Again, all credit to the original author - much is borrowed from RR: writ in blood

Please Consider this a fanfiction-fiction or a fan-fanfiction

Chapter 3: Mellario 1, the Valyrian Dornishwoman

(Doran)

My Lord Husband,

I hope you are doing well, so far from your home

I have been instructed to come to you in king's landing

Arianne will come with me, although I have been instructed to leave Quinten behind

I have received word from starfall that Ashara has given birth to a healthy girl, although I have not heard who was the father

My trip is being made in all haste, so I shall no doubt arrive shortly after this letter

Mellario

This was not what he had wanted.

He did his best to repress a sigh as he leaned further back in the comfortable wooden chair in Elia's room. He could feel Oberyn's curious eyes on his face.

As his eyes landed on Elia he felt a smile pull at his lips "I have good news for you, sister. Ashara's still-born daughter might have lived after all."

Some part of him smiled at Oberyn's eyes widening, and some other part felt great joy Elia's beautiful happy surprise..

"Truly?!" Elia sounded elated. And he nodded to her with a smile. Her excitement was contagious.

"Perhaps she and Rhaenys can be friends…" she continued, only to look sad a moment later. "… if Rhaegar permits it." Aegon squirmed in her grip and she was suddenly distracted again.

"I must prepare for my wife's arrival, she will be here in the next few days". Fatigue seemed to be settling over his sister, and she smiled tiredly.

Straying towards the doors, Oberyn followed closely behind. They had not spoken just the two of them since their argument.

"Do you think King Rhaegar will permit the child-?"

"He will." Oberyn cut in quietly, with a frown. "Or we will make him". A shadow rested his brother's face now, with the sort of dark look which boded some ill decision.

"We can only hope"

"No, we can do more the hope, Doran. We will send riders to escort them here."

He shook his head slowly. "That would not accomplish much, if the King decides that they are not welcome here." Oberyn knew this, so what was he-

"Perhaps" Oberyn seemed as aloof and uncaring as usual "but if they happen to find Rhaegar's wolf-bitch while there-"

"At least whisper, damn you." Anger sparked through him, but his low voice did not seem as convincing as Oberyn's loud one. "I will speak to the King. And you will speak no more of this, and take no action until then."

Oberyn's eyes flickered with something, before he smiled that same uncaring smile and moved back to their sister who had already fallen asleep. "As you say, my lord."

As soon as he was outside a sigh escaped him. He was getting too much of this lately. He was always the one planning ahead and making the long choices. He missed the days of his youth when this had not always been the case. He was seven and thirty now, but when he had married Mellario he was so much younger. Things had been different, and he had not always been so tired.

But perhaps Mellario was one of the reasons he was so cautious of quick choices now…

(Mellario)

Her travel had been long. But she had not minded much. The salty sea was a refreshing change from the sandy-dry air that usually accompanied her journeys in Dorne, and the ship she sailed on was a welcoming reminder that the world was not so small, after all. She had laid awake in the night and imagined the ship sailing her home instead.

But those thoughts only helped a little. With every day that passed king's landing grew closer.

Princess Loreza had said that it would be unseemly for her not to be at her husband's side at the king's coronation, and so she had been given only a scant few days to gather her things. She had insisted on bringing her Narvosi servants which Princess Loreza had looked rather disdainful of and asked why Dornish servants would not be enough. She had almost shed tears, but she managed to say that the Norvosi servants knew her better. Princess Loreza had finally acquiesced to that, but not without insisting that the guards be all-Dornish. Arianne had seemed rather upset about the whole thing.

Her mother-in-law had spoken rather unwell of the king, after that. Which had not calmed her down, and had further disturbed her when she insisted on speaking with Arianne in private for many hours.

And as the ship smashed into another curve of water she rolled back over in bed and let her mind keep wandering.

…

The docking at King's Landing had been a smooth affair, with an escort of Dornish Knights to accompany her to the castle. There was an Uller, a Vaith, and Daemon Sand, the bastard Oberyn had taken as a squire. She had been given bread and wine, but Doran's absence had not gone unnoticed, and Daemon seemed bored of her company already.

She had been swiftly taken to a dressing room to prepare to meet her husband.

"M'lady! You really ought to be moving to dinner!"

The voice was distinctly westerosi, and she did not have to try very hard to imagine the serving girl's drab face and dull dress.

"One moment!"

Any time she could delay was a blessing. But her daughter would not agree, of course…

She sighed and gave herself a moment to prepare herself for what would no doubt be a long and difficult meal. Where she would be fully unprepared and embarrassed, and by the people she had once thought would be her family.

When she had been asked to meet Doran alone for food instead, she had felt that hope in the back of her heart, although she had futilely pushed it back down, as she always did. But a small part of her could not help but imagine. That battle might have given him back his love of life, that he might have been reminded of who he had been when they met each other, and that he would jump up at her arrival and sweep her off her feet.

As she entered his chambers she found him sitting on a plush chair at a great wooden table, but instead of rushing to greet her, or proclaiming his love he smiled. And not a wide smile of joy, but a strained, weak smile, that told her all she needed to know. A great humiliation welled up from inside her, as he must have done this to hide her from courtly eyes.

Her sleepless head stung.

"How was your journey?"

That was not the right question.

"Arianne is doing well," she said instead of answering, "but Quintin was very upset to leave". He wouldn't stop her from pushing him, and she shouldn't, but she somehow needed him to say something more to her.

"Yes, that is most unfortunate," he said instead. And the silence seemed to stretch on without end. "I have made arrangements for you to stay next to my own quarters in the red keep."

She didn't have anything to say.

He sighed and looked so very tired to her eyes.

She felt her shoulders slump even further, and he stood from his chair and began his journey past her, to instruct the servants that they would be ready for food.

…

It had been thirteen nights since she came to the red keep, and she could not think of a place she liked less. This was the horrible rotted heart of Westeros.

She was surrounded by people, and somehow she was still alone.

Someone would worry by now. It was near midday and she had not risen from her chambers. She had overheard a squire three nights ago, telling a knight that she was sickly.

"M'lady, you have a visitor", a guard she didn't recognize called through her door. This would be a guard, but the voice did not sound Dornish, so it was more likely a kni- "the good Prince Cassius is here to speak to you".

Prince Cassius? Whatever could the King's brother wish to speak with her for?

Scrambling to make herself presentable, the strangeness of the situation seemed to wash away her lack of will, but her tiredness clung to her.

"One moment!" She called. Only to watch in horror as the door swung open.

An imposing Knight she didn't recognize stood behind the short hooded figure she assumed must be the young Prince, who entered without a care in the world, before closing the door between himself and the knight, leaving the two of them alone.

"My- my lord- I mean- my Prince! This is most improper!"

"I have been watching you", the child -for he could be no older than 10- said without prelude, and she slid back on her bed.

"My apologies." The boy smiled as he lowered his hood. "I had forgotten for a moment how surprising this must be for you, but I fear there are few others that can help me in this". Her mind was not clear of shock, but his gentle child-like features put her at ease. She struggled to speak. He must have a good heart, to grow up in such a place and still be able to smile so gently, her mind throbbed.

"And, what- what can I help you with, my Prince, that others could not?"

His smile widened, and her tired mind must have been playing tricks on her for even at such a young age he seemed inhumanly beautiful.

"My understanding is that you are fluent in the languages of Valeria. That you speak, read, and write both the newer dialects and the older. Unfortunately, my education under my dear father has been quite lacking. And a… very reliable friend has told me that you miss your home. Perhaps you would feel more at ease with someone to converse with in your mother tongue?"

She blinked twice in surprise. Who could possibly have told him such a thing? How could he possibly know what he knew?

(Two moons later)

She was still the talk of the court, although not in a way that she ever thought she would be.

Their lessons were held twice a week, in a tower where the boy was usually instructed by a maester.

The queen-mother Rhealla seemed strangely calm about the whole thing, if perhaps a little confused at first. Although many of the other Lords and Ladies - especially the ladies- showed more suspicion. Witch, demon, seductress, they whispered of the Essosi sorcery she had used to charm the child, and the strange things she must be doing instead of teaching him.

Cassius was like being given a son back, and he reminded her of her homeland in a way she had not been reminded of in a long time. He asked questions about her city, and the many things she had seen there. He wondered about the far-east, and asked questions about customs and people and if she had ever met a sorcerer. He also sometimes asked her about court and her time in Dorne.

She spoke of all these things gladly. Warmth filled her in remembrance.

Perhaps he could be her son one day. Arianne was only four years younger, after all…

…

The sun sat high and round in the sky, smiling down into her room as her hands worked to gather the High Valyrian notes she had strewn about a table in her room. She had begun preparing lessons for him in advance, and she was quite excited about this one, which was about some uncommon conjugations in the old Valerian languages, and how they were different now.

She had thought that the rumors of King Rheagar being talented at everything must have been a falsity, but seeing Cassius learn made her think that they must be true.

Leaving her chambers into a stone corridor, she pauses at the two spearmen outside her door. They were dressed in yellow, with white cloth around their heads wrapped so she could only see their eyes. Doran's Guards… they would normally wait outside.

"Princess", one of them greeted her.

"Ser", she inclines her head, trying to move past.

"Out for a walk, my lady?", the other said, moving to block her passage. He had not used her title, and his dark eyes followed her closely.

"You are about to make me late, ser. And what name should I use when I tell the king's brother who delayed me?"

Those words seemed to get a response, and the taller blue-eyed man looked down at his companion worriedly. "We were instructed to escort you on any journey, princess, my princess. By order of… by order of Prince Doran himself"

They are nervous. Was Doran really so worried about what she was doing that he sent his own guard after her? He had seemed happy about her teaching the king's brother before...

The door to the far end of the corridor opened then, and one of her handmaidens came through, "my lady-"

The candles flickering with their red-orange flame, dancing without care of the tense air.

"We were just leaving", she said to the pretty young woman, "my husband wishes us to be escorted today".

Her handmaiden did not look very convinced. "Oh. If- if you say so…"

She began making her way to the prince, ascending a spire and exiting onto a rampart she was lost in thought. Was this really on Doran? The thought made a chill go through her. It felt too clumsy.

"Princess", one of the men called out.

Looking up, she stopped. The once smooth pale-red stone was dusted in black soot and coal. Seeing the right guard step forward and make his way down the hall, and the left one step closer to her, more wrongness began to crawl in her mind.

More soot, leading like breadcrumbs up the tower and along a railing overlooking a secluded area of the courtyard, and further up beyond. What could have made such a mess? There were only candles in this passage…

"Doesn't look like there is much here to me… The coal is cold, so it might be that a servant girl dropped something", the further guard's voice echoed down the hall. He was well-spoken for a guard.

A loud cawing caught her attention then, as a chill suddenly crawled her spine.

Stepping slowly towards the soot-covered parapet, she made her way forward, a gust of air blowing her hair back.

"Careful, m'lady…" the shorter of the guards called from behind her.

The wind tells secrets, her father had once said. Whispers things…

Another raven cawing tightened her chest, and taking a final step closer, she mustered her courage and let her eyes fall down. Only to stagger back in terror.

It wasn't possible. It couldn't- A black and silver corpse. In a pool of Targeryan red blood.

A shrill scream echoed through her world as old horrors reappeared and blackness clawed at her sight.

She was against the back wall, she suddenly realized.

"My lady!" the tall Dornishman was back.

"Fetch a Maester!" She was trying to scream but it didn't sound like it. It sounded like she was drowning - but then again, maybe she was.