Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Suns and Storms

Under the Eye of the Sun

"Move over! We'll fall down!"

"Take this leg back! If you only drew a little on the left, there will be room enough for both of us to stand comforta… is that lemons on purple?"

"House Dalt."

Quite amused, Doran watched the excitement over his head. His siblings and cousins had arrived from the Water Gardens just the day to see their parents who had come for the annual Council Session – and had been mad with curiosity about who arrived and what they said, where they came from and where they would go… Two or three of them were constantly keeping watch in the arms of the great tree near the terrace of the Princess' solar – and constantly bickering for more room. Doran kept an eye on them, ready to intervene in the iciest voice he could muster if anyone went from bickering to actually fighting for that room. The tree was tall enough for someone to end up with a broken skull.

"Is that Lady Toland?" his sister Loreza Sand asked.

"It doesn't look like a dragon," Errol Gargalen replied. "It's more like a green worm."

"Which House has a worm as its sigil?" the girl asked reasonably and they moved once again, straining to see better from their tree.

"Can I come, too?" a voice asked from the firm pavement of the terrace.

"No," Doran said without moving from his chair. Waiting. Oberyn did not disappoint: a few minutes later, he asked once again, "Can I come, too?"

Doran sighed. This boy is a nightmare, he thought. And growing up only seems to make him more annoying. Of course, their father's absence and their mother's being constantly busy with preparing for the Council only gave Oberyn more free time to do as he liked, so it was no wonder that the idea of not doing what he liked this time stung even more.

"No," he said nicely, as if it wasn't the seventh time he did so in the last hour. Oberyn was trying his limits and Doran could not let the little trouble see that he had succeeded in getting him angry. Such things delighted his brother and encouraged him to go further. Sooner or later, Oberyn would have to learn that no did not mean yes if you only asked often enough…

"Lady Jordayne," the children announced from above, and Doran rose. He had to go now. During the last two years, he had never missed a council when he was at Sunspear and had been summoned too often to attend such even when he was away.

"No, Oberyn," he said, making sure to sound measured and undisturbed. "It's the Council Session, not a battle in the pools. You aren't coming and that's it. And if you press too hard on the side door and fall in, that's only on yourselves," he added, not even looking at the children as he was walking away.

"You've told him, Oberyn?" Alynna Gargalen squealed, disgruntled. "Why? He'll now tell your lady…"

"You're such a fool!" Oberyn spat. "You've just told him. He only had suspicions before."

Doran didn't even bother to lift a hand or look back, although he was quite sure Alynna was flying at Oberyn, with Elia trying to intervene in the fight that had suddenly become quite physical.

"That's Father!" Loreza suddenly squealed from the tree.

Doran turned around sharply; suddenly reconciled, Oberyn, Alynna, and Elia let go of each other and went to the railing.

Doran's first reaction was relief. He had been afraid that the fight between his parents would turn from rumour to ugly reality, that Alric wouldn't attend the Council Session as he was expected to, that the rift between them would be confirmed. He wasn't naïve enough to believe that his father's arrival meant that everything would be as it had been before but at least the most immediate crisis would be over. His parents were scandalous enough to make the whole sordid affair look like just another one of their peculiarities… maybe. Nothing that would tear Dorne apart.

The faces of the children, though, disturbed him. What a fool I was, thinking that we could hide the truth from them. They were old enough to overhear the things grown-ups would rather not say in their presence. And the last months of traveling between the Water Gardens and Salt Shore must have left them with questions. Doran very much doubted that his father would ever say something hurtful about Arianne in front of them, they must have wondered why she never went with them and many other things. Elia had actually come to him with the question why their father no longer lived with them.

"Because he is ill," he had lied then, yet not quite.

And she had looked at him with those huge dark eyes of her and replied, "But he isn't ill any more."

Even his uncle at his arrival the day before had only shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea what your father has in mind," he only said. "Yes, he's much better but I have no idea."

"But you must have asked him," Doran insisted.

"I did."

"And?"

"And nothing. You, of all people, should know that your father makes his own plans and can be silent not as a grave but a graveyard if he so chooses."

That was an ability young Doran had come to value but by the Seven, sometimes he wished his parents would decide whether they'd be silent, or so vocal that the entire court had to scatter over out of inconvenience and fear!

"That's Father!" Oberyn screamed excitedly as Loreza was making her way down the tree and reaching out for Doran to take her, so she would not have to climb another floor down.

Flame burst out in full gallop in the courtyard. Alric looked up, as if he knew he'd find them on the terrace, and waved at them, grinning broadly; squealing with joy, the children waved back as he jumped off the saddle and stroked Flame's heaving sides and steaming nostrils. Then, he threw the reins in the hands of a stableboy who had come running and strode right towards the Tower of the Sun.

"Yes," Doran agreed, feeling like a huge rock had been just lifted off his chest. "That's Father."

The vast throne room was filled with whispers and secret looks. Everyone tried to look at the empty seat with the Rhoynish sun trying to pretend that they weren't. The rumours about their lady and her husband's marital discord had reached every ear in Dorne, yet Alric's brothers were here, as polite and inscrutable as ever while he was not, so it was small wonder that speculations were abound. What were they to make of his absence from the traditional meeting? Was he as ill as the talk had it? Had he died maybe and they were hiding the news until the Session was over? Was the balance of power disturbed? Had Arianne formed an alliance with Lord Yronwood who had conveniently returned just when Alric Gargalen had disappeared? The two men's dislike of each other was hardly a secret and until now, the Princess had always thrown her support behind her husband, to the extent of making it clear that she could not guarantee Lord Yronwoods's safety if he chose to stay in Dorne; but now, he had taken his seat, as proud and haughty as ever, and Arianne didn't even bat an eyelid, only casting a warning look at her youngest goodbrother. Mikkel Gargalen didn't even need a look, he was too self-controlled.

By the old tradition, foods were not served during this meeting – only huge goblets of icy-cold water brought by the aqueduct straight to an inner yard in the Old Palace. Some of the lords present would have preferred wine but tradition was to be observed.

Arianne Martell looked as calm as ever. If her consort's absence bothered her at all, she did not show it. In her nice soft voice she drew in the most general of terms the problems she saw as most imminent – revisiting the treaty with Lys, working harder on keeping the relations with the Reach civil since the two regions had already proved they could work together pretty fine when needed, digging a new water channel for the purposes of lemon produce and deciding its location and the authority over it, as well as the part of the produce each of the lords and ladies whose lands it would cross would receive… She spoke smoothly, without stammer or pauses to find words. Just another Session, nothing this unusual.

"And here is the letter…" she went on and fell silent, startled by the echo of approaching footsteps.

The hall almost exploded when Alric appeared, dripping with sweat, still in his riding clothes. His dark hair shone in the sunlight coming from the dome of gold and leaden glass, his olive skin gleamed with health and vitality. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, the only weapon allowed in this hall where no one was entitled to come armed to their liege lady. No one but her husband.

Smiling, Alric bowed towards the dais; when he rose, his eyes swept all over the people present. "My lords, my ladies," he said smoothly, still smiling. "I am sorry I am late. I beg you to accept my apologies for interrupting you."

The whispers started immediately. Alric Gargalen was neither dead nor as ill as they had been led to believe. Maybe it had been all a plot – to make everyone believe that Arianne had lost her main support in Lord Gargalen's face, to make those who opposed her come to light, emboldened by the absence of Alric's iron fist that shielded Arianne from the physical challenges and fought her battles on the battlefield. Lord Yronwood went white.

In the silence where each eye was fixed on Alric, Doran's entering went almost unnoticed.

Alric crossed the hall and climbed up the dais but instead of going to his own seat, he went straight to his wife, his intention obvious – an arrogance that had never been heard of. Everyone's breath caught in anticipation how the Lady of Dorne would react.

But Arianne did not look enraged. She did not look even annoyed. She simply moved over, so he could sit in her own seat, where only the ruling Lord or Lady of Dorne could sit. She was so tiny and he so slender that they fitted just fine. For a moment, she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"What did I miss, my lady?" Alric asked.

"Nothing that could not be repeated," Arianne replied. In the silence of the hall, her soft voice could be heard as clearly as if she were shouting.

She offered him her own goblet of water and he drank as she went all over her introduction once again for his sake before opening the letter so they could read it together.

The murmurs filled the hall once again. Nothing had changed. If anything, Alric's influence with his wife had only seemed to have grown. Amidst astounded glances and helpless shrugs meant to convey that those two defied any logic, the Reach lord was quickly condemned to the same fate as all the other men who had passed through Arianne's bed – a nice distraction, surely nothing worth a real quarrel in a marriage that, for all its peculiarities, was as stable as a rock. Alric Gargalen had not been forgotten – he had simply been unapproachable.

Arianne, of course, knew better. She had forced herself not to interrogate or goad the children into telling her what was going on in Salt Shore. She had even made herself not finding eyes and ears serving her there, because all that mattered to her was that he restore his strength. If that included bedding other women to forget the hurt she had caused him, then so be it. They had never spied on each other and she did not intend to start now. Not that he was able to bed anyone in the state that she had left him in.

Still, his letters were quite telling in their silence. They told her much of his days, nothing about his feelings and less than nothing about his intention to give her a new chance. Politics and the children's activities when they visited him there. Nothing about his health, although Mikkel kept her aware of her husband's improvement. Nothing reminding of the playful undertone he had always managed to sneak in before, the shared humour of two people who had always been together. Arianne had been stunned to find out that she missed their rapport more than she missed their lovemaking – and that was something that she, indeed, missed sorely!

Her first relief at seeing him here, once again looking like himself, was swiftly replaced by a vague disappointment. He might put on a convincing act for the assembled lords and ladies' sake, but it would be a while before he could be her sword hand again. Still, he looked infinitely better than the wraith that had haunted her dreams those long six months. And he had found the way to turn the dangerous rumours into mere scandal, something to be repeated at the dinner table in every lord's home. Of course, it would still be at his expense but at least no one would doubt that his position was secure. They had just made sure of that. They had three children; neither of them was going to let this pitiful story touch Doran or the little ones. Not for a moment.

She did not expect to find out how he truly felt about the affair that had hurt and humiliated him so. Not here. That would be something he'd save for the time they'd be alone in their bedchamber.

It won't surprise me, she thought. You can do nothing that can truly surprise me, my love. I've known you for too long. She just didn't expect to like his behavior.

For now, though, she had to leave her feelings behind and focus on the political matters at hand.

"To the seven hells! What have you done with this chamber!"

That was Alric's welcome when Arianne entered their room after having deliberately prolonged her conversation with her ladies, so he'd have the time to absorb the vast changes into what had used to be their bedchamber.

She looked at him and bit back a smile. By the look on his face, things were going just as she had hoped!

"I refurnished."

"I see," he huffed, looking at the white curtains, white chairs, white bedcovers from a simple fabric… Even the feet of the bed were painted white! There was no luxury in the chamber now, not a hint of something to be enjoyed. "What do I owe this attention to?"

She raised her chin. "Well, since you aren't at all interested in being with me anymore, I decided to refurnish my chamber in a way that reflects my new status in life. Nothing interesting will happen here, so I thought I might enjoy some purity and… chastity."

Alric stared at her, having lost his speech. Quite satisfactory. Arianne smiled sweetly, encouraged by the small twitch of his mouth that he tried to suppress. "And before you can say that it really doesn't cost me a thing, let me tell you that I've decided to live like a Silent Sister from now on. No men and everything."

His jaw dropped, his astonishment overwhelming. Had he been holding a goblet, he would have choked since he burst out in such a fit of laughter that it took him a while before he could even form words, let alone sentences. "By the Stranger, woman, you've always been able to make me laugh…"

That was the whole purpose of it, Arianne thought. During the months of their separation she had had time to think everything over and realize that she had been going about it in the wrong way. Pleas to forgive her would bring her nothing. Like it or not, it was quite hard for a man, especially one as proud and talented like Alric, to always stand in his wife's shadow. He was never allowed to shine with his own light, just to add to hers. And one of the reasons he hadn't minded had been her respect and love for him. Without wanting to, she had trampled on this respect. And she had acted as if she were in love with another man in his prime while Alric had been at his lowest. Each plea for forgiveness would only serve to remind him of what she had done.

She could not win him back even in their marital bed. If anything, they both knew how little bedsport meant without love. If he wanted to demand his conjugal rights, she'd scramble for a way to refuse him because she wanted him to want and love her, not bed her just because. But she could see she was on the right path, the one that had gotten them together – their companionship, their sense of humour, all that had bound them to each other when they were children.

"I am pleased you find it funny," she said lazily when hilarity left him. "I live to amuse you… I cannot wait for the moment you find out I mean it."

He shook his head, his eyes still laughing. "You don't," he said. "Your wanton ways are not so different from mine."

Arianne sighed dramatically and started to undress, making it a point to stay behind the bedcurtains, so he would not see her. "I know, I know," she said. "You can believe me, I was stunned when I found out that all the men in the world could not make up for the lack of one. If I cannot have you, I don't want anyone. Terrible, I know."

He laughed again, not believing her, but curious and amused by her performance. If you weren't the Lady of Dorne, you would have been the favourite of a mummer show, he had always said. Arianne emerged from behind the curtains and went to the table to drink from her goblet, revealing her chaste white nightgown, provoking a new dropping of his jaw. She could read his thoughts. Did she commission this sack? I know for sure she never owned such a thing! Even during her pregnancies, she had tried to look nice and attractive. How much she achieved it was a different matter. She had never doubted that he had found her desirable even when she had been headed for a waist resembling that of a pig, about three months before Oberyn's birth.

She yawned. "I am going to sleep," she said before he could come to his senses and start the quarrel he had undoubtedly had in mind before all this whiteness distracted him. "I am going to dream of you," she added sweetly, climbed into the bed and turned her back on him. Her heart was beating wildly. That was the moment she feared most. If he left now, if he went into a bedchamber of his own, that would mean that her tactic was not working. She needed him close to influence him with the full power of her charm and the ways to keep his fondness and interest she had found in their childhood.

Besides, she still didn't know that in those months, he had not found a woman to do for him the thing Arianne couldn't – just be with him when he had needed it most.

But her bet was winning. Alric would not spoil all their efforts of the day by finding another bed; instead, he took his clothing off and lay down next to her without trying to touch her.

Who would have thought that fear of rumours would be so helpful, Arianne thought. Now, Alric had to behave as if he had forgiven her or worse, that there had been nothing to forgive. And with time, this if would slid and die if she played her cards right. We've been friends and companions long before we were lovers, Arianne reminded herself.

When they woke up, they found out they had slept on their side, holding each other, her head against his shoulder, his arm across her back; with a muffled curse, he drew back and groaned. Arianne smiled and curled in a ball, quite pleased with herself and life in general. You are mine, Alric. Now I know it for sure. We'll just have to wait for you to accept it. But you are mine. And by the Seven, the time I was ready to share you is over!