( Sansa POV )
"You are a beautiful woman, my lady, and from another kingdom besides," Myrcella replied with her innocent voice.
"But it is known the prince's heart is spoken for. If he brought you here, wouldn't it be for you to marry him so that he may lay with his love, whilst you could enjoy whatever you wish to do without a worry? That is what Trystane told me."
...
Sansa's gaze stayed fixed on the girl in front of her, unsure of what to answer.
Fortunately, another woman entered the pathway. It was Ellaria Sand, who called out to them.
"Lady Sansa, Prince Quentyn requires your presence, you must get dressed!"
Myrcella looked at her and took the intervention as a sign to leave.
"I bid you a good day, my lady." The blonde-haired Lannister bowed her head slightly and left, leaving Sansa confused.
No matter, she would find answers soon.
Putting on her dress, she was quick to dry her hair and walk towards the doors to the small patch of gardens and pools she was staying in, and was escorted to another place, less crowded, and with much more shade.
In the middle of this new garden was a table at which Prince Quentyn sat alone, garnered with fruit and pitches and glasses. Alongside it was an empty chair, clearly destined for her.
Quickly, she walked down the stony path which snaked through the palm trees to find the Prince standing, awaiting her.
"Lady Sansa." He rose, "Please sit."
Sansa curtsied before taking the chair opposite him.
"Wine?" he offered.
"If you would," Sansa agreed to a glass, no more.
The prince took a pitcher and served her a glass of Dornish Red, whilst serving himself only a cup of water.
He then handed her a plate full of cut fruit, on which lay apples, grapes, peaches, plums, oranges, pomegranate and clementines.
She took some of it to her mouth, enjoying the sweet sugary taste of the clementines whilst also tasting the fresh wine coming to soothe her throat.
"How are you faring, princess Sansa?" the prince started by asking. "I trust everyone has been kind to you?"
"I am well, my prince," Sansa spoke in a low voice. "I have been well treated, but as I have told your men, I am no princess."
"I am sure my men have told you why you are addressed as such. Though I am pleased to hear you are well here, the heat can be challenging to adapt to, and do call me Quentyn." Her interlocutor rectified his curly hair as he brought water to his lips.
"I shall."
"I am sorry for not meeting you earlier, I had business to attend elsewhere, and these past weeks have been a true nightmare. I needed a few moments of rest," he continued.
Sansa nodded at these words.
"When we met in the capital, I did not expect the Lannister dogs to have mistreated you in this way." He crossed his arms, staring at her with a twitch in his right eye, his scar almost judging her. "But you are a strong woman, princess. You survived your torturers and you kept your wits while more fickle women would have broken. I truly admire your courage."
Sansa was taken aback by these words, and couldn't manage to mutter anything.
"When I ordered you to be taken, I must confess, I only intended to stop your suffering. Even with the Tyrells in charge, who knows what could have happened to you in that wretched city. No. If I got you out, it is because I wanted you to stop suffering."
"I thank you, my…Quentyn," Sansa answered, floored.
"I know you must long for home. Gods know I can understand how you feel. But as it stands there are enemies between Dorne and the North, and as such, I may not return you even if I wished to." The prince sighed.
"Even if you wished…" Sansa wondered aloud.
Prince Quentyn nodded.
"I will be honest, Princess." Prince Quentyn looked at her with sad eyes. "Completely honest. You are my hostage here."
Sansa's eyes fell.
Of course, it was too good to be true. As she had thought, she had only swapped gaolers.
"Now, I do not intend to see you unhappy. I promise you, on my life, that you will be returned to your family as soon as possible," he said, clutching one of her hands.
"I understand." Sansa did her best to repress tears.
"Princess, something is bothering you," the prince observed. "Please, speak your mind."
Sansa looked him in the eyes, fighting back the tears, and said to his face: "Don't you wish to marry me, my prince?"
"Me?" the prince's eyes went wide. "Who gave you such an idea?"
"Your…brother, told Lady Myrcella, and she told me."
"Trystane is too young to understand what is happening." Quentyn chuckled. "As for Lady Myrcella, she is a sweet girl, but too innocent. No, I do not wish to marry you. I am not so cruel as to have saved you from a horrible fate to forcefully tie you to me, far from your home and your family."
Sansa breathed a sigh of relief.
"No," the prince continued, reaching towards his doublet and pulling out a letter, which he promptly gave to her. "This is the reason I must keep you here."
Sansa took the letter, and quickly began reading it.
Suddenly, her face turned white with shock.
"Quentyn,
I write to you most urgently. It seems that the North has kept a weapon from us. A week ago, a force of fifty thousand strong men that set from Harrenhal was destroyed at the walls of Riverrun.
The survivors say they were set upon by a huge blue dragon, who wiped out the army and forced them to scatter. Word has now traveled that it had a rider.
The identity of the rider is Lord Regent Jon Stark, whose real parentage you know. He supposedly is acting in the name of King Rickon Stark, of Winterfell, and since then has been helping the Riverlanders. I know nothing else.
I hope this raven finds you well, as it may be my last. The Ironborn have been seen around these waters and we might be the target of their next assault. We must all be ready.
Do what you must for Dorne. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.
Your cousin,
Sarella.
"
Sansa put down the letter, in shock.
"I must admit that this was very unexpected news." The prince sighed, his face betraying no emotion other than a slight frown. "But I must owe you the truth. Your bastard brother is not Eddard Stark's. He is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. This makes him…"
"…a Targaryen." Sansa gasped, her fingers shaking.
"Daeron Targaryen, to be precise. A secret that is now no longer one, seeing as he has somehow acquired a dragon of his own."
"Rickon is alive…" Sansa allowed herself a smile.
"It seems so." Prince Quentyn nodded. "In any case you may now see why I need to keep you here. Dorne will soon go to war, and your cousin was not on the list of the enemies I intended to face, much less one with a dragon."
Sansa's heart lifted. Surely, Jon would come and save her, now that he had a dragon. He could come into the courtyard of Sunspear and fly her away from here. But that was if she knew where she was.
"While honor may dictate that your cousin may be my enemy since he represents the stain on Elia's honor, I am not one to jump to hasty conclusions. Perhaps your cousin may be amenable to us, and in which case, I will be happy to hand you back to him or your brother so that you may join your family as soon as possible."
Sansa's eyes darted to the prince, who seemed genuine.
"However, if he doesn't…then in order to stop every castle from Yronwood to Sunspear from a fate worse than the Dragon's Wroth, then you must understand that I cannot do otherwise than keep you here till I get dragons of my own. I am sorry."
Sansa gulped and nodded slowly.
"I understand, Quentyn."
"In the meantime, while you are my hostage," the prince held her hand again as they stood up and walked away from the table, "I do not wish you to lack of anything. You will be treated like a princess, and I have given orders as such.
If you have any concern, however personal they may be, bring them to Ellaria who will bring them to me. If you wish to travel, I can have an escort arranged. If you wish to visit certain establishments or wish to go to bathe in the sea, I will have ladies come with you as well."
"You are kind," Sansa bowed her head in thanks, holding his arm while sliding the letter inside her dress.
"If you wish to buy yourself any stuffs from the market or the shops, I shall give you gold to spend, Princess," Prince Quentyn continued. "If you must speak to me immediately you will be let through to my rooms. Just remember to knock first, it will save us some embarrassment."
"I will tell lady Ellaria if I wish anything," Sansa said with a slight smile, the prince showing her to the door to her rooms.
"Have a good evening, Princess." The prince kissed her on the cheek and let her in her rooms, finally leaving her alone in her chambers, which were already large enough for a king.
That night, she closed her eyes with a wide smile on her lips. For the first time in so long, she could feel that her family was close, and that they had not forgotten about her.
Soon, they would come for her and they would finally be reunited. She would hug mother, Rickon, Jon and Arya, for even if there was no word of her sister, she knew she was alive.
But most of all, she smiled at the thought of Jon having a dragon. His parentage be damned to the seven hells, she could not care less.
No, she cared only for one thing: now she would see Cersei Lannister burn.
=======================
If you want to support me or just to read 17 chapters ahead of the public release for 5$
Link to join my p@treon :
p@treon.com/moonlight10