[119] Sunspear’s Morning

Chapter 119: Sunspear's Morning

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Sunlight streamed through the high open windows of Sunspear's master bedchamber, painting golden patterns across the silk sheets tangled around my legs. I groaned as I shielded my eyes. The air carried the sweet scent of citrus and spice—a distinctly Dornish aroma that permeated every corner of the ancient castle.

I opened my eyes slowly, yawning. The events of yesterday flooded back in vivid detail as I looked around. The conquest of Dorne. The submission of the Martells. And the night spent with Arianne that followed.

Not bad for a day's work.

The space beside me was empty, but still warm. I stretched my arms above my head, feeling the satisfying pull of muscles that had been thoroughly exercised the night before.

"Good morning, Your Grace."

Arianne's voice drew my attention to the balcony doorway where she stood, her silhouette outlined by the harsh Dornish sun.

She'd already bathed—her bronze skin gleamed with scented oils, and her dark hair fell in damp waves past her shoulders. She wore only a sheer robe that did little to conceal the curves beneath, the fabric clinging to her still-moist skin in ways that’d make a lesser man’s mouth go dry.

She carried a silver tray with a steaming cup, approaching the bed with that distinctive sway of her hips that seemed both natural and deliberately practiced.

"I thought you might enjoy some tea before the day begins," she said, setting the tray on the bedside table. "A Dornish specialty."

I pushed myself up against the headboard, not bothering to cover my nakedness. Arianne's silver eyes drank in the sight, her lips curving into a pleased smile that told me she appreciated what she saw.

Taking the cup, I sipped the amber liquid.

It was spiced with something unfamiliar. It was warming but not overwhelming, with hints of citrus and what might have been cinnamon.

"I'm surprised," I said, taking another appreciative sip. "I thought only Dornish red wine was good, but it seems the tea doesn't fall behind."

She giggled, the sound both girlish and seductive. "I'm glad you like it. I made it myself."

"Did you?" I set the cup down and reached for her waist with one hand, pulling her onto the bed with ease. She came willingly, settling into my lap with practiced grace, her ass pressing against my growing hardness. My hand slid around her waist, feeling the soft curve of her hip beneath the thin fabric.

I leaned forward, breathing in the scent of her neck. She smelled of freshness, jasmine, and something else that I couldn’t quite place. "In the end, I’d say Dornish women easily topple over their wine and tea. At least the Princess does."

"Mhm..." she moaned softly as my lips found the sensitive spot below her ear. Her body arched back against mine, responsive and eager. “I thought it’s Highlady now?” she asked with another moan.

So different from the posturing, ambitious princess I'd first met. Though that ambition remained—it had simply aligned with my own goals. “You’d remain my princess regardless,” I said, speaking against her skin, which made her shiver.

My hand slid higher, cupping her breast through the sheer fabric, feeling her nipple harden against my palm. She turned her head, seeking my lips, but I pulled back slightly.

"We have matters to discuss, Princess," I murmured, enjoying the flash of frustration that crossed her features.

Arianne sighed, though she didn't move from my lap. "Always business with you, isn't it?" But there was no real complaint in her tone, more a playful observation.

"The realm doesn't rule itself," I replied, reaching for my tea again while keeping her firmly in place with my other arm. "Even with dragons."

Her expression sobered slightly as she adjusted her position, now sitting more properly on my lap though her hand remained on my thigh, fingers tracing idle patterns on my skin.

"Speaking of ruling," she began, her voice taking on a more serious note, "I hope you're planning to stay in Dorne for at least a few days?"

I raised an eyebrow, silently prompting her to continue.

"The transition won't be easy," she admitted, her silver eyes meeting mine directly. "My father has many loyal supporters, and Uncle Oberyn... well, he may have backed down for now, but he's still the Red Viper. The Smallfolk have heard your dragon announce my rule, but words alone won't secure it."

She's right, I thought. In the original timeline, Doran's careful plotting kept Dorne stable for years. His removal creates a power vacuum that even Arianne will struggle to fill immediately.

The politically savvy move would be to remain in Dorne for at least a week, helping Arianne consolidate power, executing or exiling those who might oppose her, and ensuring a smooth transition. The Dragon King's presence would deter most challenges before they began.

But there was Tywin Lannister to consider.

The Old Lion was cornered in Casterly Rock, with Tyrell forces preparing to surround him. It was the perfect opportunity to finally deal with the man who was one of the last thorns in my path on this continent. Plus, everyone in Dorne knew he was the one who’d orchestrated the deaths of my niece and nephew—the children of Elia Martell and my brother Rhaegar. If he’s punished, the general population of Dorne would be more open to accepting my rule.

In the show, Tywin would live to see the Purple Wedding and then die unceremoniously on a privy. Such a pathetic end for a man who'd caused so much suffering.

I had other plans for him. Plans that required my personal attention.

"I can see your mind working," Arianne said, breaking into my thoughts. Her fingers traced the line of my jaw, her touch gentle but demanding attention. "You're thinking of leaving, aren't you? Of Casterly Rock and Tywin Lannister."

Perceptive woman.

"I need to be there," I confirmed, watching her face fall slightly. "The Tyrells are loyal, but they're also ambitious. I want to ensure they follow my commands precisely, not improvise their own justice for the Lannisters."

Arianne's lips thinned, disappointment evident in her expression. She shifted in my lap, creating a delicious friction that momentarily distracted me from our conversation.

"You'd never love me as much as the others, would you? You just want to go there to see your wife, to make sure that Tyrell girl is safe. Is that it?" she asked suddenly, her voice soft and vulnerable, much different from the confident princess who'd faced down her father yesterday.

The question caught me off guard. It was unlike Arianne to show such insecurity. The woman I'd known was calculating, ambitious, and self-assured to the point of arrogance. This glimpse of vulnerability was either genuine emotional growth or a calculated ploy to manipulate me.

Perhaps both.

In truth, I did prefer Yara's fierce independence and Margaery's political savvy. Sansa's innocence had its own appeal, and Daenerys—well, she was blood of my blood, dragon incarnate.

But Arianne had grown on me. Her fierce ambition, her unwavering loyalty once given, and yes, her undeniable sexual allure—all made her a valuable asset and an increasingly important piece in my game.

At another time, my answer might have been different. I might have even laughed at her face. But the Arianne before me now, with her mix of strength and vulnerability, had carved her own place in my expanding empire. She’d chosen me above her father, she betrayed her blood to please me. The least I could do was make her feel better.

I put the teacup down and cupped her face, brushing my thumb across her full lower lip. "Love as much as others? I already love you more than them, silly Princess," I lied—or perhaps it wasn't entirely a lie. She had certainly risen in my estimation.

Her eyes brightened, and I captured her lips in a gentle kiss, feeling her melt against me. When I pulled back, she was smiling, that insecurity vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

"And just to prove that," I added, the plan forming as I spoke, "I'll be leaving Viserion in Dorne. I think she likes the sand, the heat here. So it should be a good vacation for her."

It was strategically sound. Viserion's presence would discourage any rebellion against Arianne's rule. I could take Rhaegal and Drogon to Casterly Rock—two dragons were more than enough to deal with Tywin Lannister. And keeping Viserion near Arianne would protect my investment in Dorne.

Her face transformed, joy replacing uncertainty in an instant. She launched herself at me, arms wrapping around my neck, pressing her body fully against mine.

"I love you, I love you, I love you—!" The words tumbled from her lips in an excited rush as she peppered kisses across my face.

I laughed, amused by her enthusiasm, my hands finding her waist and holding her close. The thin robe had fallen open, and her naked body pressed against mine, soft and warm and inviting.

"Easy, Princess," I chuckled, my hands sliding down to cup her ass. "There's no need to suffocate me with gratitude."

"Oh, there is. There are many better ways I can show my gratitude," she purred, her eyes darkening with renewed desire as she began to move against me with deliberate intent.

As I pulled her down for another kiss, I mentally revised my schedule. Perhaps I could delay my departure for a day or two after all. Casterly Rock had stood for thousands of years—it could wait a little longer.

Some conquests deserved to be savored, indeed.

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