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Dorne was not Norvos.
Mellario had known this from the start. During their courtship, Doran had spoken fondly of his homeland, his typically solemn face shining with pride the more tales he told of it.
She had known, but that had not quite prepared her for the reality.
The heat was exhausting. Summer in Norvos was sweltering, but the deserts of Dorne held an entirely different kind of heat that she had not expected when she walked off of their ship. The palace of Sunspear had been built with the intent of keeping it’s inhabitants as cool as possible, but it was still much more than she could bear at times, especially as her pregnancy progressed. She wished that she could request that she move to the Water Gardens for the whole duration of her pregnancy as Lady Sylvia had, but she knew she could not. Not if she did not wish to always be the foreign bride.
The cold nights had been even more shocking, though in her opinion much better to manage. At least then she could wear robes to keep the chill out, and her child was more agreeable at those times, something she prayed would continue.
How unstructured the Dornish spent their time- that was something even harder to get used to. In Norvos, The Bells were the cornerstone of her people’s lives, telling them when they could sleep, when they would rise, when they would work and rest, and so much else. Dorne did not have anything similar. Oh, the ruling family at least kept to a schedule, attempting to have set times for meals and whatnot, but it was nowhere near the same, and she had no idea what to do with the time she had even near two moons after she had arrived.
There was much good to be found, however, and that was what Mellario tried to focus on, rather than the parts she found difficult to handle.
The Dornish people were much friendlier than she had dared dream them to be. Oh, they were somewhat wary of her, especially as she was the first foreigner to marry an heir to the Sunchair since Daenerys Martell, but they still treated her with more kindness than she had dared expect. Whenever she was in the Shadow City, the people bowed to her with smiles, and the merchants were friendlier than most she had seen in Norvos. She knew that some of it was because of who she was married to for they seemed to love their ruling house well, but she wanted to believe that it was not just that, and she received no end of well wishes and hopes for the child she carried.
(That itself was another thing- the common Dornish were visibly much happier than the free commons of Norvos, not to mention the slaves. She had never given a single thought of it while in her home, but here… here she was faced with it on a daily basis.)
The fact that her child, no matter if it was a girl, would be Doran’s heir was also something she would never take for granted. She was her father’s only child as her mother had not wished to go through another pregnancy, but everyone had looked to her male cousin when it came to who would one day become the head of their family regardless. She had long since resigned herself to that fact, but was glad for any daughter she would have.
What Mellario was most thankful for was the fact that she did not have to deal with these sudden changes alone. Areo Hotah, her ever loyal guard, had traveled with her of course, but the three cousins who had sailed with her- Tais, Kybele, and Iskra- had stayed, something she would never be able to express how grateful she was for as she had expected to not be able to keep any ladies from Norvos with her. Even when she had found she was wrong from Princess Loreza herself, she hadn’t expected all three of them to wish to stay, and when they all told her they would, she swore to repay them for this one day, barely trying to hide the tears in her eyes from her own family.
The other members of the house she had married into were also better than she had expected. Loreza had many duties as the Ruling Princess and was not able to spend that much time with her, but invited her to tea at least a couple of times a week and spoke to her often of the household regardless. Lewyn and Sylvia were spending much of their time at the Water Gardens, but neither failed to be kind to her when they met.
Doran’s own siblings made her both long for a sibling of her own and be grateful that she herself was an only child. Mellario would not deny having been wary of Oberyn when they first met, for how could she not be? He was the reason why her second child would be forced to grow up with the Yronwoods and not in her arms. However, after meeting him she slowly began to change her mind. He was not one she would have sought out in friendship personally, but she got along with him well enough, and honestly adored his daughter, who was happy enough to sit on her lap and keep her company as she worked out what her duties were.
Elia, on the other hand, was someone she was more than willing to call the true sister of her heart, and her favorite member of the family outside of Doran and their unborn child. She was everything Doran had said she would be, and was her anchor in helping her get used to life in Dorne and her new duties as the future Princess Consort of Dorne.
Life in Dorne had it’s challenges, but she would try to never be ungrateful for the support she had already received.
There was one major thing that Mellario hated, however. Everyone treated her like glass due to her pregnancy. She was barely allowed to do anything even the slightest bit strenuous, nor was she seemingly allowed to be alone often.
She had complained to Elia, hoping for a sympathetic ear from the Dornishwoman, but instead her goodsister had just looked extremely uncomfortable and told her to talk to Doran about it. No matter how much she pried, Elia would not say anything else on the subject.
It was that very night that she finally understood the fear everyone had.
Mellario had been sitting in her quarters, carefully rubbing a potion over her body to prevent her hair from growing back quickly, for she had no desire to let go of that Norvoshi tradition. She accepted that giving way in some things was inevitable, but she did not wish to give up everything, and so far, no one had pressed her to. In fact, as soon as they noticed her suffering in the heat from her wigs, they had quickly suggested wearing veils or headscarves if she was bothered. Elia had even teased her about setting new court fashions as they sat and sewed together one day, proving that few would truly care.
She was not wearing one when her husband came into the room, but he smiled at her and kissed her on the forehead regardless, making her smile back at him. That was something she loved about Doran- he didn’t care about the fact that she shaved her hair as all Norvoshi women did, and had never given any indication that he found her any less beautiful because of it, something everyone had cautioned would never happen with a Westerosi man. In fact, with her silent assent, he took over and helped her apply the potion to the rest of her body.
Once they were done, she replaced the jar on her vanity and put on the shift her husband handed her, knowing that she preferred not to sleep naked, and walked over to their bed.
“Elia invited me on a horse ride to the sea tomorrow with your brother and niece. Are you free to come with us?”
She bit back a sigh of frustration when Doran frowned, believing his duties to have separated them again. She knew who she had married, and he had never yet failed to show her affection when they retired to their rooms at night, but she wished she could spend more time with him during the day, as they had during their courtship in Norvos.
She had believed wrong.
“Are you sure you should be riding? You are four months gone with-“
“I’m pregnant, not invalid!” Mellario snapped, standing up and glaring at him. “All of you treat me like glass that will shatter at the slightest and there is no reason for it!”
She slightly regretted her outburst at seeing the hurt and pain in her love’s eyes, but refused to back down. “Why are you so terrified? There is no reason for it,” she asked softly, closing her eyes in hurt.
She almost didn’t expect an answer. She had already learned that Doran was a very private person who did not share things easily. It was the one thing that had made her hesitate to accept his proposal.
She was surprised.
Almost too soft for her to hear, Doran spoke, “Elia and Oberyn were supposed to be my sixth and seventh siblings.”
The Westerosi saying of feeling as though a bucket of ice had been dumped on you- Mellario found that saying to be much more accurate than expected. “What?” she whispered, immediately sitting back down and reaching for her husband.
“Mother miscarried three children. I have no memory of the first one, and the second I had been spending time with my grandparents, but the third-“ Doran cut himself off, closing his eyes and barely seeming aware of her hands trying to reach for him in comfort. “The third… the third I was there for. I saw mother in the aftermath, saw how exhausted and grief-stricken she looked as she lay in bed barely able to bring herself to move, saw my father’s own grief as he tried to comfort her. And that was preferable to the other two losses.
“I had two other brothers. Little Mors and Olyvar. I was so happy to see them born, to be the older brother that my mother had spoken to me of being. But even when they were born… they were so small and quiet. I did not realize that was not normal, and only learned after hearing my mother’s wails when a nursemaid found them unmoving in their cribs.”
There had been times when Mellario had wished for Doran to show emotion on his face easier, at least with her. Seeing the pain on his face made her desperately wish he had not in this case, made worse by knowing there was nothing she could do to relieve it, not until their child was born healthy, with nothing wrong with them. All she could do was take him into her arms and try to comfort him as best as she could, closing her eyes to try and keep her tears from falling.
Doran did not cry, or at least she did not feel any tears fall on her shoulder. But the way he clutched onto her, as if terrified she could disappear at any moment- that spoke more than any tears ever could, or even his words no matter how fast they came out, as if a dam had burst.
“Elia was born a month early. She was as tiny and weak as I remembered her two older brothers being, and I was convinced that she would not live as well. She was barely three months old when mother became pregnant with Oberyn, and I was certain that that babe would never be able to play in the Water Gardens with all the other children either.
“Mother and father sent me to Salt Shore, to foster with my uncle. I do not doubt that it was partially to spare me if the worst happened, and I was convinced for awhile that it had. Even when I received letters saying updating me on how well Elia was fighting and growing each day, on how healthy Oberyn was when he was born, I feared that they were trying to spare me and give me false hope.
“When they called me home to visit three months after Oberyn’s birth for his presentation to the court- something Mors and Olyvar had never been able to witness- when I saw Elia curled up on our father’s lap, saw our mother try to calm a fussy Oberyn… it felt like a dream, one too good to ever be true. But it was somehow.”
Mellario took in a deep breath, stroking her love’s hair and she said softly, “I am an only child, that is true. But it was by pure choice. My mother despised being pregnant even if it was not a difficult one. She never regretted having me, but the act made her so unhappy that she and my father agreed that I would be the only one. Both of my grandmothers had multiple children with only one miscarriage between them, and I believe there were extenuating circumstances surrounding it.”
She pressed a kiss to her husband’s head, softly saying, “Our child will be strong. I know it already.”
Doran took in a deep, ragged breath of his own. “I do not know what I will do if she is not,” he admitted
Mellario had no answer for that, and in truth felt the same way. All they could do was hold each other and offer as much comfort as they could.
After a few minutes, Mellario suddenly blinked upon realizing something. “She? You referred to our child as a girl.”
Doran finally sat up, face not quite as etched in pain as before, though the worry was still there. “I will love our child regardless,” he stated, moving his hand to cover her stomach, his lips almost turning up into a smile as he looked down, “but I will not deny that I hope they are a daughter, one that will one day lead Dorne as well as my own mother does.”
Mellario smiled, touched by his words. “I hope so as well.” She paused, biting her lip and wondering if she should ask before carefully asking, “Is Loreza one of the names you are thinking of?”
In Dorne, as she had fast found out, couples did not name their children before they were born, or even so much as narrow it down to two names, one of each gender. It was considered bad luck to. The child’s family would instead come up with several choices and the parents would choose one after the birth.
Surprisingly, Doran shook his head. “No. She will have enough of a legacy to live up to already. She should not have to have her grandmother’s name on top of that.”
Mellario nodded. Perhaps he would consider it for a future daughter, if they had one, but she could understand why he was hesitant for his own heir.
The rest of the night was spent exchanging ideas for names and hopes of what their children would look like. Mellario would never breathe a word of it, would respect the Dornish custom, but as she laid in her love’s arms as they drifted off to sleep (itself a rare thing, as neither of them were that prone to cuddling when sleeping, but tonight they both needed the comfort), she found herself longing for a daughter named Arianne, one with her father’s eyes and wisdom, and sent a silent prayer to the gods that her wish would come true.