( Arianne )
Arianne's face grew tense with each step she took towards the Water Gardens. The escort she was provided with was well-armed, and it was Areo himself that led the guard.
So much for a lonely traitor.
"What does my father wish of me?" she asked for the hundredth time to the Norvoshi guard.
The man stood as silent as ever.
"Answer me, Areo!" she pleaded. "You've known me since I was a little girl. I never wanted Quentyn to be harmed, he's my brother! Please, Areo, tell me what my father means to do!"
"I know not what your father wishes of you, little princess. The prince commands, and Areo obeys." The Norvoshi finally answered, before walling himself back into his silence.
The gates of the Gardens opened, and the group around her scattered, leaving only her, Areo and a few guards to continue the journey through the pools and palm trees.
She dismounted, making sure to look around for anyone lurking behind the trees and bushes. But there was no one. It was only her and her guards.
The pools she had played in during her childhood came and went, and with every passing step, she felt her will crumble a little more. With every alley, she worried that at the end of it would be a stump, ready to accommodate her head, as her father watched jubilantly from his seat.
But corners and alleys continued to unravel, and no such sight appeared.
The small group passed through a gate, and Arianne's heart sank.
Before her eyes laid a long, beautiful pool, with blood orange trees lining up the paths on both sides. She had played in this pool once, when she was younger. It was her favourite as the shade provided by the orange trees stopped most of the sunlight coming through, making the pools cool and lovely to play in.
It was there that she had met most of her friends. The Fowlers, Cassana, Myria, Sylva, Elinor, Taliyah. So many names, and how many were left? None.
At the end of the pool stood a platform overlooking the gardens, which were surrounded with a series of houses, making these gardens completely closed off.
Lost in her thoughts, she did not notice that her guards had left her, with Areo walking towards a small area at the end of the pool, covered by a large cloth. Underneath were four seats, with three already being occupied.
And her heart sunk again.
She walked slowly towards the empty seat, judging the figures before her.
Her uncle Oberyn seemed the happiest to see her, as he smiled when she walked in. He hadn't aged a day from when she was still a girl playing in these pools. Her father, though, was stoic as ever, but did greet her, which was more than she expected.
Her father would always greet her with a charade of some sort, and would never actually bother speaking to her. The prince stood still in his chair, pain still apparent in his eyes, as the gout likely ate him from the inside.
Finally, her eyes settled on her brother Quentyn. He was sitting down, arms crossed, with blood in his eyes. It was the first time that she saw him since he laid covered in blood on the courtyard in Sunspear. The fight with Daemon had left a deep scar in his face, that covered him from cheek to hairline, luckily avoiding his eye.
I did this?
She asked herself. She never wanted this. She never thought that this would happen. Blinded by hate, ambition and love, she had stepped too far, and she knew it. Her brother had come close to death, and her family would never forgive her for it.
"Father." She greeted them, trying to conceal the worry inside her. "Uncle. Brother."
No one answered.
Sighing, she took the chair and sat down.
"I did not give you leave to sit." Her father pointed out.
Arianne just frowned.
"Then punish me for it. Have Areo come here and whip me in front of your kin."
Her father stayed silent. Annoyed, she turned to Quentyn.
"Listen, brother, I never meant to…"
"Have me killed?" Quentyn spat out as he kept his arm crossed.
"No." She shook her head. "I never meant for Daemon to do this. I never wanted him to try and kill you…I just…"
She stood silent for a few moments.
"What did you intend, then?" Oberyn asked.
"I wanted Daemon to humiliate him." Arianne said, taking her eyes off of Quentyn's scar for a moment. "I wanted Quentyn to be beat down in the sand, I admit!"
She cried out these last words to her father's face.
"I wanted Quentyn to be completely humiliated lest all of Dorne turn against me. I asked it of Daemon, he had no part in this. Please, father, spare him."
"As it turns out." Her father spoke. "What comes of Ser Daemon is your brother's decision. It was his life that was put in danger thanks to your recklessness, and it is he who decided his fate."
Arianne's eyes went wide.
No, no, no, no. Please…
She turned to Quentyn, who sat emotionless in his seat. As she turned to him, eyes pleading, her brother read her question before she could utter a word.
He just shook his head.
"Quentyn has decided to spare Ser Daemon." Her father continued. "I ought to have his head, but this will not come to pass. I suggested the Night's Watch, but your brother thought that punishment was also too cruel. Instead, Ser Daemon will be sent to Norvos to serve your mother for ten years, and then be allowed to do whatever he wishes. This does not include coming back to Dorne."
Arianne nodded gravely. A life in exile was better than death.
"What do you wish of me, then? To die, and have Quentyn take my birthright like you always wanted? At least tell it to my face, for once."
"I never intended to rob you of your rights." Her father answered quickly.
"What about that letter sent to Lord Yronwood?"
"How did you know?"
"It matters little."
"Yes." Her father nodded. "I did intend for Quentyn to succeed me as ruler of Dorne. I promised him, and he has come back for that purpose. You, on the other hand, I had plans for you."
"Such wonderful plans." She laughed. "Gyles Rosby, Beesbury, Grandison, Walder Frey, Estermont…"
"Can we stop beating around the bush?" Quentyn finally lost patience. "Just tell her."
"Listen, Arianne." Oberyn spoke for the first time. "Your father offered you these matches because he and I knew you would reject all of them. We needed to make it seem like we were at least trying to find suitable matches."
"Terrible plan." Quentyn whispered behind her.
"You were promised to another." Oberyn replied. "To Viserys Targaryen."
"What?" she looked confused. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to, but your father thought it would be too risky." Oberyn replied.
"Why?"
"Because he thought you'd share that information with one of your lovers, who'd pass it on to someone else." Quentyn sighed. "I know, it's a really stupid excuse."
"And what of Viserys now?" she asked.
"He's gone." Oberyn replied. "Gone to the Dothraki Sea on a mad quest to bring himself an army to get to the Seven Kingdoms. The boy inherited his father's madness, and your father and I agreed that such a match wouldn't be suitable anymore."
"This betrothal should have secured our vengeance and our blood on the Iron Throne." Her father continued. "This isn't possible anymore."
"So, am I to have Dorne then?" her eyes lit up once more.
Oberyn shook his head.
"Even if you didn't mean it, all of Dorne thinks that you ordered Daemon to kill Quentyn." Oberyn replied. "You have overstepped your boundaries, niece, and Dorne can never be yours, lest we tear the kingdom apart in a bloody war."
Her eyes watered. Her birthright. Everything she had fought for…gone, because her family could not trust her with a secret.
"Quentyn will inherit Dorne. Trystane will be next in line." Her father said, sternly. "If anything should happen to them, the mantle of Prince will pass onto Oberyn, then Ser Manfrey. Do I make myself clear?"
"Very." Arianne replied, with tears in her eyes. "And what is to become of me?"
"We will find a husband befitting of your station as princess of Dorne. You have done our family name great harm, Arianne. You can see it as a way to repay that."
"This answers nothing." She continued. "Who am I going to marry, then?"
"We have not decided." Oberyn replied. "It is still in our interest to get vengeance upon the Lannisters, and to do this we will need allies. Powerful allies. There are only two suitable candidates for your hand."
"These are Willas Tyrell and Robb Stark." Her father cut in. "One can bring us the breadbasket of the Reach, and the other is the key to three kingdoms."
Tyrell or Stark…