Rosie smiled at her dress, seeing it there in her room, hung up against the closet made her almost tear up. Even in candle light it glimmered and gleamed as though the rays of a thousand suns were catching it.
Oberyn had left an hour ago, choosing to fleet back to his room and get ready. She smiled at the memory, he was true to his word, he stayed all night, not leaving until she was awake. Her hand hovered over her bruised lips, touching them before shaking off her silliness.
The dressmaker, Doren, had entered just a few minutes ago; wishing her a good day before running off to find some handmaidens. He had placed the gown down before leaving, letting Rosie marvel over it once more.
The handmaidens ran in first, ushering Rosie into the steaming bath before scrubbing her skin, letting the oils rest over her skin; the distinctive smell of vanilla and orange tickling her nose. They yanked her out, before drying her hair and pulling it up into several intricate braids forming a large up-do with several pieces of hair framing her face and falling down her back.
Next came the make-up. Rosie had seen several of these products on the faces of the beautiful women of Volantis, and Braavos and Myr; some being whores, and others noble ladies. Their eyelashes were always dramatic, their lips a different shade than their own, and their skin powered and became shimmery. The handmaidens did just that to Rosie, before adding her jewellery.
They had rough and tumbled her so much she barely noticed the dress slip onto her body and be laced up at the back, squeezing tighter than what she though was possible. She gripped her waist, feeling the soft material beneath her fingertips. The familiar comfort setting over her before she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
Rosie looked like a true Dornish beauty, almost rivaling Ellaria, but instead of the dark eyes, hair, and olive skin; she was a Targaryen doing her duty. Her hand snaked across her body once more, turning and watching herself. She couldn't believe it.
A small knock came from the other side of the doors, her maidens moving to stand in a line behind her. The butterflies began to make their presence known as she fiddled with the sun ring on her finger, with a final intake of breath she spoke.
"Come in." The tension was thick in the room, thick enough to cut with a knife. Relief flooded over Rosie as she watched Daario enter, his usual messy curls pushed back away from his face, his armor replaced with a red tunic and dark breeches. Rosie smiled, spreading her arms before wrapping them around him.
"You look positively radiant, my Queen." He bowed, a small kiss placed on her hand. He, himself looked radiant, the Targaryen colours suiting him perfectly.
Rosie could barely believe they had gotten here, into Westeros and ready to form alliances. Within the space of the next few hours she would be married, and she would be Queen Rosaerys Targaryen-Martell, and Oberyn, dear sweet Oberyn, would be King Oberyn Martell. They would begin their lives together, ready to take back what was hers by birthright.
"Are you ready?" He asked, his hand now outstretched in front of her. There was meaning behind this, meaning that had stayed at the front of her mind. She couldn't back out of this once she married Oberyn Nymeros Martell, she would end up being a spoke on the wheel, a chess piece for the Great Game.
Rosie placed her hand in his, nodding slightly. "I'm ready." And it was true, she was. With all her heart was she ready. She wanted this, no, needed this; and gosh was she going to take it.
With her head held high, they left the cocoon that was her room and descended down the stairs, into the belly of the beast. The confrontation between the two had made her feel better, not like she was making a mistake. As they pushed on the doors, she could hear a soft and gentle piece of music playing, something that seemed familiar yet so different.
She emerged from the covers, her eyes falling on Oberyn who was stood at the front, his eyes glimmering at the sight of his alluring soon-to-be wife. He was dressed in a golden robe, golden suns embroidered on over the material. The gold being in more of a pattern while the background was a burnt yellow. It fell past his knees, so only his tanned boots were shown. She thought he looked like a vision, his dark hair and olive skin contrasting beautifully against the colours of his robe.
Rosie walked up with Daario, who then departed as they reached the front, standing off to the side to watch his Queen. She deserved more than this, he bitterly thought, she deserved a wedding to be remembered.
She was cloaked in a Targaryen Robe, the red dragons against a black field. She dared a glance at Oberyn from the side, his face already forming a cheeky grin, a cloak in his own arms. The Septon motioning for the removal of hers.
"You may now cloak the bride, and bring her under your protection."
Oberyn tugged it away, letting it fall to the floor in a heap, and whipped out his own. It was black, the Martell sun taking center stage, a red dragon with three heads inside of the circle. He pulled it around her shoulders, letting her almost snuggle down into it.
"Your Grace, Your Grace," He spoke to Rosaerys and Oberyn first, before turning to the crowd. "My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of Gods and men to witness the union of man and wife."
Their hands locked onto each other, the Septon beginning to tie their hands.
"Let it be known that Rosaerys of House Targaryen, and Oberyn of the House Nymeros Martell are one heart and flesh, one soul, cursed be he who seek to tear them asunder!" Oberyn turned to the crowd.
"With this kiss, I pledge my love." Oberyn turned back before pulling Rosie to him, smiles on both of their faces. As they pressed their lips together, the crowd clapped. It was done. They were married in the eyes of the Westerosi laws. However, this wasn't her religion, and this was only the first part of their wedding ceremony.
The High Red Priestess, Kinvara stepped out from the side, a soft grin on her face as she approached the Queen and her future King. She was a small woman, clad in a deep burgundy dress, a choker wound tight around her neck; dimples either side of her cheeks. She was awfully young, although older than Rosaerys.
"R'hllor," She began, the flames either side of her beginning to twirl in the same motion of her arms; "You are the light in our eyes,the fire in our hearts, the heat in our loins. Yours is the sun that warms our days, Yours the stars that guardus in the dark of night"
"All praise R'hllor, the Lord of Light," The few guests that were familiar with the religion spoke back; Oberyn, Rosaerys, and the Sand Snakes included, even Doran joined in, as did his children.
"The night is dark and filled with terrors," Kinvara almost sang her words, still moving with the flame. "Alone we are born and alone we die,but as we walk through this black vale we draw strength from one another, and from you, our lord." It was as though the wind of the North had snaked through their hall, ruffling the sleeves and hem of Kinvara's dress. "Two come forth today to join their lives, so theymay face this world's darkness together. Fill their hearts with fire, my lord, so they may walk your shiningpath hand in hand forever."
It was as she spoke 'Fill their hearts with fire' that Rosie felt the flames like at her skin, washing over her in delicious waves, her hands grasping Oberyn's in a tight squeeze.
"Lord of Light, protect us" The crowd said again, joining in. "Lord of Light, bless yourchildren." She began to raise her hands up high, still twirling to an invisible beat; the flames seeming to grow with her.
"Oh, Lord of Light, we thank you," she sang to the hungry flames. "We thank you for brave Rosaerys, by your grace our Queen. Guideher and defend her, R'hllor. Protect her from the treacheries of evil men and grant her strength to smitethe servants of the dark." Her words made Rosaerys blush, looking down to the floor before back up.
"Grant her strength," they answered. "Grant her courage.Grant her wisdom." They stopped before continuing on; Kinvara's eyes now closed, the fire threatening to lick her fingertips ever so lightly. "We thank you for the sun that warms us,"They chanted. "We thank you for the stars thatwatch over us in the black of night. We thank you for our hearths and for our torches that keep thesavage dark at bay. We thank you for our bright spirits, the fires in our loins and in our hearts."
Rosaerys eyes began to well, feeling the support from the Dornish Lords and Ladies.
"Let them come forth, who would be joined." Oberyn and Rosaerys looked at each other, before taking a small step forward, standing within a meter of the High Priestess. "Who brought this woman to be wed?" Rosaerys turned back to Daario, who stepped away from the crowd.
"I did; Now comes Rosaerys ofHouse Targaryen, a woman who has grown and flowered, of noble blood and birth."
"Who comes forth to claim this woman?" Asked Kinvara.
"I do, Prince Oberyn of House Nymeros Martell." Kinvara opened her eyes, dropping her hands, meanwhile the fires still raged. Her dark pools clashing with Oberyn's.
"Oberyn, will you share your fire with Rosaerys, and warm her when the night isdark and full of terrors?"
"I will." He whispered, tightly squeezing her hand in his. "By R'hllor, I swear to warm her for all of her days; when the night is dark and full of terrors." It was Rosaerys turn next to begin her vows.
"Rosaerys, do you swear to share your fire with Oberyn, and warm him when the night is dark and full of terrors?
"I swear it; by the fire of my Dragons's breath." That earned a few chuckles.
"Then come to me and be as one." So they did, their conjoined hands touching hers before she basked them gently above the flames, Rosaerys skin welcoming the fresh flame across her flesh; Oberyn being slightly more apprehension then his wife.
"Two went into the flames, and one emerges." They withdrew their hands, before taking a step back. The lack of heat making Rosaerys feel empty almost, like a part of herself had been left behind.
"What fire joins, none may put asunder," The crowd stated, Oberyn and Rosie's words slightly delayed from the crowed as they gazed into each other's eyes.
Now they were married, in the eyes of both of their religions. Their souls officially twining into one, a marriage recognised not only by Westeros but also by Essos.
It was planned that in a few days they were to return to Meeren for a short time, before eventually setting their eyes on more armed forces, although the question was, from where? Rosie shook her head, she shouldn't be thinking of her army at this moment in time, she should be thinking about Oberyn and Dorne.
They slipped through the crowd, smiling to those around them who seemed to be happy for the two. They must be Targaryen supporters, and usually Targaryen supporters hate the Lannisters. Oberyn must have handpicked who would attend this wedding, in fear of keeping her secret from the Capitol.
They stopped short in the next hall, the walls garnished in Targaryen-Martell flags, rows upon rows of banquet tables, and a small section for the band. But it wasn't any of that which caught her eye, it was the rows of lemon cakes!
Each lemon cake must have been the size of a her fist, and stacked high, almost touching the ceiling! Her mouth salivated at the sight of it, she must have one!
"Not yet, Love, have one later." Oberyn's hand - which had remain enclosed over hers - tugged her back from reaching for them, instead leading her over to the front table. Their sigil decorating around the room, either on napkins, food, or across some of the banners. She thought it looked beautiful, her eyes searching for the night sky outside of the window.
She hoped Elia and Rhaegar would be watching over, proud of her. Rosie turned back towards Oberyn, smiling up as his arms encased her.
"Are you happy?" She asked, her eyes searching his for some kind of answer or other. His brow dipped, his smile faltering before going back to a Million Golden Dragons smile.
"Of course Rosie."
"Truly?" Rosie wanted to know he was sure, not just saying it to please her.
"Truly." Satisfied with his answer, she lifted their conjoined hands above her head and twirled, letting her dress fan out around her. She had wanted to do this all day. The sparkles on her dress continued to glimmer as the light hit it, making her almost glow.
A euphoric laugh left Rosie's lips as she did so, eyes catching Oberyn's who beamed at her.
"I never got to thank you, Prince Oberyn; for accepting my religion, and following through with the ceremony. Not many men would willingly want to do that, let alone Westerosi noble ones who are already risking so much at that."
Oberyn sighed at Rosaerys words, too often she had spoken of the negatives of it all; she really did not see that he wanted her.
"You do not need to thank me, Rosie. I am happy to do it, we are equals now. A husband and a wife. Do not think so lowly of me."
"Sorry, Oberyn, I did not wish offence." He waved it off, his eyes searching the room. The small proximity between them seeming more than satisfying. "Who are you searching for, Love?" Her voice was soft, her eyes slowly trailing to similar positions as his.
"Ellaria, she is not here." The crease in her brow was evident, Oberyn was already looking for Ellaria. Rosie couldn't help but let the slight doubt fill her, her mind going round and round in circles despite Oberyn constantly assuring her. Rosie shook it away, letting it rest on the floor, long forgotten.
"You did invite her?" He gave a small nod; the girls were here, 7 out of the 8 of them. As was Doran, Arianna, Trystane, Myrcella, and the rest of the Martell clan. All but Ellaria.
Rosie thought for a second, her mind raking for all the places Ellaria could be before suggesting something she would not consider at any other time. "Maybe she felt out of place, let me go talk to her."
Oberyn was shocked, yet agreed all the same. Watching as Rosie departed from him, turning to step out into the gardens where the party had spread.
It was there, under the millions of stars and the tall expanse of palm trees that she saw Ellaria, clutching her orange dress in her slender fingers. Her beauty never once dimming. Rosie began to approach.
"Ellaria?"