Chapter 55: Arianne’s Offer

Spring, 301 AC

The sun had begun to set over King's Landing, casting the Red Keep in hues of gold and crimson. The great hall had emptied after another day of court, but not all matters were settled in public view. Aemon Targaryen, now King of the Seven Kingdoms, sat in the council chamber, awaiting his next guest.

The doors opened, and Arianne Martell entered, her golden-brown skin glowing in the fading light. She moved with the grace of a panther, her silk robes clinging to her curves as she approached the table where Aemon sat. Behind her, Oberyn Martell followed, his face unreadable but his eyes sharp with suspicion.

Aemon gestured for them to sit. Daenerys Targaryen and Sansa Stark were not present—this meeting was to be held in private.

Arianne's Proposal

Arianne leaned forward, her dark eyes locked onto Aemon's. "Dorne has always stood apart from the rest of Westeros. My father, Prince Doran, has sent me to ensure that changes."

Aemon studied her carefully. "Dorne has already pledged its loyalty. What more do you seek?"

Arianne smiled, her fingers tracing the rim of her goblet. "An alliance sealed in blood."

Oberyn spoke then, his voice smooth but firm. "A marriage. You are a Targaryen, we are of Rhoynish blood. Together, we would make an unbreakable force."

Silence filled the chamber. Aemon exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. He had expected this.

"I will not take another queen," he said finally.

Arianne's smile faltered, but only for a moment. Oberyn's expression darkened. "Dorne is not like the other kingdoms. We do not send our daughters to be cast aside."

Aemon met his gaze evenly. "I do not cast her aside. I offer her something else." He turned back to Arianne. "You would be my paramour, not my wife. If we have children, they will be trueborn, but they will carry your name—Martell, not Targaryen."

Arianne's breath caught, surprise flickering across her face. "You would name them trueborn?"

"Yes." Aemon's voice was steady. "They will be recognized, honored, but their claim will remain with Dorne."

Oberyn scowled. "You insult my niece."

Arianne, however, did not immediately reject the offer. Her eyes traced Aemon's form, the sheer power radiating from him intoxicating. This was not some weak Southern king. This was a conqueror, a man who commanded dragons, who had taken King's Landing with fire and steel.

And if she could not be his queen… she would still have him.

Arianne leaned back in her chair, a slow smirk playing on her lips. "A bold offer, Your Grace."

Oberyn turned to her sharply. "Arianne—"

She lifted a hand, silencing her uncle. "I will accept."

Oberyn's fists clenched. "You would lower yourself to be a man's plaything?"

Arianne's eyes gleamed. "I would stand beside the most powerful man in Westeros. That is no dishonor."

Oberyn exhaled sharply, looking between his niece and the dragon king. Finally, he scoffed, shaking his head. "Foolish," he muttered, but he did not press further.

Vengeance for Elia

Aemon shifted the conversation. "There is another matter," he said. "One that concerns your family."

Oberyn's attention snapped back to him. Aemon's gaze did not waver as he continued. "Gregor Clegane."

Oberyn's expression turned to stone. "He lives?"

Aemon nodded. "He is in my dungeons."

For the first time that evening, true rage flickered in Oberyn's eyes. The memory of Elia Martell, brutalized and murdered during Robert's Rebellion, was burned into his soul.

"You are giving him to me?" Oberyn asked, voice low.

Aemon's gaze was impassive. "He is yours."

Oberyn stood suddenly, his chair scraping against the floor. He looked down at Aemon for a long moment, then gave a sharp nod. "For this, you have my gratitude."

Aemon nodded. "Make it slow."

Oberyn's answering smile was full of malice. "Oh, I intend to."

The Rising Sun

As the meeting concluded, Arianne lingered as Oberyn left to claim his vengeance.

"You have taken much from the world, my king," she murmured, stepping closer to Aemon. "But I wonder… what will the world take from you?"

Aemon tilted his head. "Let it try."

Arianne's smirk widened, and she dipped into a slow, deliberate bow. "Then I look forward to seeing how this game plays out."

As she turned to leave, her silk robes trailing behind her, Aemon exhaled, knowing that while one battle had ended, another had just begun.