The ship that Sansa and Oberyn were sailing to Volantis in was the flagship of House Martell. It was a trading cog, moderate in size compared to the treasure ships of the Lannisters. This was because Dorne had a rocky coast and most of its coastline was unsuitable for ships to lay anchor save for places like Planky Town, which was the main harbor for Dorne. The cog was named the Evening Star, in honor of the first star that appears in the sky at dusk, and because the ship had a habit of returning home precisely at dusk after each voyage.

"She is not the fastest or the largest, but she is the most-loved in the Dornish fleet," Doran told Sansa. "Our navy is... negligible to say the least. We have a few battleships, but they are mostly used to protect our waters from pirates and the odd slaving ship or two."

"Slaving ships?" Sansa asked with her eyebrow raised. "Do slavers dare to come so close to Westeros?"

"Slavers will do whatever they can to increase their... stocks," Doran said, trying to find the best possible word. "I would think that you, of all people, would know that there is a black market for slaves in Westeros. I remember Lord Eddard Stark pursuing one of his bannermen for selling poachers to slavery, no?"

"That would be Ser Jorah Mormont," Sansa said. She had been a small girl then, but the lesson her father gave all his children were well remembered. "He escaped to Essos where Father could not find him... He could be with Daenerys Targaryen now, couldn't he?"

Doran did not expel the possibility. "Open your eyes and your ears, Sansa," he told his sister, giving her hand a brotherly pat. "Daenerys has sacked two cities in Slaver's Bay and there will be much to learn about her actions even in Volantis."

"What if we are seen in Volantis by Lord Varys' little birds?" she asked Doran. "What if he tells the Small Council?"

It was a question Oberyn answered. "I find no problem in a bride and groom traveling the world and celebrating their nuptials," he said. "Dorne has long been a trading partner of Volantis, and we are guests of the Triach to secure a new deal."

Sansa did not press the issue further. If Oberyn had answered in that manner, it would mean that it would be the answer that Varys would give the Small Council. However, she knew that there would be some amount of danger that Dorne would be betrayed, which was probably why the Evening Star was not the only ship that would leave Dorne, but two small, modified galleys, the Turtle and the Sparrow, both of which had reasonable amounts of artillery on their decks, in case of any eventualities.

"Well, you have to make sure that Papa doesn't kill or injure any of the Volantenes if they drive prices too high," Tyene told Sansa. "They're famous for being a little... exorbitant."

"Exorbitant? They charge three times higher if you don't deal in slaves," Sarella added.

However, Ellaria was in great confidence that Sansa could handle Oberyn. "Do remember to keep him away from the pleasure houses when you stop in Lys. He'll never come back to do business if he stays in there for too long."

"Are they so enticing?" Sansa asked Ellaria, who shared equally wicked grins with Oberyn following her question. She had known that Lys was famous for its whores and courtesans, but she did not understand why.

"I could show you just how enticing they are," Oberyn told her suggestively, chuckling when he saw her face redden immediately. It was a wonder, really. Of all the things she had done with him and Ellaria, she was still so... proper about bedsport, and he found it to be quite... adorable. It was as if one could bring Dorne into a Northerner, but one could never take the North out of her. Doran could only shake his head at his brother's antics. "We shall speak more of our plans when we begin to sail."

"Whatever it is, remember that you job is to help Sansa," Doran reminded his brother. "If you jeopardize her mission in any way..."

"Doran, do you think that I would be so foolish as to be a burden to my lovely wife?" Oberyn asked. "I'll not only have you to answer to, but the Young Wolf as well. Older brothers..."

His last quip had made Sansa chuckle a little. It was a running joke now, the rivalry between Oberyn and Robb. It had started since their alliance had begun and Sansa enjoyed how prickled one made the other. It was highly evident that Doran and Oberyn loved one another fiercely, but having him deal with Robb, a brother-in-law who could not stand him in every way, it brought Sansa some entertainment, because she knew that deep down inside, the two of them had more similarities than they had differences.

"Behave yourself," Doran added sternly. When he had first ventured in Volantis, he had impregnated a noblewoman with Nymeria. It had taken weeks of negotiations to secede Nymeria's custody to Oberyn, for he had wanted his daughter and not the noblewoman. If Nymeria's maternal grandfather had been one of the Triachs of the time, the political and economical consequences could have been too great for Dorne to have handled. The second time he had been there, he had gotten into a very hot debate with a leading merchant on the currency to be used for Volantene steel that they had wanted to buy, which was closest to Valyrian steel in making without Valyrian magic and dragonfire. Oberyn had wanted to use Braavosi coins, which was a common form of currency in the Free Cities, but the merchant had wanted his steel to be paid in slaves or he would have to increase the price of his steel. Oberyn had left with a trail of insults and Dorne having to source said steel from Qohor, which was further and thus, costlier to transport. However, he had opened a trade route between Qohor and Dorne, which dealt less in slaves, and returned with Qohorik tapestries and woodworks which fetched high prices throughout Westeros.

"Oberyn will," Sansa promised Doran. She was sure that in his capacity as her husband, he would have to apply some degree of responsibility, if not for his love of her.

Doran nodded. "Then go with the wind, dear sister," he said, as Oberyn said his farewells to his younger daughters.

"Thank you, brother," Sansa thanked him, and kissed him on both cheeks before she walked towards the ship with Oberyn, their arms linked. Brienne followed close behind them after giving the ruling family of Dorne a formal parting bow.

"Don't worry, uncle," Elia told Doran. "Sansa has Papa eating out of her very hands. He'll be good on her account."

"That is what I hope for, sweet child," Doran replied. He had hoped that nothing... untoward would happen to them both, although there was a shadow in his heart that told him otherwise.


At times, Catelyn had mourned her choice of heading to King's Landing after there had been an assassination attempt on Bran shortly after his fall that left him crippled. She should have been there with her youngest boys, and if she had been there for them, they would not have to wander through the North, perhaps even further than the Wall, if Theon was to be trusted at all.

She had also mourned for not bringing her daughters back with her. It pained her to see the changes within both Arya and Sansa after she had seen them again. Arya had been so quiet, moody and even brooding like her brothers Robb and Jon (by then, news of Robb legitimizing Jon Snow into Jon Stark had passed through the Seven Kingdoms from the Citadel). She had asked to be martially trained, and Catelyn entrusted the Sand Snakes to train her. Little did she know that Arya had such an aptitude for swordplay that she actually had potential in it. Nymeria had even quietly told her that Arya's little sword, Needle, had been whet with blood before, but Arya said nothing about it to her. She refused to speak of anything about her travels after Ned was killed, and seemed eager to push it into her past.

Then, there was Sansa. Sansa had been tortured and humiliated by Joffrey, her own betrothed, but had been given to Oberyn Martell as a wife by the Lannisters, who were unaware of the alliance forged between their two families. It had been a clever ploy, her daughter's marriage to the Red Viper, and it seemed to free her from her bonds to the Lannisters. Sansa had returned like Arya, changed. However, where Arya had gone darker and silent, Sansa had returned more jubilant and wiser. Where Catelyn oldest daughter once dreamed of chivalric knights and handsome princes, she had married a prince but she seemed a different person altogether. This older, wedded Sansa was as keen as a sword's edge, her eyes holding a strange fire that she could not name. If forced to, Catelyn knew that this Sansa would have the blood of her enemies wet upon her own hands.

Both her daughters had returned to her, and they were no longer the same. She had mourned for the loss of their innocence, each in their own way. Such a change had scared her.

"Come on, you little runt, you'll have to be faster if you want to hit me!" Obara had shouted towards Arya, who was struggling with an exercise. Her cries had brought Catelyn back to the situation at hand. It seemed that there was a common wisdom that all courtesy would be placed behind when one entered combat. It was either to attack or be attacked. No one would stop to think if their opponents had higher birth or greater wealth, all that mattered was one's skill upon the battlefield.

Arya was small for her age. Months upon months without proper food and shelter had rendered her that, but Obara was determined for her to learn to use her size as an advantage. Those that were smaller were faster. Those that were smaller had access to viewpoints that those who were larger had not. Arya had a small sword, but Obara's spear gave her the advantage of range.

"You just wait," Arya growled, eager to find a weakness in Obara. The way Obara had swung her spear covered her like a shield, and it was difficult for her to find an opening. Something told her that if she was going to land a hit on Obara, she had to make sure that she could do it in one single stroke. She sheathed Needle and put her left foot in front of her right foot, merely because it had held a little more comfortable to do so. When Obara started to shout at her for giving up before she had started, Arya stepped forward with her left foot and unsheathed Needle, lunging towards Obara with a forwards strike.

Obara was able to deflect Arya's attack with her spear, but the force and speed that Arya had been traveling at were so great that the momentum of the parry had started to turn Arya's body around she was able to deliver a horizontal arc towards Obara that cut into her leather armor. If Arya had been fighting with a normal-sized sword, Obara could have been dead.

"That's amazing!" Catelyn could hear Robb exclaim. She did not even realize that her son was by her side until he had spoken. Immediately, Robb ran into the sparring ring to Arya's side and ruffled her hair in awe, after which he helped Obara to rise. "Where did you learn how to do this?"

Arya shrugged. "It just felt right, I guess," she said. "Obara was moving her spear a lot, so I decided that I needed to make her stop so that I could actually hit here."

Obara nodded. "It is a technique that only the best masters have discovered after years of training, Princess," she said. "There are many names for it, and it exists in the training manuals from across the world. However, broadswords are not suitable to use it because of their two cutting edges, which would have too much friction between the blade and the sheath." Needle was actually a broadsword, although it was a very tiny one, so she was able to succeed in pulling the attack off.

"What kinds of swords are used for it then?" Arya asked Obara.

"Single bladed ones, that looked like long, curved kitchen knives," Obara answered. "There are a few of them from Yi Ti in my uncle's armory. They are wielded with incredible speed. A man can be cut in two if the wielder is strong and quick enough."

Robb agreed with Obara. "We had one or two in Winterfell as well," he told Arya. "But, they're unreliable. Those blades are used for slashing, not cutting. They can't penetrate plate armor in combat."

Obara nodded. "Then one wielding such a sword would have to find their advantage through the gaps in the armor," she said, raising Robb's arm and pointing at the joints and his armpit. "When you can exploit these, your victory is certain."

"It would take years of training to actually see that during battle," Robb countered. "But... that's essentially what it means to use a single bladed sword."

"Father hired Syrio Forel, a Braavosi Water Dancer to teach me," Arya said. "He said that we all fight like great brutes with our armor and great, big swords."

"Think of it this way, Arya," Robb said. "You might have all the skill in the world, but if you do not adapt to what your enemies have, you will certainly be defeated by them. Dornishmen would be easily cut down by knights in plate armor because their swords and armor are light if they move too slow."

Obara sneered, but held her peace. Robb was trying to teach his sister a thing or two, not to incite any cultural differences on the battlefield. However, what he had said held truth. "Even if you remove the armor of Westerosi knights and put them in Dornish armor, they'd still be slower than Dornishmen," she argued after Arya had gone to Catelyn's side for a drink of water. "They're not used to the light weight."

For whatever reason, Robb did not return any barb. Instead, his face lit up in a strange way that Arya only recognize when he thought that he had a bright idea. "Obara, you're a genius!" he exclaimed. He was so suddenly pleased with her that he had grabbed her by the cheeks and kissed her left cheek with a loud smack.

"Your Grace?" Obara asked, not really understand what was going on.

"Here's what we're going to do, Captain Sand," Robb said. "Since we're halfway through rearming the men, we might as well stop the production for the new ones and redesign the armor to fit what our soldiers need to do. They need to withstand powerful blows, but they need to be fast as well. It will take more than a lifetime to train soldiers who can do both."

"Robb, what are you trying to say?" Catelyn asked her son.

"We're going redesign the armor," Robb proclaimed. "Using more leather will cost less and speed up production. We can arm our men in the new leather in half the time, and the armor will weigh drastically less..."

"So they can move faster..."

Robb nodded. "I like the way you're thinking," he said. "I shall speak to the lords immediately. If they agree, we'll get our plan underway as soon as possible. Obara, I want them assembled within the hour."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Arya watched in awe as she saw her brother moved from one end of keep to another. "Was he always like that since he left home?" she asked Catelyn. She had never seen Robb like that before. She knew that he had many good ideas in his head, but he was never one to so openly reveal them. Perhaps now that he was the king, everyone had to listen to him, so he was not afraid of doing or saying what he wanted.

"No, I guess... not," Catelyn answered. Robb was acting in a very peculiar manner that day, although it was true that he was constantly thinking about ways to improve the northern army, on new battle tactics based on the latest news from King's Landing. But, he had been moody and brooding like Arya for the past several days, so she reckoned that it would be a good change for him.

Just a few minutes after Robb had left, Obara emerged in the training grounds again. "Princess Arya, His Grace summons you to the Great Hall," she told Arya, completely dropping the hostility she had for her in the ring. Giving Catelyn a polite nod, she ushered the youngest Northern princess to where her brother was, his lords fully assembled.

"My lords, I have a proposition for you," Robb said, with bits and pieces of both leather and plate armor laid out before him. They were smaller versions of the ones used in actual battle and Arya was the perfect size to model them, so he made Arya stand on a wooden chair and while Nymeria and Obara put on different combinations of the armor on her.

The lords did not know what to make of their king's suggestion, to marry traditional plate armor with that of Dornish leather armor. It had seemed like a brilliant idea, but they did not know if the idea would work in real life. Even the Blackfish, who had been a staunch supporter of his grand-nephew, was undecided on the matter.

"Playing with armor is no laughing matter, Your Grace," the Blackfish warned. Many of the Northern lords nodded at his words.

"We shall carry out a small test then," Robb said. "We shall pit ten of our best warriors in plate, against ten of the best Dornishmen in leather and ten more in the new mixed armor. If the ones in the new armor win, then we shall start production immediately."

It was hard to refuse such a sincere attempt of coming up with a way of further improving his own army, and even going so far as to asking their opinions on the matter. No king has ever done this, no one but Robb. It was only because of the sincerity of their king that they agreed to his request. The process of rearming their men would take slightly longer then, but if it had a chance of improving their chances of survival, then perhaps, they would tolerate this delay.

Only because Robb had asked them for their opinions.


HAN: Are Oberyn and Sansa going on their honeymoon, or are they going to Volantis for work? Hmmm

I do not know how well Robb's idea would work in real life, but transitional armor does exist. So...

Enjoy!

P.S: Did anyone see that Rurouni Kenshin reference I placed in this chapter? I'll be away to the beach this weekend, so I'll only continue writing on Monday. Eid Mubarak to all my Muslim friends (I don't celebrate it although I live in a country that does) and Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri, maaf zahir dan batin!