Arianne did not return to her chambers right away.
Instead, she climbed a short flight of stairs to one of the high balconies overlooking the Water Gardens. From there, she could see the Sea Tower rising against the night sky, its pale stone glowing faintly under starlight.
She paused, resting her hands on the cool marble balustrade.
There he was.
Rhaego stood on the balcony of his chambers, leaning against the railing. Even from this distance she could make out the silver gleam of his hair stirring in the sea breeze, the faint outline of an idle flick of his tail.
He looked almost lonely beneath the stars.
Arianne let out a soft breath.
So it is true.
She had read Oberyn's letters. She had heard the descriptions of the scales, the horns, the violet-slit eyes, the unnatural speed at which the boy was growing.
But reading words on parchment and seeing the living proof were two very different things. Part of her had still doubted, deep down, that such a creature could truly exist.
Yet there he was. Real. Breathing.
Uncle Oberyn's words hold true after all. He never exaggerates when fire is involved.
A small, intrigued smile touched her lips. She watched the dragon prince for a few moments longer before turning away and continuing down the long colonnade toward her father's private apartments.
The lanterns cast shifting golden light across the pools as she walked, her mind turning.
When she reached Doran's solar, she found him exactly as she expected… seated at his low table, surrounded by letters. Some still bore the red wax of Meereen.
Oberyn's bold handwriting covered many of them.
Doran looked up when she entered.
His expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp.
"Arianne," he said mildly. "How was your walk with the dragon prince?"
She crossed the room and stopped before his table.
"It was… enlightening."
She drew a slow breath. "Father… we need to talk. Alone."
Doran studied her for a heartbeat, then lifted one hand. The two guards inside the chamber bowed silently and stepped out, closing the heavy doors behind them.
The room became very quiet.
Doran leaned back in his chair. "Speak."
Arianne met his gaze.
"I read the letters," she said quietly.
"The same letter you showed Uncle Oberyn. The silver hair. The black scale. I laughed at them. I thought my uncle had finally gone mad chasing ghosts across the sea."
Her voice grew tighter.
"Then I heard you were sending him all the way to Meereen. Your own brother. The Red Viper. To chase after a Targaryen queen and her supposed dragons." She gave a bitter little laugh.
"I was furious. I thought you had finally lost your mind, or that you no longer trusted me with anything important. While I sat here in Sunspear playing hostess, you were sending the strongest man in our family across the world on what I believed was a fool's errand."
She looked straight at her father, eyes glistening with old hurt.
"And now that dragon prince sleeps in our Sea Tower… with wings on his back."
She let out a bitter laugh.
"All this time I thought you were preparing to set me aside. That Quentyn was your true heir. That I was just another daughter to be married off when it suited you."
Doran's fingers tightened on the arm of his chair, but his face remained composed.
"I never intended to remove you as heir," he said quietly.
"The letter you found years ago was never meant for your eyes. It was only a father trying to give his awkward second son something to strive for. Quentyn was never going to rule Dorne. You were… You always were."
Arianne felt something sharp and painful loosen inside her chest.
"You let me believe otherwise," she whispered. "For years."
"I did," Doran admitted.
"Because the game I played was deadly. One careless word and the Lannisters would have destroyed us. I kept my secrets even from you. That was my mistake."
He gestured to the scattered letters on the table.
"But the game has changed, daughter. Daenerys Targaryen reached out to us first. She has dragons. And now her son… this Rhaego, has been delivered to our shores by the sea itself. He is young. Strange. But real… and that changes everything."
Doran's eyes met hers with rare intensity. "I cannot let this opportunity slip away, Arianne. Dorne has waited seventeen years for vengeance and power. This may be our best chance."
He leaned forward.
"I need you at my side. Truly at my side. Not as the frustrated daughter who thinks her father does not trust her, but as the Princess of Dorne who understands what is at stake."
Arianne was silent for a long moment.
The old resentment, the hurt that had festered for years, cracked open. She had come so close to doing something reckless, She had spent years believing he meant to push her aside.
Years of resentment that had nearly driven her to crown another girl and start a war.
And now he was telling her she had always been his chosen heir.
Her voice came out softer than she expected.
"I was angry," she admitted.
"I thought… I thought you had chosen Quentyn. I thought you saw me as nothing more than a marriage pawn." Her lips curved in a small, rueful smile. "I even began to prepare other paths. Paths that would have forced your hand."
Doran's gaze did not waver.
"And yet you have not taken them."
"No," she said. "Not yet."
A small, tired smile touched Doran's lips, he nodded once, slowly.
"Good." He reached out and placed his hand over hers on the table, a rare gesture of affection.
"Then tomorrow we will speak with the dragon prince together. We will see what kind of dragon has come to rest in our garden. He is the strongest card we have ever been dealt. If we play him well, if you help me play him well… Dorne may rise higher than it has in three hundred years."
Arianne looked down at her father's hand on hers.
The knot in her chest loosened further. Her dark eyes searched his face. Her throat tightened, though whether from anger or something softer, she could not say. Another, sharper part wanted to demand more, years of trust, years of honesty.
Instead, she gave him a small, wry smile.
"Very well, Father," she said quietly. "No more secrets. If we are to play with dragons, I will not be left in the dark again."
But even as she said the words, a small, careful part of her mind kept the old plans tucked away in the shadows.
Just in case.
Morning came warm and bright over Sunspear.
Rhaego followed two guards through the sandstone halls.
They walked ahead of him through the long sandstone corridors, their steps measured, unhurried. Sunlight spilled through high arches, painting the floors in bands of gold.
Somewhere beyond the walls, he could hear the distant splash of fountains from the Water Gardens, soft and constant.
His tail swayed behind him, slower now, controlled.
He was dressed differently today.
His new clothes whispering with every step. This morning a servant had delivered them with a clear message: A personal gift from Princess Arianne. She hopes you will wear them to dinner.
The garments they had given him were light, the flowing white silk tunic was light and surprisingly comfortable with each step, falling long toward his legs.
Embroidered with delicate gold thread that caught the torchlight. Gold-scaled bracers adorned his forearms, and a matching belt with small golden plates sat low on his hips.
The outfit complemented his silver hair perfectly.
All chosen by Princess Arianne herself.
He felt both elegant and ridiculous. It would have been rude to refuse, he reminded himself.
She basically invited me through clothing, he thought with a mix of amusement and nervousness.
This woman really doesn't do anything subtly.
Rhaego glanced down briefly at the fabric shifting against his skin. It suited him more than he expected. Too well, perhaps.
He exhaled quietly.
I hope this doesn't turn into something awkward… His thoughts flickered ahead of him.
Who would be there?
Just Prince Doran? Or more? Would this be a quiet meal… or something else entirely?
The guards slowed.
They stopped before a pair of tall carved doors, pale wood etched with vines and suns.
One of them turned slightly.
"My prince," he said.
The doors opened. Warm evening light spilled out from the chamber, carrying the scent of roasted lamb, spiced wine, lemon, and saffron.
A long table had been set with an almost overwhelming spread of Dornish delicacies. At the head of the table sat Prince Doran Martell, looking calm and watchful in his wheeled chair.
To his right sat Quentyn and Trystane, the brothers side by side. And to Doran's left…
Princess Arianne.
She was already looking at him.
They were all waiting.
For him.
Rhaego stepped forward, the soft whisper of silk marking his movement. He dipped his head respectfully.
"Prince Doran," he greeted.
Doran inclined his head in return, his voice calm, warm.
"Prince Rhaego. I trust you found your rest agreeable."
"I did," Rhaego replied. "Your hospitality has been generous."
His eyes flicked, just once… To the princess, and then he saw it.
There was an open seat right beside her, with a plate and goblet already set. The message was clear.
Rhaego paused for half a heartbeat.
Of course… right next to her.
Arianne's eyes sparkled with quiet amusement as she took in his outfit. A small, satisfied smile curved her lips, clearly pleased he had worn what she suggested.
His tail gave a small, unconscious flick behind him.
She wasn't subtle yesterday… and this isn't any subtler.
There was no graceful way around it.
Doran gestured lightly. "Come," the prince said. "Sit. You are among friends here."
Friends.
Rhaego stepped forward, he moved toward the empty seat.
As he sat down beside Arianne, he could feel the warmth of her presence immediately. Her perfume, orange blossom and something spicier drifted toward him. His tail instinctively curled closer to his own chair.
Arianne leaned slightly toward him, voice low enough that only he could hear.
"You look quite striking in white and gold," she murmured, a playful note in her tone. "I knew it would suit you."
Rhaego gave a small, awkward nod. "It was kind of you to suggest it, Princess."
"I assumed it would be rude not to," he replied quietly.
Her smile deepened. "Very wise, my prince."
Across the table, Quentyn was watching him with quiet, serious eyes. Trystane looked more openly curious, almost excited. Doran simply observed everything with that calm, unreadable expression he always wore.
Servants began pouring wine as the first dishes were brought out.
Rhaego kept his hands on his lap for a moment, trying to steady himself. Yesterday's walk in the Water Gardens had already been overwhelming.
Now he was sitting directly beside her during a formal family dinner, wearing clothes she had chosen.
This is another level, he thought, fighting the urge to sigh. She's not even trying to hide her interest anymore…
"Tell us, Prince Rhaego," Doran said smoothly, steering the conversation, "how are you finding Sunspear so far? And please… speak freely."
Rhaego swallowed.
He could already tell this dinner was going to be far more dangerous than facing any storm at sea.
Rhaego dipped his head respectfully.
"Sunspear is more beautiful than I imagined, Your Highness. The Water Gardens are peaceful, and the people I have met have been kind."
As he finished speaking, servants began moving around the table, carrying platters of roasted lamb with honey and cumin, stuffed grape leaves, spiced flatbreads, and bowls of saffron rice.
But every servant who approached the table couldn't help but steal glances at him.
One young serving girl nearly spilled wine when her eyes landed on his dark scales and small horns. Another older servant stared openly at the way his tail rested beside the chair before quickly looking away.
The stares were not hostile, mostly wide-eyed wonder and curiosity.
Arianne noticed it immediately. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile as she watched the servants' reactions.
Rhaego did his best to stay composed. He offered the servants a small, polite smile whenever their eyes met, trying to appear friendly and non-threatening.
Inside, however, he felt deeply self-conscious.
His tail twitched once before he forced it still.