lord Uller commanded, and the dangerous air crackling around his son dimmed. He wiped his mouth with a cloth and stepped around the table. "Princess Arianne, Lady Tyene, if you would please join us to greet the Red Viper. I am sure he will be overjoyed to see you well."
What? Lord Uller beckoned them to follow as he led the way out of the meal hall. The two guards by the entrance the lord bid to stay. As they followed the yelling, it grew louder and clearer. Again, something about the voice tugged at Arianne's memory. What was it? Maybe she knew the voice?
She found her questions answered swiftly after leaving the meal hall. They walked outside into a gorgeous courtyard that Arianne may have admired more if not for the men occupying it.
"I will not tell you again!" She heard and saw the Martell colors before she recognized who was yelling.
Somehow, someway, Lord Uller was correct. There, yelling in the face of a Uller guardsman, was Uncle Oberyn armored and armed with his spear. Two men in Martell colors stood behind him, glaring across at the five Uller guards barring the way.
The guards remained unmoving and stoic in the face of the Red Viper's hissing fury. A vein throbbed in her uncle's neck, and Arianne saw how he clenched the spear in his hand. She had never seen her uncle this angry before. There would be blood spilled if nobody did something.
"Father!" Tyene hiked up her skirt and ran to her uncle. She ran so fast, her hair whipped back, and uncle Oberyn almost did not have time to recognize who was running at him. Fortunately, he did, and fortunately, the guards moved out of her way in time for her to crash into her father's arms.
"Oh, my sweet girl," Oberyn clutched her close, handing off his spear so he could hug her properly. There was no place safer in all of Dorne for her, Arianne believed. The stab of envy Arianne felt was a standout, and she hated it even existed. Her uncle Oberyn would embrace her like that if she ran into his arms, but that voice in her head told her it was not the same. It was not her father who rode from Sunspear to Hellolt to find her.
It was all your fault anyway, another voice in her head told her. You were stupid enough to try and ride to Highgarden unattended and unguarded. All that you suffered, what everyone has suffered, is your fault. Arianne did not have the words to deny it, as the facts had her guilty and damned. Her uncle had almost lost his daughter, and it was all Arianne's fault. Tyene may not blame her, but her uncle might.
"Prince Oberyn," Lord Uller followed behind at a more sedate pace. "I welcome you to Hellholt."
Oberyn whispered something into his daughter's ear, and she let go allowing him to stand and greet Lord Uller properly.
"Lord Uller," he began. "I must apologize for my conduct. As it stands, you have House Martell's sincerest thanks and my heartfelt one for the rescue of the princess and my daughter. They are most precious to me and all of Dorne."
"That they are," Lord Uller said as he stood before her uncle. Uncle Oberyn was taller by a couple of inches, but both men had similar builds. "Be welcome to Hellhold, Prince Oberyn. You and your men are welcome to stay as long as necessary. Venturing across the red sands is not easy, but behind the walls of Hellholt, you can rest, fill your belly, and reconnect with your treasured family."
She did not deserve to run into his arms and seek comfort. She nearly got his daughter killed or worse. He should hate her for it, and she expected him to. Only, when he reached her, Arianne found herself yanked into a fierce hug. Arianne froze, unsure of what to do. Her uncle smelled of sweat and sand and spice. He planted a kiss on the top of her head as he liked to do with his daughters, and Arianne had to swallow down the lump in her throat as she gently(cautiously) hugged him back.
"I'm so happy you both are safe," He said into her hair. After he said that, Arianne felt the tension in her shoulders and back leave, and she allowed herself to relish the peace and safety the presence of the Red Viper brought.
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