The King of Winters

The Prince of Dorne

Arianne was enjoying her little talks and drinks with her prince. He had placed his daughter between himself and Prince Aegon, a place near her betrothed. Arianne smiled as she sipped her wine again, and murmured something in Aegon's ear. The Crown Prince chuckled lightly at that. He ate little, Doran observed: a spoon of soup, a bite of the pepper, the leg off a capon, some fish. He shunned the lamprey pie and tried only one small spoonful of the stew. Even that made his brow break out in sweat.

When the spun-sugar skulls were served, Aegon's mouth grew tight, and he gave Doran and Oberyn a lingering look to see if he was being mocked or threatened. His daughter took notice of it and took to calm her betrothed. "It is the cook's little jape, my prince," said Arianne. "Even death is not sacred to a Dornishmen. You won't be cross with us, I pray?" She brushed the back of her betrothed's hand with her fingers. "I hope you have enjoyed your time in Dorne."

"Everyone has been most hospitable, princess."

Arianne touched the pin that clasped his cloak, an obsidian dragon. "I have always been fond of dragons. They were always a magnificent sight here in the deserts of Dorne."

"Yet it wasn't so magnificent when Rhaenys' dragon Meraxes was shot down with a scorpion bolt," said Prince Aegon.

"It wasn't," said Arianne, "but that is from another time, a time from the past."

Aegon Targaryen gave a nod and sipped his wine. The prince was only a boy, but a wary one at that.

Midnight was close at hand when he turned to the Targaryen prince and said, "Prince Aegon, I have read the letter that you brought me from our king, your father. Might I assume that you are familiar with its contents?"

Aegon greeted him with a plain smile with no emotions. "I am, my lord. My father is to travel for Braavos to finalise the contract with the Iron Bank. Once he returns from Braavos he is to go with my marriage to your daughter Princess Arianne."

"So when will he return?" asked Prince Doran.

"Soon enough." Aegon said and took a sip of his wine.

Soon enough. But will he come back alive or the way Viserys came back. Viserys Targaryen's death in Braavos wasn't a secret in the Seven Kingdoms and a wise man would say that it wouldn't be long before Rhaegar follows his brother's fate as well.

"Let it be," said Doran. "We would do what his grace asks us to do." He grasped the wheels of his chair and pushed himself from the table. "But now you must excuse me, My Prince. All this heat and talk has wearied me. Oberyn, would you be so kind as to help me to my bed? Arianne my daughter will you kiss me good night? Obara, Nymeria, Tyene, come as well, and bid your old uncle a fond good night."

So it fell to his brother to roll his chair from Sunspear's feast hall and down a long gallery to his solar. Areo Hotah, the captain of his guards followed with Oberyn's girls, along with Arianne and Ellaria Sand.

When the doors of his solar were safely closed behind them Doran wheeled his chair about to face his brother and the women. Even that effort left him breathless, and the Myrish blanket that covered his legs caught between two spokes as he rolled, so he had to clutch it to keep it from being torn away. Beneath the coverlet, his legs were pale, soft, ghastly. Both of his knees were red and swollen, and his toes were almost purple, twice the size they should have been.

Arianne came forward as she saw his troubles with the blanket. "Let me help you, Father."

Doran pulled the blanket free. "I can still master mine own blanket. That much at least." It was little enough. His legs had been useless for three years, but there was still some strength in his hands and shoulders.