Oh gosh, I'm sorry, I wrote smut. It's horrible. I'm sorry.

(Psst - if you want to skip aforementioned smut, look for this (*) symbol. It marks the start and the end)

Arianne II

A week's notice was all Arianne received before her next suitor arrived in Sunspear. Enraged, she had verged on storming out of the room, but reconsidered after a moment's pause. If Doran was not already aware of the contempt she held for all the lords he invited, he ignored it. Instead, she had graciously told him that she would prepare, and left. They had yet to speak to one another again.

Arianne was certain that, in the months following Oberyn's decision to bring her into their plotting, she and her father had become more distant (if such a thing were even possible). Days would go by where she would not see her father while he remained in Sunspear, and he spent more and more of his time in the Water Gardens. He had only recently returned when he had summoned her to discuss the impending suitor.

Knowing that it was all a sham did nothing to douse the fire of her anger. With each suitor, her father only insulted herself and Dorne more. Minor lord after minor lord was brought before her, each more prideful than the last. Doran thought this would draw attention away from their true intentions. Let the rest of the realm think them weak and foolish. Arianne disagreed. She was a princess of Dorne, and the best her father gave her was some small lord no one could bring themselves to care about? Adding to the growing burden, each suitor left just as insulted, if not more. They came, seeking to marry into one of the most powerful families in Westeros, only to be turned away like each before them.

She was certain this would leave them with more than a few enemies, but Doran apparently did not feel that way.

Regardless of how she felt about it, she said nothing to her father or uncle. Or to anyone, really. She had complained once or twice in the past, before she understood why. Now she feared saying anything else would leave a bigger mess. So Arianne said nothing, and suffered in silence.

She dreaded the day her suitor came, but a well of hope also rose inside her. She only needed to survive through the lord's stay, and then she would finally be able to begin setting her own plans in motion. The visit would be the perfect reason to leave, too. Arianne prayed it would be more than enough to convince her father to allow her to go. As distant as they were, her father was not cruel to her - at least, she hoped this was the case.

When Lord Walder Frey finally arrived, it was at the head of a rather pathetic procession. Because of his age and health, Lord Walder was forced to ride in a carriage, which had slowed their travel remarkably. Arianne had heard plenty of rumors, and it would not have surprised her if less than a fourth of every man that followed were not Lord Walder's offspring. She had been astonished to discover anything had reached Dorne. Of course she had heard of him, but she'd learned little, and she did not think a minor lord from the Riverlands would be of any such importance here.

An old, leering man, Walder Frey had made bile rise in Arianne's throat, and she had to use all of her willpower to keep from gagging when the man kissed her hand. It felt filthy, disgusting afterwards, and she had washed it several times before the evening meal. Even then, she did not think she would rid herself of that feeling for a long time.

The first meal they shared had been a loud, fairly joyous occasion, though Arianne could see even the Martell men were put off by those of House Frey. She shared their sentiment, though felt that it was infinitely worse when one had to be seated beside Lord Frey and his eldest sons - trueborn, for he had borne many a bastard that were present in the hall. They laughed and drank, and when Arianne left for her chambers, the feasting was still only half finished.

During the day, she was watched by their visitors. Their eyes trailed over her body, and they whispered lewd things to one another in her presence. She had long grown used to such things over the years and pushed such distractions to the back of her mind. No one dared touch her, thankfully, for they all understood that she was invaluable to their lord.

Still, they disrupted her state of mind, and she found it hard to concentrate on anything and everything. To make matters worse, her closest friends were either not present, or avoided being anywhere near her. She'd been informed that Tyene Sand left not long before their guests had reached Sunspear, much to her disappointment. Oberyn's squire, Daemon Sand, had been missing lately, although she imagined the presence of her potential husband left him feeling bitter. The subject of marriage was still a slightly sore one with him, especially now that they had reconnected.

By night, the Frey men drank their fill of Dornish wine and enjoyed the "exotic" food they would likely never taste again. Every night, fewer and fewer of her father's men joined them, and even less drank with the Frey men. Those that did usually came to regret it in the morning, she knew. She was left to suffer the men's now drunken gazing and joking, which was infinitely worse with their tongues loosened and their minds intoxicated.

Arianne endured half a month of this before their visitors decided it was time for an answer. She was spared, as her father might say, from being present at their gathering. While she had no wish to be near any of them, she was also profoundly offended that her father did not see her fit enough to be there when he told them no. And as predicted, Doran thanked them for their offer, and refused. She would have taken great joy in the sight of Lord Walder Frey's poorly hidden rage, had she been present. He had not dared to speak his mind before the Prince, in the capital of Dorne. But Lord Frey, unlike her father, did not take very well to being insulted in such a way.

Their last meal left Arianne with a light, excited feeling that blossomed in her chest. In the morning Lord Walder and his horrid men would leave. Then she would finally be free to act upon her own interests. It was the most open she had been the entire time their guests had stayed. She drank several glasses of wine herself, and by the time she decided to return to her rooms, was more than a little uncertain on her feet. It was a foolish mistake, one she would come to lament the next day. At the time, she did not care, as the others did.

Deciding she'd had enough for the night, she leaned over to her father. "May we speak tomorrow?" she asked him quietly. He gave her a single nod. Her already high spirits raised, she wished both her father and Lord Walder a good night, and rose to leave. Her uncle took her hand while she passed, and when she turned to him, grinned brightly at her. Raising an eyebrow, she took her hand back and proceeded to leave the hall. Whatever choices she made were her own, and she would not allow her uncle's judgement to bother her. Not that he meant it negatively.

Arianne did not truly remember making her way to her room, lost in the haze of excitement and anticipation at what the next day would bring. When she opened the door to her private rooms, however, she realized that she was not alone inside. Her back was turned to the chamber, although she could feel someone's eyes on her. Slowly she turned around, a part of her surprised by what she found, and the rest not surprised at all.

Ah, she thought. That was what Oberyn had been hinting at.

(*)

"It took you long enough to find your way to my chambers again," she said, moving past her bed to her wardrobe. A mirror hung beside it, and in its reflection she could see Daemon Sand's eyes following her. He was naked, his lower half was covered by the sheets. His hands rested behind his head, and she wondered how long he had been sitting there. She hadn't seen him at the feast, although surely he hadn't waited that long?

He chuckled lightly, and replied, "I had some trouble with all the Frey men here. Now that they are gone, I've been able to get myself back to you. And by the gods, am I glad I did." His eyes had grown darker with lust, and his manhood bulged under her sheets. Her hair had been tied in a braid the entire evening, and she let it down. The dark locks flowed down her back and over her chest, and once her hair was free, she reached for her dress.

"I had wondered why you had been missing," she murmured, allowing the dress to pool at her feet. Only her smallclothes remained, and Daemon had begun to grow restless, she could see. In the reflection, she smirked back at him, amused by his agitation, before she turned around to face him. Teasingly slow, she approached the bed.

His impatience grew but he did not move from his position. He was cleaner than the last time she had seen him. Granted, it had been some days ago, and he had been on the training yard with her uncle. He'd had some stubble growing on his face. Now it was clean-shaven, and his hair had been cut too. When she reached him, she lifted one leg over his hip and straddled him. Beneath her, she could feel him, hot and hard. His hands gripped her waist, fingers pressing into her soft skin. He was only just holding himself back, and she took pleasure in the sight.

Arianne leaned forward, letting her lips brush against his ever so slightly. "You were jealous," she said, eyes half-lidded. She gave a slow rock of her hips. The corner of her mouth lifted at the soft groan that escaped from him.

"That tends to happen," he told her, beginning to move to her slow pace, "when I am reminded that you are to be married off to some lords that will never be able to truly appreciate you." His words were paused, broken. His breathing had become more erratic, his hold on her body even tighter.

Reaching down, she removed her smallclothes, tossing them away. Only the thin material of her sheets stood between them now, and Daemon was itching to remove them. She did not indulge him, preferring to torment him a while longer. "You think you know how to treat me best?"

"Perhaps," was his gasped answer. As the speed of her movement increased, so too did his desperation. He slid one of his hands up her back, coming to rest in between her shoulder blades. The other he slipped between her legs, rubbing against her clit, before finding where she was wet and pushing a finger inside. His mouth descended on her neck, biting lightly at the skin, kissing each mark.

"Perhaps," she agreed breathlessly, "though I very well doubt it. No one knows how best to treat me, not even you." If her words caused him any form of hurt, he did not show it in the slightest. Instead, he muffled his whimpers against her shoulder, on the verge of begging. Still, she waited until she heard the quiet "please" that fell from his lips. By then he had four fingers inside of her, and she was nearly as needy for it as him.

She lifted up enough to remove the sheets and free his cock. She lined him up to her, and began to slide down, as slowly as she dared. Daemon's hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, only just holding himself back from pushing the rest of the way in. It had been too long since the last time they'd been together, and neither had the will to hold back for much longer. She never broke her eyes from his, and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth when he was fully inside her.

They moved together, her riding him slowly at first, then faster, their pace building with their need for release. He felt hot inside her, filling her, and she moaned against his mouth. They weren't kissing, not so much as gasping into one anothers mouths.

Neither of them lasted very long. Daemon came with a quiet moan of her name. The feeling of his seed spilling inside of her had her walls clenching down, her own release taking her by surprise.

Afterwards, when they had both laid down to catch their breath, Daemon rolled on top of her. He kissed down her neck, sucked lightly on her breast until her nipple became hardened, down her stomach and stopped between her legs. He kissed her there, too, put his mouth against her. Arianne's fingers curled in his hair, gripping his head hard. She was panting, hips shifting restlessly, when he licked his way inside her.

In the morning, when Lord Frey and his men left Sunspear, and her father and uncle watched the procession leave, she would speak to the maester about obtaining some more moon tea.

(*)

Her father watched her, eyes skeptical. He did not trust her with much of anything, it seemed. Arianne had assumed it would be a simple matter of mentioning to her father that she wished to visit Quentyn, and she could arrange to see her youngest brother. Of course, she had been proven wrong.

Four days. Four days her father had made her wait for even a simple audience. He sent his brother the day after the feast to inform her that no, he could not see her. He had important work, Oberyn had told her gently. Some of it, she knew, would be about Lord Frey's stay, and maybe even about the Lord Frey himself. After all, it was not just his men that had caused trouble. But four days?

And then, when he had finally welcomed her to speak with him, he had been distracted, listening to almost nothing she said to him. He had searched the table before him, looking over papers even as his heir spoke with him. Naturally, she had grown angry enough to snap, "Very well. I will leave for Yronwood on the morrow, Father." The last word she spit at him, and turned on her heel to leave.

"Arianne." It was a call to get her attention as much as it was an order. She stopped where she was, facing him with a blank face. Now his focus was fixed solely on her, and the open distrust stung a small part of her still. She pushed it to the back of her mind, though, and prepared to convince him of her reason.

She had considered leaving without speaking to her father already. Simply taking the horses and supplies needed, and riding off with Daemon for Yronwood. But she knew that would arouse her father's suspicions even more. No, she knew it would be best to see him about this. Oh, he would still wonder what she hoped to gain from this, what ulterior motive she had, if there was one. But this way was easier to give herself the anonymity she needed.

"Do you and your brother not write to one another?" he asked her carefully.

"Not often enough." She took small, deliberate steps forward. "You obviously intend to marry me soon, do you not? Trystane is here, I can see him every day. But Quentyn I have not seen for years. We are not as close as we once were. And I have been reminded that it may be an even longer time before I am able to see my brother again." She did not kneel before her father as she might have done to any other lord, to plead for her case. He knew her to be too headstrong to ever do such a thing sincerely.

He hid his emotions just as well as she, did not allow them to play across his face as easily as Oberyn did. But in his eyes she could see indecision. She knew he had to be turning over her request in his head, trying to find why she would come to him now, of all times, to ask this of him.

A few moments passed in silence before she added, "I do not think Lord Yronwood would take very kindly to Princess Arianne arriving with no warning beforehand. I imagine it would displease him greatly, however great an honor it would be to have the heir to Dorne stay with him for a while."

Again, her father said nothing in reply, but she was sure she had tipped the balance in her favor. He pursed his lips, eyes narrowing slightly, watching her intently for signs of her words being false.

He appeared to find nothing, for he said to her, "Very well. You may take a small number of guards with you, and I will send word to Lord Yronwood that he is to host my heir in several days." Doran rose from his chair, his movements slow and careful. Arianne could see the effort it took him to do this, and the times when he let some weakness show and he winced in pain. Soon the gout would prevent him from walking, the maester had told them. It would become too unbearable for him to do so, and he would be confined to a chair. She felt some sympathy for him, but they had known this for some time now. She was certain they had all come to terms with it.

"I will be returning to the Water Gardens soon." Her father's voice startled her, quieter this time. He had stepped nearer to her, though he did not stop by her side, instead continuing on past her.

"You intend to leave Oberyn to rule." It was not a question. Doran always gave rule to Oberyn when he left. If it left her feeling bitter, that was her own business.

Arianne was surprised, though, to hear her father say, "I would have you aid him. He would be in power, but I would like you to advise him." Never had she heard Doran ask her to do such a thing. While she often did rule with Oberyn when her father left, he had never expressed his wish for it. It had caught her off-guard, truly shocked by his request.

"I- of course, Father." She said it with complete honesty, a silent thank you following. He nodded once and dismissed her, returning once again to his duties. She left his chambers, dazed by what had been asked of her. She felt like she had the night of Lord Frey's departure, her path unclear to her. Daemon had a hard time getting her attention when she returned to her rooms.

When she finally broke herself from the daze, she was reminded that, while it was a victory, it was a small one. There was much that had to be done before she could take a relieved breath.

"We're going to Yronwood," she told him, giddy with anticipation. She did her very best to block out the feeling, the voice in the back of her head, that said her father had perhaps given in too easily.

Hey guys. This took for-freaking-ever, I know, and I'm sad and sorry, but this will probably be how long the updates tend to take from now on. I'm also going to be tweaking a few (probably most) of the chapters that come before, mostly for plot holes and general things. If anything major gets changed I'll leave a note.

But thank you guys for all the comments and kudos and everything. I know this chapter is a bit on the short side, so hopefully I'll get the next one out sooner.

You can find me at tumblr.

Up next: Jaime's POV