Third Person POV
298 AC, Sunspear, Dorne
The Water Gardens of Sunspear shimmered under the Dornish sun, their pink marble pools reflecting the vibrant bougainvillea that draped the arches. Aeron Sand strode through the lush pathways, his leather armor dusted from travel, swords strapped to his back. His super-soldier-enhanced frame moved with purpose, his dark eyes scanning the serene beauty around him. The scent of citrus and salt filled the air, a stark contrast to the arid sands beyond.
At the heart of the gardens, Prince Doran Martell sat in his wheeled chair, his gout-afflicted legs covered by a light silk blanket. His face, lined with wisdom and pain, softened as Aeron approached. "Aeron Sand," Doran said, his voice warm but measured. "It has been some time since you graced Dorne. How do you fare?"
Aeron bowed slightly, a rare gesture for the brash warrior. "Well, my prince. And you? How's your health?"
Doran's lips curved into a faint smile. "The medicine your king provided works wonders. I can walk for short spells now—a gift I thought lost. Convey my thanks to Dominic Augustus"
"Will do," Aeron said, his grin easy. Before he could speak further, a sultry voice cut through the tranquility.
"Aeron Sand! What new tidings do you bring us?" Princess Arianne Martell emerged from a shaded alcove, her olive skin glowing in a flowing gown of orange and gold. Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief, her full lips curling into a teasing smile as she approached.
Aeron's grin widened. "Princess Arianne. I'm finer than a Dornish vintage. You?"
"Ever the charmer," Arianne said, tossing her raven hair. "Tell me, what's Uruk's Golden King been up to?"
Aeron leaned against a marble pillar, his Afro Samurai grace evident. "Domonic's wed Daenerys Targaryen, for one. They're touring Winterfell now, stirring up the North. And Viserys Targaryen? He's Khal of the biggest khalasar in the Dothraki Sea. A Mad one he is, but we don't know for how long."
Doran's eyes narrowed, his mind already turning over the implications. "A Targaryen khal? Interesting. And Daenerys with Uruk's king… the board shifts."
Arianne raised an eyebrow. "Winterfell? What's Domonic plotting in that frozen wasteland?"
"Knowing him, trouble," Aeron said, chuckling. "But I've a message from him for Prince Doran's eyes only." He produced a sealed scroll from his belt, handing it to the prince.
Doran took it, his fingers deft despite his ailment. He broke the seal, his eyes scanning the parchment. Minutes passed in silence, the only sound the gentle splash of fountains. Finally, he folded the scroll, his expression unreadable. "You must be weary, Aeron. Rest now. I'll summon your father to meet you within the week."
Aeron nodded. "Thank you, my prince." He turned to leave, but Arianne stepped forward.
"I'll show him to his quarters," she said, her tone light but her eyes locked on Aeron's. Doran's gaze flickered between them, but he said nothing, only nodding.
Arianne led Aeron through Sunspear's winding halls, her hips swaying with deliberate grace. The palace's sandstone walls glowed in the afternoon light, tapestries of Martell victories fluttering in the breeze. Neither spoke, the air thick with unspoken tension. At a carved door, Arianne paused, ushering him into a spacious chamber with a canopied bed, silk curtains, and a balcony overlooking the sea.
As the door clicked shut, Arianne turned, her eyes blazing. Aeron met her gaze, and in an instant, they crashed together, lips locking in a fierce, hungry kiss. Their hands moved frantically, tearing at clothes with practiced urgency. Arianne's gown fell in a pool of silk, revealing her curves, while Aeron's armor and tunic hit the floor, his super-soldier physique gleaming with sweat.
Aeron scooped Arianne into his arms, her gasp turning to a laugh as he tossed her onto the bed, the silk sheets cool against her skin. He climbed over her, his dark eyes burning with desire, and their dance of passion began.
Lemon Warning
Arianne arched beneath Aeron, her nails digging into his shoulders as he kissed her deeply, his tongue claiming her mouth. She moaned, her body responding to his superhuman strength, her legs wrapping around his waist. "You've kept me waiting too long," she purred, biting his lip.
"Patience isn't your virtue," Aeron growled, his hands roaming her curves, squeezing her hips. He kissed down her neck, sucking at her pulse, leaving a mark that made her gasp. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.
"Do me more," she demanded, her voice husky. Aeron obliged, his lips trailing to her breasts, his tongue flicking over a nipple. Arianne cried out, her back arching as he sucked, his teeth grazing just enough to spark pleasure. His hand slid to her other breast, kneading, pinching, driving her wild.
She pushed him back, flipping him onto the bed with surprising strength. "My turn," she said, straddling his hips, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She ground against him, feeling his arousal, her smirk wicked. Leaning down, she kissed his chest, her tongue tracing the scars from his battles, each one a story of survival.
Aeron groaned, his hands gripping her thighs. "You're trouble, princess." She laughed, her lips moving lower, teasing his abs, then lower still. Her breath ghosted over him, making him tense, before she took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling. His head fell back, a guttural moan escaping.
"Gods, Arianne," he gasped, his fingers in her hair, guiding her rhythm. She hummed, the vibration sending shocks through him, her pace relentless. Just as he neared the edge, she pulled back, smirking at his frustrated growl.
"Not yet," she teased, climbing back up to kiss him. Aeron flipped her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head. "You're playing with fire," he warned, his voice low.
"Then burn me," she challenged, her eyes defiant. He released her wrists, his hand sliding between her thighs, finding her wet and ready. His fingers teased her folds, circling her clit, making her hips buck. "Aeron!" she cried, her voice breaking.
He slipped a finger inside, curling it, then added another, his thumb pressing her sensitive nerves. Arianne's moans filled the room, her body trembling as he worked her, his super-soldier precision devastating. Her climax hit hard, her scream echoing, her walls clenching around his fingers.
Before she could recover, Aeron positioned himself, entering her in one slow thrust. Arianne gasped, her nails raking his back, the stretch intense. "You're… too much," she panted, but her legs tightened around him, urging him deeper.
He moved, slow at first, savoring her heat, then faster, each thrust driving her higher. "You're mine," he growled, his hands gripping her hips, angling her for deeper penetration. Arianne's cries grew louder, her body shaking with each impact.
"Yes!" she screamed, her second climax building. Aeron's pace was relentless, his superhuman stamina pushing her limits. She clawed at him, her pleasure overwhelming, stars bursting behind her eyes as she shattered again, her walls milking him.
Aeron slowed, kissing her softly, letting her catch her breath. "Still with me?" he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. She nodded, dazed, her smile radiant. He rolled her, pulling her atop him, her thighs straddling his hips.
"Show me what you've got," he said, his hands on her waist. Arianne grinned, rocking her hips, setting a torturous pace. Her breasts bounced, her hair a wild halo, and Aeron groaned, his hands roaming her body, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples.
She leaned down, kissing him fiercely, her movements quickening. "You're… perfect," she gasped, her climax nearing again. Aeron thrust upward, matching her rhythm, his own release building. Their moans mingled, the room a symphony of passion.
Arianne's third climax hit, her scream raw, her body convulsing. Aeron followed, his release flooding her, his growl primal. She collapsed onto his chest, both panting, sweat-slicked, and sated. He held her close, kissing her forehead, their heartbeats syncing.
"Gods, Aeron," she murmured, her voice hoarse. "You'll ruin me for anyone else."
"Good," he said, smirking. "That's the plan."
They lay tangled, the sea breeze cooling their skin through the open balcony. Arianne traced his scars, her touch gentle. "Stay in Dorne," she whispered, half-serious.
"You know I can't," he said, his tone soft. "Uruk calls."
She sighed, nestling closer. "Then come back soon."
Lemon End
Doran sat alone in the Water Gardens, the scroll from Dominic in his lap. Its contents were cryptic yet bold—a proposal of alliance, hints of Targaryen restoration, and a warning of Westeros's brewing chaos. Uruk's king plays a dangerous game, Doran thought, his mind turning to Elia Martell's murder, the Lannisters' betrayal. Dorne waits, but not for long.
Arianne and Aeron, now dressed, shared a quiet moment on the balcony, the sea stretching endless before them. "What did Domonic's message say?" she asked, her voice low.
Aeron shrugged, his grin easy. "Above my pay grade, princess. But knowing Dom, it's big."
She smirked, leaning against him. "Then we'll make our own trouble."
As the sun dipped, Dorne's plots deepened, Uruk's influence spreading like wildfire, and the game of thrones grew ever more perilous.