Chapter 43: Declaring Affections

Rhythmic. Loud and messy, but a finely tuned rhythm. Each arm bursting out of the water in a cycling motion, cutting the surface in a haze of white froth and bubbles. Arianne seamlessly tilted her head to the other side, sucking in a breath before the cycle repeated itself with the other arm - and her breath on the other side. The private pool of House Martell in the Water Gardens was deep enough for her swimming, and she was skilled enough to do it without much effort at all.

Her uncle taught her, when she was but a pudgy, unappealing girl. Her luscious looks had all been because of her swimming and she tried to do at least twenty long laps a day. This was her thirtieth and her arms were growing tired. Her muscles straining. Even the wonderfully chilly water and her freeing nudity didn't banish the heat of the Dornish sun from her skin and flesh, yet Arianne did it anyway.

It wasn't fat she hoped to burn off, but rather stressful thoughts. Unwanted thoughts.

Thoughts of betrayal and hurt alongside the most common emotion leading to such - lust.

Mayhaps not lust, not like what her cousin felt for Nymella Toland, but the beginnings of it. A hint that sometime in the future, it would emerge as the most maddening of feelings. One that would consume her.

Reaching the edge of the pool, she almost turned to kick herself back into her thirty-first lap when a voice whistled out to her. "Don't you think you've had enough, Princess?"

Her legs paused mid-push, instead Arianne righting her body and pushing up from the poolbed. Arianne took a large lungful of air, tossing back her wet hair before plodding towards the edge. "Been a long time, Daemon," she addressed the newcomer, not bothering for modesty as she folded her arms over the lip of the pool. "We missed you while you were off at the Torrentine.

If he was affected by her wet, heaving breasts only pushed up by her arms folded underneath them - ample yet also perky in her opinion, and her beauty matched her own high opinion of herself - Daemon didn't show it. He's seen and enjoyed it all before, after all. "I'll always kick myself for missing such a good fight." He shrugged. "But ye' sent me to Starfall for whatever boring reason, and I obey my Princess." Daemon gave an exaggerated bow.

Arianne rolled her eyes and hauled herself out of the pool. Water dripping from her naked body. "Egg handled himself well enough for everyone, but an extra spear could've been nice." Unlike with most - especially with Daemon - Arianne found herself snapping her fingers. Drawing an attendant to hand her a towel with which to drape over her naked body. "Come on, let's talk while I dry off."

This time, Daemon did clearly notice. "So a roll in the grass is out of the question, Ari?"

She glanced back at him. "Not this time, Daemon. Bit tired."

"Since when did that ever stop you?" He wasn't indignant, but rather curious. "What's goin' on?"

"Nothing." Even Arianne knew she sounded rather quick to deny.

Daemon chuckled. "Oh, there's something." As she sat on one of the reclining seats, tucking her slim legs together and laying herself flat, Daemon sat in the seat beside her, though he remained sitting upright. Hands wrung together on his lap as he regarded her with an intrigued smile. "Did some poor bastard finally snatch the heart of Arianne Martell, her game trail strewn with the bloodied corpses of scores of lovers both male and female?"

"Shut it… it's not like that," Ari shot back.

"Ah, so you're smitten but he's not… That's what the mummers call a third act twist in the sensual comedy of Arianne Martell and her string of lovers." He leaned forward, smirk on his face and eyes twinkling. "So, who's the lad?"

She shook her head, not wanting this. "There is no lad." Ari bit her lip after she spoke.

The smirk left Daemon. "This isn't some passing crush, is it? You truly have fallen… or are falling."

Damn him and how he knew her. The life of a Princess of Dorne was one with… an easy opportunity to socialize with many. Someone beautiful and charming could make hundreds of friends and scores of lovers, all flocking around them. Since flowering that had been Arianne's life, but before then when she was a pudgy child… Daemon had been her one companion. A bastard boy of House Allyrion, taken in as a squire within her father's household. They were in a similar position and such drew close.

He had been her childhood playmate.

He had been one who helped her lose the childhood weight.

He had been her first, someone she cared about.

And since then, he had been the one lover of hers who had lasted more than a moon or two. There was no chance they would or could marry, but as a friend and a confidant there was no better in Arianne's mind. And that meant Daemon knew her better than any. "Do you think that?"

His brows furrowed, and studied her closely for what seemed like a minute. "Yes, I do, and I know it's Prince Baelon."

That, she hadn't expected - both that he'd connected the dots and that he'd voice it aloud. "What? That's… that's outrageous."

"Now I'm sure he's Prince Baelon." Daemon shook his head. "God's Ari, you told me you like a challenge but this? But him?" He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair. "You know Princess Daenerys had her dragon almost eat one of the Manderly granddaughters for even flirting with him."

"I am well aware."

Daemon looked around, as if aware of their surroundings for the first time. "So what is this?" His voice was lowered. "Do you want to simply pop his cherry, so to speak? Be his first?"

"He's too young for that… and no, I don't want… to do just that." Gods, she felt mortified just saying it out loud.

Leaning back, Daemon looked rather shocked. "So… Queen?"

"It's also not that."

"You love him then?"

So… he would get it all out of her. "He's too young, but I can see the man he's going to be poking out of those youthful features. He's going to be a glorious King and proper man, and… and… the kind of man he will become is one that I find myself swooning for." She clasped her hands over her face. "Fuck, what is wrong with me? I know Daenerys and Sansa love him."

Daemon leaned over and gently took her hands in his own. "Ari, you have a good heart. You'd never truly hurt a person, but in matters of love and intimacy you are rather… selfish." She bit her lip. He was right - if she wanted a lover, married or not, she stopped at nothing until that person was hers and wanted to be hers. This… care for Baelon was alien to her in a way. "If you want him you'll get him, but is it truly what is best for him? If you care for him as you say, you'll have to make that decision."

She sighed. As always, he was right.

But what was she to do?

"You know Egg, I find this rather hilarious to be honest."

Aegon raised his brow with a muted hostility. "Dear brother, are you trying to tell me there's something amusing about my soon to be wife?" Leaning against him with her legs tucked on the couch - half sitting and half lying down - Nymella murmured something in his brother's ear, rubbing his chest to calm him. It… only partially worked.

Leaning back in his seat, Baelon smirked. "It just stands to reason that my familial relations are quite unconventional." He raised his goblet in a fake toast. "My aunts are two moons younger than I and several years younger than I, while my soon to be goodsister is about the same age as Viserys is. Quite unconventional, which amuses me."

"And you say you're not a bard or poet," Aegon grumbled, only to be distracted as Nymella giggled on his shoulder. "You too, my love?"

"I'm sorry, my dragon, he speaks the truth." She massaged his shoulders, kissing his neck. "I must get used to the idea that my goodsiblings are all much younger than I, but a worthy price to pay to have you."

He groaned, finally smiling. "And to think you once thought I should leave you be forever."

"Forgive a poor widowed mother for assuming the worst, my Prince." She nuzzled his neck. "Mayhaps there is a way my impertinent mouth can earn your forgiveness?" Nymella purred.

Egg grinned. "I can think of one way..,"

"Brother." Jon crossed his arms. "You are not alone."

His brother laughed while Nymella blushed and buried her head in his neck. "Sorry, valonqar. Seems we got a bit carried away."

Jon rolled his eyes. Mayhaps his brother's easily wandering eye and the resulting ignoring of him being there was mildly irritating, but in truth he was quite happy that Aegon found love. Part and parcel with him finding purpose as well. "Just try not to get involved in any public indecency, Egg. Rhae… already does that enough for all of us."

That drew out another laugh. "She's rather unabashed isn't she? The female uncle Oberyn."

"Gods forbid, bite your tongue!" Both of the brothers chuckled.

Nymella seemed confused. "Is there some sort of jape that I haven't realized?"

Aegon raised his brow. "Do not tell me you've heard none of the rumors and gossip out of the capital?"

"That would be the first time I've known none to traffic in it," Jon added. "Men in Essos tell tales of the rider of Nymerion."

"Well, forgive me if I was forced to forego womanly courts in favor of raising my daughters and running a keep by myself." Nymella scowled and crossed her arms. She didn't melt when Egg kissed her cheek, but her facade weakened when he did again. The next kiss was on the lips, both only deepening it for a moment before pulling back - likely on behalf of Jon. "Damn the seven hells, I cannot be cross with you for long."

"Plenty say that to Egg, he has a natural charm," Jon replied, leaning back in his chair. Spending time with his brother was always fun. "Rhaenys has… a bit of a wandering eye. Men, women, doesn't matter to her. Last I heard, she was sweet on one of Lord Karstark's sons."

"Your whispers are dated." Aegon leaned in, a smirk on his lips. "I heard muna and kepa talking. Rhaenys returned from the North with a woman. A wildling no less."

Nymella furrowed her brows. "What's a wildling?"

They were met with a scowl from Jon. "Scum from North of the Wall. Rapists and raiders, been the scourge of the North for centuries. Rhaenys would never want one."

"That's what muna said." Baelon knew Egg meant Lyanna, his birth muna. "But kepa says that grandmother says it's true, and Rhaenys won't budge."

Jon grumbled. "I'll have to have a talk with her. Wildlings can't be trusted."

"Spoken like a true Northman." Egg turned to Nymella. "He likes to say he's a dragon, wolf, and snake, but truth be told dear Baelon's got a lot of wolf in him when he's not astride Valyrax."

He stuck out his tongue at Aegon. "Excuse me for wanting someone good for my sister - a proper man that can treat her right… or a woman who isn't a savage that would slit her throat in her sleep as much as look at her." His muna had told him the stories of the evil wildlings, bane of the North. How Rhaenys could be suckered by one, made to love one, was beyond him. She wasn't a fool.

But what Nymella said next just… "Would you consider yourself a good man for her?"

Baelon spat out his drink as he took a sip, coughing and staring at her with wide eyes. "What?! Me and Rhaenys?" She was his sister… alright, given his House that wasn't an argument, but… "I've not considered it, she and I… no." She was beautiful though… no, just no. "I can't, since I love…" Jon stopped himself suddenly. Did he just almost admit… something he wasn't sure of himself?

Nymella looked at him, interested. "Since you love who?"

"Don't push him, Nym," Egg warned.

"He looks ready to admit it and I think he should. It was true for me."

"Yes, but…"

Jon stood. "I… I can't…" Without saying anything more, he left. Ignoring his brother's calls to stay and just rushing out into the corridors of the Water Gardens.

The sun had just dipped over the horizon and the only servants in the hallways were those carrying trays of food or ones lighting the lanterns and torches. All bowed or dipped their heads for their Crown Prince but Jon ignored them. Breathing hard and lost in thought.

"What is wrong with me?" he murmured to himself. Sansa. Daenerys. Sometime since they left Westeros for the east what was childhood familial love with an unexplored certainty for the future had changed into… something more. Something looking towards the future.

Would they accept it? His feelings? They certainly played when younger as King and Queens, as the three conquerors, but now everything had changed. Jon bit his lip, fearful if they would say no.

The Crown Prince of Westeros, a dragonrider, and he was fearful. Viserys would laugh at him.

Thoughts plaguing him, he didn't see his cousin approach him until he smacked into her, knocking them both to the ground. "Ari!" he cried out, moving to help her up. "I'm sorry."

Arianne was older than him - older than Rhaenys - but they were the same height. "No," she remarked, a blush on her tanned cheeks. "It's fine. An accident, I'm sure."

"Yes it was," he replied, shifting as they both stood.

Tilting her head, Ari scrutinized him. "Is something the matter?"

He nodded. "Aye… I think I'm in love." Jon missed the intake of breath his cousin made. "Should I tell them?"

"Them?"

A nod. "Aye…"

Arianne let out a breath. "Sansa and Daenerys."

"Is it that obvious?" his turn to blush.

A shrug. "Everyone thinks they're the ones you're supposed to marry, at least the obvious betrothals. It's good that you love them then… unless you're having second thoughts."

"What if they hate me? Or wish to marry someone else? I mean, Rhaenys out of nowhere fell for some wildling woman and Nymella Toland wasn't even thought of being brought to the court of King's Landing, let alone a potential wife for Egg." He began to pace. "Sansa or Dany could find someone else… or I could… I don't know."

Arianne stopped him, grabbing his shoulders. Jon watched her hesitate… only to take a deep breath. "Jon, you're being foolish. In your heart I think you know what they feel for you, and it is your duty to… see it through." He noticed a slight smile on her lips. "Besides, the way they look at each other, they've already fallen for each other as well as you."

"Are you sure?" He'd seen his munas affectionate to not disbelieve the concept, but did Dany and Sansa actually…"

"Absolutely. I should know."

Finally, he felt his feelings clear. His mind at ease, he smiled. "Thank you cousin." Jon hugged her. "Love you."

"I… love you too." As Jon raced towards his loves' bedchamber, he didn't hear Ari softly sob.

It was always surreal, witnessing the world through Lady's eyes. Colors disappeared, but everything became sharper - sounds more resonant, and the smells…

Sansa stopped to sniff the air, the wafting of the various scents and odors hitting Lady's powerful nostrils. It was one thing to be told of a wolf's olfactory intensity, another to witness it in the beast's skin. 'Baelon's Martell uncle… and his woman,' Lady seemed to tell her, the two sharing the mind. 'They're very sweaty.'

If she had been awake, Sansa would've giggled. "Oh, to be in love," she murmured aloud.

'Like you and Dany between the sheets.'

Apparently Lady had a cheeky side. "Enough." And she was a pervert, watching she and Dany kiss in bed only in their nightshirts. "And we don't go that far." She sniffed again, detecting the faint hint of female arousal that was undoubtedly not that faint closer to Oberyn's chambers. But there was a… hint of another smell.

'Another person in there, a woman.' Another deep sniff, Lady processing it just as Sansa did, using the same sense they shared.

Now was time to blush. "A lot of arousal." At her mental command, Lady trotted down the hall back towards her own chambers.

The chambers she shared with Daenerys.

Servants gave the wolf a wide berth. Lady had grown significantly in the last moons, now much larger than the largest dog. Not as big as Spirit, aunt Lyanna's bonded wolf, or their father's. But large enough to drive fear in most smallfolk and even highborns. Especially highborns. Sansa found it… satisfying. Similar to how her cousins felt about their dragons.

Mayhaps she shouldn't enjoy approaching a young serving girl and sniffing her all over, leaving her trembling with terror before she bounded off, but Lady enjoyed it. Wanted some time not to be the prim and proper wolf.

Sansa was much similar.

The door to the bedchamber was left open when Dany let Lady out to explore after Sansa warmed into her. Unlike the cavernous chambers of Winterfell designed to cozily hold on heat, this was airy and large - plenty of space for Daenerys to practice her fire magic while Sansa sat comfortably on the bed, her eyes whited over as she warged. Lady peeked her head in, watching Dany as she concentrated. Sweat covered her forehead, arms waving to produce a long, thin snake of flame.

It was breathtaking. Daenerys was beautiful, so beautiful. Sansa wanted to kiss her.

A mischievous idea crept into their joined minds, and Sansa took advantage of her direwolf's natural hunting instinct. The door barely creaked as Lady pushed it open. Thankfully Daenerys was too focused on her form to notice. Sansa looked upon herself on the bed for a moment, joyous at Lady's clear affection for her, before sneaking up on Dany. In a crouched stalking, as if she were prey.

Daenerys didn't even notice. Moonlight did, but she simply cocked her head at Lady, as if knowing what was going on.

Sansa smiled internally as she crouched further. Waiting until Dany extinguished her flames before striking.

With a yelp, Dany was knocked over. She only managed to sputter as a long, wet tongue began to lick her cheeks and neck and forehead. "Gods… Lady…" her melodious voice choked out in between squeals and giggles, fingers petting at the grey fur - it felt so good.

She could tell Lady was enjoying this, but Sansa also enjoyed this. Mewling in a manner the direwolves could but never did.

Dany noticed. "Sans… that you?"

Caught, Sansa sighed internally and allowed her mind to cloud. To break the warging and allow her consciousness to return to her body…"

The rush of herself back into her body always staggered Sansa - mayhaps with practice it would be no more, but that was still several years of maturity away. Regardless, she shook her head and leaped off the bed. That earned a slight stumble but Sansa righted herself. Immediately bursting into giggles at the scene of Lady still lavishing her love with licks. "Need some help there?"

Trying to keep her mouth from being licked, Dany tilted her head and glared at Sansa. "You did this, didn't you?"

"Me?" she replied innocently. "I was sitting right there."

"Shut up, warg." Now it was Dany's ear getting slobbered on. "In the name of the gods…"

Stifling her giggles, Sansa decided to have mercy. "Lady, to me." The wolf disengaged, trotting to her master. Sansa ruffled her fur. "She loves you, Dany. Don't be upset."

Daenerys grabbed a cloth and wiped her face. She was frowning, but her eyes told a different story. "I have no issue with her, but that… ambush wasn't Lady's idea, was it?" The Princess cocked her hip, showing off the first hints of a feminine curvy body. "A certain redheaded noblewoman deciding she was going to sneak up behind me without me knowing?"

Sansa put a teasing finger on her lips. "Doesn't sound like me. If I were to do that I'd just do this." Without another word, she strode over to Dany and kissed her on the lips, earning a moan and two slender arms wrapped around her waist. "How's that?"

"Mmmm, much better." Dany nibbled Sansa's lip, making her sigh. "I much prefer your tongue, Sans."

"Wouldn't keep you waiting, Dany." They kissed again, this time Sansa's arms wrapping around Dany's back with a hand tangled in her hair. Her body was warm, delightfully toasty. Something that would be perfect for those cold winter nights in Winterfell. A hint for the future perhaps…

A knock on the door interrupted their moment. Dany groaned and pulled back. "I swear, the person who interrupts us will rue the day…"

"I'll tell them to sod off," growled Sansa, two direwolves at her command to make it happen. But when she threw open the door, it would be she herself that rued even holding a negative thought for the person who had interrupted them. Her scowl turned to a surprised glint. "Jon?"

"Nephew?" Daenerys immediately began smoothening her dress - not that the gauzy fabric needed much.

Prince Baelon looked rather… nervous. There was that dash of his famous determination in there, but an apprehension as well that unsettled Sansa. What could get him into such a mood? "Forgive me, but am I interrupting anything?"

"No…" Sansa said rather shakily, bidding him entry.

He breezed in, but inspected the both of them, especially their lips. "Swollen lips?" Jon seemed to draw more confidence in as it was now her and Dany that were unsettled and nervous. "Arianne told me you two were… close. Same way as my munas. Same way as Rhaenys and her… new toy." The latter was a bit salty in tone.

Sansa had heard the rumors so understood, but she didn't care about Rhaenys at the moment. "Aye," she confessed, eying Dany with trepidation. How was Jon going to take this? "We were kissing."

"How long?" Back to his pithy self.

"Some weeks, only after we made it back to Dorne," Dany answered.

His expression was unreadable. "Is it… for fun? Or love?"

There was no denying it. Sansa couldn't lie to him even if she wanted to, and she didn't want to. She loved Daenerys, and if Jon couldn't stand it then… well, she wasn't giving Dany up. Eyes on him, Sansa walked over to take Dany's hand. "It's love." She kissed her palm. "We're young, I know, but I understand love when I feel it."

Dany squeezed her hand. "Is that alright with you, Jon?"

For the longest time - one of the most stressful moments of her young life so far - Jon said absolutely nothing. Sansa was close to fainting from the fear when he simply and visibly relaxed. "Thank fuck… It makes it so much easier."

There was no time for her to voice her confusion, for Sansa was quickly yanked forward and a different set of lips pressed to hers. Jon's lips…

Good gods, Jon's lips were on hers. They were… rougher. Stronger but no less passionate and sweet. Her brain turned off, lost she was in the kiss.

It was unfortunately over soon, but her eyes glassed with desire as Sansa witnessed Dany being next, Jon dipping her in a searching kiss much like with her. Instinct carried her to him, hugging him from behind. The two highborn girls sandwiching the Crown Prince between them, as if this was meant to be.

Oh, it was meant to be.

Finally, Jon pulled back, looking over his shoulder at Sansa. "I love you." It was clear he meant the both of them.

At last, all fell into place.

"Ah, we are in for a treat, this evening." Doran snapped his fingers to the serving girls, who scampered over with trays and flagons in hand. "You remember that mother often tended to her grape vines here in the gardens?"

Eyes raking over the slim and pretty serving girls as they placed a crystal goblet in front of each of them, Oberyn's gaze flickered back to his brother. Caught in the act, but did not care. "Yes, pretty much the only living thing mother spoke more fondly of than her vines was our beautiful sister."

Elia rolled her eyes. "Shut up," she said, but chuckled regardless. "Is this from one of her vines?"

"Very much so, sister," Doran replied, pointing at the flagon presented by one of the servants. "Aged over thirty years, from the day of your birth, even."

She leaned back, a soft smile on her face. "Gods… I do miss her." The serving girl waited on the Queen first, ever careful as she poured the succulent red wine into Elia's goblet. Elia nodded to the girl, but Doran noticed her taking a little peek at the girl's backside.

If only you'd bed her rather than the wildling… But his face showed no displeasure, only a gentle joy - which was in no manner forced or feigned. "I felt it proper for the moment, to toast her memory, and the success of her royal grandchildren in their glories." He raised the goblet. "Princess Rhaenys, the first Targaryen to journey North of the Wall and triumph against the wildling savages."

"She has the heart of a Martell and the stomach of a Targaryen!" Oberyn proclaimed, downing half the wine. "And the sexual appetite of both!" He collapsed into laughter, slapping his knee. Very clearly, his brother was already drunk from dinner.

Doran pursed his lips. "Quite."

Giggling, Elia placed two fingers on her lips. "Doran, please. Lighten up a bit."

This time he forced himself to let it go. "Rhaenys is smart… and a passionate soul. I wish her never to be less." A female wildling lover was… no one of consequence. His niece wasn't as foolish as her mother in choice of lovers. "But regardless," he raised his goblet again, still full as he only took a sip. "To Prince Aegon the Fyrefist."

"Bane of the Ironborn! A lover and a fighter!"

Elia smiled. "To my gooddaughter, a true Dornish flower."

Doran's smile came close to rip his face apart. "Princess Nymella… all of Dorne cheers in pride for her and the favorite son." Truly it was Aegon he was the proudest of. The boy certainly proved himself. Gulping a bit more of the wine, he sighed as the tart liquid relaxed his aching bones. The Targaryens were at the moment visiting the dragons, while Lady Sansa and Lady Nymella were with the… other one shopping in the market - Doran didn't like even saying her name. It was the perfect time to gather his siblings for a laid-back discussion.

Especially one that didn't seem like much of a discussion. "So tell me, Elia," Oberyn remarked, his voice only slightly slurred. "Does his Grace, your husband, have any issue with his eldest son also desiring the rougher sex?"

"Cause when they think of you, people think of the word 'rough,'" Elia shot back, drawing a smirk from Oberyn. "Truly, he doesn't know. I don't care, at least. Aegon is smart and knows what to do - if Nymella is anything like her mother was, she'll have no issue if Aegon is discreet."

"He desires her, so I don't see an issue of marital discord." Oberyn puffed out his chest. "My nephew, he has much of me in him."

"Rue to the realm."

"Shut up." Elia simply guffawed in his face.

Part of him was glad to see his dear siblings so happy and carefree, like the old days when their mother was alive. The rest of Doran simply wanted to get back on track. "It is not male lovers that concern me about Aegon." He sipped at the tart wine. "Will he be taking a second wife as his father has done, or it is very clear his… brother will."

Elia set down her cup. "Aegon hasn't spoken much about it… Nymella is an excellent match, so if he does want a second bride I'd be willing to allow him to choose." She reached for a fruit tart laid out for them. "His first was Asha Greyjoy, mayhaps he'll seek her."

"An Ironborn?" Doran snorted. "Surely the mix of our blood and an Ironborn is worthy of someone better." Aside from Maekar's bride Dyanna Dayne, all of Myriah Martell's brood were betrothed by Daeron II to unworthy brides in Doran's opinion. "Have either you or his Grace considered Rhaenys?"

Wait to see the reaction.

His sister was… not angered, but it was clear she disapproved. "I know house Targaryen is known for sibling love and marriage, but Aegon and Rhaenys are merely siblings as we are."

"You not wish to sleep with me, sister?" Oberyn clasped his hand to his chest. "I am hurt."

This time she only swatted him. "I could bring up to Rhaegar that you suggested Rhaenys be we'd to Aegon, but I do not believe…"

"You misunderstand," Doran interrupted, getting himself ready for the surprise he was certainly going to elicit from his sister. "I mean to suggest the betrothal of Rhaenys to young Baelon."

Doran had been right to anticipate shock, for it was palpable even in the drunk Oberyn, let alone Elia. "Come again?" she asked.

He weaved his fingers together. "They get along together, do they not?" All whispers out of the Red Keep indicated that, and his agents were good at ferreting stuff out. "It makes for a solid statement, both lines of the Good King joined together in marriage. Rhaenys is a warrior and very intelligent - she'd make an excellent Queen for him."

"Rhaegar, Lyanna, and I were planning on betrothing him to Daenerys and Sansa."

A shrug. "Then Rhaenys' proclivities towards the fairer sex would work out, no?" Oberyn chuckled drunkenly while Elia tilted her head. "Given how mature she is, an heir can be seeded and birthed quite soon, securing the line of succession."

"We're not worried about that right now, brother." Elia blinked, her face passive. "But this is quite the turnaround for you. I was… sure that you were still hoping we would reverse the change of succession decreed in the Great Council."

He shrugged again. "Aegon wishes not to be King. He has proven himself both brave and one in charge of his own destiny. I cannot force him to be something he wishes not to be, as much as I cannot force Oberyn to… be a proper spare."

Hiccuping, Oberyn nodded. "A depraved adventurer and defiler of male and female arses I am and shall always be!" He slipped out of the chair, falling to the stone floor.

Elia cursed under her breath. "Ellaria's not going to be happy."

"I figure she'll be more upset that he didn't invite her to join him in drink."

She giggled. "First jape I've heard you say in a while… I missed this side of you."

He smiled back at her. "I began to think more about what mother would've wanted. Forgive a man suffering from sickness." Elia merely walked to him and took him in an embrace, one he warmly reciprocated before calling for his guards. Big, strong ones that could manhandle Oberyn to his chambers.

Aero Hoteh was waiting for him outside the terrace. Waiting till they were deeper in a more secluded part of the garden before he spoke. "I delivered the last of the requested payments, my Prince."

It was hellish to walk on the uneven ground in his condition, but the solitude was worth it. "Oh?" Doran raised his brow. "You mean he landed them in the proper place?"

"Yes. No one suspected they'd be in the Stormlands."

A nod. "Good, very good." He heard the roar of a dragon in the distance - Tessarion's cry, he was very familiar with. "A notorious wrong will be righted very soon, my friend. A great wrong against Dorne." And his sister would never know.