Chapter 23

Sunspear, Dorne

It was night, and Aryan was resting in his bed after an exciting evening. Another attempt on his life, yet again. It seemed like the assassins never truly gave up.

Earlier that evening, he had decided to take a solitary stroll through Sunspear, enjoying a quiet moment alone. But as he wandered through a deserted street, he encountered a group of Septons walking toward him. At first, everything seemed normal, but as soon as he passed them, they quickly surrounded him, revealing themselves to be assassins. The words "I am so sorry" were again spoken as they attacked.

It wasn't the first time he had heard those words, and Aryan was beginning to connect the dots. He had killed them, but he got wounded by their poisoned weapons. He the retreated to his room, where he reflected on the strange pattern. These assassins, they all spoke the same words, and that had to mean something. Initially, he had thought it might be some Reach Lord from Oldtown plotting against him, but now, he was certain someone else was pulling the strings. Someone who wanted to kill him when he was in another kingdom, to create a rift.

After changing into fresh clothes, Aryan settled down in his room, his thoughts were still whirling. He took his communication mirror and called for Jaqen, needing any updates on the aftermath of Roose Bolton's murder. It seemed that the fallout had been minimal. It was fortunate when your enemies were universally hated. The orders he gave to Uncle Ned would keep things under control.

Another project had also begun—the construction of a well-paved road system starting from the Kingsroad. He had instructed all the Lords to build and maintain roads through their lands. It would take time, but this time, unlike the last, he would make sure that the roads would be maintained properly. I'll make sure they stay intact, he thought. Every structure built must be looked after.

He was jolted from his thoughts by a soft voice.

"Aryan, you're still awake?" Arianne's voice was soft against his chest.

"I was going to sleep," Aryan replied, still half-lost in his thoughts.

"You don't look tired," Arianne whispered with lust "I'm sure you wouldn't mind me doing this." Then with a seductive smile, she broke free from his embrace and straddled his waist.

I was right, Aryan thought with a lustful smile. My bedroom will never be boring.

Soon the sounds of grunts, gasps and moans, coming from their erotic activities, filled the room once again.

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After seeing Doran, I really don't want to end up like that Aryan thought with disdain Being pushed around by his bodyguard... I have no intention of ever reducing myself to that. Imagine shitting, bathing, changing clothes in that condition. Well, not my circus, not my problem.

Doran Martell sat across from Aryan Stark, his eyes were calculating.

"After seeing how Arianne and everyone else is behaving with you," Doran began in low voice low "it leads me to believe she has already spoken to you about what I intend to discuss, Lord Stark."

Aryan nodded, his tone even. "Yes, Prince Doran, she has. And you've been dropping hints in your letters as well. Even without her telling me, I had figured it out. But the decision about the marriage will come down to how this conversation goes. That's why I insisted we meet in private. Honesty will benefit both of us."

Doran leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving Aryan's face. He spoke after a long pause. "You know what they did to my sister. I want to see Tywin Lannister's legacy crumble before his very eyes. And when the time is right, I want either Oberyn or myself to end him. And I want to see the Baratheon dynasty to crumble down."

Aryan's gaze hardened "I want that too," he said in cold voice. "What his actions did to my mother... has been a pain that has never left her. You don't know it, but I've been playing a shadow war with him ever since the Greyjoy Rebellion."

Doran's eyes narrowed in understanding. "I want this marriage alliance with you, Lord Stark, to make you an ally. One I can rely on."

Aryan leaned forward, his eyes were sharp "We already have the same goals," he said. "So what is the need for this marriage?"

Doran paused, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest of his chair. "A marriage alliance goes beyond shared goals. It's a commitment—a bond that ties us, for better or worse. It will give me peace of mind, knowing that you will be there when it matters."

Aryan said "My father married someone outside the North," he said slowly. "Now, me marrying Arianne will cause some problems for me. I'll have to manage the complications that will arise from that. There's a price to all of this."

Doran didn't respond immediately "What do you want in return?"

Aryan said carefully "I'm planning to start a large trading outpost in Lys. Larger than the one I have in Bravos. Dorne is closer to Lys than the North, and I will need your security there. The larger issues whether they be political or martial will be handled by the North. But the smaller ones? Those must be managed by Dorne. And this is non-negotiable."

Doran raised an eyebrow "You don't trust the Lysene, do you? But you have made deals with the Iron Bank, and you trust them."

Aryan's smile was thin "Trust and Lysene? Not in the slightest. The Iron Bank—well, they care only for profit. Their betrayal is unlikely. And if they did, they wouldn't be far from my reach."

Doran studied him "Even you so are cautious this time. It will cause tension in Dorne, you know. You'll need to tell me the details after visiting Lys. I can agree to this, Lord Stark. But, like our previous deal, I will want a small portion of the profits. You know as well as I do that agreeing to this will create problems for me—both in Dorne and within my family."

Aryan nodded, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "I expected that. Let's fine-tune the details, then."

The meeting continued for several more hours, as they carefully hashed out every detail, every contingency, when they will announce this marriage to the wider world and how the marriage will happen.

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Three days later, The Narrow Sea

The city of Sunspear grew distant as The Marauder cut through the waters, beginning its journey to Essos. Aryan stood at the ship's, watching the fading Dornish coastline with a thoughtful expression. He had secured protection for his next trading outpost. Now, all that remained was dealing with those blasted Magisters. Except that meeting with Doran his stay at Sunspear was very relaxing and he enjoyed it here. Arianne has become quite attached to his mother. Well he has to fulfill his promise to her now.

"It feels good to be back at sea," Lord Wyman Manderly's voice boomed from a few feet away. "Dorne was far too hot for my liking."

Aryan turned, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Sweating is good for you, my lord. It burns away the fat. And you could certainly stand to lose a bit of weight."

Wyman let out a hearty laugh. "Ha! A fair point, my lord. Still, our journey will be fruitful, I am sure. We will meet with the Magisters and Merchant Princes. I have gathered quite a bit of information on the most influential among them since you first proposed this venture. But I'll tell you this—I don't trust the Lysene to stick to their word."

"Don't worry, Lord Wyman," Aryan said evenly. "I'll handle that."

Wyman frowned, curiosity clear in his expression. "My lord, I still don't understand—why Lys?"

Aryan exhaled, shifting his stance slightly as he looked out at the waves. "With Winterfell taking over the glass-making monopoly, Myr has been losing influence for years. Meanwhile, Lys is gaining power. Their grip on the Disputed Lands is tightening. I recently learned that the Company of the Rose is fighting for Lys in those lands. Given that they are of Northern origin, we might be able to strike a favorable deal through them.

If we discreetly supply logistics and men to the Company of the Rose, we can raise them to the level of the Golden Company, ensuring their victory. Once we help Lys secure control over the Disputed Lands, we'll establish a trading outpost there. And that outpost will include a piece of the land itself." Aryan's said "The Disputed Lands are fertile. Crops can grow there even in winter. That's the real prize.

In the summers, we grow our food in the North. Whatever else we need due to Free Folks' arrival, we buy cheaply from the Reach and Riverlands, take what we want, and sell the rest to Essos at a high price. But in the winters? Wyman, for that, we need land in the Disputed Lands. I don't want to rely on the Reach and Riverlands during winter. And don't worry—I'm working on security there."

Wyman was silent for a moment, mulling over Aryan's words. Then, a grin spread across his face. "A splendid idea, my lord. Ambitious, too. But you're forgetting something—Tyrosh and Volantis will not sit idly by."

Aryan nodded. "Tyrosh, I understand. But what concern is Volantis?"

Wyman's expression turned serious. "Volantis has long benefited from the endless squabbles between the Three Daughters. Because the Disputed Lands have never been stable enough for proper farming, Volantis has been the primary supplier of food to the Three Daughters. If one of them were to succeed in securing the land, Volantis would lose a valuable market. I don't think they'll take kindly to any one daughter claiming the Disputed Lands outright."

Aryan's brows furrowed slightly. This is new. I hadn't factored in the reactions of the other Free Cities. Wyman truly is well-versed in this.

"Something can be done about that," Aryan said finally. "I'm sure of it. I want an outpost in Lys first… and later, one in Yi Ti."

They continued discussing their plans for some time before Wyman eventually waddled below deck.

Now alone, Aryan shifted his thoughts to something far more troubling—the repeated assassination attempts on his life.

"You look troubled," came a deep voice beside him.

Aryan turned to see Marwyn standing next to him, arms crossed, his sharp gaze scanning the young lord's face.

"Am I that obvious?" Aryan asked.

Marwyn smirked. "I've learned to read you over the years. A maester must understand his lord, after all. So? Anything I can help with?"

"Not unless you can tell me about assassins who say, 'I am so sorry' before they strike." Aryan's tone was half-joking.

Marwyn's smirk widened. "As a matter of fact, I can."

Aryan blinked. "Really?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Of course you do. You've traveled all over the world, after all. So tell me about them."

Marwyn's expression turned smug. "They must be the Sorrowful Men—a guild of assassins based in Qarth. They are considered the second-best in the world, just beneath the Faceless Men. But don't be mistaken—they are still highly skilled."

Aryan's lips pressed into a thin line. "So someone with wealth and influence has gone to great lengths to see me dead—using assassins from across the sea, no less. I'll need to be even more careful."

Marwyn tilted his head. "It is also said that they never fail to kill their target."

Aryan's eyes darkened at that. I refuse to live a life where I am constantly looking over my shoulder for another blade.

"They will only succeed if they exist," Aryan said coldly. "Soon, I will visit them in their own den and erase their name from history." A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes. "And as for the one who paid them to kill me? They will regret it."