Harrenhal

Hello Drinor Here, If you like to become a patron and get access to these chapters earlier, head on over to Patreon and search 'Drinor.'

https://www.Patreon.com/Drinor

The Following TWELVE Chapters are available for Patrons.

Chapter 44 (A Feast and A Queen), Chapter 45 (Queen Rhaella and The Hidden Prince), Chapter 46 (My Name is Aemon Targaryen), Chapter 47 (Jenny of Old Stone), Chapter 48 (A Sister's Love), Chapter 49 (Arianne's Passion), Chapter 50 (Trial by Combat), Chapter 51 (Happiness), Chapter 52 (The Calm), Chapter 53 (The Melee), Chapter 54 (Family Reunion), and Chapter 55 (The Dragonbinder Horn) are already available for Patrons.

"Come on, let's drink some Sake. I want to know my enemy before we fight." - Isshin The Sword Saint

The first time her eyes saw Harrenhal, Val could see why this castle, according to Jon, was the largest castle in Westeros. The castle was so gigantic that she needed to look up to the point that her neck would feel slightly uncomfortable when they got close to see the top of the castle. The highest tower almost reached the sun in the morning, the light beaming through the many cracks and holes of the tower.

Jon had given her a quick explanation on why the castle looked like it would fall; after hearing that Aegon The Conqueror had burned down the castle with his dragon along with the lord of the castle and his sons, she wondered out loud how the castle was even standing.

Even the smallest tower of Harrenhal was taller than Winterfell.

Harrenhal is built on a gigantic scale; its colossal curtain walls are sheer and high as mountain cliffs, while atop the battlements, the wood-and-iron scorpions seem as small as their namesakes when seen from the ground. Harrenhal's gatehouse is as large as Winterfell's Great Keep, and its stone is discolored and fissured. From outside the gatehouse, only the tops of five immense towers can be seen because the height of the walls obscures their view. Harrenhal's walls and towers are made of black stone.

Of the castle's five towers, the shortest is half again as high as the tallest one in Winterfell, yet none of the towers are proper, being bent, lumped, and cracked from the melting of the stone during the by the of King; three centuries earlier. Their original names were lost with the death of the Lord.

The Northern Party had turned from a small party when they left Winterfell to a party large enough that one would think they were marching to War.

After the rest of the Northern houses joined them, Val could see Carriages, Soldiers, and Servants as far as her eyes could see. Even Wheelhouses that belonged to House Manderly, due to their Southern origin and being a House that handles what goes through the North, they were rich, and a single Wheelhouse could easily hold twenty people, carried by ten horses.

House Manderly had brought four of them. One of them was only for House Stark and was mainly used by Lady Catelyn, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, and Septa Mordane. Val had been a little astonished to see a moving house like that. The house was guarded by ten soldiers all the time.

Lord Stark, despite having the option, had used a tent the whole time, same for Robb. Jon and Val used a tent too. The Wildling women had felt the weather getting hotter the closer they got to Harrenhal. Living her whole life Beyond The Wall had not taught her how to handle the warm weather.

Where Winterfell stood was warm for her; now, she had been forced to wear different clothes again. Thankfully with the help of Dacey, she had found clothes that didn't get much in the way of fighting.

Before reaching Harrenhal, they had to pass through the Twins; Jon warned her that Walder Frey was a cunt, and everyone in the South knew that. Thankfully, Val and Jon hadn't needed to meet the man since that was business that Lord Stark dealt with, and According to Robb later, the man had the audacity to ask for a betrothal between Robb and one of his endless grandchildren.

While passing through, Val had seen how some people were looking at her; Val had simply ignored them. But he saw Jon had gotten certain looks from some women working there.

After passing the twins, they reached Riverrun; they barely stayed there because Lord Tully and his family had already left for the Tourney.

Now, they were in front of Harrenhal. The castle had an uncomfortable feeling to it, despite being the middle of the day, the sun shining brightly above them with no clouds in sight; Harrenhal had a dark look inside, and Val felt as if the castle would fall at any moment.

Once they reached the damn castle, Val saw just how many different houses there were and how many people and lords had gathered there. They were different flags as far as the eye could see; Val wondered how someone could even remember all the names of every house in Westeros.

Jon, on the other hand, felt his heart pounding in his chest. The closer he got, the more nervous he felt. He knew they were here; everyone did. Jon's grey eyes moved around as if hoping he would accidentally see someone from his family.

The prince knew he could perhaps just warg a mouse or a bird to go inside, and maybe find them in this massive castle, due to being one of the most important houses in Westeros, and perhaps because of the King. House Stark was offered chambers inside the castle. He remembered Lord Stark grooming when he heard that, while Lady Stark seemed to brighten up like a star.

Since arriving, Sansa had been standing close to her mother, discussing in hushed tones. While Arya looked both excited and bored out of her mind. During their travels, Val and Dacey taught her how to wield weapons and become a better warrior.

Bran simply asked if he could climb up the highest tower, much to Lord Stark's horror, who quickly forbade him, saying he wouldn't do anything like that; unlike Winterfell, Bran had never seen these walls before, and if he fell, he would die.

Rickon looked more scared the closer they got to Harrenhal, saying he had dreamed of a bad man with a charred body winning the Jousting before crowning a woman with blue eyes and swollen belly as Queen of Love and Beauty.

Once they arrived at the courtyard, they were greeted by the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, who five soldiers accompanied. The man looked old, but Jon could see the wisdom behind his eyes, and his body clearly showed him that he wasn't as fragile as he looked.

"Ned, it's good to see you, my boy!" Jon Arryn greeted his son in all but name, walking up to him with spread arms. Ned quickly dismounted his horse, a smile forming on his face as he hugged the person he had considered father for so long.

Pulling away, Ned could see the old Jon in him; the man looked the same despite being eight years since the Greyjoy Rebellion. The only one missing was Robert, but Ned forced that thought away; for now, no point in thinking about Ghosts. Turning around, he introduced his family to him.

"My lord, this is my wife, Lady Catelyn Tully," Ned said, leading his wife to his foster father. Jon Arryn had met Catelyn before, but the last time he had seen her was seventeen years ago, back when she was supposed to marry Brandon Stark.

"My lady, I have to say you have grown more beautiful with time," Jon complimented with a smile; Catelyn looked pleased by his words. Jon Arryn then was introduced to the rest of Ned's family; he felt delighted to see Ned have so many children, his heir looked like a good lad and already betrothed, but when it came to introducing who he assumed to be the bastard boy of Ned, his breath was almost stuck in his throat, as if he had just tried to swallow a piece rock.

Jon Arryn, despite his age, could see quite well, not as good as he used to, but was good enough for an old man of eighty-name days. He could see the Stark colors; unlike all the other children, this boy in front of him had dark hair like a crow. From what he saw, only Lady Arya and the bastard seemed blessed with the Stark looks.

But this boy... Jon felt his throat go dry, his face looked nothing like Ned, and his handsome face was way too similar to... Jon mentally felt like slapping himself in the face. He was old and was just seeing things. Nothing Else.

Jon's eyes quickly flickered at Ned before returning to his namesake, he tried to find any facial similarities between each other, yet he saw nothing whatsoever. The boy in front of him reminded him too much of The King before the Rebellion seventeen years ago. Before, he grew his beard, and he generally changed after the rebellion.

Extending his hand, Jon Arryn and Jon Snow shook each other's hands. "Is an honor to me, you, my lord," the bastard said with a smile that again made Jon Arryn's heart skip a beat.

Quickly gaining back his composure, Jon knew he needed to say something instead of standing there like an old goat. "The honor is all mine, Jon Snow. I must say you look nothing like your father. He wasn't as polite as you," Jon japed, earning chuckles from the people nearby.

"My lord, this is my wife, Val," Jon Snow introduced a woman standing next to him. Jon Arryn did a double take; this day was getting stranger. The woman before him looked like a Lannister or even a Targaryen. He noticed the lack of 'Lady' when the bastard introduced his wife, but he was glad to see Ned's boy was doing fine despite his status.

"My lady, I hope you enjoy your time in Harrenhal," Jon said politely, shaking her rough hand; it felt like a warrior's hand.

"Thank you, my lord."

Soon, Jon Arryn was leading House Stark inside; Ned was walking beside him, and the hand of the king was leading them to meet the King and Queen.

"Ned, how has it been in the North?" Jon questioned him after a short moment of silence between them; their footsteps echoed throughout the hall.

"Same as always, Jon. Cold." Ned japed with a chuckle, and Jon smiled, happy to see Ned smile; when they departed after Robert's Rebellion, Ned hadn't been that happy, and the same could be said after the Greyjoy Rebellion. It felt good to know that Ned was happy with his family.

"What about here in the South? How it feels to be the Hand of the King?" Ned questioned with an uneasy smile on his face.

"Is exhausting. I'm afraid my bones are not as young as they used to be. I would much rather spend time with my only son; he's still young and will need my guidance; thankfully, Yohn is with him, guiding him and making him into a warrior worthy of being the Warden of the East." Jon said with a bright smile at the end, his face looking younger as he did; he could feel his bones aching, Jon knew he could have told a servant to bring House Stark inside, but Jon Arryn had insisted on being the one to greet them and bring them to the King and Queen.

"Will your son enter the Tourney?" Ned asked; Jon explained his son was still young for the jousting and melee, but he would enter the archery. Ned then told him that both Jon and Robb would enter the tourney.

Jon simply nodded along, he briefly looked behind his shoulder to see his namesake talking with his wife, wearing white clothes, but the sword strapped in her waist made him shake his head in amusement.

"Is it just me, or is that woman with your son carrying a sword?" Jon asked humorously, turning to face Ned, who looked confused for a moment before his eyes widened slightly for a moment before turning back to normal.

"Ohh, right. Yes. She's a warrior like those from House Mormont," Ned explained with a small voice; Jon Arryn smiled hearing that.

"That's good to hear, Ned. What are your plans for him? I don't mean anything, but it is not easy for bastards to find a place," Jon questioned with a hint of concern.

Ned looked downwards, his mouth opening and closing several times, unsure himself what to say, before turning his head to look at his foster father.

"Don't worry about it, Jon. I know the perfect place for him," Ned said with a tone that made it clear that he wouldn't elaborate. Jon shrugged his shoulders. Not his business.

Earlier - Elia Martell

Harrenhal was a monstrosity, but it was an amusing monstrosity. The twisted, blackened remnants of one man's defiance of the dragons chilled Elia to the bone and yet excited her endlessly. If there was a place that was to be haunted, it should be Harrenhal. It was the stuff of nightmares, jagged, coiled, and deformed.

"Alyana is quite looking forward to this tourney. She says she will find her wolf," Elia turned to share a small smile with Ashara as she went on and on at length about things her daughter talked about. Elia glanced quickly at Dany to see how the young princess handled this kind of talk. She looked bored.

"Well, people tend to fantasize about their true love. Sadly in this world, we rarely get to choose who we marry." Rhaella quipped with her sharp tone. Elia sometimes thanked the seven that Rhaella was her good mother. Not someone who was against her.

"True, but there's nothing wrong with hoping for the best. Even my brother is no different," Ashara paused to beam proudly in the direction of her brother, standing vigilant at the entrance to Elia's borrowed rooms. "My brother tended to say his wife would be the bravest warrior in the kingdom. Before he eventually joined the Kingsguard." Ashara said with a little frown that she quickly removed with a smile.

"How lucky you are, my Queen, to be surrounded at all times by such gallant, brave, and clever knights."

"Ser Arthur's ability to make sweet promises is as strong as ever," Elia offered offhand, not missing the stiffening of Ser Arthur's spine and relishing in the triumphant feeling it gave her. "A pillar of strength. House Dayne honors us with the finest of knights."

Ashara coughed and seemed conflicted. Elia felt sorry for her friend, always caught in the middle of this and yet never so bold as to interfere.

A commotion drew the attention of the women. Elia turned with the others as they regarded the door, from beyond which they could distinctly hear the sounds of stomping feet and raised voices. Ser Arthur put his hand upon Dawn's hilt and stepped out to see what the fuss was about. When the door opened again, Elia expected to see the knight return with some sort of an explanation.

She did not expect to see her husband step into the room, his pale skin flushed and his violet eyes looking just a tad bit wild.

Rhaegar was not in the habit of looking wild. She immediately rose to her feet and felt rather than saw her good mother do the same from behind her. Rhaegar's eyes scanned the crowd of curious women and stopped when they met hers. Elia stifled a gasp at the heat she saw there and felt her fingers twitch slightly as she wondered exactly what was happening to her husband.

"I am sorry to interrupt, ladies," Rhaegar stepped further into the room, Ser Arthur and Ser Arys on his heels. The prince inclined his head at his mother and tried his best to put on a gentle smile. "I fear I have come to steal my wife from you. I have need of her for the moment."

Elia smiled prettily even as all eyes swung her way. Obvious curiosity burned in the eyes of many a woman. Elia murmured her apologies to the room and moved forward to give Rhaegar her hand. The prince kissed her hand and bowed once to the assembled ladies before escorting her from the room.

"What is the matter, love?" she whispered once they had stepped into the corridor. She feared some more trouble with Tywin or perhaps with the fishes.

Rhaegar merely shook his head. He turned her left and guided her forwards as Ser Arys stepped in behind them, and Ser Arthur went back to his post inside the room. She looked for her uncle but could not spot him. Another look at Rhaegar showed the prince had not yet entirely calmed, his eyes still wild and so utterly unlike him.

"Has someone hatched a dragon?" she asked, attempting for humor. Rhaegar's lips twitched, but he did not slow down, nor did he answer her. Elia swallowed a tremor of nerves and pushed onwards. "Very well, not dragons. Perhaps a grumpkin sighting? A shadowcat far beyond the reaches of the Wall? Oberyn behaving himself in the company of others?"

The last one made him laugh, a snort more than a laugh, and they suddenly stopped. Ser Jonothor stood silently in front of a closed door. The knight opened the door for both the king and queen and then closed it swiftly as the prince dismissed him. Elia moved towards the center of the room, a question forming on her lips. "Rhaegar, love, what-"

And then he kissed her.

It was a hard, passionate kiss. Rhaegar pulled her to his chest and held her so close she could barely breathe. Her hands pressed uselessly against his chest, and his hands went from gripping her tightly to tearing at her gown. He pulled away from the kiss and put both his hands to the task of ripping apart the lacings of her bodice, jerking the dress off her shoulders even as she tried to regain her breath.

He moved in for another kiss, and she met him eagerly, hands tangling in his long hair. His tongue pushed past her lips, devoured her whole, and she shivered in some combination of anticipation and joy. From her lips, he descended to her neck, biting and sucking at the flesh while she moaned and gasped and made other such noises before she could stop herself. He moved her backward until she stumbled into one of the tables. He pressed her back down onto the surface, his hands disappearing under her skirts while she pulled him back for another kiss. She felt his frantic fingers tearing away at her small clothes, leaving her bare for his touch. A single finger slid its way along her core, and she shuddered almost violently against the tabletop.

She was undeniably wet, arousal already pooling between her thighs. "Elia," he growled into her throat before pushing his finger into her. She moaned, laying herself flat against the table and hitching her legs up and around his hips.

Her release came quickly and caught her unaware. She managed little more than a gasp before her body began to slump. Her cheek pressed against the table once more as Rhaegar slammed into her once, twice, and the third and final time. She felt him stumble, felt his weight press down upon her back while he struggled to regain his breath.

After a few moments, he rose, pulling her along with him. Gentler, this time, he turned her around and brushed a clump of sweaty curls off of her forehead. She was still a bit breathless, managing little more than a raspy giggle for her husband. "Now I see why you had such need of me, my husband."

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to have you, Elia," Rhaegar apologized, but Elia kissed his lips.

"I would be offended if you didn't want me, and I'm thankful it was getting boring there," Elia said with a snarky tone, earning a laugh from Rhaegar.

Rhaegar walked over to the bed, pouring a glass of water, his hand rubbing the top of his head, his silver hair falling in front of his face.

"Have you seen, Rhaenys? I couldn't find her," Rhaegar asked, looking up at her; Elia didn't know how to answer that; her daughter looked happier the closer they got to Harrenhal. But Elia knew her daughter very well; she knew where she probably was. Yesterday her brother, along with his paramour, his daughters, Princess Arianne and Prince Quentyn, had arrived.

Elia frowned, knowing what her big brother's game was by sending his son, not that she had anything against it, but Dany was still young to worry about betrothal. Rhaenys, on the other hand, Elia had seen her spending time with Arianne as usual.

"Probably with the snake princess. You know they are like sisters," Elia said, not believing her own words, sitting beside Rhaegar, who gave her a look as if not believing her words.

"Like sisters?" Rhaegar repeated with a snort and eye roll. "What about Aegon? He's supposed to accompany Lady Margaery to the feast tonight?" Rhaegar questioned, his arm moving around her shoulder, bringing her close to him; she felt her heart beating faster by his touch. He kissed her forehead, kissing her nose before kissing her lips, earning a smile from Elia.

"Our son is with Ser Barristan and Ser Loras. He wanted to test his skill before the tourney," Elia said with half a smile. Rhaegar's smile wavered slightly hearing that, rubbing his temples.

"He's way too focused on what others think of him. Anytime he loses, he blames himself for not being better," Rhaegar said with a tired sigh. His son always followed all the rules; the one time he broke the rules was when he was a toddler and didn't know any better; Rhaegar remembered they had caught him trying to touch a real blade without supervision. That day had been the only time he had yelled at his son for doing something so careless.

"Don't worry, Rhaegar," Elia said softly to his ear, her arm going around his waist, her head resting on his back. "Our son wants to be a good king. There's nothing wrong with that," Elia said with a soft voice; Rhaegar hummed upon hearing her voice.

Just as he was about to turn her around and kiss her lips, a KNOCK on the door made them both stop and turned their heads to the door.

"My king, my apologies for interrupting, but House Stark has arrived. Queen Rhaella is waiting in the hall." Ser Arthur spoke from the other side of the door.

Rhaegar pursed his lips hearing that; he had thought that perhaps a betrothal between Daenerys and Robb Stark would be a fruitful one that would tie The North and Riverland with the Crown; Robb was a son of the North and A Tully, sadly both his mother and Varys informed him that he was betrothed to Wynafryd Manderly, another option was to marry his brother to Lady Sansa Stark, but his brother's behavior made him rethink that, he really didn't know where to find a suitable bride for his brother.

"Let's meet the Starks," Elia said, standing up from the bed.

Now - Aemon Targaryen

The double door that led inside the massive hall of Harrenhal opened; walking inside, Jon could see why Harrenhal was said to be the largest castle of Westeros. The hall spread so long and wide that it made Winterfell's main hall look like a common room by comparison.

House Stark walked forward, soon reaching three people sitting in chairs, along with three kingsguard and around twenty guards spread around the corners of the massive Hall.

Jon's grey eyes could make out the details of the people in front of him. Besides being behind his family due to his status, he could see clearly from where he was standing; after what felt like hours, they walked up to the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Rhaegar of House Targaryen.

Jon's eyes were glued on him, his eyes taking on his appearance, his long silver hair, small beard, deep purple eyes, and handsome face.

That's my father! Jon thought, not sure of what to think of him. He had heard tales and songs, and now he had a face to put on all of them, but he couldn't tell what kind of person he was just by looking at him.

Jon expected he would feel sadness, excitement, melancholy, and yearning, yet- he wasn't sure what to feel. His whole life, until a month ago, he had thought that Lord Eddard Stark was his father. Now, looking at his real father, he wasn't sure what to even think. To Jon, it didn't feel that much different than looking at a complete stranger because, in a way, he was a stranger. Jon didn't know the man. He just hoped that he wouldn't get disappointed.

All Crows and Crowns are liars

Jon felt a hand grasping his; he looked to see Val giving him a little supporting smile; knowing Jon's head was probably a mess, Val squeezed his hand, reminding him she was with him.

Jon felt a little better; his eyes went to Elia Martell. She was beautiful and slender, with black eyes and olive skin.

She looked like a kind woman and a good Queen to Jon; just as he was about to look at the third person, Lord Stark and the rest bent the knee, knowing Val wouldn't do it right away, he forced her to kneel with him just as the rest did.

"You can't be seen not kneeling," Jon whispered to Val, who looked ready to say something but held her tongue. She wasn't even kneeling that well.

"Rise Lord Stark," Rhaegar ordered after a short pause as they all stood up. Rhaegar's eyes focused on Lyanna's brother and his heir Robb Stark who was standing on Lord Stark's right side.

"I hope your travels have been kind to you, Lord Stark," Rhaegar said with a little smile, trying to break the silence between them.

"They were your grace. It's been a long time since I have been on a Tourney, and I thought this one would be a perfect opportunity for my heir and children to see the South." Lord Stark said with an uneasy smile on his face. Rhaegar could tell something was off with Lord Stark, but he didn't think much of it.

His eyes checked the rest of Lord Stark's children, who he assumed to be Lady Sansa was quite beautiful, and who he believed to be Lady Arya made him smile a little. After a short talk, Rhaegar dismissed them; standing up, he was about to ask his mother if she had talked with Lady Olenna, only for him to be taken aback by the cold fury in her eyes.

Her eyes looking at the fleeing form of Eddard Stark, Rhaegar wondered what her problem was, but her eyes reminded him of... "Mother, what is it?" Rhaegar questioned, shaking her shoulder, almost in fear.

His voice seemed to make his mother escape her thoughts, her eyes turning to look at him, from fury eyes to calm and collected.

"Yes, Rhaegar?"

The King opened his mouth to ask what the problem was, but knowing she would probably not tell him, he figured he could talk with her somewhere else. Somewhere more private.

"Can we talk in my chambers?"

"...Of course, my son." Rhaella reluctantly answered, giving one last look at The Stark Party before following her son.

Later

After arriving at his bed chamber, Jon apologized to Val for making her kneel, but she quickly shook her head.

"There's nothing to apologize Jon. I knew this would happen sooner or later." she had reluctantly said. Her injured pride had led them both laying together; this time, she took charge, mounting him like a horse as she screamed his name over and over.

After two hours, Jon remembered Lord Stark told them before they reached their bedchamber that tonight there would be a feast, and he wanted all of them to wear their best clothes.

Jon knowing it was still the middle of the day, he and Val walked outside to explore and look at the place. This was his first time in Harrenhal, but he had Ghost to tell him where to go in case he got lost.

Jon and Val reached the gardens of Harrenhal. Ghost had found a way to walk inside the castle. Unlike the rest of the Direwolves, Ghost was the largest.

Jon and Val quickly found an excellent place to sit. No one was nearby. His head was full of thoughts, and a part of him just wanted to tell them the truth right away, but at the same time, he didn't want to be disappointed.

"What are you thinking of, Jon Snow?" Val asked softly to his ear.

"... I don't know, Val. When I saw him, I expected to feel... Happy, yet, I felt nothing." Jon answered as if ashamed of himself. He felt Val's hand going through his hair.

"You can't blame yourself for that. You know he's your father, but at the same time, he's a complete stranger that you have never met before, you think you should feel love for him, but you can't force yourself to feel feelings that currently don't exist." Val said, kissing his forehead.

"What are you suggesting, my beautiful wife?" Jon asked with a little smile.

"I suggest that you observe them for now. And when you feel ready, reveal yourself, and spend time with each one of them. It won't come right away, but I'm sure eventually you will see them as your family."

"And if that doesn't work, what if they don't end up being the family I yearned for?" Jon reluctantly asked. Val hugged him close, her hair falling over his.

"Then we together can start one. I will always be there for you." Val said, kissing his lips as if to seal her promise. Jon smiled and felt better hearing that.

Jon closed his eyes and decided to do something he knew Val loved when he did it. He cleared his throat loudly.

Don't you think about me enough?

I've been burning my heart out

I've got to face, need to tell you

I won't run because I'm reticent

You will know you're reborn tonight

Must be ragged, but I stay by your side

Even if my body's bleached to the bones

I don't want to go through that ever again

So cry no more, oh my beloved

Go ahead, be proud and fight it out

You are the ONE, our rising star

You guide us far to home.

Don't you think about me enough?

I've been burning my heart out

I've got to face, need to tell you

I won't run because I'm reticent

You will know you're reborn tonight

Must be ragged, but I stay by your side

Even if my body's bleached to the bones

I don't want to go through that ever again

So cry no more, oh my beloved

Go ahead, be proud and fight it out

You are the ONE, our rising star

You guide us far to home.

Val felt her eyes burning at his voice. He always had that effect on her. Jon stopped singing, opening his eyes. He thought of returning to their bedchamber when they heard clapping. They both turned to look to their right. From a garden corridor walked outside, a woman, and by her skin and choice of clothes, she was clearly dornish. She wasn't alone; three other girls accompanied her, but Jon's eyes were on the one clapping and smiling at him.

"Excellent singing, my lord. I haven't heard someone sing quite like that since I heard the King sing," the woman complimented with a husky voice that sent shivers down Jon's spine.

She was buxom and beautiful, with olive skin, large dark eyes, and long, thick black hair that fell in ringlets to the middle of her back. She has full lips and a very beautiful face.

"Thank you for the compliment, my lady?"

"I'm Princess Arianne Martell."