Kvo: He knows from canon? This is an SI who has knowledge of the books. Also Dany wrecked three cities, not the best track record, and Jon got killed for his own ruling so...

drk: What's wrong with the Seven? Between the Seven, the Old gods and R'hllor, only one of them doesn't do human sacrifices. Will you guess which one it is?

System: Argument doesn't hold, you can make that for any dynasty, unless you create a free democracy with checks and balances you're in to get psychos at some point or another.

Sage: Salve Regina describes faith unwavering throughout exile, which is quite a nice parallel to Dorne, I thought.

Amal: He has to suck up to Dany if Quentyn wants to get what he wants.

Stardust: Nymeria doesn't have any ill intentions, but Cletus just thinks so because Quentyn's not as close to him anymore.

Blue: Yeah, completely, I've corrected them in the other versions of the story but the UI on is horrendous and I got annoyed and left it that way.

Guest: The Cletus/Quentyn friendship is clearly at flashpoint right now, and with Cletus' dream in the early chapters, it's very hard to say where it's going to go. As for the battle lines, they've essentially been drawn for a while. Unless Jon goes North and barricades himself there, conflict with Dany is inevitable.


Arianne

Arianne woke up gently, in a room only dimly lit by a few candles. Usually, the sun would've woken her up, the rays shining through the windows caressing her bare skin, while inviting her eyes to slowly but surely open up.

There was none of that here. At least, not anymore.

The sun had stopped shining, and all there was were gray clouds, sometimes bringing rain, sometimes hindering vision so much that it was impossible to see the second walls from the windows of the keep.

She spared a look at her side.

The bed was empty.

Usually, that would have been normal. She and Willas haven't slept together in moons.

But the previous night…

Arianne fiddled with her snake bracelet, remembering the heat of those moments, contrasting with her cold awakening.

It had been so long since she had experienced it: passion, freedom, feeling wanted…and if the bite marks on her shoulder and neck were any indication, her partner enjoyed it as much as she did.

Arianne smiled, tracing her faint scars on either side of her body.

But her companion for the night wasn't there to keep her company this morning, it seemed. This was intriguing, but not surprising. The Targaryen bastard, or Stark boy, however one wished to put it, was quite cold in his tone, whereas his actions were anything but.

Not very talkative either, but it suited her well.

Still, feeling alone after such a night was unusual for her, and, wondering where he'd gone, she quickly got out of bed and chose a dress, some jewelery and a few layers for the cold.

After all, winter was here, and the days had gone from mild to chilly, and a few furs were in order for her. A Dornishwoman did not like this weather one bit, and even if one could think she was overdressed with a full layer of fur over her crème-colored dress, she'd trade the small jeers for not having to suffer a quite annoying cold for the next few days at any point.

It seemed the day had just begun, as Highgarden was not in a flurry of activity. Only a few servants here and there, a man-at-arms which snapped at attention while passing…nothing much out of the ordinary. One might even say it was a regular day if not for the massive force under the walls, and, of course, the dragon circling above.

Speaking of dragons, where had Jon gone?

Arianne wondered for a moment if he hadn't left to ride his dragon, far above the clouds, to feel free from the grayness around him and taste the sunlight as it slowly burnt his skin.

Perhaps he did just leave, never to return again, his passage being but a fragment in time, as if he was never here in the first place.

Or, did she, in her folly, just imagine it all? Did she delude herself in thinking that her dark knight would come save her, like she'd imagined in her younger dreams? Would she wake up tomorrow, in Highgarden, without any memory of this other than a small fragment of her imagination? After all, the skies around Highgarden were so gray, that should they disperse, she could find the plain around the great castle of the Reach to be calm and deserted of any armies or dragons.

But Arianne pushed away these thoughts.

After all, everything she experienced these past days had been too real to just be a dream.

Thinking for a few moments, she suddenly had a revelation.

Stepping down the halls and into the cold gardens outside, she made her way through the maze of plants and trees she'd become accustomed to.

Another turn, around the large hedges…yes, that was it!

The small path made way to a large clearing where the Godswood lay.

In the middle of this vast clearing were three weirwoods of impressive sizes. The Three Singers, they were called.

They were extremely old, some say even older than the Tyrell's reign over the Reach. They had watched over Highgarden for generations. Although, the clearing was often deserted.

After all, who still worshipped trees down south?

But Arianne grew to like the Singers. She came here whenever she needed peace and quiet, although…there was always that eerie feeling of being watched at all times. It was something she just couldn't put her finger on. A gust of wind, perhaps.

As usual, the clearing was deserted…or almost.

Right before the three trees was a man, kneeling in front of them, as if in prayer.

Arianne smiled: her intuition had not failed her.

She approached gently, until she arrived at the height of the figure, still deep in thoughts.

"Good morning," she finally said, after a few moments of silence.

"Princess." Jon nodded, his gray eyes slowly turning towards her.

"I ought to have met you earlier, but I have missed your warmth this morning, so I must now venture into the cold to bring you my thanks." She nodded.

The Targaryen bastard didn't move, his face remaining as closed as ever.

"There is no need for thanks." His head finally dropped. "I have shamed you, Princess."

"You did not shame me, Ser," Arianne laughed, sitting on a small embankment close to the trees, resting for a brief moment, "on the contrary."

He shook his head.

"I sullied my honor and yours." He did not look her in the eyes. "You are betrothed and the crime I have committed cannot be absolved."

Arianne frowned. That damn honor he was so proud of flaunting, it seemed.

Where was his honor when he burned the Tyrell army? Or when he drowned the relief column to Goldengrove in fire? Is it honorable to fight on dragonback, not even bothering to look his enemy in the eyes.

Certainly, in Dorne, one wouldn't care.

And that's exactly what she told him.

"You sullied nothing."

"I did, princess." Jon kept his head down. "I let my emotions get the better of me."

Arianne slowly stood up, marching towards him with a determined step. She looked at his ashamed face, brought her hand to his chin and made him look at her in the eyes.

Her gaze met his. Brown eyes looking at gray.

"Look at me, Jon," Arianne almost angrily let out, "everything that happened between us, it did because I willed it. Nothing you did did I dislike. You did not coerce me, let alone sully any of my honor. I lost my maidenhood long ago, and it did not matter to me."

"It's not that simple, Princess."

"Arianne."

"It's not that simple, Arianne." Jon bit his lip. "Coercion or not, it is still dishonorable to sleep with a woman betrothed to another, and what's more, who shares his betrothed's bed."

"Willas and I have not shared so much as a meal in moons," Arianne was quick to point out.

She then moved closer to him, and ran a hand through his dark curls. She gently moved his head up so that he had to look at her.

"Do you regret what happened last night? And do not speak to me about honor or I will slap you, dragon or not." Arianne kept her eyes locked with his. "Because the marks on my neck and shoulders tell a different story than you."

Jon hesitated for what seemed like an eternity, but finally gave in.

"I do not regret…what happened between us." He sighed. "But I do regret how it came to be."

"You foolish man." Arianne chuckled as she released her hold on his head. "Who are you really, Jon Stark? What do you want?"

The man stayed silent looking at her.

"Hmm, mayhaps you do not know what you wish for," she observed. "You told me yourself. You are tired of following what people tell you to do. You are a Stark, yes, but I like the dragon side of you, too."

Jon frowned.

"I'm not…"

Arianne immediately raised a hand.

"Yes, yes, you are not a dragon, you have told me so as well…" she curled a smile, "but it's not about what you want, it's about what you are. You can deny it all you want, Jon Stark, your heritage defines you whether you like it or not. And it will come knocking."

"I shall not have it." Jon shook his head. "If people try to force it upon me, I will deny them."

Arianne smiled at his naivety. Even now, Willas seemed to be clinging to the dragon side of him as if it were a raft in the middle of a stormy sea.

"You know nothing, Jon Stark."

That sentence seemed to have struck him. For a few moments, Arianne thought he had gone into shock and she even seemed to have heard a faint rumbling far away.

His gray eyes did not look away from her brown eyes.

Finally, Arianne broke the silence that had been settling for a few moments, by placing a hand on his cheek that he quickly grasped with his.

"I will ask again, Jon Stark: what do you want?"

Again, silence was her answer.

She smiled, and brought his lips to hers for a brief moment.

Jon did not resist, nor did he deepen it.

She chose to break it first.

"Whatever it is, take it. Stop listening to them, for they fear you, and wish two things: to please you or to see you destroyed." Arianne took a step backwards.

"And you," Jon finally cut in, not protesting against the kiss, "what do you wish?"

Arianne returned a sad smile.

"I wish to go home, Stark."

Jon nodded.

"I will do my best to help you, then," he spoke softly, "it is the least I can do."

Arianne spared a look at him, and smiled.

"Is that a promise?"

"I…" Jon's emotionless face finally fell, and he let out a soft smile in turn, "I shall do my utmost."

Arianne nodded and bowed in front of him.

"Then, I shall take my leave."

She wondered back into the castle, half excited, half reserved.

It is true that the Northern boy had given her no reason to doubt his word. But then again, the Tyrells were picky.

No matter, if there was a chance, she would grasp at it.

Slowly moving back into her rooms, Arianne let go of the furs she transported and freed herself just a little, breathing easier.

Home…

What a strange place.

Would she be accepted back in Sunspear? After all, if her father had sent her to Highgarden, it was almost an exile.

And now, if the Tyrells were to be believed, it was Quentyn that was in charge. Did her brother truly have no more resent towards her after she nearly had him killed? Would he welcome her back with open arms or just send her away once more?

Too many things to consider, and too many things to worry.

At least, for something that hasn't happened.

For Willas was not stupid, he would never let her leave. She was too valuable to him and his family, whose allies were slowly dying like flies.

Arianne waved those thoughts away and instead focused on another important task: making moon tea. Indeed, if the night has been full of excitement, she would have to pay a certain price. And moon tea wasn't exactly in great supply in Highgarden.

Thus, she had to get the ingredients herself, something she'd learned to do ever since she was four-and-ten. It wasn't the extremely efficient version Quentyn had somehow concocted in Dorne, but it would serve quite nicely.

But before she even had a chance to boil some water, a few knocks were heard at the door.

Slightly annoyed, Arianne just called out, "Who is it?"

"Ser Joss, Princess."

"Come on in," Arianne beckoned the young knight to let himself in.

The dazzling youth came in with a slightly apprehensive face.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Lord Willas wishes to see you." Ser Joss Hood bit his lip, he knew Arianne did not hold the Tyrell heir in her heart. "He is currently discussing issues with Lord Regent Stark."

"How does this concern me?" Arianne asked the poor boy, trying not to sound overly annoyed.

"Lord Willas said it concerned you but refused to tell me more."

Arianne let out an exasperated sigh and left the room, escorted by the young Ser Joss.

Of course, she had plenty of time to repress her inner frustration and settle down before they reached the great hall, where, as expected, Willas and Jon were assembled.

No trace of Lord Arryn though. The young falcon had completely disappeared, but it was not like the young lord of the Vale had much sway in these discussions.

"Ah, dear betrothed!" Willas put up a bright smile. "Come sit at the table, I think you will be most glad to hear the agreement we have reached with our Northern friend."

Agreement? Friend?

Arianne did not like the sound of this. Willas seemed too jovial for everything to be perfectly normal.

Instead, repressing her feelings on the subject, she only smiled while taking a seat.

"Well, Willas, that is certainly wonderful. What is the good news?"

"Lord Regent Stark will lend us a hand in defeating the Ironborn. He has even proposed to lead the force himself!" Willas nodded in thanks to Jon, who did not say a word. "In exchange, we will provide enough grain to fill the granaries of the North for the entire winter."

Arianne silently raged.

The Stark boy had been foolish!

Willas had managed to wrestle something from a situation he never should have been able to extricate so much but a dead worm of, even she could see that!

Jon had a dragon, he could take the grain regardless, what need was there to bend to Willas? Now, Willas could weaken an opponent with another. Sure, the Ironborn were doomed, but the Northmen would take losses if the weather stayed overcast, stopping the dragon from being effective. And in winter, this was more and more likely.

No, the heir to Highgarden had just gotten something out of nothing, and it irritated her to no end.

Was this why he had made her come down here? To show her how he could outplay Lord Regent Jon Stark, so formidable on his dragon, but who Willas made bend anyways? That would require Willas knowing about her tryst, but who was she kidding, he likely knew.

All this, though, was too arrogant for Willas. He wouldn't rub it in her face that much, at least, not unless he was thoroughly annoyed at her. Then, what?

"You forget the second part of the deal, Lord Willas," Jon finally coughed on his side of the table.

"Of course, of course…" Willas smiled slightly at her. "Unfortunately, Lord Jon wishes to see his cousin Lady Sansa Stark, who is a prisoner of your brother's, you know this."

"Lady Sansa is only rumored to be in Dorne." Arianne frowned. "Just like the rumors of her being in Essos, as a hostage in Casterly Rock or hidden away in the Vale or the North."

Arianne kept silent at the rumor that said she had died while trying to escape the capital, and that her body had been quietly disposed of to maintain the illusion of her presence and not attract too much retribution.

"Lady Sansa is in Dorne," Willas said with certainty. "I have no information to think the contrary."

"Your brother will likely not hand over my cousin so easily," Jon cut in, "I therefore need something to make it worth his while."

Arianne suddenly realized.

"Me?" she asked.

"Not exactly." Willas shook his head, slightly annoyed. "You and the entire Dornish party you came with."

Arianne wanted to throw herself in Jon's arms and kiss him right then and there. Though, she did her best to control her emotions.

"When…" Arianne had trouble speaking, "When will we leave?"

"As soon as the Ironborn are defeated, if you wish to leave, that is," Willas said with a twinge of sadness, or was it disappointment?

"I do wish to leave, yes." Arianne eagerly nodded.

"Well then, you better announce the news to your companions, Princess." Jon said simply. "You wish to go home, and so do I."

Arianne took her leave from the table with a wide smile, which she did not hide from Willas as the three of them stood up.

While Jon was himself leaving, Arianne took him aside for a moment, and whispered softly in his ear.

"Thank you."

The Stark boy did not answer, but gave her another soft smile and a small nod.

"Good day, Ari."


A/N: Shorter chapter and longer wait, unfortunately, lots of stuff to deal with the past week. The holidays should help with getting a better pace in the weeks to come.