Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to George R.R. Martin and J.K. Rowling.
A/N: The names of Prince Doran's parents were never mentioned, so I made up her name and make one of the Martells' vassal houses who had connection with the Targaryens as the former house of the Prince Consort. Also, this is Rhaegar/Hermione fic, so if you don't like, don't read. Cheers.
Chapter 1
Sunspear, 262 AC
The storm is raging above the Old Palace, where the Martells live in and ruled. The storm was so bad, it was raining ice the size of an adult's fist. The wind was howling, so different from the usual gentle breeze the residents used to, making it the coldest night ever felt for years to come. The dark sky would be alight once in a while as the lightning bolt strikes the earth with loud rumbling sound. So loud, it sometimes drowned the sound of Princess Arielle shouts as she fight to bring her child into the world. Suddenly, her shout was joined by a loud wailing sound. A cry of a babe. And then it's on, and on and on.
Not long after, the Maester exited the room to greet the expecting father.
"What is it, Maester? Does the Princess and the babe, alright?" The Prince Consort asked anxiously. The Maester smile.
"The babe is a girl, Your Grace, healthy as the flowers blooming in the Water Gardens. Have a pair of great lungs, too, as you can hear. She and the Princess are fine. Come, see for yourself." The Maester said. The Prince Consort smile and excitedly enters the room, leaving his five and ten years old namesake in charge of his youngest two. The Prince Doran, who is a squire to Lord Gargalen at Salt Shore was home for the birth of his newest sibling.
The Prince Consort was greeted by the sight of his wife, still laying on the bed, sweaty and just in her night gown being cleaned by the midwife, holding a babe in a little bundle, still squirming and crying despite his wife's effort to quieten the babe.
"My Princess." He called as he walked closer to his wife's side.
"My Prince, may I present our youngest and second daughter?" She said as she angled her arms so the Prince could see their babe.
The Prince gasped as he takes the first look of his daughter. Unlike his previous children, the babe possessed hair the colour of Dornish Red Wine that reminds him of his late mother who came from Lys instead of black. Like it was 'kissed by fire', something people said every time they talked about his mother fondly. And her skin, while still red from the remnant of blood and afterbirth, also from her incessant crying was fairer than her siblings. He didn't know yet about her eyes, still the blue colour of a newborn, but he was sure it would be the dark, enchanting ones of House Martell or Hazel-bluish ones of the Manwoody, his former house. "She's beautiful, My Princess."
"She really is, My Prince." She said, pleased to have confirmation of her own thought. She herself never thought would be blessed with a child after the birth of her youngest son Oberyn, especially after two cradle death and premature birth of her now oldest daughter Elia.
"What should we named this beauty?" He asked his wife.
"I was thinking of Maya. How does it sound?"
"Princess Maya of Dorne." He recited, smiling. "I like it, My Princess."
It was at the time that the midwife finished cleaning her up. "Maester, please call the children. I'm sure they would love to see their newest sibling."
The Maester bowed. "As you wish, Your Grace." He said before moving to do his task.
Not long after that, their three children enter the room in a flurry of movement. The youngest at five years, Oberyn, took no time to climb the bed so he can sit near his mother. Elia, who is only a year older than Oberyn followed in more sedated pace, helped by their oldest, Crown Prince Doran.
"Children, this is your new sister, Princess Maya of Dorne." Their father, the Prince Consort announced as his wife held their daughter for their other children to see.
"She's pretty." Elia said after seeing her sister.
The Prince Doran smiled after seeing his newest sibling. "She'll be the fairest Princess in all Dorne."
Oberyn scrunched up his nose. "She looks funny... and loud and squishy."
"Oberyn!" His mother gasped, appalled, while his father couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle.
"What? She is!" The young Prince protested, looking like he would cover his ears anytime now..
It was the eldest child who decided to interfere, before his brash but truly loving brother would placed his foot down his mouth further. "It might be true for now, dear brother. But years from now, many Lords around Westeros would sought her out for her beauty, to make her the Lady of their Noble house."
Oberyn frowned. "Why would she be the Lady of the Noble house? She's a Princess! Shouldn't she marry a Prince?" Came his innocent question, supported by his slightly older sister who nodded along. The two youngest had been taught by the Maester to read, to write, and to do math, but not politic, yet. They would learn soon enough, but right now the two adults and one who almost of age felt it was much too cute and decided to just indulge the young Prince and Princess.
"You're right, Oberyn. Princess Maya should only marry a Prince." The Prince's father said, to the amusement of his wife and his eldest. The babe looks like she was exhausted since her crying had reduced to loud whimpering.
There's a determined glint on the young Prince's stare. "Then I'll make sure she'll only marry a Prince. Let those Lords come, I'll whack them with my sword." He said as he moved his hand as if he's using his wooden training sword.
"Would you do the same for me?" Elia asked with her soft voice.
Oberyn look at his sister as if he couldn't believe she just asked that. "Of course I will, you're a Princess, too, sister. Only a Prince will be good enough for my sisters." He said haughtily.
"Right, now that you've seen your new sister, it's time for you and Elia to sleep. Come on, it's past your bedtime." His mother urged.
"But I'm not sleepy!" He protested, only to betrayed by his own yawn.
"A sleepy Prince can't protect the Princesses." His father said.
The Prince pouted, but relented. "Fine!" He said. He then moved to dish a sloppy kiss on his new sister's cheek, still whimpering as tears continue to fall from her little eyes. "Bye, sissy. Love you, even if you almost burst my eardrums." He said, before allowing his older sister to take his place and say her goodbye. "Come on, Elia. I'll escort you to your room." Said the Prince, offering his hand to the Princess to take.
"Protective, that one." The Princess Arielle whispered conspiratorially, only to be answered with an amused smile of her husband and his namesake. The Prince Doran might not express himself well, but the Princess knew her eldest would protect his siblings as fiercely as Oberyn.
After the two youngest left the room, the eldest, too, bid his goodbye. "I should probably go, too. You two look exhausted. I shall soon go back to Salt Shore to finish my fostering."
His parents smile at their heir. "You do that, son. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Mother, Father."
As the room emptied of children, the attention of the two adults turned back to their newborn. By now the babe had truly exhausted herself as she only sniffles once in a while.
"You, Princess Maya of Dorne, would be the most loved Princess of the entire Westeros." Her mother said to her sleeping babe.
She didn't know how true it would be in years to come.
Princess Maya strives to be first in everything; first to talk, first to walk, first to read, and many more that it astounded both her parents and the Maester. She flourished under the attention of her siblings. Sometimes she would be seen curled up on the lap of the Prince Doran, listening patiently as he read her whatever book he was reading at the library, just to spend time with her older brother. Sometimes she would be seen in the company of Princess Elia as she braids her younger sister's thick, curly wine red hair. Another time, she would be seen chasing around his brother Oberyn around the Sunspear or Water Gardens.
She grow up to be a healthy toddler, often seen with her wine red curl bouncing around behind her as she run past the corridor of her ancestral home. Her limbs still short and chubby, making her look more adorable. Her skin had retained a bit tan, but still being the fairest of all her siblings.
But the most enchanting thing about her was her purple eyes, the vibrant violet colour. It was unusual as it was mostly a Targaryen trait, but not impossible given their blood relation to the ruling clan. Prince Consort Doran himself was a descendant of Michael Manwoody who married to Elaena Targaryen, the youngest daughter of King Aegon III Targaryen while Princess Arielle was a descendant of Prince Maron Martell who built the Water Gardens for his wife, Princess Daenerys Targaryen, the daughter of King Aegon IV Targaryen.
There's another thing about those eyes, and it has nothing to do with the colour or it's shape. The eyes looks too old to be on a toddler face. Too wise, too knowing that it sometimes unnerved someone who took their time to look deep inside. Even her father once japed that despite being the youngest, her daughter have a soul older than even him.
How true that was.
Deep inside Princess Maya of Dorne's consciousness, lived a witch who once was known as Hermione Granger, the Brightest Witch of the Age. A witch out of this world. She had been a student, a soldier, a war veteran, a hand of judgement, a ruler... She also had been a child, a teenager, an adult, a mother, a grandmother, even a great-grandmother. She had took, she had give, she had fight, she had conquered, she had failed, she had succeed, she had lived, and she had died.
The last one was not really a surprise for her. Afterall, Albus Dumbledore had preached about it as it was just the next great adventure, and she had been an old lady herself, almost as old as the said man. But whatever next great adventure that awaited her, she never imagine it would be this kind.
At first she was in denial, refusing to believe that something like this could happen to her, that she wouldn't be inflicted with the Potter's luck as she called it if something bad happen. She had often squirmed when being held by her supposed parents and siblings, to be left alone to reasoned how this could happen.
Then she was mad, want to scream to the world that she didn't signed up for this. Afterall, she had imagined to be reunited with her parents, her grandparents, cousins, and whoever left the world before her. But instead, she got this? Stranded in a foreign world that's not even earth... The result is a temper tantrum that was still talked about to this day, worrying her new parents and siblings, and the Maester tiptoeing around the Royal family for having no answer to what had bothered the babe so, fearing for their life.
Then she had bargained. She prayed to Jesus, Mary, the Seven - as she heard one day her... Mother mentioned it - and whatever believe she could find to get her back to the world she came from or be reunited with her long dead family... but none of them answered.
Then come the depression. She became quiet. So quiet that her new parents feared that their daughter had become a mute. She refused to eat, refused to move, just lay there to waste in her cradle. And that night, when everyone else was asleep, she had been woken up by the sound of a mother's cry. Her new mother had sat on the floor next to her crib, praying to whatever God she believes in to spare her daughter from the fate that befalls her two children who had died in the cradle. To tell them that she didn't want to have to bury another child. For the kid to thrive and to outlive her. And it tore at her heart.
She had once been in that position. Her daughter Rose had come down with dragon pox, and although it can be cured, it was hard for her tiny body. There were several times that she thought her child wouldn't survive, that she would have to bury her like Molly had to bury Fred, or Andromeda to Tonks. Could she inflicted the same pain to this woman who didn't know that her child was not really a child?
Her subconscious mind had answered for her when her tiny hand moved on top of the woman's own without her realizing. The woman had stared at her, eyes red and cheeks wet with tears. She then called her with her new name, asking her if she was hurt, if she was hungry, if she wants anything even if she knew she wouldn't answer. The Princess then shouted at the guard outside her chamber to call her daughter's wet nurse, who came immediately as if her life depended on it (which probably is). She had been lifted from her cradle to be passed on to the servant, placing her near her breast. Her mother had watched, waiting with baited breath for her to latch on the servant's teat, and when she did, the woman sagged to the floor, crying in relief.
That's when she accepted that she was now having a new life. To live if only to see this woman happy. She might mourn the life she had left behind, but consoled herself that it was over, that there's no need to cry over the spilled milk. That instead, she should viewed this as her second chance to live her life better, to do what she couldn't do in her past life. And she did.
It was not all rainbow and unicorn, though. It was hard to pretend to be an infant, and she found herself counting the day it was acceptable to reach some milestone as to not rouse suspicion - and she did remember it by heart as she had been hands on with her two children in the past life - therefore become the first to anything. She also had to adapt to be the youngest child, to have older brothers and sister by blood that always be there since the day she was reborn, unlike the Weasleys who she only knew after she was a tween as their youngest son's friend and later on brother and sister by marriage. And she finds that she quite like it, as opposed to her lonely childhood in the past life.
Her parents try their best to be there for their three children - as Prince Doran was fostered elsewhere -, sharing their duty of ruling Dorne so they can be present more often. The Prince Consort would handle the military and political side, while the Princess handle the household and preventing the discontent of the people, including the small folks. They would have a family dinner at least thrice a week so they could see how the children doing. If they have recess, they would seek out their children and just... interacting with her and her siblings to relieve their stress. In fact, because they mostly work from home, it was ironic for Hermione that her Princess and Prince Consort of parents have more time to spend with their children rather than her former dentists parents.
Speaking of her siblings, she can say that she has a unique relationship with every one of them. The eldest, Prince Doran she only start interacting with properly when she was two since he had been fostered in Salt Shore. As soon as he was home, Hermione started to develop her relationship with the quiet man. Doran, as the much elder brother reminds her a lot of Bill Weasley in a way that his presence has a calming effect on her, and also his sense of adventure since he planned to venture Essos someday - which he did when Hermione was four. It wasn't all that with Doran, as he have a scheming mind and can be as manipulative as Albus Dumbledore. She was thankful that he at least put the family first, and not as a pawn. She shuddered to think that she could be in that particular position.
She would seek out his presence, either in the library or his study, then climbed on his lap, asking what he was doing. He would send her an amused smile, before reciting whatever he had been reading or doing, just indulging his youngest sister, thinking that she wouldn't understand. She would listen and stored any information that she deemed useful in her mind, helped by her occlumency shield. She had spent two years at home, before - like she said - he went to Essos, wanting to explore the land beyond the Narrow Sea, so in the first five years of Hermione life as Princess Maya, she only spent two of them with Doran, making him the sibling she spent the less time together with.
The next sibling she spent the least time with in term of duration is Elia, but not because she didn't want to. It was just the fact that Elia was more fragile, and her health was not that good because of the circumstance of her birth as a preemie. She was not allowed to go out a lot, and mostly spend her time in her chamber or with the Septa, learning embroidery, sewing, and many activities that were too much girly-girly for Hermione's taste, not to mention, she's not very good at. As a reminder, she just needs to remember the disaster that was her S.P.E.W champaign at Hogwarts, which her knitting products were not even worthy to be worn by the elves.
Thankfully, her parents were not the type to forced their children into activities they don't really enjoy, so when she asked to be trained in combat, instead they immediately agree to it, as long as she still attends her lesson with the Maester. In fact, they were delighted as Princess Arielle is quite famous for her skill with spears, while the Prince Consort is no slouch either in sword fighting. So when she was four, Princess Maya started her lesson with Oberyn's tutor, Daeron Sand, a bastard son of one of the Martells' vassal house. She surprised both her tutor and older brother when she succeeds to dodge every attempt to target her by the wooden training sword her tutor used on her first lesson, even as far as complimenting how she was a natural born warrior. What they didn't know was the fact that while her body was never in a fight, her mind did. Not to mention, the instinct born of War and countless assassination attempt when she had been the Minister of Magic just wouldn't go away. Sure, she's a bit rusty, but with a little bit of training, there would be nothing holding her back.
And speaking of training, she couldn't help but mentioned her brother, Oberyn. The simple explanation about her older brother is that he's... Sirius Black through and through. She always wondered if perhaps he really was Sirius's reincarnation, but when she tried to call him with variation of the name he had been called with in the last life (Sirius, Black, Padfoot, Snuffles), Oberyn just stare at her confused, and asked if she was alright. So... that's out. But seriously, he was the most 'Sirius' person she ever met. Even when he hadn't yet reached his ten names day, she could already see he would grow up to be the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He could probably charm the panties off of most girls in Dorne if not Westeros by the time he was five and ten years old. He is a fierce fighter with a quick wit and sharp tongue, but also rash to the point that he often took unnecessary risk, resulting in most injuries that honestly could be avoided (and here, she feels the need to check if he's not really Sirius, again). Despite all his Sirius-ness, Hermione felt the same way about him like she did with Harry, which had been her brother in anything but blood, but with Oberyn, he really did shared her blood. That means Oberyn would die for her, as she would for him. And in this strange world, it did comfort Hermione greatly to have someone like him.
TBC
A/N: No offense to Wilf Scolding, but he just didn't do it for me. I mean, Cersei described Rhaegar as beautiful, while others called him handsome. Not that Wilf himself is not handsome, but he inspired no 'Wow' effect like we thought when we read/heard about Rhaegar. To be both beautiful, yet handsome my mind just automatically thought it probably better for the casting director to choose some androgynous model or something. It's not like he would appear much in GoT, anyway. I'm partially inclined to Ton Heukels, myself (I think he's beautiful with capital B). Or Jaco van den Hoven, or Valery Kovtun, or many others (sorry, Wilf's fans). What do you think? Is there someone you thought to be more Rhaegar-like?