The Greenblood, a few weeks later...
The sun hung low over the Greenblood, casting the river in a glittering hue as the boat glided lazily through the waters, its gentle rocking a stark contrast to the heavy thoughts swirling between Robb Stark and Arianne Martell. The last three months had been a whirlwind of learning, adapting, and growing closer. Robb had spent the better part of his time in Dorne absorbing the intricacies of the Martell culture—the politics, the customs, and the complexities of his future wife. Arianne had been patient with him, but now, on this quiet stretch of the river, the conversation was turning toward the weight of the future that lay ahead.
Arianne sat across from him, her posture poised as ever, but her eyes gleamed with a sharp intelligence that Robb had come to respect. Her dark hair, blown by the wind, framed her face, and the soft fabric of her gown swayed lightly with each rock of their boat. Silk hugged her curves much to his delight. She looked every bit the future ruler of Dorne, but today, there was a new kind of seriousness in her gaze as she studied him.
"I hope our tour wasn't too rough on you Robb," Arianne spoke quietly with a touch of sympathy, "My people can often be too prideful and vain and it takes a certain amount of steel and wits to keep them in line."
Robb nodded his head at that, though not critically, he was used to far more boisterous bannermen back home. "It wasn't that bad. Sure some of the lords took things a bit overboard and some of the Orphans were a bit...much... though it could've been worse."
Arianne chuckled at that as she scooted to sit closer to Robb, wrapping a slender, tanned arm around his bare more muscular one. "I suppose that's true. Though I must admit it is a relief in more ways than one taking on this cruise, this tour up the Greenblood." She locked her dark brown eyes onto Robb's Tully blue, "I got to see how you would handle people, with minor and major issues. I got to see how you would handle possible threats. And most of all I got to see how we would work together when trying to solve something."
Robb leaned closer, crossing his right hand over his chest to rest on her arm. "I noticed that too. Speaking of which, there's one issue from the tour I keep thinking about. The situation with Lord Allyrion and Lord Blackmont, the one near the river forks. That land dispute... What happened between them? They barely let us leave without a fight so I feel that I was missing some key details."
Arianne's expression shifted slightly. There was a flicker of something—perhaps frustration or concern—in her eyes, but it was gone quickly. She exhaled, leaning back against the boat's side as she gazed out over the water. "Lord Allyrion and Lord Blackmont. Yes. It's an old conflict, one that has been simmering for years. The issue began with land and water rights, but it has grown into a bitter feud that threatens to spill over into something more dangerous."
Robb furrowed his brow, trying to recall the tense exchange he had witnessed between the two lords. "But when we arrived, neither side seemed willing to budge. Lord Allyrion was demanding more grazing land for his herds, claiming the Greenblood's riverbanks were too narrow for the Blackmont's crops. Meanwhile, Lord Blackmont insisted that the land near the river was crucial for his grain production, especially after the last few years of poor harvests. Both were convinced that the land rightfully belonged to them."
Arianne nodded, her lips pressed together in a tight line. "It's a difficult situation, Robb. House Allyrion controls the lower reaches of the Greenblood, with its vast, flat lands suited to grazing. On the other side, House Blackmont has fertile plains and river access, but their crops need constant irrigation from the Greenblood, and with the recent droughts, that water is more precious than ever. The issue isn't just about land—it's about survival. The Blackmonts need the river for their crops, while the Allyrions need the grazing space to feed their herds."
Robb thought for a moment, then shifted his weight, leaning his head down as he looked forward, deep in thought. "So how do you plan to handle it? I could see the way the people reacted when we left. Neither side is willing to bend, and both think they have the moral high ground. A compromise seems... difficult. There has to be something."
Arianne's gaze sharpened, and she turned her full attention back to him. "That's where you come in, Robb," she said, her voice lower, more serious. "You've seen how proud these men are, how stubborn. If I choose one side over the other, the losing family will feel dishonored. But if I do nothing, this will only fester, and it will spread to other families who see weakness. House Allyrion and House Blackmont are powerful in their own ways, and this land dispute could very well set a dangerous precedent."
Robb leaned back slightly, considering her words. "But you can't let them keep fighting. That would mean endless cycles of bloodshed for years. Much like the Brackens and Blackwoods back in the Riverlands. They'll keep finding new ways to fight over land, or water, or honor. We need a solution that puts them both on equal ground."
Arianne's lips quirked upward, as if pleased by his response. "Exactly. That's why I thought of something... bold. Perhaps a shared agreement, something that allows both families to get what they need without stripping one of their rights."
Robb raised an eyebrow. "What exactly do you have in mind?"
"We could broker a deal," Arianne spoke confidently. "What if I propose to both families that they work together in an alliance? The Allyrions and Blackmonts don't need the river every single day, so we work out different times of the year for them to use it for themselves. Kind of like a Joint-Rotational Agreement of sorts. A neutral party, perhaps even yourself, could mediate any disputes in the future as an arbiter. We could sweeten the deal by having the Allyrions give a cut of their profits from their herds to the Blackmonts, and the Blackmonts give a slice of their crops to the Allyrions. No more bloodshed, and no more letting one family take everything from the other either."
Robb's lips tugged upward in a smile. "A fair deal for both sides. That might actually work. If we set it up right, they'd be forced to abide by the terms, if for no other reason than pride or looking greedy in the eyes of the other houses."
Arianne's eyes glimmered with approval. "And that's where you come in again, my lord husband. You've learned well, Robb. A strong leader doesn't just take sides, he finds a way to make both sides come together on his or her own terms."
Robb looked at her, his heart quickening slightly. The more he spent time with Arianne, the more he saw the sharp intelligence behind her beauty. "I've been learning from the best," he said softly.
Arianne smiled at that, her fingers more tightly grabbing the bicep of his arm. "You flatter me, Robb. But it is true. And when we return to them in the future, we'll need to make sure we handle these kinds of matters swiftly and decisively. Dorne cannot afford weakness."
Robb nodded, his mind turning over the possibilities. "We'll make sure they don't tear each other apart. Together."
"Mhmm," she hummed, sliding closer, so her thigh brushed his. "Careful. If you keep flattering me like that, I might decide to reward you."
Robb grinned, a boyish flash of mischief in his otherwise usually stoic face. "Is that so?" He moved a hand to grip her waist tightly, sparking a warm thrum through Arianne.
"Oh, it is," Arianne purred. She rose slowly to her feet, her silk skirts swaying with the movement, then extended her hand to him, eyes dancing. "Come with me, wolf. I'd rather not waste the rest of this daylight discussing land and livestock."
Robb stood, towering over her, but letting her lead. "To the cabin, then?"
She pulled him close by the hand, her smile equal parts promise and challenge. "Unless you'd prefer I ravish you here on the deck?"
He laughed, low and warm. "I rather the crew not get an eyeful of my bride to be..."
Arianne tugged him forward quite insistently, and together they moved toward the stern, where the soft cloth of the cabin curtains fluttered in the river breeze. Behind them, the Greenblood glistened beneath the waning sun, and the boat drifted on—silent and steady—carrying its royal passengers towards their wedding on the horizon.
Arianne made for the bed, kicking her slippers off.
Robb slammed the door shut behind them, as Arianne began to strip out of her fabrics, bearing all of herself for Robb's lustful hunger.
Sunspear, a week later...
The waves crashed agaisnt the thick, wooden hull of the ship in what was a symphony of water, and Sunspear rose ahead of them, all sandstone towers and golden spires, strange and elegant against the endless burnished horizon. The Frostbite cut through the harbor like a blade, her sails heavy with the Dornish wind, and Catelyn Stark stood at the prow, her hand resting lightly on Bran's shoulder as he leaned out to catch his first glimpse of the city.
"This is Dorne," Arya muttered, her voice tinged with awe and suspicion. She shaded her eyes with a hand, scowling at the shimmering heat and the thin robes of the Dornishmen walking along the quay. "Why is everyone dressed like they're going to a feast?"
"Because it's too hot for wool and cloaks," Sansa replied primly, though her cheeks were flushed from the voyage and the sun. Her hair had already begun to curl in the sea air. "You'll faint if you try to wear Northern clothes here."
"I'll fight the heat," Arya said, squaring her shoulders like a sworn sword, "Damn the sweat."
Catelyn smiled despite herself. She was too hot, too travel-weary, and more than a little uneasy about this place, so far from Winterfell, where the stones did not sing to her, where every sight and sound was unfamiliar. Yet her heart leapt to think of Robb, her firstborn, who had left Winterfell almost three years previously to serve as Jon Arryn's ward and now stood ready to wed into one of the great houses of Westeros.
Rickon clung to her other hand, his eyes narrowed against the glare. "I wanna see Jon," he said. "And Grey Wind."
"You're always talking about wolves," Arya teased.
Beside them padded Ghost, silent as snowfall despite the heat, his white coat nearly blinding in the Dornish sun. He had spent most of the voyage prowling the lower decks or stretched out in what shade he could find, but now he was alert, red eyes fixed on the distant shapes waiting at the dock.
He's been most patient.
As the ship drew into the harbor, Dornish banners snapped overhead—orange and red and gold, sunbursts gleaming on silken fields. The Martells were waiting, tall and regal in their desert finery. Prince Doran sat beneath a canopy, hands resting on the arms of his chair, his expression composed but warm. Beside him stood Prince Oberyn, his lean frame draped in flowing robes of copper and red, and a sharp-eyed smile curving his mouth. Ser Areo Hotah and younger courtiers flanked them, eyes watchful.
Ellaria Sand and the Sand Snakes stood off to the side with Prince Doran's sons, Quentyn and Trystane Martell. They all looked equal parts curious and equal parts bored about all of this ceremony and pomp. Guards stood behind them, dressed in light tunics and bearing spears and swords.
In front of them all stood Robb Stark, taller and more tan than at any previous point his mother had ever saw him, his Northern cloak traded for light Dornish linen. His hair was much longer than Catelyn last recalled, his face calm but bright with excitement. At his side was Arianne Martell, poised and vivid in a gown of deep orange silk, her hand resting comfortably in Robb's.
Jon Snow stood nearby, hair tied back like a Dornish knight, his expression breaking into a rare and honest smile as the Starks began to disembark.
Bran was the first to cross down from the ship, unable to hide his excitement, followed by Arya and Rickon, both looking stunned and intrigued by the exotic surroundings. Ghost stayed close behind, padding down the plank, tail low and alert. Sansa descended like a lady from a song, her curiosity barely hidden behind practiced grace. Last came Catelyn, standing tall despite the sun and exhaustion.
Prince Doran inclined his head solemnly.
"Lady Stark," he said. "You honor our house with your presence. Sunspear is yours, and your children are welcome as kin."
She stepped forward and dipped a respectful curtsy. "Prince Doran, your welcome is most generous. And your proposal—" her eyes flicked to Arianne, then Robb "—even more so."
Oberyn stepped in then, a hand pressed theatrically to his chest.
"To bind fire and frost in union," he said. "It's a rare thing, to make peace without a war first. Perhaps we might be wiser than our forebears."
"I would prefer that," Catelyn said. "Westeros has bled enough, the lot of us."
Oberyn's smile deepened, though his eyes held something back at her words. "Let us hope your husband and our ever so gracious king feel the same."
Robb moved to her then, and for a moment, all formalities were set aside as he took his mother in his arms.
"You look well," she said, brushing a auburn lock from his brow.
"So do you," Robb replied. "You made it. I wasn't sure you'd bring the whole pack."
"I didn't," she said. "Your father stayed to greet the king."
"Of course," Robb murmured. "He'll do his duty."
He would've made a similar choice as well.
At that moment, Ghost padded forward, and Jon knelt with quiet reverence to greet him. The direwolf leaned into his touch, silent but present in the way only Ghost could be.
Behind them, a bark broke the air as Grey Wind dashed from a shaded courtyard, lean and powerful. The two direwolves collided like the waves in the harbor—circling, sniffing, recognizing, yipping.
"They've been restless without each other," Jon said. "Grey Wind wouldn't sleep last night. Kept pacing."
"They know," Arya said, watching the wolves rejoin. "They always know."
Robb turned toward the rest of the family. "Come. We'll show you the Water Gardens. There's shade there, and Sansa, they serve lemon cakes and even roasted swan."
"I think I love this place," Sansa said without thinking, her eyes bright at the sound of the available dishes.
As the Stark and Martell families passed under archways of pale stone, cooled by trickling fountains and flowering vines, the past and future felt as if they breathed together. And...somewhere far to the north, Eddard Stark stood before a king with old burdens. But here, in the light of Sunspear, his children stepped into a new world—eager for now, but not without weight—and a wedding that will dictate the future.