The night had settled over Highgarden like a dark green cloak, soft and heavy, carrying with it the scent of roses that never seed to leave the air. Even after the sun had fallen and the gardens had beco nothing more than shadows beneath the moonlight, the Reach still announced itself through its flowers.
Dorne had never slled like this.
In Sunspear, the night belonged to the desert winds and the distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs. The air was warr, sharper, carrying the scent of spices, salt, and sun-baked stone. There was honesty in Dorne’s heat. It burned, but it never pretended to be gentle.
The Reach was different.
The Reach smiled.
It blood.
It offered beauty freely, and perhaps that was why so many n had mistaken it for softness.
Arianne Martell knew better.
She stood alone upon the balcony of her chambers, her hands resting lightly against the carved stone railing as she looked out across the eastern gardens of Highgarden.
The residence Lady Olenna had provided them was secluded enough to keep unwanted eyes away, yet grand enough that no one would mistake them for common travelers.
A fitting place for secrets.
Below her, the gardens slept beneath the moon.
The roses that had filled the halls and courtyards during the day now appeared almost silver beneath the night sky, their colors muted but their presence impossible to ignore.
Much like the people of the Reach.
Beautiful and Dangerous.
Arianne found herself thinking of ho.
Of Sunspear.
Of her father.
Had he received her letter yet?
The thought returned more often than she wished to admit.
She had written to Prince Doran carefully, choosing every word with the sa caution she would use when speaking before a hostile court. She had told him of their success in Highgarden, of the alliance with House Tyrell, of Margaery’s rescue and the debt that now existed between Dorne and the Reach.
A debt not created by her father’s secret plans.
Not by so carefully arranged ga played from the shadows.
By her.
She had acted and now, she had taken a piece from the board herself. Part of her wanted to know if Doran was proud, another part wanted to know if he was angry.
Perhaps both.
That would be more like her father.
Let him see it, she thought, a quiet fire burning in her chest.
Let him see that I did not wait in the shadows for permission.
While he hesitated and planned and played his long ga, I acted. I took the dragon and secured the Reach. I did not sit idle like a good daughter.
I moved.
Arianne almost smiled at the thought.
She had spent too many years being told to wait. To trust her father’s patience. To believe that one day he would see her as more than the daughter who needed protecting. Now, for the first ti, she had taken a path of her own choosing.
And it felt... right.
Her mind shifted, to the strange creature who had changed the path of her life.
Rhaego Targaryen
The dragon prince.
Only two months had passed since she had left Dorne beside him, yet it felt as though she had known him longer than that.
Two months. That was all the ti they had spent together... traveling, scheming, flying through the night like sothing out of a song. And yet he remained a puzzle she could not quite solve.
Rhaego had shown her many things.
His strange abilities that should not exist outside of old songs and forgotten tales. But more importantly, she had seen what existed beneath all of it.
The boy who carried the burden of a man.
Arianne had spent her entire life learning how people worked. She understood pride. She understood ambition. She understood desire.
n were often easier than they believed themselves to be.
She had tried every subtle art she knew.
The teasing smiles. The light touches. The way she let her voice drop when she spoke to him alone. With most n, that was enough. They lted. They were wanted. They beca easy to read, easy to guide.
Most n revealed what they wanted eventually.
Power.
Recognition.
Pleasure.
Revenge.
Everyone reached for sothing, everyone had a weakness.
But not him, Rhaego remained frustratingly difficult to understand.
It was almost insulting.
Why does he pull away? she wondered, a faint frown touching her brow.
Every chance she had taken to tease him, to provoke him, to see what reaction she could draw from him, he sohow avoided giving her the answer she expected.
Most n enjoyed being admired.
Most n enjoyed knowing they were desired.
Rhaego seed almost uncomfortable with it. As if attention was sothing he did not know how to accept.
Perhaps he simply had different interests.
The thought brought a faint amusent to her.
She rembered Renly Baratheon and how long it had taken her to understand that the charm and beauty she admired in him were not ant for won at all. She had spent enough ti around court to know that appearances could deceive.
Does the dragon prince prefer n perhaps? She had considered it.
And the Reach certainly provided no shortage of handso n, the knights of Highgarden were often as beautiful as the roses, after all, they were called roses for good reason.
Pretty.
Polished.
Though she had never once seen Rhaego look at another man with open interest.
No. It was sothing else.
He looked at her sotis when he thought she wouldn’t notice, with sothing like wonder mixed with wariness. As though he wanted to step closer, but feared what might happen if he did.
And yet... he did step closer, in his own way.
He trusted her with his plans. He listened to her advice. He flew with her. He laughed at her teasing and even gave so back. He stood beside her as a true partner.
But never in the way she wanted.
Never with desire in his eyes. Not openly. Not in the way other n did.
Arianne smiled faintly into the darkness, though there was a trace of frustration in it.
Perhaps you are simply not used to soone wanting you for more than your wings and your blood, she thought.
Or perhaps you are afraid of what it ans to let soone stand beside you... in every way.
Or maybe, she added silently, a sharper edge entering her thoughts, you simply do not want like that at all.
The idea stung more than she cared to admit.
Not deeply.
Arianne Martell did not allow herself to be wounded so easily, but it was there, a sharp little thorn beneath her ribs. She was not used to wanting soone who did not seem to want her back. At least not in the way she was accustod to.
She tilted her head, staring out at the moonlit gardens.
Interesting, she thought, the corner of her mouth curling despite herself.
Her thoughts drifted elsewhere then, carried northward by the cool night breeze.
To the North.
That was the next piece. The missing Stark girl. That was the one problem that refused to loosen its grip on her mind. Margaery had been saved. The Reach now stood beside them, and with it ca strength enough to shift the balance of the realm.
What had once seed impossible now felt within reach.
Yet the North remained shrouded in uncertainty.
A shattered house.
A kingdom wounded by war and betrayal, waiting for soone to give it a reason to rise again. She had spent too many years watching others move the pieces of the ga while she was forced to wait and wonder.
Unanswered questions had a way of gnawing at her patience.
The thought ca so naturally that she barely noticed it.
Rhaego.
She had half a mind to go find Rhaego right now and demand he tell her whatever scraps of knowledge he was keeping locked from his strange silly dragon dreams.
She still did not fully believe it.
How could she?
A man claiming to glimpse fragnts of the future was the sort of tale told by drunk septons and wandering fools.
But then again...
A half-man, half-dragon prince who could fly was equally absurd. And yet he existed.
Arianne released a soft breath, a faint smile touching her lips.
Perhaps the world had simply beco stranger than she had ever imagined.
Knowing Rhaego, he was likely sowhere nearby, avoiding company as he often did, alone with his thoughts and carrying burdens that belonged to kings, armies, and realms despite wearing no crown upon his head.
A dragon brooding in the dark.
The image brought an amused glimr to her eyes.
Almost enough to make her laugh.
Almost.
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