Doran Martell
The conversation with the Old Falcon had been... an emotional one. Much beca clear in the course of it. The situation in the country and the shape of the future were both plain to see now. And neither gave much cause for comfort.
"What do you think, Oberyn?" When I had sothing important to decide, I always heard him out first. His rich experience of the world and his restless mind had a way of showing problems from an angle I had not considered. It had helped more tis than I could count.
"You know this isn't really my area," he said, already trying to slide away from the uncomfortable subject.
"Even so?"
"I don't like it! Our sister and nephew were murdered, and instead of justice their killers are showered with honors. I want revenge, brother. Every man and woman in Dorne wants it. You know what happened the mont news of Elia's death reached us: every Westerlands rchant and every man of Western blood that anyone knew of t the Stranger."
It is so comfort to know that our people grieve for Elia alongside us. Within days of the sack of King's Landing, every notable rchant and Westerner in Dorne had been knifed, poisoned, or drowned. Though this could turn dangerous: the sa fate could easily befall our own rchants and people abroad.
"You still haven't answered ." Oberyn had a habit of trying to slip away from anything that made him uncomfortable.
"You want the truth? Then here it is. I want to raise a new army, join the Tyrells, take Storm's End, trade Renly Baratheon, Robert's younger brother, for Rhaenys, and then break the stag king before the West has ti to mobilize its main strength. That would knock the Vale and the North out of the war for a long while. The Stormlands and the Riverlands are already broken: they cannot raise a new army, and many lords of those regions still support the Targaryens. That leaves only the West, and they are a hard nut, but we could crack them. Viserys is on Dragonstone. We make him king, then marry him to Arianne or Rhaenys, whichever suits. We can win this and have our revenge. Tell why we have not already done it."
"Have you ever asked yourself why that enormous army has been sitting outside Storm's End doing nothing? Why they sent only five thousand swords to Rhaegar's army? If they had sent even ten, the ending might have been different. The Tyrells never wanted to fight. They used the siege of Storm's End as their excuse to do nothing. Oberyn, your plan is a good one, but it cannot be done. The Tyrells will not make war on all of Westeros. They will try to co to terms, and they will succeed. Look."
This letter confird what I had already suspected of the Tyrells. Lord Eddard Stark had arrived with his army before Storm's End. Lord Mace Tyrell and Lord Paxter Redwyne had bent the knee before the stag king, and all of the Reach would follow. In the war I had imagined, we would be fighting alone.
"That spineless fat bastard! Fine, to the seven hells with the Fat Rose! Say you are right. Why not declare independence? No one can bring us to heel. And do not talk to about population and food: Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr are right there. We can buy grain from them. It will cost more, but we can bear it."
"You are right about that. But here is the problem. If war breaks out now, there will be no winners, and the Seven Kingdoms will simply revert to what they were before the Targaryens arrived. Think about who could actually sustain Robert's rule. The Northerners? No. Not after the Baratheon drove away the current Warden of the North. Stark won't rebel, but the Iron Throne has lost his wholehearted support. The Riverlands? No. They suffered as badly as the Crownlands and the Stormlands in the rebellion and cannot offer the Throne any real backing. The Vale? Possibly, but Arryn's heir apparently caused so manner of trouble there, and how much support the Throne can count on from them is unclear. The Grafton rebellion only adds to the instability. The Reach? Certainly not. Mace Tyrell is already nursing a grievance against Baratheon and will not lift a finger for him. That leaves the West. The West can put nearly sixty thousand well-trained and well-equipped swords in the field. And as unpleasant as it is to say, the West under Tywin Lannister could crush us. But what cos after? A complete collapse of royal authority, when the king, by definition the strongest man on the continent, could not suppress a rebellion in a single region. And total Lannister supremacy, which none of the Arryns, the Tyrells, the Tullys, or the Starks want. Rebellions, uprisings, and collapse. That is what would follow our so-called 'defeat.'"
"You paint such a vivid picture! You say we don't need this war! This war isn't needed by us: it is for Elia and Aegon. You are asking to bend the knee before the people who killed them! I thought you loved her."
"Hold your tongue and listen to . I loved Elia. And I will not rest until everyone responsible for her death has fallen. But it cannot be done now. We will bide our ti, wait, and prepare. And when the mont cos, we will strike the killing blow. But to strike it, we must recover, build our strength, and find allies. Oberyn, help . You must calm the lords who are crying for war or independence. They will listen to you."
Oberyn shot to his feet and began pacing the room, a bad habit that appeared whenever he was thinking hard. The veins at his temples and brow stood out. In his mind a set of scales was being weighed: war on one side, peace on the other. All it needed was one small stone to tip the balance. I gave him that stone.
"Rhaenys is not with them. And she is not on Dragonstone either, or I would have received a raven demanding help. Arryn is quite certain she is with us, and he is 'assuring' us that nothing will happen to her if we bend the knee."
It appeared to be a genuine shock, because he sank back into his chair.
"If she isn't with you, and not with the usurper, and not with the Targaryens, then where is she?"
"Most likely soone took her to Essos. And while every spy and assassin in the realm is watching Dorne, you can be searching for her. It is the one thing I can do for her safety."
My brother grew calm and drew a long breath.
"All right. I will help you, as I always have. What will you do with the Old Falcon?"
"If he believes Rhaenys is with us, we must make that belief absolute."
"You are going to haggle like a rchant, trading for concessions and privileges?" He truly cannot help himself.
"No. Not exactly. We are going to strike at the thing that troubles most lords most deeply."
"Their purse?"
"Their future."
...
Over the course of a month there were fierce negotiations. Prince Doran Martell bargained over every last detail. And at the very end of it all he put forward a new condition. It was brazen and calculating, but the Prince of Dorne had no shortage of argunts in its favor.
Jon Arryn held firm.
Jon Arryn bargained.
Jon Arryn very nearly pleaded.
And Jon Arryn gave way.
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