GOT: Reborn as a Martell

( Nymeria )

The noise of the main banquet hall was deafening as festivities were well underway. The feast had attracted many lords and ladies from Eastern Dorne, and many lesser knights, merchants and smallfolk alike.

The roars of laughter and cheers echoed though the walls of Sunspear and into the streets of the city below, which would go to sleep far later than the usual time. Indeed, as it went dark, the lights of the city below the castle continued to shine bright.

In the main hall, people were dancing, drinking, jesting and eating everywhere. Everyone was conversing with someone else. Her father was deep in conversation with Ser Manfrey, with Ellaria by his side.

She flickered her eyes elsewhere.

The big Yronwood was in a drinking contest with some Vaith giant, while the Drinkwater boy was busy trying to seduce a girl from Coral Keep. Her cousin was of course trying to wrap her fingers around the young Yronwood boy.

She rolled her eyes.

Arianne hadn't wasted any time.

She continued to look around, but failed to find either of her sisters. No matter, Obara was likely sharpening her steel somewhere, while Tyene would reappear at some point, as slippery as she was. What she did find, however, intrigued her.

Sitting in the middle of the hall, without much of anyone around him, was the reason this whole feast was occurring in the first place.

Quentyn sat there, on his own, smiling and shaking hands with whoever passed, but never engaging in any conversation. He feigned to eat some of the freshly-hunted deer before him, and never touched his drink.

Instead, she could see his eyes wander around the room, as if searching for something or someone.

She smiled. This was an opportunity.

As quick as a fox, she made her way to his side, and sat down on one of the chairs next to him.

"Hello, cousin." She smirked, tossing her braid to the side.

"Nymeria." Quentyn acknowledged with a nod. "Don't you have more interesting people to talk to?"

"Oh, on the contrary, I find you very interesting." She tilted her head towards him. "And call me, Nym. We're family after all."

Quentyn nodded and turned to her.

"Indeed, we are."

"I heard our cousin made quite the fuss about you."

"With good reason."

Good reason?

"What do you mean?"

"I did barge into her room unannounced." He chuckled. "That's not what one usually does."

"Oh, I was more talking about your threats to her." She hissed back at him.

"Threats?" Quentyn looked angry now. "I never made threats. She's my sister for fuck's sake, Nym! I wouldn't harm her or let anything happen to her!"

That reaction was unexpected. She knew Arianne didn't bear much love for her brother, at least until it was made clear that she'd inherit Dorne and Quentyn was not a threat. But Quentyn not wanting anything to happen to her?

"How about when you said that you'd usurp Dorne from her?" she continued, remembering the short talk she'd had with Tyene a few hours prior.

"I never said anything of the sort." Quentyn frowned, although she had trouble making out what he was saying in the commotion of the festivities. 

"What I said was that I would like to rule Dorne, that much is true. But I would never usurp her right to the Sun throne if father designer her as heir."

"Arianne is the heir already, Quentyn!" Nym cried out.

To her surprise, the young prince remained calm, and instead stood up.

"It isn't that simple." He answered. "Shall we go outside? The noise in the hall is unnerving and I can barely hear you."

"That is an excellent idea." She concurred.

They would have more privacy there, and she could hit him where it hurt if he whispered anything of treason against Dorne.

Sunspear's fresh air and relative silence was a mercy compared to the inner walls, with a soft breeze coming from the sea and into the ramparts where they'd made their way to. 

After a short walk, they both stopped and sat down, close to a palm tree in one of the small gardens under the large towers of the castle.

"You know as well as I do that the succession has never been clear." Quentyn finally spoke, looking her in the eyes. "Otherwise, Arianne wouldn't even bother feeling insecure about her position."

She had to agree with him. For years now Prince Doran had stayed silent about the succession, and given little to no responsibilities to Arianne despite moving to the Water Gardens, and that even before Quentyn became the man he is today.

Such a climate forced Arianne to become weary, perhaps too much, all because of that letter she read that stated to Lord Yronwood that Quentyn was to become the next Prince of Dorne. 

With that, her mistrust and hatred towards her brother only grew, to reach proportions even she couldn't fathom.

"I agree." She ended up replying, to her surprise.

"I only want what is best for Dorne, Nym." He replied. "Like you, I am loyal to our House, never doubt that. I swear it on my life."

"And yet you do not want vengeance for Elia and the children." She scoffed. "Pretty words, cousin, but not ones I am keen to believe."

"Arianne said that?" he sighed. "It is true, I do not want vengeance. But I want justice, Nym. I do not wish harm to all the Lannisters, Baratheons, Starks, Tullys and Arryns for what happened. 

I only wish to see those responsible pay, but no one else. No innocents."

"Innocent?" Nymeria growled. "They butchered our family!"

"They?" Quentyn scoffed. "I am sure many of them are guilty of many vile things, you may be right. But the people responsible for the deaths of Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon can be counted on the fingers of one hand. 

Should we kill Stannis Baratheon for it? He was being starved to death in Storm's End. Should we kill Cersei Lannister for it? She was being a nuisance in Casterly Rock. 

The men responsible for it will pay, I can promise you that on my life as well, but I will not butcher innocents. Not for that crime."

"You're running out of lives to swear on, cousin."

"And yet everything I tell you is the truth, and only the truth." He answered, putting a hand atop hers. "Cut my hand, spill my blood and I shall swear on it if you need me to."

She hated it. She hated it when the person that those close to her vilified had a damn point. And she could trust his word. 

The Fowlers had said that he had never once broken a promise. Was that one of the reasons they turned their backs on Arianne? There were surely plenty.

"Keep your blood." She instead answered. "Swear it on Lord Yronwood's life."

"Lord Anders means nothing to me." He raised an eyebrow, confused. 

"If I swear on him, the promise will not ring true. I can swear on my friends, as they are close to me. But if you think that I am Lord Anders' puppet you are mistaken, cousin. 

How many times have I told you tonight that I am loyal to house Martell and only house Martell. That I do everything I do for the betterment of Dorne and our house?"

Fuck! Why did he have an answer to everything?

"You said that Arianne would not make a good ruler, that you'd be better off ruling than her…"

"And you know it would be true!" he pointed at her defiantly. "I've been raised as a ruler. Arianne has been raised as a figurehead. Do not deny it cousin, it is obvious to everyone. 

When has she ever stood to you as being knowledgeable about Dornish affairs and the politics of the other Kingdoms?"

Every word stung as Nymeria knew it to be true. Arianne's education had been…scarce at best, and she knew little of the world outside of Dorne. She had the passion and ambition of a ruler, but nothing else.

"If father died tomorrow and she was declared heir, would you want her to declare war upon the crown for vengeance or any other motive? To unite everyone against us at our weakest moment?" he asked. 

"Because we are at our weakest right now, and although I am trying my best to rectify it, we are in deep shit. 

We rely on the other kingdoms for just about everything from grain to wood, we have the smallest army of the kingdoms which is barely enough to defend ourselves, we make little wealth outside of spices and luxuries, we don't have a real navy, and most of all our loyalty inside of our borders is fractured. 

We need to stop resting on our laurels from the Dornish War and start rebuilding. But any action right now would not just be suicidal, it would spell the end of Dorne and our privileges."

"You don't..."

"And do you know what the worse part is?" Quentyn interrupted her with a small tear running down his cheek. "I think Arianne is smart. I legitimately think she could have made a good ruler for Dorne had she recieved the same eduaction I had. 

I think she has a degree of intelligence which would have made her a good ruler. She's charismatic, she knows what she wants, she's got passion, strength, ambition and most of all she cares about everyone from bastards to high lords. 

But instead I think it might be too late as she considers the ability to rule on how handsome you are and how many times you've bedded someone. The die has been cast, and we must deal with the cards we have been handed. But I don't expect you to understand."

He took a deep breath, cleared the tears rolling down his left cheek, and rose up from the palm tree, heading down one of the castle's dark halls.

Shocked, she took a moment to react and stand up herself, before heading down the same hall and catching up to him, holding one of his wrists as he turned around in surprise, the frog he'd been carrying in his pouch being jerked off of his shirt and fumbled onto the ground below.

"What do you mean by not understanding?" she asked.

"You've been close to my sister since the day she was born." He replied truthfully. "No words that I can say could be enough to convince you."

She slapped him on the right cheek as he winced in pain.

"You're an idiot." She warned him as he held his cheek, burning red with the mark she'd inflicted upon him. 

"I'm smarter than I look. I've talked with the Fowlers and Sarella, I know what kind of person you are. 

And just like I don't look at you and your friends as traitors ready to usurp your sister and give Dorne to the Yronwoods, you should not look at me and my sisters as Arianne's lapdogs, have I made myself clear?"

"Very."

"Good." She smiled. "Now as your apology, you may walk me to my room."

Quentyn nodded, and the pair of them went on their way, glancing through the corridors, talking about more relaxing things than the current atmosphere. They talked about Quentny's books and medicine, and she talked to him about how she'd completely smash Obara at tomorrow's tourney.

It wasn't a surprise that time flew by and she found herself in front of her room in an instant.

"Well, I'll leave you to it." Quentyn nodded and prepared to walk away, when she grabbed him, and forced him onto the door, kissing him deeply square on the lips, as the young prince had no time to react.

"Not so fast." She said with a smirk, breaking their embrace but keeping him pinned to the door. 

"I also made a promise that I would train, get my belly full and have a good fuck before going to sleep. I've done the first two, and I am not skipping the third."

"I bet you'll have a castle full of men willing to take you up on that."

"Don't play the frightened maiden with me, Quentyn." She said, as she brushed his hair. 

"Why the act? I also have very good informants that told me what you did with Samira Jordayne, Myria Jordayne, Valena T…"

"Alright, you got me." He nodded. "I am no maiden, but I like to keep it that way to show to Arianne that it doesn't matter in the ways of being a dornishman."

"It will be our secret." She whispered. "Now if you…"

"It's wrong."

"Tyene and Arianne do it all the time."

"It's still a no." He shook his head.

"Very well." She sighed, and let him go. "If you do not wish it, then go. But your eyes tell me otherwise."

Quentyn turned away, as she shook her head.

Such a waste, she thought as she made a turn towards the door.

Suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder, and it was her turn to get pinned to the door and kissed by surprise.

"Once." Quentyn raised a finger in the air as he broke the embrace.

"Once." Nymeria smirked in response.

Sleeping with a traitor with no ulterior motives, she chuckled to herself, did that make her one?