Reactons II
Prince Doran Martell, Sunspear
“Our cousins are imprisoned by the traitor Lord Dayne, our enemies are in disarray and the little wolf bitch left a lasting insult to our sister and you do nothing but sit in your chair!” His brother raged at him.
“Are you finished?” Doran's voice was tired and flat on the surface but anyone with good ears could hear the warning and angry tone as well. He continued before his brother could express his rage even further, “Sit down and I will tell you why I haven't made any overt moves just yet. Sit down Oberyn.” He repeated when his brother didn't do as he was told.
Reluctantly, Oberyn complied and Doran waited for him to settle before speaking again, “We cannot make any moves against our enemies because we do not have the power to do so. The bulk of our forces were slaughtered at the Trident and we need to protect our borders with what we have left.”
“We cannot let these things go unpunished,” Oberyn argued.
“In some cases we have to,” Doran held up a hand when his brother opened his mouth. “No, Oberyn, you will hear me out on this. We have to let them go unpunished so we can rebuild. And we have to let some of them go because they were not slight's to begin with. Like the Princess Visenya for example.”
“How is the spawn of that northern cunt not a slight?!” Oberyn slammed his hand on Doran's desk, the sound was loud enough that Areo Hotah rushed into the room. Doran held up a hand to show that he was okay before he turned back to his brother.
“Because Princess Visenya was planned for,” Doran replied calmly and Oberyn looked at him incredulously but didn't say a word. Doran continued, “She was needed to further Rhaegar's line -”
“He already had two children for that,” Oberyn spat, interrupting him. “Or did you forget about our niece and nephew?”
“While they were our family, they were not Rhaegar's children, Visenya is the only one.”
Oberyn lunged forward to strangle his brother but Areo rushed forward to grab him just in time.
“It is a crime to harm a prince of Dorne,” Doran remarked. “But in this case, I can make an exception.” He nodded to the dark skinned Norvoshi who yanked at Oberyn's shoulder. Oberyn cried out when he felt his shoulder pop out of the socket and glared at his brother after a moment.
“You are the more martial of the two of us, though I am not with out my talents with a spear,” Doran began coldly. “And lest you forget, I am your older brother. You answer to me, not the other way around. The First Men decreed that the younger child answers to the elder, something our Rhoynish and Andal ancestors echoed to a certain extent. So when I tell you that Aegon and Rhaenys were not Rhaegar's children, you will take my word for it.”
“You lie!” Oberyn hissed, both in pain and anger. “Our sister would never betray Rhaegar in the way you suggest!”
“Who said he did not know of it and did not encourage it,” Again his brother was dumbfounded, if he were not grieving, Doran might have enjoyed himself in this moment. “Our sister was more Dornish than many gave her credit for. You remember the whispers about how she was like a delicate Northern girl from the Reach and such?”
“You know damn well that I remember. I've throttled enough people over it.”
Doran ignored the growled words that his brother offered, “Elia was strong and paid them no mind but in her heart of hearts, she could not bring herself to lie with Rhaegar, for she loved another. And he could not force himself on her for he was not a monster. Slightly foolish perhaps -”
“If what you say is true, then who sired those children?”
His brother was calmer than before but not that much. It was the best that Doran could hope for at this point.
“Arthur Dayne,” Doran replied. “Our sister loved him so, and he loved her.”
“Not enough to stay by her side apparently.” Oberyn remarked bitterly.
“He was still a member of the Kingsguard, he had his duty to perform. If he hadn't then maybe our sister and their children would still live but we will never know. Thank the Gods that Aerys never found out before he was killed.”
“How did you know about this and why did you not tell me?”
“Elia was a wreck after Rhaenys was born, I couldn't understand why,” Doran began. “I remembered Mellario and even mother being happy after they gave birth. It took some time but Elia did confide in me and for the first time in a long time, I was at a loss as to how to help her. I couldn't demand that she lay with her husband, it was not my place. And how could I of all people tell someone to forgo their love for someone when I married for love. But if anyone else found out it would have been disastrous.
“I didn't tell you because you didn't need to know. Tell me true, do you care that they were not Rhaegar's children?”
“I find it more preferable.” Oberyn admitted with a slight grimace. “He was no good for our sister.”
“You're just upset because he was someone who wouldn't fuck you.” Doran replied bluntly. “And no one would ever be good enough for Elia. Not in your eyes at least.”
“He left our sister to die, that is all the reason I need.”
“He did not leave her there, a plan was in place to get her out. But something went wrong,” Doran sighed. “Uncle Lewyn was sent to lead the Loyalist army and Rhaegar was already gone. No one could reach her without raising suspicions.”
“So what was to happen to the children when Rhaegar got a child of his blood into the world? I assume there was a plan as well?” Oberyn snarked.
“Of course. Rhaenys would have come here, to Dorne, perhaps she would have married Lord Anders' son and heir. It would have been good to help with relations between our houses.”
Oberyn looked away briefly. Doran knew that he was not sorry for killing Lord Edgar Yronwood, but he was sorry for the fall out from it. Mainly the fact that Doran's son and Oberyn's oldest daughter were now wards of their biggest rivals despite the fact that both were barely past five name days, with Quentyn having just turned five.
“Aegon would have been encouraged to abdicate his 'claim' to the throne if Lyanna Stark birthed another boy or he would have married Rhaegar's daughter. There is precedence in the Targaryen line for both. Despite their bastardy, they had enough noble blood between them that they weren't entirely horrible matches or ideas.”
Arthur had enough Valyrian blood thanks to his mother who was from Lys and The Martells had Targaryen blood just watered down. The Starks were promised a marriage or two with the dragons but to have one of their kin sit the Iron Throne may have been enough to forgive that outstanding debt.
“And we would have had the throne either way,” Oberyn remarked thoughtfully. “Since Rhaegar was one of our cousins, his daughter is family as well.”
“Precisely,” Doran nodded. “And the North would have been further tied to the South. Their alliance with the richest of the Free Cities is a welcome boon to our combined economy.”
“If this was all planned out, why did you not inform anyone else, especially Lord Rickard? His knowing might have stopped his son from getting himself killed.”
“Too many people knew too much as it was. Not even Queen Rhaella knew of this and she was one of Rhaegar's biggest supporters. Lady Lyanna sent her brother and father letters to explain the situation. Unfortunately, they were intercepted by the now Late Lord Baelish according to my sources.”
Oberyn looked confused, “Who?”
“He was a Vale Lord, from the Fingers to be precise. He wasn't anyone special really, though he did serve as a spy master for Hoster Tully.”
“Ah yes, I remember him now. Small man, oily demeanor, more snake than even a Dornishmen or a Tyrell.” Oberyn winced when he moved too quickly and touched his shoulder. Doran gave Areo a look then a nod. The captain of the household guard snapped Oberyn's shoulder back into place. His brother howled in agony for a brief moment.
“Give me some warning next time,” Oberyn said through gritted teeth.
“It is better to be surprised Prince Oberyn, it hurts less.”
“More Norvoshi wisdom, old friend?” Doran asked.
“A soldiers wisdom, my prince.”
“So Baelish lied to Brandon Stark, for what purpose, what did he hope to gain?” Oberyn ignored their by play to get to the matter at hand.
“Apparently he fancied Lord Tully's oldest daughter. He had challenged Lord Brandon to a duel for her hand. He lost, quite badly I'm told, but he was spared from death at the request of Catelyn Tully, and he only kept his job because his father saved Lord Hoster during the War of the Nine Petty Kings. Lord Baelish was quite embarrassed or so I was told.”
“Revenge,” Oberyn murmured, rotating his shoulder to see how it fared. “I guess he got it then, with the death of Brandon Stark.”
“Brandon Stark isn't dead. Ser Jaime, Queen Rhaella, and Lady Ashara Dayne saw to that.”
“I don't even want to know about that just yet.” Oberyn grumbled. “So we will not touch Rhaegar's child, but what of our cousins?”
“We leave them where they are,” Doran said flatly. “What they attempted to do has brought shame on our house. I have Lord Aelyr's word that they will not be mistreated.”
“They are still uncle Lewyn's children.”
“And he would be appalled at what they attempted to do. Trying to arrest a Lord in his own home? Attempting to Usurp his place before his eldest child was ready to take hers? How they hoped to keep this from me, or even get away with it, I know not. But they will pay the price and we will not lift a finger to help them.”
“At least have them turned over into our custody,” Oberyn suggested.
“No, Oberyn. Our Northern Bannerman, that is to say, the ones that keep to the old ways as well as the new, are watching how we respond to this.”
“Then let them watch!” Oberyn snapped back. “We cannot just do nothing.”
“We must, you don't understand Oberyn, the Northern Dornish houses are the only ones holding our enemies at bay on land. They do their job well and the only time they let anyone through was because it was intentional.”
“They wouldn't dare,” Oberyn protested, having caught on to what Doran was getting at. “They would be affected just as much as we would be.”
“Not with their wards activated, Lord Aelyr destroyed a few of our ships by turning his on and he hasn't turned them off yet.”
“Wards? Don't tell me you believe in that -”
“I've seen them Oberyn,” Doran snarled, partly in anger for his brother's ignorance and partly in fear. He remembered being a boy of ten, traveling with his mother and father to visit the various Bannerman of Dorne, of his kingdom. He was excited by the people he met, the things he saw, but the fear he felt at seeing the old defenses of the Yronwoods, The Daynes, The Fowlers, the Jordaynes, The Wyls, The Wells', was almost too much.
His mothers words came back to him in that moment.
“They are some of our strongest Bannerman. They knew when to yield and Nymeria and Mors were ruthless in gaining their surrender, but these houses have not forgotten that they were once kings and queens.”
“They never will.”
“You can only keep them satisfied but you will never fully rule them, unless you have something over them or if you have a common enemy. They do not marry into our families unless they have to and they marry anyone with the old blood when they can. Do not anger them my son, it will be the undoing of house Nymeros Martell. It will be the end of Dorne as we know it.”
“Maybe you can see our cousins to check on their condition, I doubt Lord Aelyr will begrudge you that,” Doran added in a much more composed voice. Oberyn looked at him in worry but Doran just continued, “If you do so, you will tell me beforehand and you will go with a small group of guards. You will not carry any weapons, and I do mean any weapons, on your person. You will be on your best behavior and you will not embarrass us as our cousins have. Do I make myself clear?”
His brother would never truly understand his fear of those with more blood of the First Men than anyone else. How could he? He was never meant to rule and the Gods had not felt the need to be that cruel, though they did take their siblings away from them, so perhaps their family was not left completely unscathed.
“I understand,” Oberyn said quietly.
“Good, now let us discuss Lord Tywin, and how we will make his life a living hell.”
Baron Taenyr Blackfyre, The Black Palace, Lys
“We have to bring her here Taenyr, I need to see my grandchild.”
Taenyr felt for his cousin in that moment but he had to dissuade her, “Rhaella, the girl is safe where she is and besides, its not as if we can just demand for her to be given to us.”
“She is my granddaughter!” Rhaella hissed. “She is the last piece of my son left in this world.”
“But she is also Lord Starks grandchild as well,” Taenyr remained calm. “And I doubt that he would let any harm come to her Rhaella.”
“Please,” Rhaella began to cry. “I need to see her.”
Taenyr sighed, “I can open talks with Braavos and maybe they can send word to Lord Rickard. That doesn't mean that it will work,” He warned her when she began to look hopeful. “And it doesn't mean that we will get her. But maybe, you could be allowed to see her. It will most likely be in the Winter Kingdom.”
“Please try, I care not for the cold. I just need to see her with my own two eyes.”
Taenyr nodded and she gave him a kiss on the cheek before she left his chambers for her own. He sighed slightly. How was he going to do this? Despite Braavos being a free city just like Lys, and despite the fact that neither of them practiced slavery, Their cultures and practices were too different.
It had become especially different when his ancestors had taken over the city and killed the Magisters who were making secret deals with Volantis and Qohor to help further the slave trade. While it would have helped boom the economy, and since there were still slaves in Lys at the time, freed or otherwise, the practice was abolished completely within twenty years of Blackfyre rule.
It wasn't easy and they were always on guard with only the Golden Order of Knights as protectors. Taenyr knew that at any moment he and his family could be taken from their homes and put into bondage. Talking with Braavos could help alleviate the burden his family felt but he knew that they were not overly fond of Valyrians and Taenyr was more Valyrian than he was not.
He sighed again and looked at the portrait on the wall. There stood his ancestors, Daemon the First, Aegor the Bittersteel, and Brynden the Bloodraven. It was they who took this city but it was their children and grandchildren that held it.
“What would you do?” Taenyr murmured quietly. It was a question he had asked them over a thousand times in his role as First Baron of Lys. And like all those other times, no answer came to him.