If you love Game of Thrones but you haven’t read the books, you’re missing the badass Arianne Martell. She’s princess of Dorne, doughter of Doran Martell and one of the best female characters in Westeros.
fun fact: the client asked to use a notebook with handwritten french poetry which i know none of. we copied down a couple of poems from the internet and also a french translation of The National song lyrics (sad it didn’t get into the final shot, but it’s all unreadable anyway)
IMAGINE….being a Stark and being sent to Dorne to marry Oberyn Martell.
You were the eldest daughter and second child to Lord
Rickard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell. As a part of his “southern ambitions,”
you were sent to Dorne to wed the youngest Martell and second Prince of Dorne.
Holding your head high as you stepped into the throne room
of the Old Palace of Sunspear where sat the throne of House Martell, you did
your very best to not show fear. You were a wolf of the North, a daughter to
House Stark, and you wouldn’t be frightened by a few vipers – even those hidden
in the grasses just beyond your view.
“Lady Y/n,” Prince Doran, the ruling Prince of Dorne,
greeted getting to his feet and flashing you a gentle and kind smile.
You fell into a deep curtsy, just as you had been taught,
and bent your head to show submission. It seemed like the smartest course of
action until you came to truly know and trust the members of House Martell. The
Dornish were temperamental people, you knew, and you didn’t wish to slight them
in any way and make them hate you before they came to truly understand you.
“Prince Doran, it is an honor to be in Dorne and I pray that
my marriage to your brother will prove to be successful.” The words were
rehearsed, you had been saying them to yourself for the past month and a half
during your journey from Winterfell to there.
A door opened behind you and you turned just in time to get
your first glance at your betrothed and future husband.
The sight of him knocked the air from your lungs and it took
all you had not to blush in excitement. He was handsome, one of the most
handsomest men you had ever seen. The way he looked – his dark features and
olive skin – and the cocky way he carried himself as he held your gaze and
moved across the room toward you and his brother, it was all enough to cause a
stirring in the lower bit of your stomach that had you dropping your gaze and
turning back around to Prince Doran.
“Oberyn, this is Lady…”
“Y/n Stark,” even his voice was enough to make you want him. It was strange but thrilling
feeling. You had never wanted…desired
anyone before. “It is a pleasure to meet you, My Lady.” His voice was full of
Taking a moment to still your heart, you looked up at him
and smirked, “The pleasure is all mine, My Prince.” Oh and how great a pleasure it was…