However, Viserys's attention fell a few steps behind Oberyn, where a woman wearing a thin veil stood. She was dressed in Dornish-style finery, and above the veil, a pair of bright black eyes watched him without any attempt at concealment.
Although he couldn't see her full face, the curiosity in those eyes and a certain scrutiny that had long belonged to the ruling class allowed Viserys to immediately guess her identity: Arianne Martell, the daughter of Prince Doran and one of his fiancées.
"We saw the shadow in the sky and heard the dragon's roar, so we knew it was you. My brother, Prince Doran, has been waiting for you at the Water Gardens, but I think you and your giant dragon companion, Ghidorah, should rest first today. After all, it's almost time for the banquet."
His gaze turned to Viserys and swept over Ghidorah nearby; his meaning was clear—with such a big fellow landing in the heart of the city, things had to be settled properly first to let the startled people calm down.
Viserys nodded. "I am a guest now, so naturally, I'll leave the arrangements to you as the host. Also, the Prince should be well aware that Ghidorah is very quiet, as long as no one takes the initiative to attack her."
"Attack her?" Oberyn laughed. "Unless someone is tired of living. I'll have the beach near the Old Palace cleared; it's spacious and the climate is warm, so your dragon should like it. Your Majesty, please come inside with me first and taste some Dornish wine."
He made a gesture of invitation, but at that moment, someone nearby handed over a plate with some bread and salt on it. It was the ancient guest right ritual of Westeros: as long as one ate the host's bread and salt, the host was obligated to ensure the guest came to no harm. If the host broke the pact, they would suffer severe punishment.
To be honest, Viserys had been in this world for fifteen years, and this was the first time he had encountered this scene. He lived in King's Landing as a child, and when he was older, he had only been to Dragonstone; those places were his own family's territory, so it wasn't necessary. Later, he went to the continent of Essos, but few people there practiced such customs, so he hadn't encountered it.
However, Viserys believed that this "Guest God" might be an Old God who was still alive. After all, in the original story, House Frey was wiped out directly for breaking the pact. Although it looked like Arya's doing, no one knew if this god had secretly helped her.
After eating the bread and salt, the guards who had originally surrounded him, though still clutching their weapons, lost their hostility, which was replaced by curiosity and awe.
Viserys glanced at Ghidorah and told her to fly to the beach next to the Old Palace, a place they had seen from the sky earlier. Then, surrounded by Dornish guards, he followed Oberyn through the famous Threefold Gate and entered the Old Palace.
Oberyn had already prepared a banquet in the Tower of the Sun. The Dornish way of hosting was completely different from the other Six Kingdoms; there were no dull etiquettes or long-winded toasts, only an endless supply of red wine, roasted legs of lamb, bread filled with jam, and the slight sound of maidservants' bare feet on the stone slabs.
During the meal, Oberyn talked and laughed freely, describing the local customs of Dorne and occasionally mentioning the situation in King's Landing, his tone full of hatred for the Lannisters.
"Tywin, that old lion, thought Dorne would remain silent," Oberyn said, drinking Dorne's own wine. "But he was wrong. Dorne never forgets, and certainly never forgives."
Ashara and the Sand Snake sisters were also at the table, but because Oberyn was there, they rarely took the initiative to speak with Viserys.
After the banquet, Oberyn arranged for Viserys to stay in a room on the top floor of the Tower of the Sun. "Tomorrow I will take you to the Water Gardens to see Doran. He is in poor health and rarely leaves there, but he insisted on meeting you in person."
Viserys nodded in agreement.
About an hour later, there was a soft knock on his room door.
Before he could respond, the door was opened.
Obara was the first to enter, holding a candlestick. She wasn't carrying her Dornish spear tonight; she wore only a Dornish-style deep red bodice on top and loose silk trousers of the same color below. Her tall figure almost blocked the people behind her.
Tyene followed close behind, still wearing that gentle smile. Her skin looked even fairer in the candlelight. A green off-the-shoulder gown outlined her figure with striking curves. She held a small brazier burning with incense, the rising white smoke carrying a sweet fragrance.
Next was Nymeria, who winked at Viserys after squeezing in. Those two daggers were still hanging at her waist, but her attire tonight was exceptionally bold: a nearly transparent gauze outer garment over an embroidered bandeau that barely covered her chest, with a long skirt slit all the way to the top of her thigh, captivating the soul with every step.
Then they stepped aside. Arianne Martell walked in.
She had now removed her veil. Viserys finally saw her full face; she hadn't taken off the veil even during the banquet.
This was a face from which it was hard to look away—large, deep black eyes with long, thick lashes. Her nose was high and elegant, and the contours of her lips were full and clear, currently slightly pursed. Her complexion was the olive tone characteristic of House Martell, even and delicate.
Her hair wasn't deliberately styled; thick, dark brown curls cascaded from both shoulders, the ends adorned with a few small pearls. She wore a Dornish-style white gauze gown with a very low neckline, revealing a large expanse of wheat-colored skin and delicate collarbones.
However, she was only five feet two inches tall, a petite beauty. She stood before Viserys like that, letting him look her over as he pleased.
Looking at this face, Viserys recalled the description in the original story: "Princess Arianne is famous for her beauty; while perhaps not a peerless beauty, she is a rare find in Dorne."
"Your Majesty, we finally meet," Arianne spoke first.
Viserys looked at her. "Princess Martell."
"Call me Arianne," she said, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly. "After all, there is a marriage contract between us. This late-night visit is a bit rude, but Uncle Oberyn insisted I come."
"It was our insistence," Nymeria corrected her, sitting down on Viserys's bedside without ceremony. She crossed her legs, and the slit skirt fell away, revealing her entire beautifully lined thigh.
"Arianne Martell has waited for you in the family castle for seven years. Now that you're here, she can't just watch you across the mutton at a banquet."
Arianne didn't deny Nymeria's words, but she just stood there, looking directly at Viserys.
Obara closed the door and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest in a spectator's posture. Tyene stood by the window, unconsciously twirling a lock of hair with her fingers, but her eyes remained fixed on Viserys.
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