[103] Dornish Sands

Chapter 103: Dornish Sands

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The evening breeze carried the scent of salt and spice through the open balcony doors of Arianne's chambers. She lounged against the cushioned window seat, absently twirling a copper strand of her hair between her fingers as she gazed across Sunspear's sprawling architecture to the Narrow Sea beyond.

The waters glittered orange and gold in the setting sun, deceptively peaceful compared to the storm brewing in her heart.

All those years listening to Father's caution, his patience, his endless waiting—and for what?

Arianne shifted restlessly, pulling her silk robe tighter around her shoulders. The political landscape had transformed so rapidly over the past few months. Viserys Targaryen—once dismissed as the mad beggar king—now commanded Westeros from the Iron Throne, with a dragon at his call and the might of the Reach and North behind him. And instead of seizing this opportunity, her father had chosen another path entirely.

"Aegon," she murmured to the empty room, the name tasting bitter on her tongue. "A boy with silver hair who appears from nowhere, and suddenly he's Rhaegar's son risen from the dead?"

She didn't believe any of that bullshit.

If not for these useless men, I would have been his Queen! She grumbled out loud. Because her father had gone against Viserys’ command, she'd lost her opportunity at becoming Queen.

To a naive little Stark girl and a Tyrell slut, no less.

She thought of the letter she'd penned weeks earlier, written in haste and sealed with dread. A warning to Viserys about her father's shifting allegiance, about the Sand Snakes. Had it reached him? Had it mattered?

She'd risked much by sending it, defying her father's carefully laid schemes. And he… he didn't even bother to visit.

She sighed. “Well, not like I don't understand his position, but…”

He really married two random women, after promising her so much?

Somehow, she couldn't hate him though. Because it wasn't his fault. It was her… useless, wheelchair bound Father’s

“So irritating.” Her eyes drifted to the secret compartment in her dresser where she kept her personal correspondence. None had returned from King's Landing. Either Viserys had chosen not to respond in fear that she'd be caught, or perhaps worse, her messenger had been intercepted.

That would… make sense, actually.

Arianne rose with fluid grace, bare feet silent on the cool tile floor as she approached her balcony.

Far in the distance, the Shadow City pulsed with evening activity—merchants closing their stalls, taverns opening their doors, the endless dance of Dornish life continuing unaware of the political machinations that would determine their futures.

"Father doesn't trust me," she whispered to the breeze, frustration sharpening her words. "After everything, he still keeps his deepest plans from me."

Did that mean he found the letter, and that was why he didn't trust her with information?

Prince Doran had revealed only the barest outlines of his strategy—enough to know he favored the supposed Aegon, but not enough to understand why. Not enough to counter his arguments effectively. He'd treated her like a willful child rather than his heir.

And perhaps he was right to do so.

The thought stung, but Arianne couldn't deny its truth. Had she not betrayed his confidence by warning Viserys? Had she not allowed her personal feelings to interfere with House Martell's strategy?

She was so confused. So… desperate. Her father, despite his weaknesses, was still that. Her Father. She didn't want him to die… but the stuff he was doing was only going to warrant that.

“Dammit,” she pressed her palms against the stone balustrade, feeling its rough warmth beneath her skin.

What unsettled her most wasn't the politics. It was how often her thoughts returned to Viserys himself. The way his eyes had fixed on hers when they'd first met, the way he'd shattered her lowly expectations, the power in his movements during the duel, the hunger in his kiss….

She'd meant to use those moments to her advantage, to secure her position, yet somehow...

I became the one ensnared.

Arianne closed her eyes, remembering their last encounter. His arrogance should have repelled her. His dismissal of her should have ended any attraction. Yet what lingered wasn't resentment but longing—a desire to match her fire against his, to prove herself his equal.

"Foolish girl," she chided herself. "Thinking with your cunt instead of your head."

Her duty was clear, to be honest. To stand with House Martell, support her father's decision. This Aegon—real or false—was the path her father had chosen. The path of vengeance for Elia and her children. The path that might return Dorne to glory.

That was what she “should” have done.

But Aegon himself... Arianne grimaced. She'd found nothing compelling about the young man during their brief introduction a few weeks ago.

He seemed pleasant enough, handsome certainly, but he lacked the presence, the raw authority that Viserys commanded. He was polite. But he felt hollow somehow… She didn't think it'd change even if he had a dragon under his command.

"Father chose him without consulting me," she muttered. "Makes his plans, signs his agreements, all the while telling me I'll rule Dorne someday."

She laughed. It was a sound without humor. "Rule what? The empty shell left after he's committed us to someone else's war?"

Did he truly consider her his heir, or merely a piece to be moved across the board when convenient?

Arianne was fairly confident Dorne would perish if it continued going against the Dragon King.

But yeah… then again, he was right not to trust me completely. The thought surfaced unbidden. She felt guilty. I betrayed his confidence at the first opportunity.

She stared up at the sky.

Loyalty to her house warred with her growing feelings for Viserys. Duty battled desire. The princess she was raised to be argued fiercely with the woman she had become.

Arianne paced back into her chamber, conflicting emotions churning inside her.

She paused at her writing desk, fingers hovering over a half-written letter. It was another message to Viserys explaining her position more fully. Would sending it be another betrayal? Or the wisest course to protect Dorne when the dragons inevitably clashed?

— Roarrghhhh!

The sudden, distant roar split the evening air like thunder.

Arianne froze, her heart leaping into her throat. That sound—impossible yet unmistakable. She'd heard it once before, when Viserys had revealed his golden dragon in the training yard.

She rushed to the balcony, silk robe fluttering behind her like wings.

Her eyes scanned the darkening sky, wide with anticipation. Another roar echoed across Sunspear, closer now, sending vibrations through the stone beneath her feet.

"...Is it him?" she whispered, her pulse quickening as a golden shape materialized against the sunset clouds.

****

Dorne sprawled beneath me like a lover's body draped in silks of amber and gold.

The setting sun painted the desert landscape in hues no artist could capture—sand dunes rippling like waves frozen in time, rocky outcroppings casting long shadows across the barren beauty, and the occasional patch of green where stubborn life insisted on thriving despite the harsh conditions.

Sunspear itself rose from this artwork like a crown, its towers gleaming with the last light of day.

I leaned forward on Viserion's back, savoring the wind against my face. Flying never grew tiresome. The utter freedom, the power, the perspective it granted—all of it reminded me how far I'd come from that pathetic, desperate prince I once was.

The journey from Meereen had been long but necessary. My sister was secured, humbled, her power brought to heel under mine. Now I needed to resolve this issue with the false Aegon before it festered.

Given Young Griff’s connection with Doran, his presence in Dorne was likely. Along with my missing dragon, Rhaegal.

If Prince Doran had indeed chosen to back this pretender over me despite our previous understanding, I'd need to address that betrayal swiftly and decisively.

If Faegon was here, today Dorne would burn hotter than ever before.

Ideally, I'd find him, kill him, and reclaim Rhaegal without destroying Dorne in the process. While the betraying fools had to be punished, the common people shouldn't be. Even in Yunkai and Astapor, I tried my best to do minimal damage.

The Martells were useful allies—or at least, they had been. Arianne's letters had hinted at her father's wavering loyalty, though her own feelings toward me remained... complicated. I smiled at the memory of her fierce stubbornness clashing with her obvious desire.

If I could secure her allegiance separately from her father's, she'd be a valuable member of the board.

"Circle lower," I commanded Viserion, scanning the sprawling palace complex below for any sign of Rhaegal's distinctive green scales. Viserion could also feel his presence through smell or something.

Viserion obliged, her massive wings beating steadily as we descended. The air grew warmer as we approached the palace, carrying with it the scents of spice and salt that characterized this southern kingdom.

“Anything, Viserion?” I asked, focusing on the bond we shared.

"No dragons," she replied, disappointment evident in her thoughts. "Would like to... save... green brother."

I sighed, frustration building in my chest. This search was proving fruitless. Aegon and Rhaegal likely weren't here. And I couldn't really burn it all without being sure since I was on a search.

It'd be too cocky to land in the palace and question Doran about it. I was strong, incredibly so, but invincible?

Against a thousand soldiers, even I’d fall.

Historically, Dorne was the only place where humans killed a dragon. I couldn't risk hastiness.

"Let's head to King’s Landing," I decided aloud. "We'll return first, and deal with the Dornish situation with an official decree. Maybe Robb Stark's scouts will have better information."

If not, my next destination would be Pentos. That was where Illyrio Mopatis lived. Faegon could have gone there too.

Viserion banked smoothly, preparing to turn northward when a voice carried up from below, clear despite the distance.

“Hey! YOU!” A feminine voice shouted desperately. "Leaving ALREADY?! Without even greeting your beloved?!!”

I recognized Arianne's voice instantly. My eyes narrowed as I spotted her on a palace balcony, her dark silhouette unmistakable against the pale stone. Her beautiful body, draped in red, was enough to make any lesser man drool.

A plan formed in my mind, quick and dangerous and perfect.

Without hesitation, I stood on Viserion's back, balancing with practiced ease.

"I'll be right back," I instructed Viserion. "Be ready."

I leapt from Viserion's back, the wind rushing past my ears as I plummeted toward the palace. My wings unfurled with a snap, the leathery appendages catching the air and transforming my fall into a controlled descent.

I watched Arianne's expression shift from surprise to astonishment as I approached her balcony. Her mouth formed a perfect "O," her eyes wide with wonder.

The rush of power that came with such reactions never grew old.

I landed on the balcony's edge with barely a sound, my wings extending to their full span behind me. Arianne stepped backward instinctively, her silk robe fluttering around her curves.

"Your father chose poorly," I said softly, stepping toward her. "But you knew that already, didn't you, Princess?"

Fear crossed her face. For a moment, she must have thought I was going to kill her.

“I'm joking, Princess,” I said. Before she could respond, I moved forward in a blur, wrapping one arm around her waist and lifting her effortlessly into the air. Her surprised gasp warmed my neck as we launched from the balcony, my wings carrying us upward with powerful beats.

"You madman!" Arianne exclaimed, her arms clutching around my neck, laughter mixing with genuine alarm. "You've just kidnapped a Princess of Dorne!"

Below us, shouts of alarm rose from the palace guards who'd witnessed our departure. Too late.

I smirked, tightening my grip as we spiraled higher into the darkening sky. "Consider it tactical kidnapping. Maybe now your father will finally come to his senses." I met her eyes, allowing my voice to soften slightly. "Besides, I've missed you. I've missed these curves.”

“Why, your wives don't have it?” she asked, hitting my chest softly as she feigned anger.

Viserion dived towards us from above the clouds, her massive form blocking out the emerging stars. Her eyes narrowed in what almost resembled a dragon's scowl as she recognized Arianne in my arms.

"Hold tight," I warned Arianne as we approached my dragon.

I landed smoothly on Viserion's back, settling Arianne before me. She trembled slightly—from excitement or fear, I couldn't tell. Perhaps both.

Her body fit perfectly against mine as I secured her with one arm while gripping Viserion with the other.

"To King's Landing," I commanded, and Viserion banked northward, leaving Sunspear and its confused guards behind.

It felt good to kidnap a Princess.

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