Arianne stood motionless for a long moment, her arms hanging at her sides as she watched Edric sink into the chair. There was something about the way he sat there—worn, drained, unraveling—that pulled at her in a way she couldn't name. For all her efforts to dissect him, to study his mind and predict his movements, she realized, with a sharp pang of self-awareness, that she didn't truly know him. Not entirely. Perhaps not even in the ways that mattered.
Her voice, when she finally spoke, was uncharacteristically soft, almost hesitant. "For all the hours I've spent trying to understand you, Edric… I don't think I ever really did." She took a cautious step closer, her expression shifting into something unreadable. "Even now, I'm not sure I do. You're like a storm that I keep thinking I can map, but every time I think I've learned your direction, you shift. And I'm left standing in the rain, wondering where I went wrong."
She paused, her gaze drifting over him as if seeing him for the first time in a new light. "I threw myself into the game, into the fray. I schemed, I fought, I built webs so intricate I couldn't even see the ends of them anymore. I thought I could control it all. And then you..." Her words faltered briefly, her lips tightening. "You step in with one act, one brutal, straightforward move, and it all crumbles. Everything I thought I understood, swept away."
Arianne's voice dipped lower, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You make me question things I've never had to question before, Edric. Not just about you, but about myself. About everything I've built." Her eyes searched his, seeking something she couldn't quite articulate. "And I don't know whether I hate you for it or—" She stopped abruptly, biting down on the words that lingered on the tip of her tongue.
Her hands twitched at her sides as though she wanted to reach out to him, but she held back, unsure if he would accept or recoil from the gesture. "You're right to be tired," she said softly, kneeling so that she was at eye level with him, her gaze steady on his face. "This... all of this... it shouldn't feel like a war you have to fight alone."
Arianne's thoughts raced as she stood there, torn between the urge to retreat and the compulsion to stay. She wasn't used to this—this feeling of uncertainty, this inability to read the man in front of her or steer him the way she did others. She had tried before, more than once, to twist Edric to her will. To coax, to tease, to push him in directions that suited her purposes. And every time, she had failed. Spectacularly.
Her mind flashed through strategies, weighing and discarding them in quick succession. Could she appeal to his pride? No, he was too self-aware for that. Play on his anger? That, too, had proven fruitless. Seduction? She almost laughed at the absurdity of the thought. Edric wasn't immune to her charms, but he'd made it painfully clear he despised the games she wove around him.
Still, she had to try. Had to do something, even if her heart wasn't in it, even if her words felt hollow in her own mind before they reached her lips. If she could just get him to meet her halfway, to stop pulling away, maybe she could... What? Fix this? Fix him?
She tilted her head slightly, the shadow of a smirk playing on her lips—a mask she slipped on by instinct. "Maybe," she said, her tone lilting, "you're giving me too much credit. Or not enough. Have you considered that all this time, all I wanted was for you to look at me the way you do these ledgers? With focus. With care."
Her words felt hollow even to her. The game was half-hearted now, the moves tentative, lacking conviction. She watched him, hoping for a flicker of the reaction she wanted, but there was nothing. The silence between them grew heavier, and she realized how futile it all was. He wouldn't fall for her ploys, not when he could see through her so clearly.
But then she saw him. Really saw him. The slump of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw, the way his hands gripped his hair like he was holding himself together with sheer force of will. And she felt something she hadn't expected—guilt. A quiet, gnawing ache that spread through her chest, whispering that whatever she tried now would only make things worse.
She exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling to the surface. For the first time, she felt the weight of her own duplicity, her endless games and schemes, crashing down on her. This wasn't about politics or power or even pride anymore. This was about him—and about her—and the messy, fractured connection that lay between them.
Arianne looked at Edric again, truly looked at him, and the resignation hit her like a wave. She let her hands fall to her sides, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly. "No," she murmured, mostly to herself, though the word hung heavily in the air between them. "Not this time."
A bitter smile tugged at her lips, fleeting and self-deprecating. "Maybe it doesn't matter. Whatever it was, I can't. Not with you."
"I don't even know what I was trying to do just now. Convince you? Control you? Make you... care?" For once, Arianne Martell gave up—not out of defeat, but because she realized she didn't know how to win this game. Not against him.
As Arianne let herself sink fully to the ground, her legs folding beneath her, Edric watched her through the curtain of his own thoughts. Her usual poise and sharp edges seemed dulled, worn down by something neither of them could fully name. The sight unsettled him, yet it also felt inevitable—like the tide pulling them both into the same uncharted confident, composed princess seemed to dissolve before Edric's eyes, her usual fire dimmed. She rested her hands on her thighs, fingers curling slightly as if searching for some anchor in this unraveling moment.
Edric watched her in silence for a long, heavy beat. His hands lowered from his hair, falling limply into his lap. He studied her face—her lips pressed into a faint line, her dark eyes flickering with something he couldn't quite name. Vulnerability? Frustration?
"Do you even know what you're doing?" His voice was low, almost gentle, but edged with exhaustion. "Do you know what you want from me, Arianne? Because I don't think you do."
He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground between them. "You sit there like this—like you're... surrendering. But what does it even mean? Is it real, or is it just another move in your game? I can't tell anymore. And honestly... I don't think you can either."
His eyes flicked back to hers, his expression unreadable. "You're trying to understand me, but I think the truth is you don't even understand yourself."
"Funny, isn't it?" he murmured, glancing at her, though his gaze didn't quite meet hers. "You, the most dangerous woman in Dorne, brought low by the one person who never even tried to fight you."
His eyes finally met hers, and for a fleeting moment, there was no bitterness in them, just a quiet sort of resignation. "So, what now?"
Arianne's eyes met Edric's, her expression caught between defiance and weariness. She sat cross-legged now, smoothing out the folds of her dress absentmindedly, as if trying to regain some semblance of composure. The silence stretched, but for once, it wasn't a power play—it was hesitation.
"You ask what now," she started, her voice softer than usual, "as if I have the answer. I don't. I've always known what to do, how to move people, how to get what I want. But you..." Her lips twisted into something like a wry smile. "You're not like the others. Every time I think I understand you, you... slip away."
Edric tilted his head, studying her carefully. "Slip away, or refuse to be led?"
Her mouth opened slightly, but no immediate retort came. Instead, she leaned back on her hands, her gaze falling to the floor between them. "Does it matter?" she said finally. "The results are the same. I don't know how to deal with you, Edric Stark. And I hate not knowing."
He let out a short, humorless laugh. "Good. That makes two of us."
She looked back up at him, eyes narrowing. "You hate it too, don't you? Not knowing what to make of me."
"Not knowing whether to trust you," Edric corrected, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Every word, every look, every move—it's always a question with you, Arianne. What does she want? What is she after? And no matter how much I want to, I can't turn that question off."
"I came in here thinking I'd have all the answers, or at least all the words to convince you of something. Anything. But now…" She shook her head, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. "Now, I feel like I'm just fumbling in the dark, same as you."
Edric scoffed lightly, though it lacked venom. "You? Fumbling? That's rich, coming from someone who's always two steps ahead of everyone else."
Arianne tilted her head, studying him carefully. "Maybe I'm two steps ahead of everyone else because I'm terrified of what happens when I'm not. You think it's easy being me? That I always know what to do, what to say? That I always win?" She leaned forward slightly, her voice taking on an edge. "I don't. And you—of all people—should know that by now."
Edric's gaze sharpened, his brows knitting together. "You're right. I do know that. I've seen it. But that doesn't mean I can forget what you've done—what you've tried to do to me. Every time I start to believe you, you twist it. You twist me. So tell me, Arianne. Why should I trust you now?"
She frowned, just barely, but enough for him to notice. Her hands clenched in her lap before relaxing again. "Maybe you shouldn't," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "Maybe you never will. And maybe I've made too many mistakes for that to ever change. But I'm trying, Edric. For whatever that's worth, I am trying."
There was a long silence as they stared at each other, the weight of unspoken words filling the space between them. Finally, Edric leaned back slightly, breaking the tense eye contact.
"I don't know what to do with that," he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. "I don't even know if I can believe you're trying for me or if it's just for yourself. And maybe it doesn't matter."
Arianne's eyes softened, her usual calculating air replaced by something quieter. "I wasn't lying when I said I want to figure you out," she admitted. "But maybe I've been going about it the wrong way. Maybe..." She hesitated, then shrugged lightly. "Maybe I should just ask."
Edric frowned. "Ask what?"
"Why you feel so much bitterness," she said, her tone careful. "Why it feels like you carry this weight with you everywhere? Why you look at me and see... what? A threat? A nuisance? A mistake?"
He stared at her, his jaw tightening as he considered his response. "You want honesty?"
"Always," she said, and this time, her voice held no trace of manipulation or guile.
Edric leaned back, exhaling through his nose. "Fine. I see someone who's everything I'm not. Someone who knows what they want and takes it without hesitation, while I..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
Arianne studied him, her expression unreadable. "And you resent me for that?"
He shook his head. "Not resent. Envy, maybe. Frustration."
She nodded slowly, her gaze turning inward. "It's not as effortless as you think," she admitted after a moment. "Half the time, I'm making it up as I go. The confidence, the schemes, the power plays—they're as much armor as they are weapons."
Edric's eyes flicked to hers, searching. "And when the armor cracks?"
Arianne gave a wry, almost self-deprecating smile. "Then I hope the person opposite me doesn't twist the knife."
Arianne shifted where she sat, her fingers brushing the fabric of Edric's sleeve. Without a word, she wrapped her hand around his arm, her grip firm yet deliberate. Before he could protest, she pulled herself up, the motion fluid and unhurried, though it carried a quiet determination.
Edric stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact but didn't pull away. His eyes tracked her movements as she rose to her feet, standing before him now, her hand still resting on his forearm. The closeness was palpable, her expression soft yet searching.
"You're not as untouchable as you think," she murmured, her voice low.
Edric tilted his head up to meet her gaze, his brow furrowing. "And you're not as invulnerable as you pretend."
Arianne's lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I never claimed to be. But you've made a habit of keeping everyone at arm's length. Maybe it's time someone ignored that."
He exhaled sharply, his gaze shifting to where her hand still rested against his arm. "And what happens when you get too close, Arianne? You don't strike me as the type who enjoys disappointment."
She let out a soft laugh, a sound that carried both amusement and a hint of sadness. "Disappointment is inevitable, Edric. But sometimes, it's worth the risk."
He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "And what are you risking now?"
Her smile deepened, though it remained faint. "Perhaps I'm trying to find out."
Edric shook his head slightly, though there was no heat behind the motion. "You're insufferable."
"Perhaps," Arianne replied, her tone light. "But you haven't asked me to leave."
For a moment, the tension hung between them, thick and unspoken. Then, slowly, Edric leaned back on his hands, the faintest flicker of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."
Arianne's grip on his arm loosened, though her gaze remained steady. "And you're stubborn. Maybe that's why we clash so much."
"Or why we keep coming back to this," he countered quietly.
Her smile softened, and for once, she didn't respond with words. Instead, she let her hand fall away from his arm, stepping back just enough to give them both a moment's space—but not too much.
Edric sat in the silence, his thoughts a whirlwind of frustration and resignation. Arianne had moved away, but her presence still clung to the air like a weight—he could almost feel her gaze, even without looking at her. Common ground, she'd called it. But for him, it felt more like a truce, one that didn't solve anything, only paused the battle.
He hadn't forgiven her. Not really. He couldn't. How could he? She had manipulated him, played at his weaknesses, twisted his emotions and thoughts, all for her own ends. And yet, she had the audacity to stand there, so composed, so sure of herself, like none of it ever happened. She thought she could reach him, because she finally saw something in him that she could use. And now, perhaps, there was a small part of him that couldn't deny the pull she had on him—he wouldn't be human if it didn't exist.
But no matter how she spoke, no matter how she softened her approach, Edric wasn't about to forget the games she'd played, the facades she'd built around him. He wasn't about to forget how she'd thrown him aside like a pawn on her grand board of manipulation. He had no illusions about who she was—and who he was to her, or was he?
But why did I let her get this far? He couldn't deny it any longer—he had made the choice to let her in, even if just a little. When had he stopped fighting? When had he stopped seeing her as nothing more than a manipulative schemer?
Maybe it was this world—this life—that had worn him down. Maybe it was how everything had unfolded since he had arrived in Dorne. He had been sent here as an outsider, as someone to be controlled, used. Not good enough for the North, not good enough for Dorne.
And now, here he was, standing at the edge of the unknown with Arianne in front of him. She had tried, at times, to pull him in, to make him believe that there was something worth salvaging between them. But in the quiet moments, when they were both forced to confront what they were truly fighting for, Edric was still bitter about the things left unsaid. He still didn't trust her. He didn't trust anyone in Dorne, not even his own blood.
The thought made him clench his fists, a surge of heat rushing through him. All of it was frustrating. Doran's treatment of him, Arianne's manipulation, the constant scheming and the weight of expectations pressing down from all sides. They acted like he didn't see it, like he didn't understand what they wanted from him. But Edric wasn't blind. He knew.
He couldn't forget the way she had undermined him—always undermining him. Always pulling strings from the shadows. Would she do that now, too? He couldn't say. There was still something in her, something he couldn't quite place. Maybe it was just how similar they were in some ways—their desires to survive, to prove themselves, to fight in a world that never had much use for them. Or maybe it was just another part of the game she was playing. He didn't know anymore.
No. He wouldn't allow himself to believe her, not yet. He wouldn't be fooled.
But, in this moment, he did something he hadn't done in a long time—he let go, if only for a second. A small, dangerous concession, allowing himself the illusion of peace. The uncertainty gnawed at him, but the bitterness was even worse. He was tired of being angry. It was exhausting, and it had worn him down over the years.
And perhaps, in the end, that was all he could give her: this small, fleeting truce that wouldn't last, but might let them move forward just enough to keep the world from falling apart.
Arianne's thoughts raced in a chaotic spiral, each step forward sending ripples of doubt through her carefully constructed plans. She was so used to control, to manipulation, to shaping everything around her into a form she could understand, a form she could use. But now, with Edric sitting just a few feet away, the pieces of her well-laid designs felt suddenly fragile, teetering on the edge of collapse.
She had never expected it to be like this. Never expected him to be like this.
The closest she had ever gotten to him—truly close, beyond all the games and the subtle manipulations—was when he wasn't even trying. When she wasn't trying, either. That moment on the bed, the quietness between them, felt more real than anything that had come before. He had let her in without questioning, without building walls around himself. He hadn't played the game. She hadn't played the game. It was raw, it was vulnerable, and it terrified her more than anything else ever had.
But now, the distance between them felt heavier than it had before, and for the first time, Arianne felt something stir in her that she didn't know how to handle.
The way he acted. The way he refused to be shaped. She had tried to make him fall in line, to make him see things her way, and he had resisted. That was the game she played, after all. But now, in the quiet of her mind, she realized it wasn't just that he resisted. He was refusing to play the game at all. And that made her feel vulnerable in a way she wasn't accustomed to.
She had tried to manipulate him—there was no denying that—but now, for the first time, she wasn't sure if she even wanted to anymore. If she should. Was that even the right approach? Or was she just perpetuating the same cycle of betrayal that had shaped her life, her relationship with her father, her every choice?
Arianne's heart pounded in her chest as she tried to make sense of it.
She had built her entire existence on understanding others, on staying one step ahead, on winning. But now with the way he made her feel like she was nothing more than another player in a game, she was starting to question everything she had ever thought was true. All her strategies. All her victories.
He had let her in, if only for a moment, but now he was pulling back again. What did that mean? What was she supposed to do with that?
She couldn't afford to let herself feel this confused. She couldn't afford to let him win this mental war, but everything inside her told her that she had already lost. There was no manipulation here. No scheme. No easy answers. She had to face the truth—she had never truly known him. And what was worse, she didn't know how to handle this feeling of helplessness, of vulnerability that she hadn't prepared for.
Her pride fought against it. Her mind searched for ways to regain control, to reclaim the power she had thought she held over him. But now, even as she thought about it, the idea seemed hollow. Edric was not a puzzle to be solved. He was not a game to be won. Her heart clenched with a mix of frustration and something more painful—regret. Not for the games she had played, but for the fact that she had spent so long trying to play them.
Arianne took a deep breath, her mind still a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more confusing than the last. She could feel the weight of the silence between them, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. For a moment, she thought of pressing him again, of trying once more to break through that impenetrable wall he had built around himself. But something stopped her. Maybe it was the exhaustion in his eyes, or perhaps the realization that she had pushed too far, too fast.
With a soft sigh, she straightened herself, smoothing out the folds of her dress, trying to gather her composure. Her gaze lingered on Edric for a moment longer, but she could feel the gap between them widening.
"I think… I think it's best if I retire for the night," Arianne said quietly, her voice softer than usual, almost reluctant. "We've both said enough for now, I believe. And… I need time to think."
Her words hung in the air, but she didn't wait for a response. With a slow, deliberate motion, she turned toward the door. She paused before leaving, glancing back at him, but the moment of vulnerability was gone, replaced by the same mask of control she had worn so many times before.
"Goodnight, Edric," she said, her tone even but not without a trace of something unspoken beneath it.
And with that, she stepped out, the door closing quietly behind her, leaving Edric in the dim light of the room, his thoughts swirling in the stillness.
Edric sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers pressing into his temples, trying to quell the headache that had begun to form. He could still feel the weight of the conversation lingering in the air, the unspoken things, the quiet moments between him and Arianne that had left him more confused than before.
What had just happened? What was she trying to do? Was that all an act, or had it meant something more? He wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't sure about anything anymore. His mind churned over the same thoughts, over and over, each one more exhausting than the last.
He closed his eyes, leaning back against the headboard.
A sigh escaped his lips as he turned on his side, pulling the blankets over him, trying to force his mind to quiet. And with that, his mind finally fell into the quiet comfort of slumber, even if it was only for a brief while.
The morning sun filtered through the fabric of the tent, casting pale light across Edric's face. He shifted slightly, groaning softly as the haze of sleep lifted, his thoughts from the night before still lingering like shadows in the back of his mind. The events of yesterday—Arianne's presence, their conversation—were already beginning to fade into the background, but there was a heaviness to the air that made it clear that things were far from resolved.
Edric sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his tangled hair. His thoughts were sluggish, weighed down by the same frustrations, the same confusion. What now? he thought, staring blankly at the wall of his tent. How am I supposed to move forward from here?
The camp outside was already alive with activity, the sounds of horses being saddled, the clatter of armor, and the occasional voice shouting orders as the caravan prepared to continue its journey. It was a reminder that, no matter how personal his turmoil felt, the world around him wasn't waiting for him to sort it out. His duties, his responsibilities—they didn't care about his internal battles.
He sighed heavily, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up. There was no point in sitting here and dwelling on it. No matter how much it gnawed at him, the only thing he could control was how he moved forward.
Edric dressed quickly, his movements mechanical, pulling on the clothes that were expected of him. The practical tunic and leather boots, the sword at his side—it was all part of the act, part of the mask he wore for the world.
When he exited the tent, the cool morning air hit him, sharp and refreshing. He made his way toward the stables, where the horses were being prepared for the day's journey. His eyes scanned the camp, but he didn't see Arianne right away. He wasn't sure if he wanted to. He didn't know what to expect from her now—whether she would approach him again with her usual calculated charm, or if there would be something different. A shift, maybe. A crack in her armor.
But he wasn't sure he was ready for any of that. Not yet.
Instead, he focused on what he could control. He gave a short nod to Torrhen Karstark as he passed by, the towering northern guard already mounted on his horse, ready for the day ahead. There was a lot of travel to get through before they reached King's Landing. A lot of time for thoughts to fester.
And maybe, just maybe, that time would give him the answers he needed.
As Edric mounted his horse, Torrhen's stoic presence beside him was a familiar comfort. The northern guard remained silent, as he always did, giving no indication of whether he had noticed Edric's inner turmoil. The only sounds were the steady rhythm of hooves against dirt and the occasional rustle of wind through the camp.
Ahead of them, Arianne prepared to board her carriage, the silk of her veil fluttering slightly in the breeze. She adjusted it over her face with a practiced hand, but just as she was about to step into the vehicle, her gaze met Edric's.
For a moment, everything seemed to still. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto his, the briefest flicker of recognition passing between them. Neither spoke, but the weight of their unspoken thoughts hung in the air like a tension too sharp to ignore. It wasn't a moment of understanding, or connection—it was simply a moment of raw, honest acknowledgment, one that neither could easily dismiss.
Edric held her gaze for a heartbeat longer than he intended, and then, as if snapping out of a trance, he shifted his focus, forcing his eyes forward. What now? The question echoed again in his mind, but it had no answer. Not yet.
Arianne, with a small adjustment of her veil, stepped into the carriage, her posture poised, her face hidden once again. It was as if the moment had never happened—something fleeting, like a shadow passing in the dark.
Torrhen's presence beside Edric remained unchanged, though his eyes flickered briefly toward Arianne's carriage before settling back ahead. The silence stretched between the two of them, unbroken.
Edric clenched his jaw and pushed his horse forward, the weight of his thoughts pulling at him even as he focused on the road ahead.
As the entourage made its way into the Reach, the landscape began to shift around them. The arid, sun-scorched terrain of Dorne gave way to more fertile lands, with fields stretching out in every direction, lush and green. The air felt cooler, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers and fresh grass. The road beneath their horses' hooves softened, a welcome change from the hard, dry paths they had traversed in Dorne.
Edric rode in silence, the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses providing a steady background to his swirling thoughts. The weight of the journey pressed on him, not just the physical distance but the unspoken tension in the group, the unresolved feelings with Arianne, and the looming shadow of what awaited them in King's Landing.
They were still a few days away from reaching the Rose Road, the famous route that would take them directly to the capital. But the change in terrain was already noticeable—where once they had passed desolate plains and rugged mountains, now they were surrounded by orchards, vineyards, and villages nestled between rolling hills. It was a stark contrast, a reminder of how different the world beyond Dorne could be.
Torrhen Karstark, as stoic as ever, rode beside Edric, his gaze forward. Edric glanced at him occasionally, but the northerner had little to say, preferring the solitude of the road. The silence between them was companionable in its own way, neither of them inclined to break it.
Behind them, Arianne's carriage followed, the veil of her face still partially visible, though her presence seemed more distant now, hidden behind layers of silk and the cool detachment that had been her hallmark since they had left Dorne.
As the day wore on, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the land. The air became cooler, the pace of the journey slowing slightly as they reached a small village, where a few locals had gathered to watch the procession. Edric's gaze lingered for a moment, wondering if the people here even knew who he was, or cared for the weight of the bloodlines that traveled through their lands. But there was no time to dwell on it. They had a destination, and the road ahead would be long.
In the quiet of the evening, as camp was set and the fire crackled to life, Edric found himself once again with his thoughts. Arianne, a few tents away, had become an enigma he couldn't quite solve. There were moments, fleeting and brief, when he felt something—compassion, perhaps, or frustration, or even longing. But they were fleeting, easily buried beneath the weight of everything else.
Torrhen, still quiet as ever, sat near the fire, sharpening his sword. The rest of the group had settled into their own spaces, the only real movement now the occasional hiss of the fire and the soft rustle of the tents in the evening breeze.