[104] The Games We Play
Chapter 104: The Games We Play
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The wind sliced past us, cold and clean, carrying the scent of evening.
Arianne's hair whipped wildly against my chest as Viserion's wings beat steadily through the night sky. Her red silk robe fluttered dangerously, threatening to tear away completely against Viserion's scales. That thought brought a smile to my face.
Below us, the darkening landscape of Westeros spread out like a living map—the red mountains of Dorne gradually giving way to rolling plains, forests, and rivers, all bathed in the pink-gold light of approaching dawn.
The world looked small from up here.
Kingdoms reduced to patches of color, castles to specks of stone, and armies to mere ants.
Arianne's knuckles remained white where they gripped my arm. Despite her initial bold words at Sunspear, the reality of dragon flight had left her speechless for the first hour of our journey.
Her body trembled against mine—from cold, fear, or excitement, I couldn't quite tell. Perhaps all three.
"First time seeing the world from a dragon's back," I murmured near her ear, my lips brushing against her skin. "How does it feel to fly, Princess?"
Her laugh vibrated against my chest, half-terrified, half-exhilarated as she turned her head slightly.
"Like… nothing I imagined!" she shouted over the rushing wind. "It's... magnificent and terrifying."
“Isn't it?”
She hesitated, her silver eyes meeting mine with a flash of defiance. "Though I'd appreciate not being abducted next time."
"I'm pretty you this is what you wanted," I said, guiding Viserion into a gentle bank that made Arianne gasp and press herself more firmly against me. "Your eyes tell me you're enjoying this more than you're admitting."
Beneath us, the landscape transitioned from the arid Dornish Marches to the verdant fields of the Reach. Highgarden would be somewhere to the west, the seat of House Tyrell—my allies, and the family of one of my brides. I wondered briefly what Margaery would make of my newest guest.
We could directly go to King's Landing, but I was putting on a show.
My first impression of Arianne wasn't the best, but given her choice of betraying her father for me, I saw her in a much more favourable light than before.
For instance, Sansa and Margaery would never betray their parents, their nations, for me. Not yet, anyway.
Gradually, Arianne's body relaxed against mine, her natural curiosity overcoming her fear. She leaned slightly to peer over Viserion's side, watching as a hawk far below scattered in panic at our shadow.
"Um, so,” she said, not meeting my eyes, “Why did you come to Dorne?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of worry.
“Your fiancé stole one of my dragons,” I said. “He misused my dear sister's trust, stupid as it might have been on her part, and fled with a dragon. I thought he'd be in Dorne given your father's allegiance to him.”
“I see…” she didn't have the courage to meet my eyes.
"Princess," I allowed my voice to drop lower, my arm tightening around her waist. "Your father chose poorly. You know that. It irritates me that he's helping this fake Aegon.”
Her body stiffened against me, her spine suddenly rigid. Suddenly, she didn't seem to enjoy the flight anymore. "...So what will happen to Dorne now?"
The question carried the weight of her position. The heir to a now-rebellious kingdom. She gently turned her head, fearful eyes locking with mine.
"Will you… burn us like Yunkai and Astapor?" Fear and defiance mingled in her voice.
Rather than answering immediately, I tilted her chin up with my free hand, capturing her lips in a slow, possessive kiss.
The intimacy somehow contrasted sharply with our precarious position thousands of feet above the ground. For a moment she resisted, but when she realized she didn't have to resist, she melted against me with practiced ease. Her hand slid up to lock around my neck.
"If I wanted Dorne in ashes," I said against her lips when we parted, "I wouldn't have bothered kidnapping the princess. I'd have simply burned everything on sight."
“....”
My eyes locked with hers. "No, I have other plans for Dorne. For you. Tell your father when you next meet him. His nation only survived because I fancy his gorgeous daughter.”
Arianne's cheeks grew red. Her silver eyes flashed with a mixture of relief, ambition, and lingering wariness. "I… You're a liar.” She bit her lips. “Why else did you marry two random bitches? I warned you about Father's schemes. I thought you abandoned me despite all that.”
"Can I ever? Your loyalty will never be forgotten." I brushed a windswept strand of dark hair from her face, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips. "Nor will your father's betrayal."
Her playfulness vanished once again as she swallowed. I could see the conflict within her—torn between familial duty and personal survival. It was one of the things I found most intriguing about her.
Unlike Margaery with her unshakable political ambition or Sansa with her desperate need for security, Arianne walked a more complex line. Fiercely loyal to Dorne yet willing to defy her father's plans for her own vision of its future.
Although she was a stubborn girl, she had the qualities of a ruler.
"So what happens when we reach King's Landing?" she asked, her eyes searching mine.
"You'll be my prisoner, duh. The honored guest of my bedroom," I said, the words carrying multiple meanings that weren't lost on her. Her face reddened again. "Let your father worry about what that entails."
Arianne hit me on the chest softly, leaning her face into my neck. She was about to say something when Viserion suddenly banked sharply toward a cloud formation, causing Arianne to gasp and clutch me tighter. I smiled, enjoying both her fear and the press of her body against mine.
The dragon seemed to understand my thoughts, deliberately making the ride more thrilling.
"Tell me, Princess," I whispered into her ear, "did you ever truly think you'd be queen? Or was that just a pleasant fiction?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I was born to rule, just as you were. The difference is that I haven't had the chance yet,” she said. She crossed her arms and looked away. “It doesn't matter if you marry me or not. I would still become a queen, the ruler of Dorne.”
"Highlady, more like," I said, “I'm gonna pull your little kingdom into the fold.”
“....” She stayed quiet. Viserion dived through a cloud bank, momentarily surrounding us in cold mist.
Arianne's startled cry turned into a breathless laugh as we emerged, the sun now fully risen above the horizon.
Hours passed as we enjoyed ourselves in between small talks and serious ones.
Now, the Blackwater Bay glittered in the distance, King's Landing rising from its shores like a crown of stone.
"Mhm," Arianne said, her voice low and throaty, "It doesn't look half bad. Sunspear is much better, though."
“Sure,” I said. She was bold, even after being kidnapped. It would either be her greatest strength or her downfall.
As Viserion began her descent toward the Red Keep, I felt Arianne's heartbeat quicken against my chest. "Don't worry, Princess. I imagine you'll find the capital quite accommodating."
"I'm not worried," she replied, though her grip betrayed her. "Just wondering which of your wives I'll be wearing the clothes of tonight, since you didn't exactly give me time to pack."
I laughed, the sound carrying away on the wind as the towers of the Red Keep grew larger beneath us. "Perhaps you'll be wearing none at all."
"I've heard worse fates," she retorted, and despite everything, I laughed once again.
****
The dawn sun bathed the world in orange. Viserion's massive shadow fell across the Red Keep's central courtyard, causing guards to scramble into defensive positions.
The golden dragon circled once before descending with surprising grace, her wings creating gusts that sent servants scattering. Scrolls and linens danced through the air, and a small dog barked frantically before running for cover.
I dismounted first, feeling the satisfying crunch of gravel beneath my boots. Then I turned to lift Arianne down with deliberate showmanship, my hands lingering at her waist.
The courtyard had fallen silent, all eyes fixed on us—the Dragon King and his unexpected companion.
Arianne stood unsteadily, still dressed in her silk Dornish nightclothes, her dark hair wild from the flight. She straightened her spine, lifting her chin with practiced dignity despite her disheveled state.
Guards stared openly at us, and I saw more than one taking in the outline of her body beneath the thin fabric.
"Welcome to King's Landing, Princess," I said loudly enough for all to hear. "I trust you'll find the hospitality here superior to Sunspear's."
Before she could respond, the courtyard doors swung open with dramatic timing, revealing Margaery Tyrell. She advanced with practiced grace, wearing an elegant green gown embroidered with golden roses. Her chestnut curls were arranged in the latest King's Landing fashion, and a delicate golden circlet rested on her brow—not quite a crown, but a clear statement of her aspirations.
Her eyes fell on Arianne for a moment before she looked at me. While her smile was genuine to most observers, I noted the calculation behind her eyes as she took in the scene before her.
"My beloved husband returns," Margaery announced, dipping into a perfect curtsy before rising to kiss my cheek. Her lips lingered a moment longer than necessary. "We had no word of your arrival. I would have prepared a proper welcome."
Her gaze slid to Arianne, taking in the disheveled appearance and unmistakable Dornish features. "And with a guest, I see."
"Princess Arianne Martell," I introduced, watching Margaery's reaction carefully. The slight tightening around her eyes told me everything I needed to know. "She'll be staying with us until decided otherwise.”
"Princess Arianne," Margaery's voice remained melodious despite the tension vibrating between the two women. "What an unexpected pleasure. We heard nothing of a Dornish delegation."
"There was no delegation," Arianne replied, lifting her chin. The morning sun caught her silver eyes, making them flash like polished steel. "His Grace found me... irresistible company for his journey. And abducted from my balcony. I fear my father is having trouble breathing by now.”
I look forward to that. That was the plan. Doran would get worked up and contact me, and then I'd see what that spineless bastard could do.
The two women measured each other with polite smiles that didn't reach their eyes.
"That sounds unfortunate," Margaery said, looping her arm through mine possessively. Her fingers pressed into my forearm with slightly more force than necessary. "We must arrange suitable chambers immediately. The dungeons? Or Perhaps in the Maidenvault? It's quite... secure."
"No. The royal wing would be more appropriate," I corrected mildly. "The Princess is our most distinguished guest, after all. No matter if she's the daughter of an opposing nation.”
"...Of course, my love," Margaery agreed, though her smile tightened fractionally. "I only thought the Maidenvault might offer more privacy. The royal wing can be so busy with activity."
A commotion at the doorway drew our attention as Sansa Stark emerged, her auburn hair gleaming like copper in the morning light.
Unlike Margaery's calculated entrance, Sansa's surprise was genuine as she took in the scene before her. Her Tully-blue eyes widened at the sight of Arianne.
"Your Grace," she curtsied to me before her gaze fixed on Arianne's exotic appearance. "I... we weren't expecting your return so soon."
I extended my free arm to Sansa, painting a picture of power for all the courtyard to see—the Dragon King flanked by two queens-in-waiting, with the Dornish princess standing separate. "Lady Sansa, meet Princess Arianne of House Martell."
Sansa's courtesies were perfect but her discomfort obvious. "Uh, yes… Welcome to King's Landing, Princess."
“Thank you, both.” Arianne studied both women with interest, quickly assessing the dynamic. "Lady Stark, Lady Tyrell. I've heard much about the king's gorgeous brides."
Her emphasis on the final word carried just enough insolence to make Margaery's cheeks flush slightly. They weren't Queens but rather brides. In that sense, Arianne's position was no less than theirs, as the Princess of a nation of her own.
"And we've heard of you too," Margaery countered smoothly. "The princess who would be the ruler of sands. How disappointing that must be."
"Not as disappointing as sharing a husband with another woman," Arianne replied, her smile sharp as a dagger. "Though I suppose it's less crowded than sharing with an entire court, as I hear was Lady Margaery's experience with her first husband."
Margaery's smile didn't falter, but her eyes hardened to flint. "...You do realize what you're saying, correct? The king is right here.”
“That's true, Arianne,” I shot her a look. “Such behaviour warrants punishment.”
"Oh?" Arianne purred. "I don't understand why Your Grace is threatening me with a good time..."
Some of the guards gasped at that.
The air between the three women crackled with unspoken challenge. I observed with amusement—there was nothing more entertaining than watching skilled players test each other's defenses. And all three were remarkably skilled, in their own ways.
After a moment of silence, Sansa cleared her throat delicately. "Princess Arianne must be exhausted from her journey. Perhaps we should show her to her chambers?"
"How thoughtful, Lady Stark," Arianne said, her tone softening slightly. "Though I seem to have arrived with only what I'm wearing. I left Dorne rather... abruptly."
"I'm sure we can find something suitable," Sansa offered, her natural courtesy overcoming her wariness.
"Something of mine, perhaps," Margaery suggested with a gracious smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Though I fear they may be a bit loose in certain areas."
Arianne burst out laughing. "I doubt that," she responded pleasantly. "But thank you for the kind offer. However, I think His Grace would love to show me around on his own first.”
"Yes. Princess Arianne requires rest and fresh attire after our journey," I announced, intervening before the barbs could escalate further. “I'll show her around, you two can rest assured.”
The two girls fell silent, exchanging a look. Perhaps they'd bond over it.
I led Arianne inside. While behind us, courtiers whispered among themselves, already spreading word of the Dornish princess's arrival and the tense exchange between the three women.
This silly game of thrones had taken yet another unpredictable turn, this time by my design.
I was curious how amusing the next few days would be.
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