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The Wizard of Fury Chapter 16
🕑 Added 2025-01-19 16:59:00 +0000 UTCAN: Here is the next chapter, which features the introduction of the other main pairing in Harry's story in Westeros. I hope you all enjoy it!
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The Water Gardens of Dorne sat three leagues south of Sunspear and housed Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne. To most of Westeros, calling him a prince was a foolish notion. After all, he was not in line to the Iron Throne. However, what few outside of Dorne cared to remember is that the ruler of Dorne took upon the title of Prince or Princess of Dorne in honour of their Rhoynish heritage, as they used the title of prince rather than king. It was a title that held a great deal of respect within Dorne, and one day it would be Arianne’s.
Or it would have been, had her father not promised it away to her younger brother, Prince Quentyn.
She’d found out about it six years ago now, and she’d never forgiven her father for what he’d stolen from her.
In their time at the Water Gardens since her father had moved their family there, Arianne barely spoke to him. She attended certain meetings when she cared to, learning the skills of how to manage a kingdom even when she’d never be given a real chance to do so. Her rebellious streak against Prince Doran led to her spending most of her days bathing in the pools of water that littered the Water Gardens, visiting Sunspear to find fine silks to be made into seductive outfits, and taking anything that her heart desires.
Tragically, none of this seemed to disturb her father. Prince Doran never acted as if anything were wrong with her. In fact, he almost seemed indifferent to any behaviour she exhibited, whether it be in line with what he asked of her to do or not. It made her angry.
Dusk found Arianne along one of the narrow walkways above the gardens themselves when she overheard her father’s guards talking candidly.
“Do you think he’ll send us to the tourney?” A hopeful young man asked.
“Have you ever practised with the lance?” The older man chuckled. “You’d be chewed up and spit back out before you realised what was happening.”
Peering over the edge of the balcony, Adrianne looked down upon the two armoured men who were bickering.
“I took down Daemon Sand in a practice joust,” the young man protested. He puffed out his chest and smacked the pommel of his spear into the sand beneath his feet. “I’ll manage it.”
The older man laughed again, turning away from the younger one. “If you say so,” he replied sarcastically.
Arianne watched the ensuing fight with modest displeasure. As much as she wished for the younger one to stake his claim and prove his superiority, it became clear within seconds of the brawl breaking out that he couldn’t ever best his elder. Perhaps that was his lot in life to claim, but it wouldn’t be Arianne’s. She knew that she was bound for greater things, and nothing, not even her father, would stand in her way from achieving it.
As she rounded the next corner, she found a smattering of servants hurrying about as they cleaned away the remains of a few leaves that’d drifted out of the gardens and onto the walkways above. Naturally, they all bowed dutifully and moved out of the way to allow her to pass.
“You are up late, Princess,” Ricasso, her father’s seneschal, commented as she passed by the man. Somehow, even though he was completely blind, the man had developed an incredible talent for detecting who was walking merely by the sound of their footsteps. Arianne had even gone so far as to remove all of her jewellery one time to see if that was what gave her away, but the man simply greeted her like always.
“Ricasso,” Arianne replied by way of a short greeting. The man had never wronged her personally, but she still despised him for following her father’s orders so dutifully. Often, he was the one to deliver Arianne any bad news that she didn’t want to hear. “I’d hardly call it late.”
“Night will be upon us soon,” Ricasso replied. His old skin stretched awkwardly as he smiled at her. “And you have a busy morning planned, do you not?”
Arianne’s nostrils flared as she huffed. “I’ll cut it short.”
“Now, now,” Ricasso said gently. “The prince has gone to a lot of trouble to have so many potential suitors brought to come see you. Again.”
“They are all ill-suited for me,” Arianne retorted. “Or would you eagerly marry a man your age were you in my shoes?”
“I understand that change is difficult—” Ricasso tried to say, only for Arianne to cut him off.
“If my father wishes to sell me off to some old lord so that I can spend the last few years of his life warming that lord’s bed and squeezing out a few children, then you’ll forgive me if I choose the option of refusing to entertain these meetings entirely,” Arianne snapped. “He grants me the option of choosing my own suitor but only from a list of his making, and I find his selections to be far less than adequate. Are you aware that he even suggested I marry Lord Walder Frey of all people?”
She knew that Ricasso was aware of it. After all, he was in charge of the prince’s household and likely drafted all of the letters inviting these lords to come see Arianne. Even still, she wanted him to know her displeasure face-to-face.
“The prince is doing what he feels is best for you,” Ricasso replied sincerely. “You may find that if you come to marry one of these noble lords that you’ll be far happier with them than you are here under the prince’s rule. You could return to Sunspear and spend time there with your husband instead.”
That certainly was a possibility. She could find happiness with a lord away from here. But she wouldn’t ever dare give her father the satisfaction of thinking that he’d finally cowed her into submission. He was trying to take her birthright away from her by having her brother Quentyn become Prince of Dorne.
“I doubt it,” Arianne half lied. “Whatever man awaits me in my future will be someone worthy of me. These old men that you continue to send forth are an insult to me and House Martell.”
She left him then before he could say another word. No doubt he’d have another reply that was carefully crafted to cause Arianne to have some undeserved sympathy for the man, as though he couldn’t simply choose to not obey her father’s commands so literally like she so often did.
This was likely bound to be the final matchmaking event that she’d have to suffer through until the tourney at King’s Landing was over with.
Arianne stopped mid-stride. That gave her an interesting idea. She knew that she had to marry at one point, and she wasn’t likely to find any worthy suitors here in Dorne; her father was sure to keep all of them from her. So, where else could she go but the grandest tourney since Lord Whent’s tourney at Harrenhal?
There would be hundreds of eligible suitors, and if Arianne bedded the right one, she was sure that her father wouldn’t be able to refuse her whims. If she announced to the world that she’d been deflowered by a specific lord, her future marriage options would become severely limited. Her father would have no choice but to go ahead with her marriage to whomever she’d slept with.
It would take time and cunning to find the right man for her. The latter she had plenty of, but there wasn’t much of the former to go around. The tourney might last a week or two before finishing, and in that time she needed to find a man worthy of her and bed him. The former would be challenging but the latter would be easy. Arianne wasn’t so blind as to not see how desirable her body was. She was a gorgeous woman with plump lips, incredible breasts, and wide hips that accentuated her otherwise slim figure. There weren’t many who could compete with her beauty.
But would she even be able to attend the tourney? Given the fact that she hadn’t heard a word about it from her father, she could only assume that she was going to be left behind, again.
Challenging her father directly was a fool’s notion. Prince Doran was a cautious and subtle man. Every challenge she’d given him, he’d met with ease. If she went to him with a demand to attend this tourney, she was sure that he’d find some way to rout her. In the end, she wouldn’t get what she wanted, and her father would win.
She needed to be more clever about this. But how?
The thought plagued Arianne’s mind as she wandered the corridors of the Water Gardens, but it wasn’t until she started back towards her family’s tower that a plan began to form within her mind.
She climbed the gentle steps, vaguely noting the guards that nodded their heads differentially to her.
Lady Mellario, her mother, rarely spent time in her father’s presence any longer. Their marriage had long been troubled, and only doubly so since Prince Doran had sent Quentyn to be fostered by Lord Anders Yronwood, a truly loyal and valuable lord to Dorne. She’d retreated into her cups of wine and spent countless days away from her husband, yet she retained her beauty and grace that’d won Prince Doran over in the first place.
She was drinking tea on a balcony with Arianne’s brother, Prince Trystane.
“Hey, Trys,” Arianne smiled at her younger brother. He was nearly ten years her junior, him being eleven and her twenty years of age, and he had a wonderful love for every member of his family that Arianne wished she could emulate.
“Arianne!” He exclaimed excitedly, leaping up from the cyvasse table that sat between him and their mother. The board looked intriguing and far beyond Arianne’s skills. As much as her father insisted on the value of the game upon one’s intellect and strategic mind, Arianne found it to be a droll replication of real-world military strategy and political manoeuvrings.
Arianne embraced her younger brother in a hug and gave her mother a gentle smile. “How are you two?”
“Fine,” Mellario replied with a smile of her own. She reached out from her chaise and fussed with Trystane’s black hair. “I fear that my son has eclipsed my own skills in this game.”
“You’ll have to try harder if you want to beat father one day,” Arianne told Trystane, keeping an eye out for her mother’s reaction. As she expected, Mellario cringed at the mere mention of Prince Doran, and her lips twisted slightly downward.
It hurt her to have to do this to her mother, but it was necessary for the benefit of them all.
“I received a letter from Quentyn not long ago,” Arianne mentioned casually as she sat down at a seat nearby. Trystane eagerly returned to his own seat and examined the cyvasse board carefully as he planned his next move.
“Oh?” Mellario sat up, intrigued. She’d protested her son’s departure fiercely and had even left for her homeland of Norvos for several years over it. Those had been difficult times, but she was back now, and she seemed to be trying hard to make up for her absence by embedding herself closely in her children’s lives. “What did he have to say? Is he still happy there?”
“He is,” Arianne replied. “He heard about the tourney at King’s Landing. He said that he was hoping that Lord Yronwood would be attending it, since he would go alongside him.
“He would?” Mellario asked hopefully. “Truly?”
Arianne had to bite her cheek to stop any reaction from leaving her. In truth, she didn’t know if Quentyn would or would not attend the tourney. She hoped he would, if only that she could see him again. Despite her father putting her at odds with him, she still held love for her brother. She’d made the trip out to Yronwood, the seat of House Yronwood, once a year at most to visit her brother. She’d visit more if her father allowed for it, but he insisted on both of his children living their separate lives as much as possible.
“I believe so,” Arianne half lied.
Suddenly, Mellario stood up from her chaise. “Then we must begin packing right away. The tourney will begin in a month’s time, and it’ll take just under half that to reach the capitol.”
“But our game,” Trystane whined.
“We can finish it on the morrow,” Mellario promised him.
Mellario moved with such jubilance that Arianne almost felt bad at how she’d misled her mother. Trystane recorded the positions of the pieces on the cyvasse board and then hurried up to his rooms to begin packing some of his things in the trunks his servants would provide.
Arianne left too, hurrying back to her room with an unusual giddy in her stomach. Her plan was in motion, and all she could do now was wait for her father’s reaction.
She was restless throughout the night. Her mind swirled with both the excitement of the plan she’d enacted and her imagination of what fine suitor she’d find for herself. She could practically feel the touch of their lips on hers, the warmth of their body as they pushed her down onto a feather bed, the feeling of their thick member entering inside of her as she was on her hands and knees for them.
Arianne curled up onto her side, and her fingers found her soaking wetness between her thighs. Her fingers danced along her slit, mopping up the wetness there before moving up towards her sensitive nub. The thought of a proud knight or lord taking her in her bed thrilled her beyond belief. Her eyes closed tightly as she let out a little whimper.
The little touch sent her nerves ablaze with pleasure. Her fingers knew exactly how to move to give her everything that she needed while still teasing herself for what was to come. If she had all of her pleasure all at once, it would feel too easy. Dragging it out felt more real, and it extended the pleasure that she felt.
Her whimpers turned into moans, and before long, Arianne was flopped on her back with her legs spread wide open. She had two fingers plunging inside of her pussy while the base of her palm grazed across her clit. Her other hand came up and grabbed one of her ample breasts needfully. Her sensitive nipple got caught between her fingers, and she squeezed it until the pain matched the pleasure she was feeling.
“Fuck,” Arianne breathed heavily as she twitched upon the bed. She needed more, someone to fill her up entirely and make her scream his name.
The thought of it alone was enough to get her heart to race. Her blood was pulsing through her veins, and her hips started to buck off of the bed as she fingered herself faster and faster. She knew just the right spot inside of her pussy to touch to get her body to truly squirm, and she was hitting it perfectly.
When her final cry of pleasure left her lips, Arianne collapsed onto her bed covered in sweat and exhausted. She wished that she could say that she was satisfied, but she knew that such a thing wouldn’t happen until she had a partner to help take care of her.
As she fell asleep, she dreamt of the man she’d find in King’s Landing. As much as she wanted to find someone whom she could dominate entirely, she truly wanted someone who’d be a match for her cunning and intellect. Only then would she truly feel satisfied.
She hummed contently to herself as she nuzzled her face in her pillow. Tomorrow was a new day, and the challenge before her to ensure that she, her mother, and her brother went to King’s Landing together was the only thing upon her mind.
If her father had anything to say about it, then Arianne would work around him once again to achieve her goals.
Prince Doran wouldn’t win this time.
Arianne would find her husband in King’s Landing.
