Under the Sun (Sansa Stark x Doran Martell)
Sansa hated it—this harsh place under the sun.
She is a wolf born for the wilds of the North and bred for winter and snow, not for the barren deserts of the south and the shifting sands where poisonous vipers with their forked tongues surround her.
She hated the land. It is brown and dull as mud. And the grains of sand stick to her body when she sweats and stays in uncomfortable areas in her person. It is brown everywhere. No heart trees and pine trees and oak trees. No spruce trees or cedars or evergreens. No hot springs and glass gardens. The only consolation she has is the abundance of lemons she gorged on when her sorrow takes over.
She disliked the food. Always spicy and hot to the tongue as though the cooks in the kitchens are intentionally trying to burn her alive through her mouth or doing anything necessary to make her red in the face and for tears to spill from her eyes so they could watch her as their entertainment when they dine.
She hated the smell. The lack of sufficient water leaving unwashed bodies drowned in heavy perfumes. She gags and suffocates and gets headaches at the strong smells at times and they all sneer at her and call her constitution weak.
She hated the people. With their dark hair and dark beady eyes always looking like they're laughing mockingly at her. The women's painted lips lifting in sneers when they address her as "princess", a title she did not ask for in the first place.
She despised her husband, the Red Viper—the man she was forced to marry. He is naught but a cruel man who takes great pleasure in parading his whores and other conquests in front of her. Who kisses and almost fucks other women in her presence to humiliate her. Who refused to touch her but eagerly bedded men and women alike for his pleasure—not that she wants to be taken to bed by him. He wants to shame her for the disgrace her sister caused his and in so doing, he is no better than the whore and the stupid dragon.
She hated his brother. The ruling Prince who is the only one who looked kindly at her. Who stared at her with eyes full of pity and gave her gifts as though payment for everything she suffered in his desert kingdom.
She has no friends in this place and would rather be alone than in a crowd of people who feel nothing but hate for her. Who had nothing better to do but fling barbs at her every opportunity or whisper insults behind their hands.
In the beginning, she spent her days with her silent guards (captors) in her tower, reading in silence while eating lemons and sipping wine.
In the afternoons, she walked the beach to watch the sun set. It is always beautiful and often makes her cry. The sun dipping below the horizon always reminds her of the life she was forced to leave behind and she can't help but drown in anguish and sorrow. Her tears fall unbidden for everything she's lost and will never find again. Like her mother's warm embrace. Like her father's large warm hands patting her back or head. Like Brandon's loud laughter and charming smiles. Like Mark's slow kisses and husky whispers when they made love. Like the babe that she felt grew inside her belly only to come out silent and bloody.
Sometimes she simply stood there on the shore to watch the waves, hoping for the Drowned God to raise them and take her down to his watery halls.
Other times, when she looked at the sea, she imagines herself running away to Essos. To join the Company of Roses-the company of brave men and women who left the North to escape from the reign of the damned inbred dragons.
She imagines a life of freedom and thinks of all the things she could do. Mayhaps she will go to Braavos and join the water dancers. Or climb the hills of Norvos and hear the Great Bells ring. Or maybe travel to Volantis where she could see the Black Walls and the Long Bridge. Or buy a small manse in Lys, where she could be an exclusive courtesan, wearing lovely gowns of silks and lace and having the choice of who to take to her bed and give her pleasure when she needs it. Or perhaps she’d brave the darkness of Asshai by the Shadows where she could learn witchcraft she could use to kill her enemies. Or maybe even the Far East, where she could simply get lost and not have to think of anything. Or maybe just to the Sorrows, where she could drown herself and leave a powerful curse behind.
But they are just that, imagination. And here she is and here she will remain, chained and caged. Her captors holding the key. A wolf betrayed by her pack. A winter child mercilessly exposed to the harshness of the sun and poison-tipped spears aimed at her from the shadows.
Because of Lyanna. The whore. The Targaryen bitch. The selfish cunt who foolishly ran away and spread her legs for the stupid Dragon Prince and got their family killed. Got thousands of innocent people killed.
And Benjen. The stupid boy who always supported and played accomplice to Lyanna's reckless actions. Who helped the whore get away with her selfishness.
And Ned. Who always loved the whore more than he did Sansa. Who weighed the scale and found the whore much more important and sacrificed Sansa to appease the enraged Martells.
Three years have passed already and still the rage for her stupid and traitorous siblings burns hot in her.
They send her letters--many of them. Declaring their love. Asking for her forgiveness. Telling her of their children. Sharing words of their fortune.
Horse shit all of them. She burns every letter without reading them. She only sends them a single letter each and no more.
She wrote to the whore of how she prays for her happiness to turn to ashes in her mouth and choke her to death. Or perhaps make her choke on her dragon's cock and die. What a death that would be—a great retribution for all the suffering they caused others. She tells her how she asks all the gods to curse the dragon king and his house. For the dragon blood to end in gruesome deaths just as Father, Brandon and her husband did. She tells the cunt to stay away, to not see her or she will plunge a dagger to her heart. Let the gods curse her for kinslaying, she'll take vengeance when she can.
She wrote to Ned and Benjen and told them she will never forgive nor forget how their actions condemned her to a life she does not want. Let them know that she will spend the rest of her life watering the trees of her hatred for them and feast on their bitter fruits. She told them she despises them and abhors their love and favor for their whore sister. She told them she does not think of them as her brothers anymore but as traitors-her enemies.
And still they continue. As though ignoring her fury and hurt and trying to tear down the walls of her hatred with their words. Fools, all of them.
These days, she spent more time with the orphans in the Water Gardens and join in their silly games. At least the children like her and willingly talk to her. With Father and Mother and Brandon gone, she feels like one of them. As uncertain with her future and moving adrift where the sands lead her.
There are three children she particularly likes. A seven year old boy named Mors and five year old twin girls Rhea and Mariah. Orphaned bastards all of them. They're sweet children. Brown haired, fair skinned with wide, innocent blue eyes always glistening with wonder when she tells them stories. She thinks they are what her precious babe would've been like had that tragic news of Father and Brandon's death not reached her ears, what her other children would've been like had Mark survived the war. The bitch had taken much from her more than anyone else.
She tells them stories passed down by old Nan. They enjoy her stories and they become dearer to her each day. After a while, her audience grows when their friends join. The Red Princess, their sweet little voices call her. She becomes their favorite story teller.
Her heart aches seeing them, being reminded that she might never have children of her own because of the ugly state of her marriage. She wants to help and give them a better future so she slowly starts giving lessons in writing, reading and numbers.
If they are educated, then mayhaps some lord or lady will see their value and give them better work and they would live better lives in the future. And mayhaps when they're grown up and she's grown old with wrinkles, they will remember her not as the unwanted Martell princess but as the kind red princess who helped them. Maybe they will call her mother and they will tell their children to call her grandmother and visit and surround her in her dotage to tell her stories to brighten her days when her body has grown weak with time. Some of them might even be bards and scholars or maesters someday and write kind tales and songs of her.
The children are fascinated with her. They're amazed with her red hair and blue-gray eyes, both a rarity in the sands. The little girls love to sit behind or beside her to run their tiny hands on her locks and make her pretty flower crowns. They look at her with puppy eyes and beg for songs and tales of fair maidens. They love watching her sew and stitch and treasure her little gifts as though they're worth precious gold. The boys like her scary stories of northern monsters and tales of brave warriors. They are eager to learn and they follow her like ducklings asking for more stories and more lessons. They compete and laugh at themselves and at each other when they commit little mistakes in their lessons. And slowly her days become brighter and her future feels a little more hopeful and the pattern takes a clearer shape in front of her eyes.
She's teaching the children their numbers when the ruling Prince of Dorne joins her. It takes her by surprise as the Prince is usually locked away in his solar with his kingdom's matters. She stops but the Prince merely raises his hand in assurance and tells her to continue. She does but her nerves are shot. She worries that even the time she has with the children will be taken from her, that she will be forbidden from influencing them.
When she finishes and the children are gone, the Prince invites her to his solar. She sits on the ornate chair in front of his desk.
"Princess, I was informed you've been spending time with the children in the gardens and has seen fit to teach them numbers and letter" the prince gently tells her, his dark eyes intent on her face.
"Prince Doran, it was not my intention to overstep my boundaries and cause offense. I merely wanted to help the children in this small way. I assure you it's not meant to disgrace House Martell" Sansa tries to assure the Prince despite the tremor in her voice.
The Prince merely smiles gently and reaches for her hand and pats it softly, “Please sister, no need for apologies. You are a Princess of Dorne and it is a great thing you have done. I am very pleased of your initiative. Indeed I have invited you to tell you that you have my support and you can directly call on me should you need anything. Anything dear Sansa”
Sansa feels choked with emotions and thanks the Prince for his generosity. The conversation continues to what other projects she has thought of to further help the children and when it came time to leave his solar, Sansa feels stronger and with more resolve, knowing that she has him at her back. It is the only thing she needs.
The days pass and she becomes busier with the children. Prince Doran sends her learned people and servants to help her with her endeavor. They are at first aloof but after some time, their attitude toward her slowly changes until such she feels them do things willingly to please her. The rest of the household and the frequent visitors follows suit and within moons, previously frowning and sneering faces start to smile and give her compliments and praises. She thanks them quietly, but remains wary, still unconvinced. The Prince Doran only smiles enigmatically at her. Her husband though—that one remains the idiot man he is. Going his way and returning to the palace whenever he pleases and no word at all given to her.
Once, her husband leaves for Oldtown and does not return for moons. In that interval, her interactions with the Prince Doran increase until she realizes he has already included her in his inner circle and has made a habit of asking for her views in matters of ruling.
The Prince invites her during meals with his children, his daughter Arianne and his son Quentyn. The children grow fond of her and follow her to the Water Gardens where they play with the orphans. They also eagerly help in tutoring the younger ones. In the evenings, they would ask her to sing and play the harp before they go to sleep. They call her auntie and kiss her cheeks when they say goodnight.
The Prince expresses his gratitude for her kindness to his children and her assistance to him. More gifts from him are delivered to her and Sansa feels something dangerously thrilling emerge between them. She catches his dark, hooded eyes look at her sometimes and she feels breathless. One night, drunk on wine, their hands touch, sparks fly and like dry logs, they catch fire. One moment they're quietly staring at each other then suddenly they’re grabbing at each other and kissing torridly. Sansa was married before so she is not innocent to the heat she sees in Prince Doran’s eyes, not ignorant to where their actions will lead if she lets herself get lost in the maelstrom of emotions. When the Prince reaches for the ties of her gown, Sansa forcibly removes herself from his arms and looks away.
“Forgive me my Prince. This is wrong. I…forgive my thoughtless actions” she whispers hoarsely, desire still coursing through her veins but her mind reminding her of the consequences of acting out her desires stupidly. She most of all knows how things could go worse because of one single selfish action.
She hears the Prince breathe in and out deeply and slowly reach for her hands, his own trembling ever so slightly. “It is I who should be sorry, My Lady. I ask you forgive my shameful actions”
“Forgiven my Prince. I beg your leave Your Highness It is time I return to my chambers” she bows and hurriedly turns to leave.
She has not gotten far when he catches her hand, “Sansa, please…” there’s sorrow in his voice and when she looks at him, his eyes show wretchedness deep within them.
Sansa feels her throat tighten and tears start to burn in her eyes. She wants him, suspects she’s even come to love him but she will not be a fool. She will not be another Stark who destroys another Martell, no matter the state of her marriage and the indifference of the man she’s married to. If she does, if she gives in to her wants here and now, she will be no better than the whore she despises and then there will be nothing left better for her to do than die. She has to walk away from him even though it pains her. “I can’t. I can’t. Please. Let me go my Prince. I can’t do this. I refuse to be like my sister. I can’t do this” she cries, anguish in her voice.
The Prince closes his eyes and raises her hands to his lips “I am a wretched man My Lady. Forgive me for dishonoring you.” He lets her hands go and turns around. She leaves without looking back.
The days that followed were bleak. She feels as though a thorn has been lodged in her heart and the constant hurt left her weak. She tries to spend time with the children but she only succeeds in making them worry of her hollow eyes and pale cheeks. She excuses herself using sickness as an alibi and her helpers eagerly assure her everything will be handled until she returns. Arianne and Quentyn visit her with lemon cakes and flowers and their sweet smiles and chatter. The children from the Water Gardens send her letters done by their small hands, some strokes are uneven and words misspelled but the short stories they contain and the love and wishes for her recuperation makes her forget that awful night. After a fortnight, she feels better enough to move on with her life.
She plunges herself in her works and the children. She still takes meals with Arianne and Quentyn but her time with the Prince has decidedly been cut off. No need to let the wounds fester more than they should. The Prince continues to send her gifts but remains silent as well. The children wonder at the distance and silence between them but she figures the Prince might have said something to them because they ceased asking her questions and instead start looking mournfully at her. It pains her but there's nothing left to do.
Then the Red Viper returns with a beautiful woman perched on his arm. An Ellaria Sand who is so graceful in her Dornish gowns she makes Sansa feel like a pauper. The Viper declares her his paramour, pride and joy on his face.
Sansa is used to the dishonor the viper prince enjoys dealing her. She merely clenches her jaws and looks away, her hands balled to fists at her side. The Prince Doran though, he goes into a cold rage. He orders all except for Sansa and her wayward husband to leave.
“You have for a long time now selfishly done whatever you wanted without regard for the consequences. You participated in that damned duel with Yronwood and my son will have to pay for your actions. Now here you are parading a woman and declaring her your paramour in front of everyone without any regard for your wife” the Prince's voice was as cold as a Northern winter.
The viper only laughs, “Brother, this is Dorne. My little wife understands we do things differently here. Don’t you sweetling?” the viper looks at her, all his teeth showing as though reminding her just how feral and dangerous he is.
Sansa does not want to be here. She wants to leave them both and lock herself in her rooms so she does not have to deal with anything.
“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you Brother. We both know the reason for your actions. And that is to deliberately humiliate your wife.” Prince Doran raises his voice. It is a frightening thing, to hear a normally calm and level-headed man lose his cool and start acting aggressive. It’s like watching a great wave approaching to smash a small boat in the seashore.
The Viper narrows his eyes at his brother and Prince. “What’s it to you Brother? The Starks were okay with their whore of a sister humiliating Elia and being the second wife of the King. Surely they won’t have any complaints if their other sister has a second sister-wife.”
“Sansa is innocent of her sister’s folly and actions against Elia! She above all suffered the most from her sister’s selfishness. Her father, her brother, her husband, her child, her home. You are not a stupid man Oberyn. You know she’s blameless and here you are lashing out at her and causing her more pain. You want to avenge Elia but you are hurting the wrong person. You are no better than Rhaegar! No, you are worse. And you are a disgrace to our house” Prince Doran snarls at his younger brother.
The Viper’s face turns stony. He looks at Sansa with his dark eyes. Sansa looks away, refusing to look at the man who has treated her with only unkindness or indifference.
“I have let you run wild for long enough. You will make a choice here and now, let your paramour go and treat your wife better, or set your wife free and go to your paramour. Choose now Oberyn.”
“I love Ellaria” the Viper quietly speaks.
Prince Doran massages his temples then sighs, “Then so be it. The marriage was never consummated. Tomorrow, we will all go to the Sept and have this marriage declared void by the septon. Now leave. I must speak with Sansa”
The Viper turns to Sansa as though to say something, his eyes dark and face grave but Prince Doran only orders him to leave which he does after bowing to her.
When the door closes behind the Viper Prince, silence reigns until the Prince walks to her.
“My Lady, will you walk with me to the gardens please? We must speak.”
Sansa merely nods and takes the elbow offered to her. His guards and hers follow them at a distance. They remain quiet during the walk but there’s an unmistakable charge in the air between them. When they reach the garden, Prince Doran asks the guards to remain at the entrance and orders that anyone else is forbidden from entering. He then leads her to a quiet alcove where their voice will not be heard.
The Prince sits on the stone bench and pats the space beside him. Sansa sits down but leaves ample space between them. Prince Doran sighs heavily and looks at her sofly.
“Forgive me Lady Stark for everything I allowed my house, especially my brother, to do to you. My words are paltry but I hope you would find it in you to grant forgiveness.”
“In truth there is no need for you to apologize my Prince. I understand we all do stupid things and don’t always have the capability to prevent foolish actions from others. Harsh though the treatment I have received from some of your family and people, but you have treated me kindly and for me, that is enough.” She says quietly, her fingers on her lap playing with the embroidery on her dress.
“Even still it is not enough for me” he slowly reaches for her hands and gently holds them captured in his large and calloused ones. “These past few moons, something has grown between us. I find I have come to love you My Lady. You must know. Surely you must know” he looks her in the eye, his own pleading for her to accept the regard that has grown between them. “Please, I ask you, grant me a chance to make you mine my Lady and I will endeavor with all I am and all I have to honor you and make you happy.” He moves to kneel at her feet and kiss the back of her hands.
Sansa feels her eyes water. Her heart feels lighter than it ever was since she heard the terrible news of her father’s and brother’s deaths. It is a beautiful moment, one she believes is worthy of songs and one she’s never imagined she’d ever get to experience. She laughs and cries at the same time, her face red and tears flowing like rivulets down her cheeks.
When her Prince sees her tears, worry clouds his face and his hands hurriedly tried to wipe them away, his voice with a hint of anxiety. “Sansa? Sansa, please, I did not mean to make you cry. You don’t have to—“
She catches his face between her hands and silences him with a kiss. He stops fretting over her and his hands move to comb through her unbound hair, guiding her closer to him. They kiss until they’re out of breath, then the Prince presses his forehead to hers, dark eyes looking at her with the same passion he kissed her with. “My Lady I would like to hear the words before we proceed. I want to make sure I have your blessing to—“
“Yes, yes, I accept. I will marry you. I want to marry you.” She looks at him through tear-filled eyes, a smile curling her lips.
Relief crashes through his face and he laughs, deep and thrilling. His dark eyes light up, looking at her with all the love she’s always dreamed of having when she was but a girl.
The rest of the time was spent in each other’s arms, kissing slowly and whispering assurances to each other.
The following day, they go to the septon and her marriage to Oberyn Martell is voided. When they return to the palace, her Prince gathers his family and his household to declare their intent to marry. Arianne and Quentyn express their joy at being able to call her mother. Prince Oberyn shows surprise and asks for a private time with his older brother. Sansa is not privy to the conversation that ensued. But she was surprised indeed when the Viper called on her.
Gone was the scorn and indifference from his eyes. “I have not been a good husband to you Princess. Blinded by my need for vengeance, I have acted most dishonorably against you. I will not ask forgiveness for I know I do not deserve it. But allow me to say this; I am happy, that my brother will be the man you will marry. He is far better and far deserving of you than I can ever be. I swear to you, my Lady, I shall strive to be a better brother and mayhaps, someday, you and I can even be friends.”
He looked sad and full of remorse, his shame for his actions towards her clear in his voice. Sansa simply nods at him and decides to let it be, his actions have led her to a better place, a better man. “Thank you Prince Oberyn, I shall look forward to that day, when you and I can become friends. I wish you good fortune.”
His mouth quirks up into a little smile then he kisses both her hands, “And I you, Princess”
A mere two moons, she is wedded to her Prince. Almost the same people from her previous marriage attended the wedding but this time, their faces show smiles instead of sneers, their words kind instead of harsh. Her stepchildren stand proudly between her and their father, their hands clinging to them both. Her children from the Water Gardens also all attend and celebrate her wedding, the last wedding she’ll have, she swears. The mood is festive instead of gloomy and when they are declared husband and wife, the people cheer and call out their blessings.
When she sleeps in his arms after hours of pleasure that night, she feels as though she’s finally home after drifting through the shifting sands. Let Lyanna have her dragon and let Ned and Benjen run in the snow and the wild, she’s happy and content now to live a thousand years under the sun.