It is currently WINTER in WESTEROS during the year 303 AC. The new moon cycle marks a full twenty years since the Mad King was murdered, and his son King Rhaegar ascended the Iron Throne in his place. Though the year is fresh, war in the Narrow Sea has been declared on the Stepstones, and the Long Night continues to beckon from the Northern fringes of the Seven Kingdoms. With the Queen Lyanna presumed dead, the citizens of the realms look only to each other for survival.
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Alias: Stormie
Age: 26
Sworn To: Martell
Born to: Martell
Location: Dorne
Title: Princess of Dorne
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Joined: 5-November 17
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Local Time: Jan 23 2018, 04:56 AM
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Dec 6 2017, 05:32 PM

It was shortly after her Mother returned, garnishing the two older Martell children their father's anger, that Arianne watched as Quentyn sailed off for Tyrosh with only a brief but sweet goodbye. She didn't understand it. Why involve themselves in the Targaryen battle, yet Arianne's mind was always focused on the well-being of Dorne and she couldn't help but to think that it would be a good show of faith and loyalty. The letters she received were sparse, Quentyn was never very elaborate in his words spoken or written. Arianne waited each week for Raven or some word on the docks regarding her brother. But soon the letters stopped, and the Raven's carried nothing personal about the battle for her. She had tried to stay optimistic but couldn't help the fear in her belly. Was he dead? Slayed by an enemy? Or worse yet--a friend?

Arianne maintained her composure, her face stoic though her eyes burned with fury if someone had hurt her younger brother. And then it came--Quentyn was dead. Killed by dragon. Another blade in her stomach, twisted and turned till it made her vomit. Literally vomit from the news. She then went to the Sept and prayed to the Father to keep her brother's soul safe and in paradise. She then prayed to the Warrior to give her strength, to make her fierce in the face of her brother's murderers. Finally she prayed to the Crone to give her the Wisdom to not start a civil war...yet. Her father still wore the crown, and Arianne did not work so hard for the entirety of her life to lose her place in line now. She then repeated the cycle. The hours she had spent as an adolescent wishing for curves and charm were nothing in comparison to the prayers she whispered to the Gods that night.

They whispered in the corridors that she hadn't eaten. She had not changed. They whispered that she looked fevered, possessed and driven by something they didn't understand. They swore the Stranger had taken her body for it's own. Still Arianne stayed up throughout the night, and though no one heard any wailing, when they found her in the morning on her knees, with her forehead pressed to floor--the servants did not bother her, but they did seek out someone that could help.

Arianne was in front of the Warrior when she heard the door to the Sept open. There was a brief look before she finished her prayer and sat up, still on her knees. Her eyes were bloodshot, puffy and, tears were slowed but her cheeks still wet. The raven hair now was strewn about her shoulders, and were unadorned with the usual gold and rubies. In fact the only jewelry she wore was her ring that she did not even fret with. Her mind was numb though the undercurrent of rage and grief did not fall too deep underneath it's sweeping gaze. She looked at the Stranger while she spoke with a voice raw from use all night. It was barely above a whisper, and fell flat on the ears. "I can't believe he's gone." A simple statement that showed nothing of what she was truly feeling or the thoughts of vengeance that had sprang into her mind at first. Arianne had prayed through the initial feelings, but it did not change that again she felt that the House Targaryen had done nothing but wrong against her and her people.

Nov 21 2017, 10:40 PM

Ravens had brought the news that she had already suspected. While the king may have his spiders and little birds, Arianne had her little serpents--hissing and whispering in her ear. Martarys was engaged to a Manwoody. She would not pretend that she was hurt that the Prince was not offered to her when the news presented itself. Arianne was the Princess of Dorne, groomed and trained the entirety of her life to rule. Shouldn't a Prince want someone of his equal status. Her serpants told her that it was the youngest of this family was a spitfire more than a lady. That alone piqued her interest. Arianne was surrounded by strong women in Sunspear but to have an ally at the borderlands? She couldn't resist. Still she had bid her time, till the news had been officially announced. It took three days. In that time, gone was her jealousy and pettiness. She was still young, still maturing and it became quickly apparent that Dorne would the only kingdom she would ever rule. Strangely enough, Arianne was quite content with the prospect of it.

Quickly she sent her congratulations to Lord Manwoody and announced that she would like to congratulate her in person. As she waited, she made sure to gather provisions for the ride, and deciding on appropriate gifts. She consulted with a few of the jewelers in the area and then visited her pet project in the stables. Horses that were slightly thicker and taller than the desert ponies but having the stamina and the water requirements of the Dornish horses of lore. She had a three year old that was coming along nicely that she would gift the newly engaged. She choose a 4 year old stallion that was too closely related to her other stock to be much use to her. That she would bring for Martarys. If he was going to set up camp in the Tower of Joy, then he would need horses that would tolerate the heat better. And she assumed that the young Manwoody--Ysera was her name, would need a mount that could weather the Northern temperatures.

Either way, Arianne was thrilled to receive a Raven that they would be happy to host her. She then received the piece of jewelry she had commissioned for the girl. A blazing sun with spear..a smaller three headed dragon carved into it. The gold sparkled in the light, the small rubies that made up the eyes sparkled. She had praised the jeweler and paid him double. She hoped that the girl would be smart enough to understand the significance of the size difference. Since there was no longer a Dornish Queen on the throne, Arianne did not trust the Targaryens. It was something that she was slowly coming into opinion.

She dresses in her traveling gowns, with servants loading caravans with spices, fine fabrics and saddling horses. Tyene decides to sit this one out, and Arianne is only mildly disappointed. Her partner in crime could not sit during dinners and political talks even if the wine was flowing. She did not feel jealous for that, Arianne, afterall was Doran's daughter. The intellectual stimulus of the debates, news and rumors were like the water for plants. She thrived in that realm, just as the Sand Snakes thrived with weapons in their hands and poisons on their lips. It was seemingly the natural order of things to Arianne's still developing mind.

The journey was long, and towards the end, Arianne found herself bored and slightly saddle sore. The mare she rode slowed at the gates, and the guards road ahead, to announce her. She glanced behind them, and found the caravans to have kept up. She looked at her gifts, at least the more personal ones--the horses tied to the back of the Caravans and was pleased to see that they did not lose any of their condition.

She dismounts once they enter, confident that the caravan would take care of the horses and straightened her traveling clothes. "Lord Manwoody, may I offer my official congratulations on the betrothal of your daughter." She looked around and did not yet see the young bride-to-be. He was gracious, showing her her rooms, having her trunk brought in and announcing that dinner was set for later in the evening. Arianne took the time to clean up, and dress up. She was representing Sunspear, Dorne, her father and at no time did she ever forget that. Her gown was a dark yellow, and she adorned herself with gold and rubies, including her favorite ring--a large single ruby set in gold. She fidgeted with it as she glanced at herself in the mirror. Was it too much? Maybe. But she was the Princess of Dorne while this new girl would be Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. A Dornish Princess but above her none-the-less. Tonight, she was still above her and though it would also be asking her to join her ranks. To be her eyes in the darkness, the whispers on the winds.

Arianne was finally settled, she had removed the necklace and left the small ruby diadem in her hair set loosely about her shoulders. She walked with the soldiers at the door announcing her presence into the dining hall. "Arianne, Princess of Dorne."

Nov 15 2017, 10:09 AM
Quentyn and her plan seemed to be working relatively well. It was perhaps the first that didn't involve too much mischief and that potentially carried the weight of Dorne in it. Mellario belonged in Dorne more than she ever belonged in Norvos. Besides, with the burning of Volantis and the fights in Tyrosh, Norvos could potentially be next. She and Quentyn had devised this plan for months, and with what she heard, no place was safe from the Targaryen's. The letter that her mother would be returning had been burned weeks ago after being shared with her younger brother. Arianne had woke up this morning with feeling as if her heart would pound out of her chest from the excitement and dread at facing her father. She had dressed quickly in a modest, free flowing gown bound around her waist with gold embroidered belt in the peach color of a morning sun. Her hands and neck adorned with gold and rubies. On her head was a small diadem, as she would remind everyone that she was a Princess of Dorne, the heiress to Doran. Before even breakfast, she decided to head towards the Septa. Perhaps the Gods would listen to her pleas like they had done as a child. She prayed fervently at the Father, hoping that his intercession would leave her own father more amiable and cool headed. She could almost tell that it would be inevitable that he would not, but still she hoped.

In the cover of the early morning dawn, she had met with Quentyn keeping their voices low and only their most trusted servants at their sides. It was with this small entourage that they met their mother at the docks. The worry left her stance as she saw the warm smile of her mother. Long ago, Arianne had been an angry child at her mother for leaving but time heals all wounds and even Mellario leaving was forgiven. Besides, winter was coming and survival was more important that petty disputes. It was a quick confession, and the silence of her mother that made the worry and doubt once again creep into her stomach. Still, she walked into the Throne room with her head held high and her face painted with the utmost stoicism. Arianne had learned long ago to keep her emotions hidden beneath the exterior of her face. If she showed little emotion, it was less likely that her people could try to manipulate her with sad stories or promises of gold and she could carry out a fair judgement.

In the throne room, her dark eyes filtered through the air, recognizing a few of the petitioners and giving them a small nod of recognition as she trailed behind her mother. The anger that she saw in the subtle marks in her face told her that the Gods had not answered her prayers today. She would catch hell for this plan of hers. A quick glance at Quentyn with pursed lips communicated everything he needed to know. She would bare the blunt of the blame, and try to spare him as much as she could. She nodded her head in acknowledgement of her dismissal and then backed out of the throne room with Quentyn at her heels. When the door closed behind them, she ordered Quentyn. "Go make sure they set up Mother's rooms closer to ours than Father's and make sure they have some wine set up for her. She'll probably need it after the encounter with Father. I know I will later." Quentyn nodded and headed off away from her. She watched the sturdy form of her brother leave, briefly remembering when her family had been happy as a child. That time was far from here.

Nervously she twirled the ring around her finger, biting her tongue and taking a deep breath to slow her thoughts. There would be nothing to do for the trouble she would be in, but then again, perhaps she could temper the Dornish sun. Oberyn. Where would she find the Red Viper this early in the morning? No doubt with his paramour and whatever extra company they had decided to invite. It was a scene that Arianne had no desire to witness herself. She instead goes back to her rooms, pacing up and down the room for what seemed like an eternity debating on including her Uncle in the plans that seemed to self-destruct before they even walked off the dock. Finally she calls to her servant, while she sits at her desk writing out a message.

I need your counsel desperately before I speak with Father this evening. I devised a plan without it and it seems I may have taken a misstep. Please meet me in my rooms to discuss.

Firmly she instructed the girl to try Oberyn's quarters first, and then if that did not succeed she was to find him wherever he may be in the palace. She hurried the girl out of the door and then closed the door behind her. She waited patiently, knowing that silence would be Doran's only words unless she stalked him down. She knew this palace as well as he did, and perhaps a little more since she was more familiar with it. How long had it been since he had been here? Seventeen years? A lot can change in that time. It was the silence that she could and would not tolerate. Arianne dealt with everything head on and did not shy away from any problem she identified. Still, anxiety built up in her chest and she realized she still had not eaten. Calling another servant, she orders a plate of breads, fruits and cheeses be brought up. And a flagon of wine. She decides to distract herself with a book while the palace looks to deliver the note to Oberyn. She pours herself a glass of red, the sour a familar taste on her tongue and warming her throat and stomach. Slender, tanned hands that glitter in the morning light now pick at the food, and though her eyes scan over the words on the page, her mind races at the possibilities that bringing her mother home would mean.

Nov 5 2017, 10:08 PM
[dohtml]<div class="n-site-template">
<h1><group>Princess Arianne Martell</group></h1>
<h2>26 years old. Silver-tongued Snake. Dorne. Maite Perron.</h2>
<h3>Stormie. 31. Eastern. Discord Stormie#7357.</h3>
<div class="maincontents scroll">


Arianne remembers her childhood being sweet, filled with laughter, games and sweet oranges tickling her taste buds. She remembers the Water Gardens, playing with other children from Dorne, and the simplicity of life. She remembers the cool desert nights wrapped in the arms of her mother, with the smell of the ocean painting her dreams with vivid blues and greens mixed with the oranges, yellows and reds of the desert. She often remember these times of her innocence, before she became self conscious about the fact that she was shorter and thicker built than her cousins and most of the other children. While her playmates did not seem to notice, Arianne took to the Septa and every night without fail she prayed (mostly to the Maiden if she was being honest) to each of the Seven Gods for curves and all the physical aspects that made a woman wanted by a man. While she had many friendships grow from the Gardens, it was with Tyene Sand, her cousin, that quickly blossomed into being the closest thing to a sister that she has ever encountered.

<p>When she was five, her mother birthed her brother Quentyn. Arianne adored her baby brother. She vaguely remembers watching him take his first steps and teaching him how to splash in the water. They became thick as thieves, but he was younger than she was, and that did put a little distance between them. She adored her father as a child, and felt the feeling was mutual. She has fond memories of sitting on her father's lap, listening to him tell stories of Nymeria and all the lore of the Martells. Of the First Men, the Andals, and all the other stories of old. She was hopeless devoted to her father as a child, and desperately wanted to please her father but he left when she was still young. At first she absolutely supported her father's decision. Even at a young age, she realized keeping the Targaryen's happy was crucial to keeping Dorne happy.

<p>Thus, Arianne dedicated herself to be the Heiress that she knew she could be. She took to learning as much as she could about Dorne, alliances and the history of some of the more important houses in the area. She quizzed her mother of Norvos, of the other kingdoms over the seas. She tried her hardest to become proficient in defending herself and maintaining her manners to meet with foreign dignitaries. On one of Doran's rare visits home when she was ten, she displayed all the skills that Oberyn had taught her. She receive little praise and acknowledgement. Nine months later, Trystane was born and Arianne barely had time to enjoy him as a brother while continuing her training to be heir and praying to the Maiden to make her beautiful. A year later, Doran decided to sent Quentyn to the Yronwoods and they grew up with very different experiences. Still, Arianne tried to keep in touch with her brother with letters once she knew that he could actually write. Her mother took a step backwards from their relationship, although Arianne did not understand at the time, she looked towards the next adult in her life for guidance. It was here that Uncle Oberyn stepped up, teaching her to ride, to become an expert in knife throwing, and good enough at poisons to know the basics. The next year, her mother became more distant, and the fights that she would have with Doran whenever he decided to visit were epic. It was only revealed after the fact that Doran had wanted to send her to Tyrosh. On that particular plan, Arianne agreed with her mother and was quite stubborn about not going to foreign land. How was she going to rule Dorne by knowing any other country? Doran relented and Arianne stayed in Dorne.

<p>As she matured and became a teenager, a rebellious streak quietly snaked its way into her. It started with the New Gods blessing with her with curves, and a buxom chest. It continued with stealing blood oranges and progressed to stealing flagons of wine from the kitchens while Tyene teased the cook. She'd share the bounties with her cousin or whoever else helped her out in her exploits. It finally escalated to her and a bunch of her friends stealing horses from the royal stables, and riding to very edge of Dorne. They dressed as peasants, and filtered through the cities, stealing what they needed and experiencing everything the underbelly of Dorne had to offer. She made it all the way to Hellholt, before her Uncle Oberyn had found her with a legion of Dorne's best to escort them all home. She had punished for that adventure by her mother, locked away in the towers without anyone to talk to for a few weeks quelled a bit of her rebellious streak. It was only when she emerged that she learned that Mellario had left Dorne. It had broken her heart and made her angry towards her mother. How could she leave Arianne alone? How could she let Trystane be without his mother and father? He was just a child who still needed them!

<p>It was this reeled back rebel that Oberyn started to train more intensely. The lessons started small, with him letting her answer important letters. Of course he revised them, teaching her the small intricacies of politics. Oberyn impressed the importance of having Dorne's interests at the hart of every word he spoke or letter she wrote. As Arianne learned more of the politics between the seven kingdoms, the more she was keen on giving Dorne as much as she possibly could. If she had her way, and she wasn't afraid of the Targaryen's dragons scorching the fruit trees and gardens of her home, she'd succeed from the Seven Kingdoms. But she read about what happened to Volantis and was none too keep to see that happen to what she loves the most. It was during this time that she forgave her mother, and began to write to her in Norvos. She fostered a new, slightly more diplomatic and less adoring daughter relationship with Mellario. Oberyn eventually allowed her to hear the woes and troubles of her kingdom, and get to know her people from the seat of the throne. It may not have been the Iron Throne but it still made her uncomfortable the first few times she had to pass judgement on petty disputes. With time, (and Doran's absence gave her plenty of time) she came to know the ins and outs, and felt at ease serving her people. Although Oberyn still handled majority of the affairs, Arianne felt more like an apprentice under the gentle but firm hand of Oberyn.

<p>With Oberyn as more of her father than her actual father, it was not hidden that he had a lust of life. After all, she was raised with the Sand Snakes. With her narrow waist, wider hips and a chest that she now often displayed with pride, her hormones raged within her. It was on an sneaky journey into Sunspear that she met a Sand that made her quake and her heart race. He was tall, roguish and dark featured--and though Arianne would never admit it even to herself, he reminded her of a more youthful Oberyn. It was to him that she lost her virginity. She found the experience exhilarating, though slightly painful (Thank the Seven that she had been riding since childhood). Her lust was nearly insatiable, and the Sand became her first lover. It was weeks before the tryst was discovered. When her father discovered the act on a rare visit home, it was the lack of any discernible emotion that Arianne had the most trouble dealing with. She wanted him to rage, or praise her for taking up Dornish ways. Something. Anything. But she got so little from Doran. The ambivalence took away the lust she had for the Sand, and she ended it. It had broken her heart but secretly she knew that he was no match for her in marriage. Since then she's taken on other lovers and though that she would be wed soon enough--but no marriage proposals came except from a few old men looking for their next wife.

<p>Since then, she's abandoned her desires to solely please Doran and instead focuses on pleasing herself and contributing to Dorne in her own way. She has been slowly developing her own network to keep her informed and stealing letters when necessary from the Raven's to keep her informed of the news in the Seven Kingdoms. She believes that the King has forgotten that Dorne peacefully decided that they would join the Seven Kingdoms. That it was through their marriage alliance that the Targaryen's have held power for so long. Dragons or not, she believes that Dorne is still a force to be reckoned with and to continue to ignore them would be a folly on Rhaegar's part. Between her flirtatious ways and her silver tongue, Arianne notoriously usually gets what she wants whether it's information, allegiances or a bed mate.

<img src="" class="appimage">
She woke early, the sun just kissing the railing of her balcony, painting the room with a warm, yellow glow. The silk sheets barely covered her curvy body but somehow still felt cool against her golden skin. Beside Arianne lay her latest lover, and she absent-mindedly played with the dark curves and her dark eyes memorized the curve of his jaw. She could barely remember his name, some second or third son of one of the noble houses. Yronwood? Perhaps. It didn't matter. She wouldn't be here when he woke up and her servants were very good at escorting her bedmates out in the morning. She slid out of bed, wrapping loosely fitting gown of peach with gold threading. She washed her face quietly and then she combed through her, and various gold and ruby adornments return to fingers, wrists and ears. She was the heir to the Dorne throne afterall right? That meant that she should, at all times, look the part. It was only for special occasions that Arianne adorned herself with a diadem or necklace or more jewelry than the Gods ever wore. As she gazed at the large ruby on her finger and knew that it was perhaps a little gaudy but she didn't bother to remove it.

A slight stirring from the man, caused her to pause and then laugh quietly before leaving her own rooms. Perhaps she could find one of her cousins and they could jog her memory about who exactly it was she had spent the night with. He had reminded her of the dark knight in her dreams, and she could easily see how he had managed to make it to her rooms. Tall, dark and handsome? Arianne's Achilles' heel so to speak. She was a sucker for such a man, but he would only stick around if he had a brain behind those good looks. Constantly on the lookout for her equal, she doubted that this boy in her bed was one. A sly smile paints her features as she leaves and plans to get breakfast.

The warm, dry air fills her lungs and the hustle of the servants as they prepared the morning meals kept her eyes busy while her head thought hard about who exactly was upstairs and how she would deal with him in the future. She was positive he wasn't a Yronwood. Perhaps a Dayne? Her mind raced, as she sees her favorite cousin. Tyene. Her partner in so many crimes she had lost count. She watches as the Sand Snake slithers into the room and sits next to Arianne. Slyly Tyene teases her cousin, "How was your Lord Vaith? Did he hold up to his coat of arms? A leopard in the bed?" Arianne squeals in recognition, laughing as the hazy memories from the night before came spilling back to her. "Ahhh Tyene, I had forgotten! I must admit that Lord Vaith did not have the stamina to keep up with me as I left him sleeping upstairs." Tyene laughed as she bit into a plum. Arianne leaned back, taking an orange orange from the bowl and peeled it.

From her vantage point, she saw her Lord Vaith stumbling half dressed and perhaps still drunk towards the exit, urged on by her ladies in waiting. She admired him, and felt that hunger begin to build again but her thoughts drift to the days duties, and to keeping up with the happenings in the kingdom. If her father did not trust her to divulge the news from the ravens, then she had her own devices to discover the happenings of the Seven Kingdoms. Doran had only trusted her plan feasts and festivals and Arianne felt it was almost an insult to her own station in life but did not outwardly complain. If Doran would not prepare his daughter to rule, then she would prepare herself. "Tell me Tyrene, what have wagging tongues told you lately?"

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