Disclaimer: I don't own ASoIaF/GoT. Hey, I'm back! How was everyone's Christmas/New Years? Hope it was better than mine was (admitted to hospital for emergency surgery on the 22nd, can you believe it? I'm still wiped). So, whilst recovering from surgery I started playing around with another new story idea that has taken up all of my (limited) energy. The first chunk of it is quite similar to the books/show, so by now it's about 14/15 chapters in. Vote, post or not post? It's (I think) a stand-alone.

I know, I typically don't like to have more than 2 stories on at once, but Star of the North is almost done already, and I've got some writer's block when it comes to the sequel for ASoMS, while A Song of Vengeance (the new one) is pouring out onto my laptop. Tell me in your reviews what you think!

In canon, Oberyn's fifth daughter is named Elia, his first daughter after his sister's death and presumably named for her. In this, I have altered it to Eliana, as Elia is still alive. He honoured her, but changed it slightly.

As usual, read, enjoy and review, sorry if you feel that this chapter's a bit short, like I said I'm recovering from surgery and it's very tiring.

Chapter Thirteen

The Sun of Dorne

Sunspear: 23rd, March 303 AC

Doran:

Doran let out a heavy sigh as he gazed out over the ledge of the balcony down into the courtyard of Sunspear, missing the Water Gardens fiercely. Typically, he lived there for the sake of both his mental and physical health. But he knew that at the moment, even in the Water Gardens the place would be filled with tension and strain. He found great comfort in looking down at the courtyard of the Water Gardens, watching as children of all ages and stations laughed and played without regard for birth or the restrictive rules of society.

But at the moment, even the youngest children were able to realize that something was terribly wrong, and their normally cheerful attitudes were downcast and their comforting and innocnet childish laughter almost non-existent.

Since word had come to Dorne of what had happened with the Lions' Coup, as it was now being called, everybody had been on edge. Doran had ordered his vassals to raise their banners and organize their levies. Given that his people in the Red Keep all swore that Aegon, Doran's siblings and several others had escaped, Doran had expected to be contacted by his nephew and ordered to raise his banners against the Lannisters. He had sealed off the Prince's Pass and made all of the necessary arrangements for war in anticipation of being contacted by his new King.

But it had been three moons now, and there was still no word from anybody on the location of King Aegon, or his family. Doran had received a letter from the so-called Queen Regent, his late goodbrother's concubine, and her son right after the coup, ordering him and his eldest child, his only daughter and heiress, to come to the capital to pledge the allegiance of Dorne to the self-declared King Aenar. Implicit but unstated in the summons was the fact that, whilst they might perhaps allow Doran to leave and return to his kingdom, at the very least they would be keeping Arianne as a hostage in the Red Keep. Naturally, he had not even bothered to reply.

He had been focusing all of his efforts on finding information of the location of his family, but his investigations had not yielded any fruit. Doran was fearful that they might have been sunk at sea, or that the beliefs of his spies that Aegon, Elia, Oberyn, Queen Margaery and the girls had managed to escape was wrong and they were all dead. Perhaps the lions had killed them during the take-over and then, to cover it up and avoid accusations of kinslaying that would blacken their already-destroyed reputations, faked their escape to try and make the people believe that the royals had abandoned them.

If that was so, then Doran would have vengeance. He would see Aenar and Cersei and the rest of the thrice-damned Lannisters all dead, and then crown Rhaenys as Queen. He knew that his niece was well, because he was in contact with the Vale and the Tyrells, discussing what to do with his allies. But he prayed desperately to the Seven that such measures would not be necessary and that Aegon and the others, especially Elia and Oberyn, would all show up, preferably safe and unharmed, in the Free Cities somewhere, or one of the Kingdoms that were firmly on Aegon's side, and had none of their Great House members being held hostage in the Red Keep by the lions.

He heard footsteps approaching, but kept his gaze fixed on the abandoned courtyard, lost in his brooding thoughts. He needed a plan to deal with all that was happening, but he didn't have enough information to make one. There were too many questions that had to be answered before he could settle on the best course of action to proceed with. Were Elia and Oberyn safe? Was Aegon still alive? And what of Margaery and her babe? The child, if it had survived everything that had happened, should have been born by now, or else was on the verge of it. Boy or girl? Healthy?

If Aegon could present a healthy son to the world on his reappearance, then it would go a long way towards proving him to be the legitimate king, favoured by the Gods. It was a sad fact of life that a healthy daughter would not be so significant outside of Dorne. Even a sickly boy would probably be seen as a better prospect for many people. And a dead child, either boy or girl but especially a boy, would be an utter disaster. Especially if Princess Valaena conceived a son soon. Doran's people had given word that she and Aenar were to wed on the first day of April. Doran pitied the girl in all honesty. She was a bit spoilt, but most highborn ladies of her age were. He had heard of some of Aenar's activities since he had been declared King. People were comparing him to Maegor the Cruel and the Mad King.

Clearly, Rhaegar and his lioness concubine had chosen his name badly. They ought to have named him for his grandfather instead of for the Targaryen who had fathered Daenys the Dreamer and Gaemon the Glorious and fled Valyria twelve years prior to the Doom. It was quite obvious that Aenar was Aerys reborn. Even if they were not doppelgangers of one another in appearance, they definitely had the same character, to a terrible degree.

If only Rhaegar had pulled his nose out of his books long enough to agree to have his second son packed off somewhere he couldn't threaten anybody, things would have been so much better for them all.

"Your Highness," a voice cut in, drawing his attention from his thoughts and back to the present. He twisted his head, spying a servant. He took a moment to shake away the cobwebs in his brain and recall the young man's name before responding.

"Nate," he greeted the man. "What can I do for you? Has a letter arrived?"

Nate, who was more commonly known as Feathers due to having worked with the birds in the ravenry of the Water Gardens since he was but a young child, bowed respectfully to the Ruling Prince. He was a tall young lad, handsome enough and of Stony Dornish origin. He had been an on and off lover of Arianne's for several years as well. One of many.

Doran loved his daughter dearly, and he genuinely believed that she had great potential as a Ruling Princess once she had matured some more, but her sexual activities worried him. She had never mothered a child despite all of her liaisons, which rivalled those of his brother in amounts, meaning that either she was incapable of producing a child or else she downing moon tea in the buckets, something that could also end up harming her ability to carry a child in the long term.

In addition to that, her lack of restraint had made it difficult for him to find a husband for her, as men suspected that she would cuckold him, and nobody wanted to risk having to raise their wife's bastard born of an affair. Doran did not dare contemplate the possibility of how people would react if she were to have a child whose legitimacy was questioned. Dorne was much laxer attitude-wise towards base born children than the rest of the Kingdoms, but they still would not allow a natural child to sit in the Sunchair.

Not to mention, it was a fact of life that whilst a man would be able to get away with sleeping around and being a ruler, a woman could not. Men were seen as being within their rights and satisfying a basic need, but women were considered whores. Doran did not like it, but it was the truth. Arianne would not be taken seriously by her peers outside of Dorne if she did not clean up her act soon enough.

He blamed himself really. He had spoilt and indulged his daughter, especially after Mellario left, and she had grown up wild and self-entitled as a result. Elia had warned him, but he had not listened, too guilty over the failure of his marriage, and now he was reaping the results.

"Yes, Your Highness," Nate confirmed in response to Doran's inquiry. He hesitated and then added. "It was strange, my prince. The raven that delivered it was bigger than typical for a bird, even a messenger raven that is bred for large deliveries, and it had the oddest red markings on its wings. I have never seen a raven like that before. In addition, it only stayed long enough to drop off the letter before flying off again. It didn't even stay long enough to have some water and nuts to refresh itself and replenish its strength with."

Feathers, who was a lover of all types of birds, looked very troubled by that fact. Doran was more interested in the strange description of the bird.

"Interesting," he mused, as he held out a hand, accepting the letter that Nate passed to him. "Thank you, Nate," he stated in a subtle dismissal. The boy picked up on the subtext.

"My prince," he repeated, giving another bow and twisting on his heel to return to the aviary and tend his beloved birds.

Doran waited until the boy was gone before opening the letter. The envelope had been sealed with a generic seal, no emblem.

A sprig of hope blossomed in his heart. Dare he believe that his missing kin had at last managed to contact him? He could feel Captain Hotah's gaze, fixed on his back as he read the letter, stunned by what its contents revealed. A small smirk touched on his lips. Only Oberyn would be so audacious and madly reckless enough as to bring the King of the Sev-, no the Six Kingdoms, to the Winterlands of all places in order as to seek shelter and aid from their enemies.

Winterfell, The North, The Winterlands,

10th March, Three Hundred and Third Year After Conquest

To His Highness, the Ruling Prince of Dorne, Doran, Head of House Nymeros Martell,

Greetings and salutations my dearest elder brother. I beseech your forgiveness for taking so long to write to you and assure you of our safety.

'Our' refers to myself, your sister Elia, our brother, my son Aegon and his wife, who is quite literally just delivered of a miraculously healthy son yesterday. They have named him Daeron, and he is a large, strong boy the image of his father as a newborn. Thank the gods for our hosts, their intervention saved Margaery and my grandson both. Also with us are our nieces Obara, Nymeria and Tyene, and the Kingsguard knights: Ser Barristan Selmy and his Sworn Brothers, Ser Garlan Tyrell and Oswell Whent. We also have the crew members of Nymeria's Spear, who got us safely away from the capital the night of the coup.

We are all safe and unharmed, though Margaery is of course very weak and tired from her early labour. Thankfully, it does not appear as though she will suffer any ill-effects as a consequence, and she should be able to recover and bear more children in the future, though the healers all insist that Aegon wait a minimum of six moons before lying with her again, and even then he must wait longer should they (or whatever healer is in charge of her care at the time) say so. Aegon does not appear bothered by this.

He is most concerned for Margaery's welfare. He stayed with her throughout her battle with the birthing bed, and only left to present Prince Daeron to everybody, before promptly returning to her side. Margaery certainly appreciates it, the poor dear is very distressed by everything that has happened, though she is doing a most admirable job of keeping herself together. I confess, I am struggling to maintain my own composure, and not just because of how cold it is here, though the castle is shockingly warm given our location. But I am most proud of my son, who is coping wonderfully with everything that has happened.

I pray to the Gods that you and the other members of our family in Dorne, as well as my dear daughter Rhaenys in the Vale, are all well and unharmed.

I confess, I am greatly worried for you, in spite of the Starks assurances that you sealed the Pass before the Lannisters could move against Dorne as well.

Yes, Brother, you read correctly, and my words are not written in the midst of fear-induced hysteria or any sort of hallucinations. We are currently enjoying guest right in Winterfell, under the protection of His Grace, Eddard Stark of the Winterlands, Twenty-Ninth of His Name, King of the First Men and Lord of the Winterlands, the Shield of the Realm, the Warden of the Wall, Head of House Stark and Defier of the Others.

It seems, Doran, that Oberyn has been keeping the more intimate details of his trip to Braavos several years ago from us. Whilst there, he encountered Crown Princess Lysara Stark, who was also visiting the Iron Bank on her own family's behalf. Well, you know what our little brother is like. The more unattainable that a woman is, the more he desires her to be in his bed. Still, I never thought that he would so foolish as to bed a princess of an enemy kingdom, and it seems that, as if taking her maidenhead were not enough, he also got a child on the girl! Granted, our youngest niece (her name is Mariah Snow) is an adorable and sweet child. Both Oberyn and I learned of her existence yesterday. Oberyn is already wrapped around her little finger. I should be very unsurprised if he were to move himself and our other nieces North to stay by her side. But I must count us all very lucky that King Eddard is such a reasonable man, otherwise we may have sailed to our doom, not our salvation.

But, thanks to the grace of the gods, we did in fact come to our salvation. Aegon has formally renounced any claims to the Weirwood Throne, and it seems that Cersei and Aenar earned the enmity of the Winterlands before we even arrived. They decided to send a letter labelling King Eddard as an usurper and demanding that he come to King's Landing in order as to bend the knee and hand over Princess Lysara and his son, Prince Brandon, to be hostages. I must say, Doran. I have always known that Cersei highly overestimates her intelligence, but really. How utterly idiotic can a person be?

Naturally, the Northrons are all furious and indignant at the whole thing, and they have not only agreed to give us shelter but will be aiding us in the coming war against the Lannisters also.

King Eddard has promised to loan us seven ships manned by thirty men each, twelve gryffins, and a host of four thousand ground troops, under command of his daughter, the Crown Princess. A reserve force will remain at the Riverlands border, and men will be sent to replenish any losses that occur so as to constantly maintain the level of soldiers fighting. They have also agreed that they will provide all needed provisions for their own men, and, if it should become necessary, our own. Finally, they have also loaned us their ravens for contacting supporters so that Aegon can officially declare the Lannisters, Aenar and Cersei as traitors and usurpers, and order the Great Houses to call their banners against them.

Given our kingdoms' history with one another, it is so much better than we could ever have dared to dream of. We hoped for shelter, but did not dare to request aid in actually going to war against the Lannisters. They volunteered it themselves.

Enclosed is an official letter from Egg, ordering you to rally Dorne's forces for him against the Usurper. Copies have been sent to each of the Great Houses, though we are given to understand that the lions have neutralized the ability of the Riverlands and the Stormlands' to help us by taking hostages.

From our predictions, in the worst-case scenario we will have one hundred forty-four thousand men versus one hundred forty thousand. There is a small possibility of the Lannisters managing to hire sellswords to fight for them, but it is unlikely. They would be hard-pressed to find the money for it. Cersei spent so much of the royal treasury, and according to the Starks (frankly Brother, I find the amount of information they have on our realm disturbing. How many spies do they have, and how highly placed are they? They are our allies now, King Eddard and Egg are writing up a treaty of perpetual friendship, but all the same, they are still from another kingdom, and we have been allies not even a sennight.) she and Aenar are acting as if their funds are unlimited, in spite of the Small Council's best efforts to rein them in. And it seems that Casterly Rock's supposedly bottomless mines are not so limitless after all. In fact, they are dry. (This is information revealed by Aegon and Oberyn, who learned it through the Small Council, not from the Starks. But these Northrons are so good at keeping stoic, I cannot tell if they already knew or not.)

Even if, through some miracle, the Lannisters manage to scrape together enough coin to hire sellswords, their options are limited.

The Golden Company would never help the Iron Throne given their history with the Blackfyres, and the Company of the Rose is full of Winterlanders, who might have left their kingdom, but still maintain their loyalty to the Starks. Apparently for a lot of Winterlander Houses, serving for a certain period of time in the Company is a requirement for ascension to lordship, and many inheritance-less Winterlanders join the Company, either to see the world, support themselves and their families, or both.

That eliminates the two best possibilities for sellswords right there. Furthermore, King Eddard has put out word in the Free Cities that the Winterlands is giving aid to Aegon's cause, and only the truly desperate companies would agree to take up a contract that brings them into battle against the Ever-Victorious Army that has never lost a war in its eight millennia of existence. You might as well try and dose the sun as defeat the Winterlanders, I sometimes think. I am glad that Aegon has decided to make them friends instead of enemies.

Give my love, and that of our brother, to the rest of our family, Brother dearest. Oberyn has also added his own letter, also attached along with my son's declaration.

All of my love,

Your sister,

Elia Targaryen of House Nymeros Martell, Queen Mother of the Six Kingdoms.

Doran lifted his gaze from the letter at last and reached out to pull the bell that summoned a servant, tapping the page lightly on his knee. A small grin was playing on the edges of his lips as he waited for the servant to arrive whilst reading the call to arms and declaration of war that Aegon had sent.

A maid, an elderly woman by the name of Dyanna who had been a playmate of Doran's as a young lad in the Gardens, came quickly and curtsied, inquiring as to his needs.

"Have my children and nieces all sent to my solar immediately," Doran instructed her. "And then spread the word: I have received word from my sister. King Aegon lives, as does Queen Margaery who is safely delivered of a healthy son, Prince Daeron, and my brother and nieces. The king has declared war on his usurpering younger half-brother.

It seems that the Second Dance of the Dragons is about to begin."