Kissed by Fire

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to George R.R. Martin and J.K. Rowling.

A/N: The names of Prince Doran's parents were never mentioned, so I made up her name and make one of the Martells' vassal houses who had connection with the Targaryens as the former house of the Prince Consort. Also, this is Rhaegar/Hermione fic, so if you don't like, don't read. Cheers.

Chapter 1

Sunspear, 262 AC

The storm is raging above the Old Palace, where the Martells live in and ruled. The storm was so bad, it was raining ice the size of an adult's fist. The wind was howling, so different from the usual gentle breeze the residents used to, making it the coldest night ever felt for years to come. The dark sky would be alight once in a while as the lightning bolt strikes the earth with loud rumbling sound. So loud, it sometimes drowned the sound of Princess Arielle shouts as she fight to bring her child into the world. Suddenly, her shout was joined by a loud wailing sound. A cry of a babe. And then it's on, and on and on.

Not long after, the Maester exited the room to greet the expecting father.

"What is it, Maester? Does the Princess and the babe, alright?" The Prince Consort asked anxiously. The Maester smile.

"The babe is a girl, Your Grace, healthy as the flowers blooming in the Water Gardens. Have a pair of great lungs, too, as you can hear. She and the Princess are fine. Come, see for yourself." The Maester said. The Prince Consort smile and excitedly enters the room, leaving his five and ten years old namesake in charge of his youngest two. The Prince Doran, who is a squire to Lord Gargalen at Salt Shore was home for the birth of his newest sibling.

The Prince Consort was greeted by the sight of his wife, still laying on the bed, sweaty and just in her night gown being cleaned by the midwife, holding a babe in a little bundle, still squirming and crying despite his wife's effort to quieten the babe.

"My Princess." He called as he walked closer to his wife's side.

"My Prince, may I present our youngest and second daughter?" She said as she angled her arms so the Prince could see their babe.

The Prince gasped as he takes the first look of his daughter. Unlike his previous children, the babe possessed hair the colour of Dornish Red Wine that reminds him of his late mother who came from Lys instead of black. Like it was 'kissed by fire', something people said every time they talked about his mother fondly. And her skin, while still red from the remnant of blood and afterbirth, also from her incessant crying was fairer than her siblings. He didn't know yet about her eyes, still the blue colour of a newborn, but he was sure it would be the dark, enchanting ones of House Martell or Hazel-bluish ones of the Manwoody, his former house. "She's beautiful, My Princess."

"She really is, My Prince." She said, pleased to have confirmation of her own thought. She herself never thought would be blessed with a child after the birth of her youngest son Oberyn, especially after two cradle death and premature birth of her now oldest daughter Elia.

"What should we named this beauty?" He asked his wife.

"I was thinking of Maya. How does it sound?"

"Princess Maya of Dorne." He recited, smiling. "I like it, My Princess."

It was at the time that the midwife finished cleaning her up. "Maester, please call the children. I'm sure they would love to see their newest sibling."

The Maester bowed. "As you wish, Your Grace." He said before moving to do his task.

Not long after that, their three children enter the room in a flurry of movement. The youngest at five years, Oberyn, took no time to climb the bed so he can sit near his mother. Elia, who is only a year older than Oberyn followed in more sedated pace, helped by their oldest, Crown Prince Doran.