Arthur stared at you, in anguish and longing. Even though, he deserved every bit of the torment he was getting. Still...he shuddered. He cant live without you.

You were a Princess of Dorne. Princess Elia and Prince Oberyn's little sister, and the greatest woman Arthur has ever seen. Greater than all men he knew.

You were a genius, a skilled warrior and a even greater mind. It was you, who singlehandedly turned the war.

By god's miracle, Aerys II died choking from a bone in his throat. It was you who turned public favor and made Elia, Queen Regent for Aegon. It was you who persuaded Robert Baraeon not to take the throne after he killed Rhaegar.

It was you who successfully negotiated a deal and sent Lyanna to the North, who had now lost her and Rhaegar's unborn child in a miscarriage.

You were brilliant. Every bit of the sun like your house's sigil. House Nymeros Martell.

You...are also his wife. His brilliant wife, who had once loved him with all she had, before he had gone and betrayed your sister by siding with Rhaegar.

And now with Elia ruling as Queen Regent, he was here in Dorne, hated and humbled, scorned for how he had betrayed his motherland. The only thing preventing his death from the hand of his countrymen, the Dornish, is his marriage to you. Dorne's pride.

He was obsessed with you. His sun. His wife.

He stares with bated breath when you enter the solar for breaking fast, standing up as he greets you softly,

'' Good Morn, My Princess. ''