Mellario 1 293 AC

She placed two fingers in the space between her eyes.

This was just like that man, indeed, it was why she had left for Norvos three years ago.

He had promised Arianne's hand away without even telling her. It was just so utterly typical of Doran. He and his brother, they were both ever so charming but they never told you anything unless you were some critical part of whatever scheme they were planning.

And of course, he couldn't just marry her to anyone, but right into the house of the man who had been trying to bed her for the last three and a half months.

All she could do was thank the bearded god she hadn't taken him up on it. Sleeping with the uncle of your son in law would make things awkward, to say the least. Still, she couldn't really keep stringing him on now.

What was worse, of course, was that she had no choice in it at all. Just like with Quentyn and his cursed fostering.

She had half a mind to refuse to even meet the Prince of the stepstones, to make a point to Doran of nothing else, but her curiosity ultimately got the better of her, and she sent word that she would accept the Prince's invitation.

Her first impression of the port of Great gallows was mixed, to say the least, for as far as she could tell there was little great about it. Most of it seemed to be the sort of shantytown that always sprung up along the water whether riverside or ocean and while the odd metal posts along the dockside stuck out as different, there was little else to differentiate it. Only a single multi-story building rose up in the entire area.

It reminded her a bit of the low city of Norvos.

Still, the party waiting to greet her on the docks was more respectable. There was king Robert of course, the boar, towering over everyone as he always did, but also his dour Brother, the father of her future son in law with his odd manner of dress and balding hair.

She had never actually spoken to the man, but the rumors painted him as more serious and respectable compared to his brother, if utterly boring. His forces had also been the ones utilizing those odd fire-spears when they were hunting down the Red Cult. She could see more of them here, the guards at the docks carrying them on their shoulders.

Finally, there was the Prince himself. Much shorter than his father and uncle, though he was supposedly quite young, he was still taller than her. He wasn't exactly handsome, with his father's harsh features, but there was a sort of vibrancy and energy he shared more with his Uncle. He also wore white clothing, more like a priest than a noble, with small golden buttons running down one side and a cape hanging over his shoulders. He smiled as he spotted her, waving in greeting.

"Lady Mellario, I presume?"

"Indeed" she nodded, stepping up onto the Gangplank with Areo's help. "I suppose that makes you Prince Arthur then?"

"That would be correct my lady, and I must say it is clear where your daughter's beauty came from." The boy smiled. "I must apologize for not inviting you to stay ashore last night, I had not been informed of your presence in the fleet until this morning."

Mellario suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, she had heard enough compliments from his uncle, still, it wasn't his fault that they hadn't been told about each other.

She glanced up to find a Sheepish looking King Robert and a still stern-faced Lord Stannis.

Still, she should at least try to get along with the prince himself.

"It is no great inconvenience, the cabin I was given is rather nice. These ehm, Galleon, ships are yours if I am not mistaken?"

"That's correct. They are of the Narrow Sea company though my father called them to war. I am glad you like your quarters." The boy placed a hand on his chin, "Though I promised Arianne one of the smaller cutters as a gift, perhaps I should give her something bigger."

"I am afraid that I have little experience with ocean vessels, I have only crossed the narrow sea twice, and neither time have I found them very interesting."

"Ah, that's no great concern then, I apologize for getting sidetracked."

"Why not show me where I'll be staying tonight so that the servants can move my luggage there?"

"Ah…" the boy blushed, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm afraid the quarters may be a bit less… developed than you are used to in the free cities, my castle isn't even properly under construction yet on the other side of the island, so I've set up my government in a local tavern. I hope you don't mind too much."

"Maybe I would have a year ago, but I've been sleeping in a tent for four months, a night or two in a tavern won't kill me." She resisted the urge to sigh, remembering those first days of their escape when the refugees hadn't met the Westerosi forces yet. They had been the darkest of their life as the scouts of Qohor hounded them out of the region, dragging off the ones they caught to who knows where.

"Certainly, just follow me up the hill a ways. Are you hungry? I'm sure I can have Maena cook you something up, perhaps some of the Venison we caught on our hunt this morning."

"Maybe." She smiled, walking beside the boy. "Is it possible we might have a more… private discussion over dinner then? I have some things I'd like to ask you about."

The boy glanced over towards his father and uncle, before nodding slightly. "I don't think my uncle will begrudge me letting him out of my sight for an hour or two."

"Excellent." She smiled.

It would be best to learn more about her future son in law without the boy's father looking over his shoulder at every word.