Guest Chambers, Tower of the Sun.
Arthur had assumed Lady Nym's mention of "preparations" was just an excuse to slip away. He hadn't expected her to actually prepare something—and quite elaborately at that.
By the time the feast began, Arthur had changed into the Dornish garb Nym had selected for him. He had even been spritzed with perfume.
He wore a loose silk robe of purple and white, cinched at the waist by a belt set with heart-shaped garnets. Draped over his shoulders was a semi-transparent purple cloak, its edges embroidered with intricate, delicate patterns.
The cloak was fastened at the right shoulder with a silver brooch shaped like a sword, allowing the fabric to cascade naturally down his back—elegant, yet practical enough not to hinder movement.
On his feet were sandals of soft leather, the uppers carved with complex openwork designs. The laces crisscrossed up his calves and tied just below the knees, looking both secure and stylish.
Standing before the mirror, Arthur looked a bit unnatural. "Is this too flashy?"
He had never paid much attention to fashion. As long as he wasn't being rude, he preferred whatever was comfortable.
"You are one of the most talked-about people at this feast. Of course you need to dress the part." Lady Nym watched him from the side, admiring how the outfit accentuated his tall, handsome frame and blended wildness with nobility. She licked her lips unconsciously.
"Besides," she added, "this will help promote your Amber Peach Wine at the banquet."
A striking appearance was indeed a powerful marketing tool, especially when aiming for the luxury market. Every detail mattered.
The layout of the Sunspear feast was similar to the Sealord's masquerade Arthur had attended in Braavos. Food, music, theater, dance.
People ate little; the food was mostly a backdrop for socializing. Dornish nobles gathered to renew ties, share gossip, and solidify alliances.
Prince Doran used the occasion to broker several fosterings and marriages. The most significant match announced was between Ser Ryon Allyrion, heir to Godsgrace, and Lady Ynys Yronwood.
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Arthur heard the news while dancing with Princess Arianne.
"My father has always liked marrying young women to older lords," Arianne whispered in his ear. "Lady Ynys is lucky. Ser Ryon is only twice her age."
Ser Ryon was the father of Daemon Sand, while Lady Ynys was the same age as Prince Quentyn.
Sensing the resentment in her tone, Arthur replied, "The eldest daughter of House Yronwood to the heir of House Allyrion... it is a match of equal standing. And you know well that noble alliances rarely consider age."
"As the rightful heir to Dorne, I've known that since I was a child. But this strengthens my brother Quentyn's base even further," Arianne complained. "By the way, Quentyn seems to fancy Lady Ynys. He fought in the lists as a challenger specifically for her."
Arthur glanced up at the high table. Prince Quentyn looked miserable, ignoring the food and drinking heavily. He had already turned down several invitations to dance.
Classic, Arthur thought.
Human joys and sorrows are not shared. Seeing the drama unfold, Arthur found it hard not to smile. "Arianne, it seems you are right."
"Sometimes I envy my cousins. They find their own fun." Arianne spun gracefully, holding Arthur's hand. "But since I was born a Martell, I must take up the spear to defend my birthright. Knight of Hearts, if one day my father skips over me and names Quentyn as his heir... I hope I can count on Starfall's support."
Arianne only came up to his chest, so Arthur couldn't see her expression clearly. "Princess, that won't happen."
Her worry was unfounded. Arthur remembered that the plain-faced Prince Quentyn would eventually be sent by Doran on a doomed quest to Slaver's Bay, traveling under the alias "Frog" to propose to the Dragon Queen.
Unlike the fairy tale, the Frog Prince wouldn't get the princess's kiss. Instead, he would be turned to ash.
"I hope so," Arianne sighed.
They fell silent, and the dance soon ended.
As Arthur walked back to his seat, he saw servants helping a very drunk "Frog Prince," Quentyn Martell, out of the hall.
---
"Cousin, can I ask a girl to dance too?"
Arthur had just sat down when Edric Dayne eagerly poured him a cup of wine.
"Of course. It's a required course for any knight or lord." Arthur spread butter on some nut bread and took a bite. Seeing Edric hesitate, he asked, "What's wrong? Afraid she'll say no?"
Edric's round face flushed red. "Yes, cousin. Can you come with me?"
Arthur was surprised. Since becoming his squire, Edric had shed much of his shyness and social anxiety. If he was nervous now, it wasn't just normal socializing—he must have a crush.
Arthur washed the bread down with Amber Peach Wine and grinned. "Let's go!"
He had to see which girl had bewitched little Edric.
Arthur followed Edric past several tables until they stopped at the one occupied by the Red Viper's family.
"Lady... Lady Elia..." Edric stammered as he stood before a girl. The blush on his face spread all the way down his neck. "May I have this dance?"
The Elia in question was Elia Sand, born of Oberyn's current paramour, Ellaria Sand. She had black hair braided into a long plait, a round face, and eyes as dark as her father's.
Arthur recalled Edric mentioning her before—saying she loved horses and jousting and always smelled a bit like a stable.
Elia looked at Edric, then glanced over at Oberyn.
Oberyn noticed the situation and waved a dismissive hand. "Make up your own mind."
Elia's dark eyes darted around mischievously. "Edric, I accept your invitation. But later, you have to promise to let me and my sisters ride Violet and Shadow. And we want to pet Sharpwing and touch his claws."
"Cousin, can we?" Edric looked up at Arthur pleadingly. "I promise I'll wash Violet and Shadow afterward, and I'll make sure Sharpwing is fed."
Arthur looked at the pleading faces of Edric and Elia—who looked remarkably similar—and the smaller Sand Snakes sitting next to her.
He blinked, then realized what was happening. Good grief, they're after me?
Looking at Edric, Arthur suddenly understood how Prince Doran felt when he realized he'd been outmaneuvered by his own daughter.
Arthur sighed, pinching Edric's round cheek. He gave the group of kids a stern look.
"Fine. As you wish. But when you ride Violet, Jimmy must hold the reins. And when you interact with Sharpwing, Edric, you must be right there next to them."
"Oh, kind Knight of Hearts! Thank you so much!" Elia cheered, grabbing Edric's hand and dragging him onto the dance floor.
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