"I heard it's an envoy from Lys, and…" Manfrey hesitated slightly before continuing, "Viserys."
"Viserys? The Targaryen?"
"Yes."
"The same Viserys who claimed to have defeated all the pirates in the world not long ago? What's he doing at the Water Gardens?"
"I don't know," Manfrey replied, uncertainty evident in his voice.
Arianne didn't see her father, Doran, very often, so when she heard she was being summoned to the Water Gardens, she felt a flicker of happiness. But the news that Viserys was also there left her perplexed.
'Is he here to propose marriage? At this time?' she wondered, her mind racing. Although she was no longer the naive 14-year-old girl she once was, Arianne knew that Doran would never marry her to someone without status. But in her eyes, Viserys's current situation wasn't much better than that of a commoner. First, she had been surrounded by a circle of old men, and now, there was the prospect of a "lost soul." The thought only deepened her sadness.
Arianne resolved that when she met Viserys, she wouldn't be particularly welcoming.
The carriage carrying Arianne and Manfrey soon arrived at the Water Gardens. From the cool room, where Viserys was pretending to converse nonchalantly with Oberyn, he saw the carriage through his golden eagle's eyes. He knew that whoever was inside must be of importance. His suspicions were confirmed when a servant entered to inform Oberyn of their arrival.
"Let's go. It's time to see Prince Doran," Oberyn said to Viserys.
Perhaps it was prearranged, but as soon as they stepped out of the cool room, they encountered Arianne and Manfrey walking toward them. Manfrey, a cousin of House Martell, had a few strands of gray mingling with his jet-black hair. He was of medium height but had a stocky build. Upon seeing Viserys, he gave him a quick, appraising glance.
Then there was Arianne, standing no more than 1.6 meters tall, with a petite figure and large patches of olive skin on her arms and neck. She wore blue silk wide-legged trousers that, when caught by the wind, hinted at her full curves. As Arianne walked beside Manfrey, she first appeared taken aback by Viserys's presence, then puzzled. It wasn't until she drew closer that she noticed the silver roots peeking through his brown hair.
"This is Prince Viserys," Oberyn introduced. "Viserys, this is Arianne, and this is Ser Manfrey."
"Arianne, Ser Manfrey," Viserys greeted them with a nod.
"Prince Viserys," Manfrey replied, still curious about the young Targaryen standing before him.
Arianne, however, barely acknowledged him. She cast a brief glance at Viserys standing beside Oberyn, but her thoughts were preoccupied with how to defy Doran. She quickly shook off any impression of Viserys's "male beauty" and didn't even offer a nod or verbal response.
"Let's go see Prince Doran together," Oberyn suggested, trying to ease the tension.
As they walked, Arianne couldn't resist asking, "Lord Viserys, I thought you were still a sellsword in the Free Cities. How did you end up in Dorne?"
"Well, you don't even want to call me Prince," Viserys responded with a wry smile.
"Arianne!" Oberyn interjected, already developing a certain fondness for Viserys. He was irritated by Arianne's rudeness, but Viserys waved it off, unbothered.
"There's a saying: no one comes to Sunspear without an agenda," Viserys said calmly. "And I certainly have an agenda." Arianne gave a small, disdainful smile. "And where are your dragons? In the past, when the Targaryens wanted something from Dorne, they would arrive on dragonback—or at the very least, with an army in tow."
'Fine, fine, fine. You want to pick a fight?' Viserys thought to himself, reading her expression.
"Arianne!" Oberyn warned again. Viserys, however, simply smiled and responded, "That means that in the past, the Targaryens came to Dorne and took more than they left behind. Now, I'm bringing more than I'm taking. As for what I'm bringing, we'll discuss that when we meet Prince Doran." His words carried a subtle challenge, making it clear that his business was with Doran, not Arianne. After all, Viserys was her senior in terms of lineage.
Although Viserys kept his tone controlled, the underlying steel in his voice as he sparred verbally with Arianne earned him a measure of respect from both Manfrey and the Red Viper. Arianne, realizing she couldn't easily provoke him, fell silent. Soon, the group reached the heart of the Water Gardens, where Oberyn's two daughters hurriedly approached to greet them. They had already welcomed their father, but now their gazes turned to Viserys, their eyes sharp with curiosity rather than politeness.
Oberyn addressed his daughters, "Alright, I still have matters to discuss with your uncle. I'll check on your homework later."
Homework? Viserys thought, surprised that Oberyn, the notorious Red Viper, would assign his children such tasks.
"The fair-skinned one is Tyene; her mother is a holy sister," Oberyn said, introducing them with a touch of pride. "And the dark-skinned one is Sarella; her mother is a captain from the Summer Isles."
Viserys chuckled. "It seems neither the sea nor the gods can rival your charm." His compliment pleased Oberyn, though Arianne couldn't resist rolling her eyes. 'I never thought the Targaryens would fall so far,' she thought disdainfully, her contempt evident.
Arianne's behavior was becoming increasingly disrespectful, even grating on Manfrey's nerves. Oberyn also turned back, his face showing clear disapproval. But before anyone could reprimand her, Viserys deftly shifted the conversation.
"Prince Oberyn, have you ever wondered why all your children are girls?" he asked with a sly smile.
Oberyn, momentarily caught off guard, shrugged. "I've wondered, but it doesn't bother me. Though I wouldn't mind having another boy."
"Well, I've heard that the father determines the child's gender…" Viserys began, sharing some basic knowledge about fertility that seemed to genuinely intrigue Oberyn.
"So, you're saying it might be because I'm constantly handling poisons?" Oberyn mused, clearly intrigued by the idea. "Maybe if I avoid them for a while, I could have a son."
"Possibly," Viserys replied, though his aim wasn't really to help Oberyn have a son. He knew Oberyn's curiosity was piqued by anything new or unconventional. Strengthening personal ties with the Martells, even subtly, could only benefit Viserys in the long run. His casual indifference to Arianne, meanwhile, left her feeling as though she was swinging punches at empty air.
As they continued their conversation, they soon came into view of Prince Doran. From a distance, Doran noticed Viserys's reddish-brown hair and quickly deduced it was likely dyed for the sake of secrecy.
Viserys, too, had already considered the implications of the secret marriage pact before setting foot in Dorne. He was not eager to pursue a marriage alliance at this stage. If the Martells proposed one, it could complicate matters—he would have to refuse, but the challenge would be in doing so without offending them.
If the alliance between Lys and Dorne was agreed upon, Viserys had a plan to offer a gesture of goodwill: using blood magic to alleviate Doran's gout. While he couldn't cure the illness entirely, he could at least offer temporary relief from the excruciating pain. In his previous life, Viserys had heard gout described as feeling like walking on shards of glass, so even a temporary reprieve could elevate his standing with House Martell.
When Viserys finally stood before Doran, he saw a man whose illness had aged him beyond his years. Doran's eyes were sharp, scrutinizing Viserys with a cautious intensity.
"Greetings, Prince Doran," Viserys said, bowing respectfully. The glint of silver at his hairline and the unmistakable purple of his eyes seemed to ease some of the tension in the room.
"Prince Viserys, please, have a seat," Doran invited. Tyene and Sarella served tea as they all settled around a hand-woven table.
"I understand the Prince is here to discuss an alliance between Lys and Dorne?" Doran asked, his voice measured but curious.