silver scars

That conversation came to an end when Francis arrived for his shift, “Enough slacking around with girls, Carriedo, it’s my turn for that”. The two greeted each other and Antonio pointed at the drunken man on the other side of the counter, “He’s had enough drinks, if he asks for more he’s out of here”. With Francis keeping up with the bar, Antonio swiftly prepared three cocktails and he set them on a tray before venturing through the club with it. There were a few small stages scattered around the place, a girl pole-dancing on each of them. Antonio walked by them and he placed the colorful drinks on the stages of the girls who would sip them throughout their shift. The last drink went to the main stage, where the club’s red-haired doll was stripping for the viewing pleasure of the crowd of drooling men gathered around the stage. Antonio simply pushed his way through them and he placed the last drink next to Sansa. “My shift is over, gorgeous, make sure you take off that bodice before I leave”. He winked at her and he made his way back to the bar, where he slipped off his apron and got ready to leave. But while his shift had come to an end, the night had just started for Antonio. He would simply walk out of that club and then walk into another, to find a good lay for the night.

"Craving another drink? Come to my place and I'll satisfy your needs," Antonio smirked and he tossed away the cigarette. "You know they say I'm the best in town," he had quite a reputation as a bartender, but the way he fucked was just as well-known as his drinks. Right then Antonio wasn't referring to his skills behind the bar.

That conversation came to an end when Francis arrived for his shift, “Enough slacking around with girls, Carriedo, it’s my turn for that”. The two greeted each other and Antonio pointed at the drunken man on the other side of the counter, “He’s had enough drinks, if he asks for more he’s out of here”. With Francis keeping up with the bar, Antonio swiftly prepared three cocktails and he set them on a tray before venturing through the club with it. There were a few small stages scattered around the place, a girl pole-dancing on each of them. Antonio walked by them and he placed the colorful drinks on the stages of the girls who would sip them throughout their shift. The last drink went to the main stage, where the club’s red-haired doll was stripping for the viewing pleasure of the crowd of drooling men gathered around the stage. Antonio simply pushed his way through them and he placed the last drink next to Sansa. “My shift is over, gorgeous, make sure you take off that bodice before I leave”. He winked at her and he made his way back to the bar, where he slipped off his apron and got ready to leave. But while his shift had come to an end, the night had just started for Antonio. He would simply walk out of that club and then walk into another, to find a good lay for the night.

“I’ll be getting off soon…and I suspect you will be as well.” The double entendre was obvious in Sansa’s words and made even more obvious by the little giggle that escaped Sansa. There was no denying that the Spaniard was incredibly attractive. Like, he was so fucking hot, hotter then any other guy Sansa had ever seen. But as hot as he was, he was kind of a dick. Sansa didn’t want to be another notch in his belt. She wanted to be more then just an easy lay. Sansa went back to her pole, that smirk still set upon her lips as she began to slip off her top.

He stopped walking and simply stood there, observing the man. Sansa seemed to be his favorite girl, he’d give her heavy tips, but he’d touch her too. It was common for bartenders to hear conversations they shouldn’t have heard and a few nights before Antonio had overheard the man talking to his boss, he was saying he wanted Sansa for the night, all for himself, he’d pay for her. Flacks, the owner of the club, didn’t seem at ease, but Antonio didn’t get to hear his answer. Now the man was there and his free hand, the one that wasn’t holding the golden cane, grabbed Sansa’s ass. Antonio let out a snort and he made his way back to the stage. “Sir, there’s a few girls right across the street who will let you touch them for money. But this is not what Velvet does”, Antonio looked down and he gave the golden cane an unimpressed look. “A whore would suit you better, but you will find none here. Please leave”. Outrage made the man go red and widen his eyes, he reached inside his fur coat, but before he could draw anything from it Ludwig and Jon came to stand next to him. Antonio smirked and he nodded to greet the two bouncers, “Lud, Jon, will you show our friend the exit? He must be lost”.

Sansa was covering herself with one of her arms, a surly look upon her face. She reached down and picked up the drink Antonio had given her before heading back stage. Her set was over anyways. She didn’t bother to put a top on, sitting back in a chair and lighting up a cigarette for herself. This job could be so stressful at times, which is what caused her to smoke even more then she did before. Sansa wished that the owner would just grow some balls and keep Baelish out of the club. Plenty of rich men came there, they could afford to lose him.

“I did exactly what you should have done, Flacks, telling the man the girls are no whores. He keeps touching Velvet and everyone in here knows that’s not what she’s paid for... or have you forgotten? There’s rules, Flacks, rules. Remember the rules. That’s what you always tell me, right?”, “Shut up!!!”, “You asked me what I had done. I told you”. The little man clung to Antonio’s jacket, red-faced and trembling, “Get out of here, Carriedo, get out and never come back again!”. Yet again Antonio barely reacted, he brushed the man’s hands off of himself and he walked away, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Flacks. Good night”. His boss had already yelled those words at him, various times, yet Antonio never lost his job, he was too good at it. He was one hell of a bartender. The following night he would be at the club again. 

That conversation came to an end when Francis arrived for his shift, “Enough slacking around with girls, Carriedo, it’s my turn for that”. The two greeted each other and Antonio pointed at the drunken man on the other side of the counter, “He’s had enough drinks, if he asks for more he’s out of here”. With Francis keeping up with the bar, Antonio swiftly prepared three cocktails and he set them on a tray before venturing through the club with it. There were a few small stages scattered around the place, a girl pole-dancing on each of them. Antonio walked by them and he placed the colorful drinks on the stages of the girls who would sip them throughout their shift. The last drink went to the main stage, where the club’s red-haired doll was stripping for the viewing pleasure of the crowd of drooling men gathered around the stage. Antonio simply pushed his way through them and he placed the last drink next to Sansa. “My shift is over, gorgeous, make sure you take off that bodice before I leave”. He winked at her and he made his way back to the bar, where he slipped off his apron and got ready to leave. But while his shift had come to an end, the night had just started for Antonio. He would simply walk out of that club and then walk into another, to find a good lay for the night.

“I’ll be getting off soon…and I suspect you will be as well.” The double entendre was obvious in Sansa’s words and made even more obvious by the little giggle that escaped Sansa. There was no denying that the Spaniard was incredibly attractive. Like, he was so fucking hot, hotter then any other guy Sansa had ever seen. But as hot as he was, he was kind of a dick. Sansa didn’t want to be another notch in his belt. She wanted to be more then just an easy lay. Sansa went back to her pole, that smirk still set upon her lips as she began to slip off her top.

He stopped walking and simply stood there, observing the man. Sansa seemed to be his favorite girl, he’d give her heavy tips, but he’d touch her too. It was common for bartenders to hear conversations they shouldn’t have heard and a few nights before Antonio had overheard the man talking to his boss, he was saying he wanted Sansa for the night, all for himself, he’d pay for her. Flacks, the owner of the club, didn’t seem at ease, but Antonio didn’t get to hear his answer. Now the man was there and his free hand, the one that wasn’t holding the golden cane, grabbed Sansa’s ass. Antonio let out a snort and he made his way back to the stage. “Sir, there’s a few girls right across the street who will let you touch them for money. But this is not what Velvet does”, Antonio looked down and he gave the golden cane an unimpressed look. “A whore would suit you better, but you will find none here. Please leave”. Outrage made the man go red and widen his eyes, he reached inside his fur coat, but before he could draw anything from it Ludwig and Jon came to stand next to him. Antonio smirked and he nodded to greet the two bouncers, “Lud, Jon, will you show our friend the exit? He must be lost”.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Prince returned to his chambers, perfectly ignoring the air of uncertainty that lingered over his servants. They all knew his wife was alive for some reason, but they did not dare ask for explanations or for orders regarding the new bride. The Prince merely went on with his usual morning routine, brief meetings with men he would barely listen to, signed documents and decisions someone else would carry out for him. When Arianne’s voice was heard calling for him down the large corridor and her quick footsteps approached the chambers it became clear that she too knew about the wife who had survived. 

Antonio pulled up his pants and he went to prepare himself a pipe. From the couch he was sitting on he shouted at the servants standing in the corridor to make them open the door and they did so. He had told Arianne to come when the door would be opened. He’d show her why he had spared the girl’s life and then he’d kill his bride. The Prince went to lay on the bed, the pipe held between his lips, and emerald eyes laid on Sansa. “The time has come. Tonight you will tell me the rest of the story, won’t you?”.

Sansa took a deep breath before finally continuing the story. But as that story ended, Sansa decided to once again save herself. The only way she could save herself was through stories. Her words would be her weapon, her shield. Once she had finished the story, Sansa quickly thought of another. “If you liked that story…” Then she shook her head, baiting her husband. “No, you wouldn’t want to hear about it….”

Antonio was silently studying Sansa, he didn’t show half the enthusiasm his sister did. But he had not interrupted the girl until then, it meant he was interested in what she was saying. The man stood up and a servant filled a goblet of wine for him before he even asked, they knew him well. So Antonio returned to bed, sipping his wine, he nodded at Sansa and he murmured, “Tell me what you have to say, wife, I want to know”.

Sansa began to weave her next tale. This one was one of her favorites. It was about a fool falling in love with a maiden named Jonquil. Sansa had always loved the tale when she was younger and her mind was full of foolish dreams of gallantry and true love.

"You shouldn't even be alive". A dark woman stood by the bed, towering over Sansa and distaste contorted her otherwise beautiful features. She had long curly hair, tied in a long braid and her silken dress hid nothing, a golden waist band fell below her abdomen and hid from view her intimacy. Her dark skin shimmered when light touched it. Her words were whispered, as if hissed by the tongue of a serpent. She did not wish to awaken the Prince, she had her own plans and the little bride was not part of those plans. The woman pulled the covers away from Sansa and, touching her with the tips of her long fingers, as if she had been touching something dirty, she brushed the girl's hair away from her face. "You are nothing but a brat... A goat could probably please him better. Get out of here. Up, up...". The woman was one of the few persons who had free access to the Prince's chambers, because she would bring him pleasure. She was his current lover, one of his current lovers.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Prince returned to his chambers, perfectly ignoring the air of uncertainty that lingered over his servants. They all knew his wife was alive for some reason, but they did not dare ask for explanations or for orders regarding the new bride. The Prince merely went on with his usual morning routine, brief meetings with men he would barely listen to, signed documents and decisions someone else would carry out for him. When Arianne’s voice was heard calling for him down the large corridor and her quick footsteps approached the chambers it became clear that she too knew about the wife who had survived. 

Antonio pulled up his pants and he went to prepare himself a pipe. From the couch he was sitting on he shouted at the servants standing in the corridor to make them open the door and they did so. He had told Arianne to come when the door would be opened. He’d show her why he had spared the girl’s life and then he’d kill his bride. The Prince went to lay on the bed, the pipe held between his lips, and emerald eyes laid on Sansa. “The time has come. Tonight you will tell me the rest of the story, won’t you?”.

Sansa took a deep breath before finally continuing the story. But as that story ended, Sansa decided to once again save herself. The only way she could save herself was through stories. Her words would be her weapon, her shield. Once she had finished the story, Sansa quickly thought of another. “If you liked that story…” Then she shook her head, baiting her husband. “No, you wouldn’t want to hear about it….”

Antonio was silently studying Sansa, he didn't show half the enthusiasm his sister did. But he had not interrupted the girl until then, it meant he was interested in what she was saying. The man stood up and a servant filled a goblet of wine for him before he even asked, they knew him well. So Antonio returned to bed, sipping his wine, he nodded at Sansa and he murmured, "Tell me what you have to say, wife, I want to know".

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Prince returned to his chambers, perfectly ignoring the air of uncertainty that lingered over his servants. They all knew his wife was alive for some reason, but they did not dare ask for explanations or for orders regarding the new bride. The Prince merely went on with his usual morning routine, brief meetings with men he would barely listen to, signed documents and decisions someone else would carry out for him. When Arianne’s voice was heard calling for him down the large corridor and her quick footsteps approached the chambers it became clear that she too knew about the wife who had survived. 

Antonio pulled up his pants and he went to prepare himself a pipe. From the couch he was sitting on he shouted at the servants standing in the corridor to make them open the door and they did so. He had told Arianne to come when the door would be opened. He'd show her why he had spared the girl's life and then he'd kill his bride. The Prince went to lay on the bed, the pipe held between his lips, and emerald eyes laid on Sansa. "The time has come. Tonight you will tell me the rest of the story, won't you?".

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Prince returned to his chambers, perfectly ignoring the air of uncertainty that lingered over his servants. They all knew his wife was alive for some reason, but they did not dare ask for explanations or for orders regarding the new bride. The Prince merely went on with his usual morning routine, brief meetings with men he would barely listen to, signed documents and decisions someone else would carry out for him. When Arianne’s voice was heard calling for him down the large corridor and her quick footsteps approached the chambers it became clear that she too knew about the wife who had survived. 

He would not listen to Arianne’s rambling about the northern girl again. He’d just listen to the story, use her one last time and then he’d kill her, to move on and marry his next bride.

“I shall tell you tonight, your grace. It is not proper for us to be alone in the middle of the day. You will have to wait until tonight, my prince.”

“Now don’t make me explain to you what it means to be my wife. I will not use words, Sansa.” One of his hands caressed her chin, to raise it, then it slid down to her throat. “How does the story end?”.

But Arianne simply walked over to Sansa and took her hand. “Come, Princess, I want to show you the water gardens.” Arianne glared at her brother, pushing his hand aside before pulling Sansa out of the room, leaving her brother behind.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Prince returned to his chambers, perfectly ignoring the air of uncertainty that lingered over his servants. They all knew his wife was alive for some reason, but they did not dare ask for explanations or for orders regarding the new bride. The Prince merely went on with his usual morning routine, brief meetings with men he would barely listen to, signed documents and decisions someone else would carry out for him. When Arianne’s voice was heard calling for him down the large corridor and her quick footsteps approached the chambers it became clear that she too knew about the wife who had survived. 

He would not listen to Arianne’s rambling about the northern girl again. He’d just listen to the story, use her one last time and then he’d kill her, to move on and marry his next bride.

“I shall tell you tonight, your grace. It is not proper for us to be alone in the middle of the day. You will have to wait until tonight, my prince.”

"Now don't make me explain to you what it means to be my wife. I will not use words, Sansa." One of his hands caressed her chin, to raise it, then it slid down to her throat. "How does the story end?".

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Prince returned to his chambers, perfectly ignoring the air of uncertainty that lingered over his servants. They all knew his wife was alive for some reason, but they did not dare ask for explanations or for orders regarding the new bride. The Prince merely went on with his usual morning routine, brief meetings with men he would barely listen to, signed documents and decisions someone else would carry out for him. When Arianne’s voice was heard calling for him down the large corridor and her quick footsteps approached the chambers it became clear that she too knew about the wife who had survived. 

He would not listen to Arianne's rambling about the northern girl again. He'd just listen to the story, use her one last time and then he'd kill her, to move on and marry his next bride.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Prince returned to his chambers, perfectly ignoring the air of uncertainty that lingered over his servants. They all knew his wife was alive for some reason, but they did not dare ask for explanations or for orders regarding the new bride. The Prince merely went on with his usual morning routine, brief meetings with men he would barely listen to, signed documents and decisions someone else would carry out for him. When Arianne’s voice was heard calling for him down the large corridor and her quick footsteps approached the chambers it became clear that she too knew about the wife who had survived. 

The young woman went to sit with her brother, her dark eyes full of a certain interest. Her and Antonio had always been close. They looked so very similar, though their eyes had always been different. Hers were dark while his were the color of emeralds. Arianne had always been envious of his eyes. “She is very beautiful…but all of your brides have been beautiful. She is not as beautiful as some of the brides you have had. What is it about her?”

Long before, when the Prince was just a child with lots of expectations weighing on his skinny shoulders, one of the maids who brought him up had told him bedtime stories. She came from lands far away and, like Sansa, she’d tell him the stories of those lands. He would spend days looking forward to those stories and that day, as a grown-up man, he was still waiting to hear a story. But he could not tell his sister, she would not understand. “Come to her chambers tonight. You will understand why she is still alive”.

“And even if I wanted to watch you bed your child bride, the sight would not be a pleasant one. Dornish girls know what to do in the bedroom, girls in the North…they’re all raised to be frigid.” A small smirk crossed Arianne’s lips and she leaned over to whisper to Antonio. “Arys knew her. Poor man is all torn up about something he did to her….I can’t help but wonder what that is…aren’t you curious?”

Interest sparked through his eyes when Arianne told him about the shared past of his wife and Arys. Antonio loved playing with his victims and while he may have allowed Sansa to see the sun once more, it did not mean she would be enjoying the extra time she had been granted. The chance to torture her with painful memories, seemed extremely alluring to Antonio. “Well I’d love to see how sorrow or fear might look on the pretty face of the girl. Summon Arys”. Antonio then called for one of the servants and he told the young man to bring him Sansa.

Arianne tucked her legs under her, a causal position for a Princess. “Your little wife lived with Joffrey and Cersei for years now…she knows them and many others in the court very well. Perhaps you can use your…skills in the bedroom to get some information out of her. The girl might as well have some use since you aren’t planning on using her to make an heir. That is something you should be thinking about, brother. Unless you intend to allow me to rule Dorne.” A grin lit up Arianne’s face at the thought. “On second thought, forget I said anything.”

When Arianne mentioned ruling Dorne he looked back at her, from the corner of his eye. A little chuckle left his lips. It was well known that Antonio was without heir, ever since he himself had killed the the two children his first wife had given him. He had killed them in front of their mother, right before the same sword took the woman’s life as well. Theirs had been the only blood pure enough for the throne. “I heard you, Arianne. Do you still think I’d mind handing Dorne to you? I do not intend to die, that’s the only thing that will keep you from lying a finger on that throne. So lower your hopes… But you know I’d rather offer this heavy duty to you than to anyone else. I can trust you alone”.

“You would not kill one of my companions, would you, brother? You will have your Princess, she will give you heirs and all you have to do is lay with her at night. She’s not unpleasant to look upon, you should be able to manage that.” Arianne did not know the girl very well at all, but she had to admit that she was useful. 

Antonio had bastards from many women, only very few of them still lived in the palace, because they were very young and because their mothers still worked there, or were married to some of the lords who lived there. Once they would learn to walk and talk, they would be sent away. “You wish to talk to her? You may do that today, but that is as far as you will enjoy her company”.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Prince returned to his chambers, perfectly ignoring the air of uncertainty that lingered over his servants. They all knew his wife was alive for some reason, but they did not dare ask for explanations or for orders regarding the new bride. The Prince merely went on with his usual morning routine, brief meetings with men he would barely listen to, signed documents and decisions someone else would carry out for him. When Arianne’s voice was heard calling for him down the large corridor and her quick footsteps approached the chambers it became clear that she too knew about the wife who had survived. 

The young woman went to sit with her brother, her dark eyes full of a certain interest. Her and Antonio had always been close. They looked so very similar, though their eyes had always been different. Hers were dark while his were the color of emeralds. Arianne had always been envious of his eyes. “She is very beautiful…but all of your brides have been beautiful. She is not as beautiful as some of the brides you have had. What is it about her?”

Long before, when the Prince was just a child with lots of expectations weighing on his skinny shoulders, one of the maids who brought him up had told him bedtime stories. She came from lands far away and, like Sansa, she’d tell him the stories of those lands. He would spend days looking forward to those stories and that day, as a grown-up man, he was still waiting to hear a story. But he could not tell his sister, she would not understand. “Come to her chambers tonight. You will understand why she is still alive”.

“And even if I wanted to watch you bed your child bride, the sight would not be a pleasant one. Dornish girls know what to do in the bedroom, girls in the North…they’re all raised to be frigid.” A small smirk crossed Arianne’s lips and she leaned over to whisper to Antonio. “Arys knew her. Poor man is all torn up about something he did to her….I can’t help but wonder what that is…aren’t you curious?”

Interest sparked through his eyes when Arianne told him about the shared past of his wife and Arys. Antonio loved playing with his victims and while he may have allowed Sansa to see the sun once more, it did not mean she would be enjoying the extra time she had been granted. The chance to torture her with painful memories, seemed extremely alluring to Antonio. “Well I’d love to see how sorrow or fear might look on the pretty face of the girl. Summon Arys”. Antonio then called for one of the servants and he told the young man to bring him Sansa.

Arianne tucked her legs under her, a causal position for a Princess. “Your little wife lived with Joffrey and Cersei for years now…she knows them and many others in the court very well. Perhaps you can use your…skills in the bedroom to get some information out of her. The girl might as well have some use since you aren’t planning on using her to make an heir. That is something you should be thinking about, brother. Unless you intend to allow me to rule Dorne.” A grin lit up Arianne’s face at the thought. “On second thought, forget I said anything.”

When Arianne mentioned ruling Dorne he looked back at her, from the corner of his eye. A little chuckle left his lips. It was well known that Antonio was without heir, ever since he himself had killed the the two children his first wife had given him. He had killed them in front of their mother, right before the same sword took the woman’s life as well. Theirs had been the only blood pure enough for the throne. “I heard you, Arianne. Do you still think I’d mind handing Dorne to you? I do not intend to die, that’s the only thing that will keep you from lying a finger on that throne. So lower your hopes… But you know I’d rather offer this heavy duty to you than to anyone else. I can trust you alone”.

“You would not kill one of my companions, would you, brother? You will have your Princess, she will give you heirs and all you have to do is lay with her at night. She’s not unpleasant to look upon, you should be able to manage that.” Arianne did not know the girl very well at all, but she had to admit that she was useful. 

Antonio had bastards from many women, only very few of them still lived in the palace, because they were very young and because their mothers still worked there, or were married to some of the lords who lived there. Once they would learn to walk and talk, they would be sent away. "You wish to talk to her? You may do that today, but that is as far as you will enjoy her company".

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Prince returned to his chambers, perfectly ignoring the air of uncertainty that lingered over his servants. They all knew his wife was alive for some reason, but they did not dare ask for explanations or for orders regarding the new bride. The Prince merely went on with his usual morning routine, brief meetings with men he would barely listen to, signed documents and decisions someone else would carry out for him. When Arianne’s voice was heard calling for him down the large corridor and her quick footsteps approached the chambers it became clear that she too knew about the wife who had survived. 

The young woman went to sit with her brother, her dark eyes full of a certain interest. Her and Antonio had always been close. They looked so very similar, though their eyes had always been different. Hers were dark while his were the color of emeralds. Arianne had always been envious of his eyes. “She is very beautiful…but all of your brides have been beautiful. She is not as beautiful as some of the brides you have had. What is it about her?”

Long before, when the Prince was just a child with lots of expectations weighing on his skinny shoulders, one of the maids who brought him up had told him bedtime stories. She came from lands far away and, like Sansa, she’d tell him the stories of those lands. He would spend days looking forward to those stories and that day, as a grown-up man, he was still waiting to hear a story. But he could not tell his sister, she would not understand. “Come to her chambers tonight. You will understand why she is still alive”.

“And even if I wanted to watch you bed your child bride, the sight would not be a pleasant one. Dornish girls know what to do in the bedroom, girls in the North…they’re all raised to be frigid.” A small smirk crossed Arianne’s lips and she leaned over to whisper to Antonio. “Arys knew her. Poor man is all torn up about something he did to her….I can’t help but wonder what that is…aren’t you curious?”

Interest sparked through his eyes when Arianne told him about the shared past of his wife and Arys. Antonio loved playing with his victims and while he may have allowed Sansa to see the sun once more, it did not mean she would be enjoying the extra time she had been granted. The chance to torture her with painful memories, seemed extremely alluring to Antonio. “Well I’d love to see how sorrow or fear might look on the pretty face of the girl. Summon Arys”. Antonio then called for one of the servants and he told the young man to bring him Sansa.

Arianne tucked her legs under her, a causal position for a Princess. “Your little wife lived with Joffrey and Cersei for years now…she knows them and many others in the court very well. Perhaps you can use your…skills in the bedroom to get some information out of her. The girl might as well have some use since you aren’t planning on using her to make an heir. That is something you should be thinking about, brother. Unless you intend to allow me to rule Dorne.” A grin lit up Arianne’s face at the thought. “On second thought, forget I said anything.”

When Arianne mentioned ruling Dorne he looked back at her, from the corner of his eye. A little chuckle left his lips. It was well known that Antonio was without heir, ever since he himself had killed the the two children his first wife had given him. He had killed them in front of their mother, right before the same sword took the woman's life as well. Theirs had been the only blood pure enough for the throne. "I heard you, Arianne. Do you still think I'd mind handing Dorne to you? I do not intend to die, that's the only thing that will keep you from lying a finger on that throne. So lower your hopes... But you know I'd rather offer this heavy duty to you than to anyone else. I can trust you alone".

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Prince returned to his chambers, perfectly ignoring the air of uncertainty that lingered over his servants. They all knew his wife was alive for some reason, but they did not dare ask for explanations or for orders regarding the new bride. The Prince merely went on with his usual morning routine, brief meetings with men he would barely listen to, signed documents and decisions someone else would carry out for him. When Arianne’s voice was heard calling for him down the large corridor and her quick footsteps approached the chambers it became clear that she too knew about the wife who had survived. 

The young woman went to sit with her brother, her dark eyes full of a certain interest. Her and Antonio had always been close. They looked so very similar, though their eyes had always been different. Hers were dark while his were the color of emeralds. Arianne had always been envious of his eyes. “She is very beautiful…but all of your brides have been beautiful. She is not as beautiful as some of the brides you have had. What is it about her?”

Long before, when the Prince was just a child with lots of expectations weighing on his skinny shoulders, one of the maids who brought him up had told him bedtime stories. She came from lands far away and, like Sansa, she’d tell him the stories of those lands. He would spend days looking forward to those stories and that day, as a grown-up man, he was still waiting to hear a story. But he could not tell his sister, she would not understand. “Come to her chambers tonight. You will understand why she is still alive”.

“And even if I wanted to watch you bed your child bride, the sight would not be a pleasant one. Dornish girls know what to do in the bedroom, girls in the North…they’re all raised to be frigid.” A small smirk crossed Arianne’s lips and she leaned over to whisper to Antonio. “Arys knew her. Poor man is all torn up about something he did to her….I can’t help but wonder what that is…aren’t you curious?”

Interest sparked through his eyes when Arianne told him about the shared past of his wife and Arys. Antonio loved playing with his victims and while he may have allowed Sansa to see the sun once more, it did not mean she would be enjoying the extra time she had been granted. The chance to torture her with painful memories, seemed extremely alluring to Antonio. "Well I'd love to see how sorrow or fear might look on the pretty face of the girl. Summon Arys". Antonio then called for one of the servants and he told the young man to bring him Sansa.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Prince returned to his chambers, perfectly ignoring the air of uncertainty that lingered over his servants. They all knew his wife was alive for some reason, but they did not dare ask for explanations or for orders regarding the new bride. The Prince merely went on with his usual morning routine, brief meetings with men he would barely listen to, signed documents and decisions someone else would carry out for him. When Arianne’s voice was heard calling for him down the large corridor and her quick footsteps approached the chambers it became clear that she too knew about the wife who had survived. 

The young woman went to sit with her brother, her dark eyes full of a certain interest. Her and Antonio had always been close. They looked so very similar, though their eyes had always been different. Hers were dark while his were the color of emeralds. Arianne had always been envious of his eyes. “She is very beautiful…but all of your brides have been beautiful. She is not as beautiful as some of the brides you have had. What is it about her?”

Long before, when the Prince was just a child with lots of expectations weighing on his skinny shoulders, one of the maids who brought him up had told him bedtime stories. She came from lands far away and, like Sansa, she'd tell him the stories of those lands. He would spend days looking forward to those stories and that day, as a grown-up man, he was still waiting to hear a story. But he could not tell his sister, she would not understand. "Come to her chambers tonight. You will understand why she is still alive".

Based on traditional Marwari tack.

Inktober day 16: Daggers