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They crossed the Prince’s Pass in a bright day that turned the sky a rich shade of blue set with small puffs of white. High above their heads, the ruins of long abandoned fortresses rose dark and menacing and at their feet, the rivers and streams that gave life to a land that would have been otherwise doomed to die of thirst under the hot winds from the desert glistened like silver snakes in the green, green grass, splitting even some open, bare rocks in two.
Most of the men from the King’s Landing party looked surprised.
“I’ve heard that Dorne was a desert,” he muttered and Arthur Dayne could not stop himself.
“It is. But the desert is made of mountains,” he said. “Mountains of sand. If we were there, we would have been lucky for some of them to bury us underneath as they move – because my lady mother’s kin might not have been this gracious.”
The ripple of disgruntled murmur reached his hearing and he sighed. “Dorne is a land of mountains as well,” he said, with more restrain this time. “I was born on an island amidst the mountains. It’s close to mind that Dorne isn’t just desert.”
It was obvious that this had not been close to theirs. Arthur really should not get so surprised or so riled up. Had he not got enough looks of surprise when people who did not know him realized that yes, he truly was Dornish? Had he not heard many wonder why anyone at Dorne bothered with attire other than silky tunics since it was presumably so hot all over?
Now, he truly realized the full extent of Rhaegar’s mistake. The King should have never sent him here. It was not just that he would not find cordial reception – he would likely severe the ties with the people from his new life as well, if he kept behaving like this. But he could not stop it and he did not truly care to. These people had never been part of his inner world. They had been – still were – mere additions to the glory of his duty. Except for Jaime Lannister. But he was not here and even he could hardly soften the truth with his presence: Arthur was no longer beloved and needed by the land he had been born into, the people he shared blood and early life with – and it became clearer each time he was recognized. There were few outright insults but the stony silence was enough of a hint. Just two years earlier, people would have flocked out in the dirty village streets to see him and the boys would hope he would be kind enough to draw Dawn and show her to them.
The cold courtesy in the castles their party stopped to spend the night at was also telling. Usually, they dined only with the masters of the keeps and a few people of vastly inferior rank, as if the presence of their hosts’ wives and daughters would sully the ladies with impurity. The conversation was nonexistent, even when Arthur stared at the face of someone he had known from birth.
When the time to go down the final leg of his journey through the Red Mountains came, he did so without looking at the other road that curved, white and well-trodden, at his left. It led to the western reaches of the mountain where it poured into a sea this turquoise that the men of King’s Landing could never imagine it. It led to an island and a white castle where Arthur would find the frostiest reception of his entire stay here, he was certain, even in this most joyous moment in his sister’s life.
Sunspear met him with actual curses and rotten blood oranges thrown at him. He was not surprised. This was the Martells’ very own stronghold. The sentiments towards Elia and his betrayal would be most fiercely felt here. He could feel the eyes on him, the collective wish that he should fall from his mount or something.
To his surprise, Prince Doran received him immediately, although Arthur expected a game of demonstrative disrespect towards Rhaegar’s courier. But no, he was ushered into the Prince’s own study, feeling like he sullied its utter tidiness and organization with his sweat and white cloak that looked quite grey now, but he still wore it defiantly.
Doran did not even keep him standing, instead waving him over to a chair that Arthur felt was being soiled by his dirt. The Prince finished skimming the content of Rhaegar’s letter almost immediately and shook his head.
“Rhaegar has disappointed me once again,” he said. “If he wanted us to have you at Lady Ashara’s wedding, he could have just said so. It isn’t a matter we would have gone to war over.”
The casual dismissal was as biting as any insult Oberyn would have thrown. Still, Arthur could not say that he did not deserve it. “I didn’t ask him for this,” he said.
“Ah. But you did not ask him to entrust these meaningless letters to someone else either, did you, Ser Arthur?”
The soft voice made Arthur feel that Doran knew all his secrets. How stupid. He could not possibly be aware of everything. But the horrible feeling that the Prince knew just how much he had longed to go away from a court still buzzing with gossips and speculations about Rhaegar’s family plans, about Elia’s health and future statute, about the possible split with Dorne, about the reality of Elia’s health right now would not let go. How fervently and foolishly he hoped that by some miracle, once he was here, he would be welcome for a while by the ones he loved most, just for the duration of his sister’s wedding.
Ashara was not one for forgiveness. And even if his brother was inclined to pretend that everything had been forgiven, his new wife would not let him, ever. Arthur had shared with Alynna Dayne a childhood and a castle after his fostering and he would rather trust the long dead Balerion to be revived as a fluffy kitten, like his namesake in Princess Rhaenys’ keeping, than Alynna to let go of a grudge.
He did not reply but at the end, the Prince did not care to extract an answer. Instead, he gave him a look of cool consideration. “I suppose you want me to tell you what to do now? Leave or stay for the wedding?”
“It would be very gracious of you,” Arthur admitted.
“Ah, but gracious I am not. Not to the enemies of Dorne.” The soft tone did not change and the discrepancy between voice and words made the words more hurtful. “But let’s leave this aside now. Not caring about my sister, I can get. But I am beyond stunned that you didn’t think twice of what you were doing to your own by coming here like this. Of course, if Lady Ashara decides that she wants you at her wedding, she is free to have you there. But I doubt it.”
Arthur swallowed with difficulty. Elia’s suffering was right in front of him, so it was impossible to ignore but he had done his best not to think of what his siblings would face as a result of his actions.
Ashara was quick to fill the gaps, though: she was pacing up and down his chamber with her arms crossed. That was how Arthur found her and before he could think of anything to say, her accusation caught him off guard. “Have you come to finish us off? Decided that you have not damaged our House’s reputation enough, so you now came to finish the deed? How can you!”
Tiredly, Arthur drew a hand across his face, not surprised at all when it came down grimy. “I am not here to cause any disturbances, Ashara.”
“Are you really not?” The question came out like an angry hiss. “Do you have any idea what we lived through, Arthur? What we lost? Doran stripped Arel of his rank as the Voice of Sunspear. Do not make me repeat the reasons he cited. I’ve never seen him like this before and I don’t want to see this again, ever!”
Doran Martell lashing out at someone who was entirely innocent? Arthur had a hard time believing this. But then perhaps, in Doran’s mind Arel and Ashara had not been innocent. Perhaps he had considered them Rhaegar and Arthur’s fellow conspirators? For all dark possibilities that Arthur had considered, this one had never crossed his mind. Arel being stripped of the rank he had won fairly and squarely? That was too much, even for a prince. He told Ashara this and she glared at him as she would have at a mortal enemy.
“Prince Doran wasn’t the only one,” she said. “No one ever expressed any doubt openly but there would be a hush in the conversation each time I entered a solar. I don’t mind the barbs because those, I can repaid in kind and so can Arel. But the whispers behind our backs… these, you can’t deal with. I don’t remember such a taint to our name since Mother did… what she did!”
Arthur just felt himself going white. This was a low blow but oh, how efficient one! “Don’t compare me to her!” he snapped, trying and failing to control his voice. “You have no idea…”
She laughed derisively. “Yes, yes, go on. That’s exactly what she said. Do you have any idea what you did? And for what? For Rhaegar’s attraction to the bitch queen? For the visions of someone who was ready to throw everyone to death because he believed he would save the world, so humanity and consideration should play no part? This was worth what you put everyone through? And you dare come here!”
“It was the King’s order,” Arthur repeated, recognizing the lie and knowing that he was hiding behind what was left of Rhaegar’s authority here, but what could he do? “And I don’t intend to force my presence on your wedding, rest assured on this count. I’m not going to Starfall at all.”
Ashara pursed her lips. “It would have been wonderful for me,” she said. “Only, I’m not going to Starfall either. My wedding is going to take place in the Water Gardens.”
Arthur blinked, wondering what he had missed. “Why?” he asked. Traditionally, weddings took place in the family seat of either bride or bridegroom. In this case, it should be either Starfall or Wyl.
But in the light of past events, traditions were no longer what they had used to be.
Ashara opened her mouth for an angry retort but then something in her face shifted. She had finally realized the full extent of Arthur’s isolation from Dorne, his utter unawareness.
“A month ago, a son was born to Arel,” she said. “And of course, if I wed there, the focus will be on the babe because a wedding is something far more common. He knows that I want to be the centre of attention in my wedding day, so he suggested we do it here.”
Arthur felt the news as a shock, deep down to his bones. To this day, he could not say how he had come to learn about his brother' remarriage to the beautiful, famously fertile Alynna Gargalen. In the last days of war and the early emerging of a new court, the lid on news from home had not been shut so tightly. He had thought that perhaps there was nothing of importance to know but this? All of Dorne had known and discussed Arel’s failed marriage to Shanai Allyrion; some had even gone as far as claiming that she had not fallen down those stairs by herself, that he had pushed her down to be able to wed a woman of childbearing ability. The arrival of this so long awaited heir should have reached Arthur’s ears by the way of gossiping, if nothing else. The fact that it did not showed him that he was as dead to Dorne as Prince Lewyn, as Doran’s other uncle, as his much beloved cousins, one of whom had been Alynna’s first husband. And it mercilessly showed him his place in his family, with absolute certainty – he no longer belonged. Even in their rejoicing, Arel and Ashara had not forgiven.
“Tell him that I’m happy,” he said, although he knew it no longer meant anything. No quarter given or taken, this was a principle that sometimes should be followed. He had learned this at Salt Shore, under Mikkel Gargalen’s teaching. And Arel had learned this from Alric, Mikkel’s brother.
To his surprise, Ashara nodded. Encouraged by this, he went on, “Aren’t you going to ask me how Elia is doing?”
“I already know it,” his sister replied. “Honestly, Arthur, I know what you’re going to tell me and I’m not ready to believe a word out of your mouth. You’d lie and oathbreak your way to the seven hells if Rhaegar tells you to. No, don’t tell me that this third child meant so much to him,” she added and laughed when she saw the surprise in his eyes. “I might not have been there when Aegon was born but I was there when he was conceived,” she said. “I bathed Elia in the morning. I wiped the blood off her thighs. And Alynna had the chance to talk to her during the rebellion. I am aware of Rhaegar’s motives but do you know what? They’re still disgusting. He had two healthy children. What more did he want? Do you know how many babes Queen Rhaella lost? Over seven, I think. The first time they placed a living child in Arel’s arms was with his sixth. I know how long he had waited, so feel sorry for Rhaegar all you want but don’t you dare expect it from me!”
“I don’t,” Arthur said and it was true – about her sympathy, that was it. Personally, he had lost his own long before the war ended, long before he had found himself a captive in his own home even. The sight of Elia’s excruciating first steps the day she finally emerged from his chamber, leaning against Jaime’s arm had wiped all understanding for his new King as well.
Elia had asked for Jaime when Rhaegar had wanted to give her Arthur. He had had the best of intentions but was it any surprise that his assessment lacked sorely?
“I won’t bother you at all,” he promised. “The last thing I want is to cause you any embarrassment on your wedding day. If Prince Doran gives me his answer soon enough, I’ll leave immediately; if not, I’ll keep to this chamber when the day comes.”
This was Ashara’s last chance to show compassion. Willingness to end their personal war. Arel would never do anything to upset her on her wedding. He would treat Arthur like a kin for a day if she did.
“No need of this,” Ashara replied. “Actually, the wedding will be in the Water Gardens, by the Prince’s gracious leave. You can just stay here.”
Her words were almost cordial, her eyes icier than he had seen even Rhaegar’s at his worst.
No quarter given or taken.
She turned and took her leave.
The End