[108] Farewell and Confinement

Chapter 107: Farewell and Confinement

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The courtyard of the Red Keep buzzed with activity—horses snorting, hooves scraping on the cobblestones, armor clinking as Stark men got ready to leave.

I stood on the keep’s steps, taking in the cool morning air against my face while I watched it all unfold.

Robb Stark moved around his men like he’d done it a thousand times, his direwolf padding silently at his side. The beast had grown since they got here. It cast an intimidating shadow that reminded everyone of the North’s untamed power. Not that it could ever match a dragon’s might, of course.

I headed down the stairs, stopping near Robb as he finished fiddling with his saddlebags.

“King Stark,” I greeted, offering my hand. “It's truly sad to see you go. I hope your time in the capital’s been enlightening.”

The North might call him king, but here, in front of me, he was just another lord paying respects. Perhaps he realized that, too. Even if he didn't, I'd let him know by the time the threat of White Walkers become a real problem.

He turned, and I could see he felt both relief and tension about heading out. “Morning, Your Grace,” he answered, gripping my hand tight with that no-nonsense warrior’s grip. “An enlightening it was indeed.

“Your bravery in the war hasn’t gone unnoticed. I hope back North you'll enjoy the reputation of a war hero,” I said, letting a bit of warmth creep into my voice. “The alliance between our houses will help keep the realm together.”

Robb nodded, his expression guarded. “The North remembers its friends, Your Grace—and its enemies.”

It was a polite threat hidden behind courtesy, perhaps implying what might happen if I betrayed his sister. Looks like the boy has picked up a thing or two in the south.

“As do dragons,” I replied with a hint of a smile.

His eyes flicked toward the towers where Viserion often perched, then back to me. There wasn't any bad blood in our exchange, since unlike the Tyrell alliance, built on mutual gain, the Stark alliance was built on exactly that but also trust.

“Safe travels, Lord Stark,” I said, stepping aside. “May the old gods keep an eye on your road.”

As he turned to check the last details, something caught my eye. Catelyn Stark came forward from the crowd of Northern lords, her auburn hair shining under the morning sun. Sansa was among that crowd too, conversing with the lords, but my eyes remained on her mother. She walked with a steady grace, but those Tully-blue eyes burned with something when she looked at me—emotion barely held in check.

“Mother-in-law,” I greeted with a small grin, lowering my voice a notch. “Keep your family safe. The realm’s never certain.”

She stopped right in front of me, jaw set, giving a perfect curtsy. When she stood, her gaze didn’t waver.

“My loyalty is with my children. Don’t mistake my silence for approval, Your Grace,” she said, calm but firm.

I couldn’t help a slight smirk. After all that had happened, she still held her pride, and I found that strangely satisfying.

“How fascinating,” I murmured, stepping closer so only she could hear. “This fragile dance of ours. You want your family’s safety more than anything, don’t you, my lady? Such noble devotion. So noble that it led you into my bed last time.”

A flush crept up her neck, and I couldn’t tell if it was anger or something else. Her lips parted, but whatever she meant to say died in the air when Robb called out.

“Mother! We have to go.”

She held my gaze a second longer, full of resolve and a fierce protectiveness that spoke volumes. Then she turned away, moving toward her son with practiced elegance.

The Stark party began mounting up, the final farewell settling over the courtyard. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sansa standing rigidly near the horses, her copper hair gleaming in the sun. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were bright with unshed tears watching her mother and brother get ready to leave.

I walked over to her, feeling a twinge of something at how upset she looked. Gently draping an arm around her shoulders, I gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“No need to be sad, dear Sansa. Your family won’t be alone—some of my best guards will go with them to the Neck,” I told her.

Sansa glanced up at me, surprise peeking through her sorrow. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she whispered. “I worry about them not for their safety, however. I… just… I'll miss them.”

I smiled softly. “As any good sister and daughter would,” I said, letting my voice soften. “But remember, your place is here now, with me. You'll have to get used to it.”

Her gaze drifted to her mother, who was swinging onto her horse. Catelyn glanced back just once, her eyes finding Sansa’s. There was a lot in that look—love, worry, silent promises.

Then Margaery showed up, her bright smile catching the morning light. “A perfect day for a ride, isn’t it?” she said cheerily. “We’ll have plenty to discuss once they’re gone.”

I gave a nod, noticing how Margaery subtly moved a bit closer to me than to Sansa. Seemed unintentional, but it spoke volumes about the unspoken tension between them.

“You always have a place here, sweet sister,” Margaery said to Sansa, reaching out to squeeze her hand. It looked sincere, but there was that familiar glint in her eyes—always plotting, always aware of the game.

I watched them, both so different, yet both so necessary for my plans, circling each other like cautious wolves.

“Margaery dearest, I’ll take Sansa for a walk in the gardens,” I declared, looking straight at Margaery. “She needs a break from this bustle. Could you oversee our guests’ departure?”

A quick flash of disappointment flickered on Margaery’s face before she smiled again, masking it in a heartbeat. “Of course, Your Grace,” she said with a graceful bow. “I’d be honored.”

She drifted away toward the men and horses, and I guided Sansa through a side passage to the gardens. The air smelled sweeter there, alive with roses and jasmine.

The two of us strolled in silence for a while, following a twisting path through neatly trimmed flowerbeds. The gardeners had outdone themselves. Vivid blossoms and thick green leaves made for a perfect backdrop.

I slowly lightened the mood with small talk. We talked and watched from here as the horde of northern horses left the city gates. Over the next half an hour, the sadness in Sansa lessened considerably thanks to my presence.

“...Um, dear husband,” she suddenly said, tone a lot more serious than usual. “What is your relationship with Arianne Martell?”

Her voice was quiet, eyes fixed on a patch of blue winter roses. She wouldn’t look at me, like she wasn’t sure she wanted to know my answer.

I paused, turning to face her. It caught me off guard—not the question itself, but that she’d ask it so plainly.

“Arianne Martell is just another piece on the board,” I said, lifting Sansa’s chin so she’d meet my gaze. “I hold the dragons, the swords, the crown. Did I marry her or you? Such matters don't deserve your worry, Sansa. She’s here to serve my interests, nothing more.”

I did like Arianne's company. Although she was bratty and annoying at first, it'd changed overtime. Plus she was a lot of fun in the bed… But I had to reassure Sansa.

I leaned in, lowering my voice. “I will not try to defend my character, I love women, but… Remember your place by my side as my wife, Sansa. You aren't just any random woman, you're my wife. You’re safe here. Always.”

Her eyes flickered with uncertainty—blue eyes like her mother’s, but softer. “You promise?”

I set a hand on her shoulder, feeling her relax just a bit under my touch. “I promise, silly Sansa. Now, let’s enjoy the morning. We’ve got battles to win, and maybe even a war to fight.”

We kept walking, and I turned over the latest changes in this ever-evolving chessboard. The Starks heading north would shore up defenses there—useful with what I knew was coming from beyond the Wall.

Jon Snow’s warnings were only the start. True Winter was on its way, and it was bringing threats far deadlier than any southern lord.

But Sansa didn’t need to know all that yet. Some plans were best kept close until the time was right.

Specially when those plans involved me making her brother take the knee.

****

The corridor leading to Arianne’s room was oddly quiet this afternoon. The guards outside her door straightened up when they spotted me, their faces giving away nothing.

I waved them off, waiting until I heard their footsteps fade before I pressed my hand against the ornate handle.

She wasn't in my bedroom anymore. It'd be insulting to my wives, after all. She had her own chambers, but they were nowhere near a dungeon. They were fit for a Dornish princess, comfortable enough to remind her of her station but locked up enough to show she was still under my control.

Everyone in the court gossiped about my so-called "merciful imprisonment," but really, it was a message. She was still my prisoner, my fucktoy.

I pushed open the door without bothering to knock. Sunlight poured in through the big windows, flooding the room in a warm glow that bounced off polished furniture and silk hangings.

“Mhm…” Arianne was lounging on her bed, a book forgotten beside her. Her dark hair spilled over the edge of the mattress, contrasting perfectly with her crimson dress. At the noise, she rolled over and stretched lazily, like a satisfied cat, before her silver eyes locked on mine.

She broke into a grin and jumped up in one smooth move.

Every step she took had a graceful sway, and the dress she wore—definitely one of Margaery’s, altered to fit her curves—left very little to the imagination.

“Look who’s here!” she said, flinging her arms around my neck and pressing herself against me. Her lips brushed my cheek in a teasing welcome. “Did you miss me, my Dragon King?”

I chuckled, breathing in that spicy, citrusy scent she always seemed to carry. “You think this is how hostages are supposed to act? I’m here on business, dear prisoner.”

She leaned back just a bit, eyes shining with mischief. One hand stayed around my neck while the other played idly across my chest.

“Business? How dull of you,” she sighed dramatically. “And here I thought you’d come to entertain your poor, lonely, sex-deprived captive.”

Her fingers kept up their little dance, dipping beneath my doublet’s collar. The tension between us crackled—desire never really went away, no matter the politics or the reasons we had to keep our distance.

“How are you sex derived when I fucked you for three whole days? Crazy girl,” I said. “Bur anyway, I have a letter from your father,” I added, trying to steer things back to why I’d really come. “He pretends to be innocent and wants you home in Dorne. He’s demanding your return.”

Arianne’s playful look vanished, replaced by a flicker of real anger.

She stepped back, crossing her arms under her breasts in a way that somehow looked both stubborn and enticing.

“I don't like why he's acting like this. He's always been so smart, but what's he doing now? Fucking hell.” she said, her accent growing thicker as her emotions rose. “He could have just apologized now and I'd have handled the rest! You’d do well not to take his demands too seriously, Viserys.”

I watched her, taking in the genuine frustration on her face. It was fun.

Arianne turning against her father was a big deal in Dornish politics—one I fully intended to use to my advantage.

“Don’t worry, I'm not returning you so soon. That's it. I need to go now,” I said abruptly, turning toward the door. “There are things I have to attend to.”

“Um… do you really have to ignore me like this?” she purred, her voice dropping low. She crossed the room slowly, each movement meant to highlight the curve of her body. “I’m so lonely here, daddy…”

I raised a brow, smirking at her theatrical approach. “You’re not exactly some damsel in distress in this safe castle, Arianne. You’re more like a royal guest, with more perks than most in my court.”

“Well, whatever,” she sighed, giving up her attempt. Her expression went through a change then. Her silver gaze bored into mine, a hint of genuine vulnerability showing through her usual confidence. “Ah, speaking of that… What about Tyene and the others? Are they...?”

The question hung in the air, heavier than her flirty words. I saw her playful façade slip a bit, concern taking over.

“They’re alive, rest assured. I'm keeping them in the dungeons,” I replied, watching her face. “After trying to poison me, they’re facing the consequences. I have no intention of letting them off easy.”

Arianne’s expression darkened, her bravado slipping. She took a step closer, no more sultry smiles or teasing.

“That’s not good. They must be feeling so tortured… Please, Viserys,” she said, her voice wavering a bit. “At least let me see Tyene. She’s my friend. I'll get her on your side. It can’t be that hard to arrange.”

I studied her carefully.

It was her who warned me about them, so I’d expected their betrayal. The Sand Snakes had tried to kill me—usually a straight path to a grisly end. But their ties to Dorne, and Arianne’s loyalty, made them valuable. Killing them would be a waste. Plus they'd been helpful to me in the past.

Letting her meet Tyene could serve as a reminder to Arianne of what happens to those who betray me.

“Alright,” I said after a moment’s thought. “You can speak with her. Maybe you'll talk some sense into her for real.”

Relief flooded her features, followed by a cunning smile. She closed the gap again, pressing her body to mine.

“Thank you, really,” she whispered, lips hovering near my ear. Her hands slid up my chest, resting on my shoulders. My hands wrapped around her slip waist, sliding down to cup her soft ass. “I knew you had a reasonable side.”

Although I enjoyed the feel of her body, I had to remind her of the situation. I caught her wrists, pulling them away—not hard, but firmly. “Don’t confuse my calculated mercy with weakness, Princess. Your friend did try to poison me, and that usually ends in an execution.”

Arianne’s smile stayed in place, but I saw her eyes harden. “Of course, sweetheart… And I'll be sure she'll apologize to you for that. Since you like feeling your ego so much.”

The push and pull of our relationship was always shifting—friends in one moment, enemies in the next, and lovers whenever we both felt like it. Exhausting, but also thrilling.

Arianne was one of the few people here who came close to treating me like an equal. A risky move on her part, but one I allowed for now. She was amusing.

“I’ll set it up for tomorrow,” I said, heading for the door. “You’ll be under guard, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she echoed, giving a small curtsey while flashing me a look of genuine gratitude. “Until then, I’ll just have to find other ways to keep busy.”

As I stepped out, I found myself smiling. In another time or place, Arianne Martell might’ve been a truly great queen. Maybe she still would be, depending on where the pieces landed in all the fights to come.

The game of thrones rolled on, getting more tangled by the day.

And in the darkness far beyond this petty power struggle, the real enemy was getting stronger—the Night King and his undead horde, all set to move south while we fought each other.

Thankfully, one of my prized conquests returned to reassure me soon. By the time Arianne was done talking to Tyene, the Queen of the Ironborns was at my shore.

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