GOT: Reborn as a Martell

( Daeron POV )

"The North is facing a return of the Others."When Jon said the words it felt like an entire weight had been pulled off his chest."The Others are real, Lord Willas. I have seen them and I have fought them. They raise the dead and corrupt the living.

Not much can stop them. The North is preparing for war. It will not be a war for the North, but a war between the living and the dead. And I intend to win it."

...

Willas looked on, not revealing the shadow of an emotion, just nodding as Jon went on.

"They have slaughtered the wildlings, and I have let them through the wall. Men, women, children…that and the armies of those who wish to rally for the greatest fight our kind has seen will need to be fed. And that, Lord Willas, is why I need your grain."

Willas rubbed his beard for a moment, before, to Jon's surprise, nodding respectfully.

"I see…" he coughed, "and why haven't you the Iron Throne?"

"I have no use for an oversized chair." Jon scoffed.

"An oversized chair that can give you a lot of power," Willas replied. "If we are facing an unprecedented threat, as you say, then taking the throne would be the best thing you could do. You wouldn't just be asking for the armies of your allies, all the Kingdoms in Westeros would bow to you and be sworn to obey."

Jon listened with half a heart. He hadn't considered taking the Iron Throne. He had no need of it and hadn't desired to fulfill that part of his heritage. But Willas wasn't wrong in his argument. . .

"Should you take the throne, you may well sway all of the Kingdoms to your side. And thus, it would not be just the North against the Others, but seven, united kingdoms facing the threat. And who better than…" Willas paused, suddenly looking uneasy, then continued, "then someone with a claim, a dragon and the blood to lead them?"

"I had not considered it." Jon paused, biting his lip. "But the chair is still not worth much to me, all your southern games are not something I wish to deal with for the rest of my life."

"But is it not the duty of a leader to make tough decisions for the sake of his people?" Willas asked. "To take it upon himself to accept something he would not usually do, so that they may be better off? You could be that person, Lord Regent. All you have to do is accept a part of you that you reject."

"That's enough, Lord Willas," Jon frowned.

"Just a suggestion," the heir to Highgarden then bowed before exiting the small garden, leaving Jon to his thoughts.

He walked around the garden, twisting the Reachman's words over and over in his head. Finally, Jon settled on a bench next to a small fountain. Surely, taking the throne would cause more trouble, but as Lord Willas said, he would be obeyed and the chances of having to unite all the kingdoms seemed more and more appealing…

Suddenly, a female voice struck him out of his thoughts.

"Enjoying the calm, Lord Regent?"

Jon turned around, discovering the Dornish beauty which sat at Willas' side during the conversation around the table. She wore a delicate green dress which showed all of her curves, displaying expensive jewelry around her arms and on her face.

Jon could almost see some Val in her, if not for all of the expensive attire and skin tone, of course.

He shook his head inwardly. Val was lost to him, he had made a choice.

"As you can see, princess," he finally answered.

"Please," she scoffed, "I haven't been a princess since I arrived here. Call me Arianne, it will have the merit of me not having to suffer through more 'my lady' from these idiots."

Jon smiled.

"Then if I am to call you Arianne, it will only be proper if you call me Jon."

The princess smiled slightly and sat down next to him, observing the fountain's water running through the gardens.

"If I may be so bold to ask," he continued, "what is a Dornish princess doing so far from home?"

Arianne smiled slightly, looking at him with sad eyes.

"I thought I was to be Lord Willas' wife. I am perhaps still to be,eventually." She then shook her head. "But the sad truth is that I am not much but a prisoner here. My claim to Dorne is the only thing that these people want from me."

Jon frowned.

"Surely, your betrothed must be crazy to mistreat a woman as beautiful as you!" he protested.

"No, not mistreat." Arianne sighed. "But, do you see this rose bush, there?"

Jon nodded.

"Well, the thorns are just like the Tyrells here," she said before letting out a long sigh, "they strangle anything that tries to free itself from their grasp, until it either breaks or retreats back into their fold. It is the same with the Tyrells, they cut you from your home, and they dig in their thorns into you, strangling you, until you give in or break."

The princess then looked down towards the ground.

"They promise you everything, and you end up a pawn in their great game," she then turned her head to Jon, fire in her eyes, "do not believe their honeyed words. They are all part of a mummer's play. Their tears are not real, their pleas are naught and their words mean nothing. Sooner or later, they will strangle you too."

"I thank you for your honest advice, Arianne." Jon nodded. "But if I may be so bold, I remember learning you were the eldest, why find yourself here, in the middle of a bunch of roses?"

"I nearly had my brother killed because I was a selfish, stupid girl." She ran a hand through her curly hair and shook her head. "My father disinherited me, barred me or my descendants from having any claim to Dorne."

Some tears started flowing, to which Jon answered by handing her a cloth.

"When I heard the news, I was devastated," she continued, "all I wanted, since I was a little girl, was to be the greatest ruler Dorne had ever seen, even greater than Nymeria herself. And it had been snatched from me. I thought I could redeem myself in Highgarden, but I was wrong."

"I understand," Jon said, looking at her, "when I was a young boy, I thought I could have Winterfell one day. It was a feeling…I never wanted to usurp Robb, he was my brother. But it was there. After all, I was older than him, I had the Stark looks…surely, I was better suited, right? But I was also a bastard, and bastards don't inherit a thing."

Arianne was listening attentively now.

"I never really wanted to usurp Winterfell. After all, I loved all of my siblings… cousins… equally.

I would never have wanted them harm, but I must confess that when Lord Karstark came to me saying I was the new Lord of Winterfell, I had a tinge of joy.

Joy which faded when my brother Rickon came back…" he then raised his hands above his chest, "I know it may sound horrible! For a brief moment, I regretted that my brother was alive! I…I was a fool, a selfish fool."

"It seems we have more in common than I thought, Jon." Arianne smiled sadly."It seems that both of us had this brief moment of joy at our kin's misfortunes when it allowed us to gain something we truly wished and desired. But we love our kin more, that's what makes us good, no?"

"Aye," Jon agreed. "I would never wish harm to come to Rickon, or Arya, or Sansa…"

Arianne nodded in agreement. "You grew up with your cousins, I hardly knew my little brother, and when I finally did, I nearly lost him because I chose to be foolish."

"Daemon told me some of what happened," Jon replied.

"Daemon? Is he alright?" Arianne asked.

"When he came to the Night's Watch he was morose, nearly broken. But he gained purpose and redemption in service, I think. He willingly followed me when I left the Wall. Daemon was injured at Riverrun and has stayed there since then."

"Gods be good, he is alive." Arianne smiled. "I feel awful for what happened to him…he was my friend, and I betrayed him."

"You didn't betray him." Jon put a hand on her shoulder. "He went too far and he knows it."

"Will you…walk me back to my rooms, please?" Arianne asked with a small smile. "I think I need your presence at my side. It feels good to talk to someone who listens."

Jon rose and a hand, which she gladly took.

"Do you not have Dornishmen with you here?" Jon asked as he pulled her to her feet

"I do," Arianne replied. "But they do not listen much. They keep telling me Willas is the perfect husband, but they cannot open their eyes to the reality."

"What would that be?"

"He is the perfect husband for anyone but me. I am not one of the many southern girls you may see here. I do not wish for my husband to tell me what to do, even if he is soft-spoken and kind. I wish for someone to let me rule by his side, one that does not shy away from letting me do what I want, one that likes a sharp tongue and that knows how to love and take me properly," she said, confidently.

Jon smiled. Princess Arianne was an interesting character. But was it surprising? According to the tales all Dornishwomen were said to be this way.

They talked a little more on the way to Arianne's rooms. About Dorne, the North, their family…

Then, arrived at the door, he made way to say his farewell.

However, to his shock, Princess Arianne rose, cupped his face and kissed him deeply on the lips. Jon did not resist but neither did he push her away.

Was that who he was? She was betrothed. He couldn't do this.

Something inside his head suddenly brought him back down, and he immediately broke the kiss.

"Sorry, princess, that was unbecoming of me." Jon sighed.

Arianne looked at him, confusion in her eyes.

"You are betrothed, it wouldn't be right of me," Jon continued, seeing confusion in her eyes.

"Betrothed to a man who doesn't love me," Arianne whispered while pushing her hands towards him once again, "a gaoler is what he is. A golden cage perhaps, but a gaoler all the same.

All they want is my right to Dorne, my name, nothing more. You say this isn't right, but isn't that for me to judge? And I judge that I wish to kiss the man who will rescue me from them."

She was beautiful, and he needed this more than he needed anything else at the moment. His mind wandered again, losing himself in her eyes for a brief moment. Betrothed yes, but unwillingly, could this change things. What would his father…uncle say about this?

A kiss, nothing more…surely. He gently cupped her cheek with one hand and ran his hand through her hair with the other. Slowly, he deepened the kiss, which became rougher…more passionate.

Gods knew how long they stayed that way, but when they finally broke it, Arianne was smiling, and, to his shock, so was he.

"Would you…stay with me longer?" she asked.

Jon froze for a moment. He remembered what he'd done with Val. He had chosen duty over love and desire. He could have had her, but he refused it to please the North. And now the gods have graced him with a second chance. Something he failed to do with Val, could he do with Arianne?

However, the thoughts kept crossing his mind. She was betrothed…this wasn't right. But then again, there was this burning desire within him to take what he wants. He had been denied it all his life: the Stark name, Winterfell, Val…he could have had all of them but he was denied every single time.

She's not betrothed, you idiot.

And now, he had the opportunity to have Arianne. To make her his. A voice cried from inside him, burning: you are a dragon, take what you want.

I am not a dragon, Jon inwardly cursed. He knew better than these people. He wouldn't give in easily.

But once more, the memories came back. The humiliation, the pain of having something at arm's reach only to have it taken away brutally. All he did, for his family, for his honor, for his people, it was only at his detriment. Why couldn't he have what he wanted!

Jon was entranced. He felt something, he knew that much. She was beautiful, strong-willed, experienced…to the seven hells with all of this, why shouldn't he give in to his own personal desires for once? He had followed those of others long enough!

Take what you want. The voice kept repeating. Take it!

Finally, Jon made his choice. As Arianne opened the door to her room, he kissed her roughly, pinning her on the opposite wall while slamming the door. His hands wandered around her hair, freeing it from its small bounds, while he sought to make his tongue dance with hers.

On the other hand, the princess' hands were on his back, trying to feverishly tear down his garments, her nails tearing through the light fabric of his shirt.

All of this continued to fuel the fire inside of him. He needed more.

Perhaps, for now, he could be a dragon.

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