I was finishing my can of energy drink as I drove my car on the dark highway, when suddenly, a large truck careened from a bend further ahead. Though the driver seemed to have panicked, and had turned on his headlights at the last moment, I would still have no time to react to this and so the truck crashed into the side of my moderately-sized car.

As I flew from the windshield of my car, my collarbone shattered and a dozen ribs broken, a hundred kilometres from any large city, on an isolated stretch of highway in the South of India, I knew then and there, that I would not survive, and so I resigned myself to my death. Despite having been a powerfully built man for my size, 4 inches under 6 feet, I would have no chance at surviving, and so I did not do what those protagonists in films do, "Cling onto their life and fight the spectre of death." I'd lived a life of mediocrity, but it was enough to satisfy me as I firmly held to the belief that I would be granted another life, a by-product of my devout belief in Buddhism.

And so, as out of the corner of my eye I spotted the truck-driver and his companions rush to try to locate my person… or corpse rather, I decided that I would close my eyes then and there. And so I did, and almost immediately, the end came for me, at the age of 23.

It was a queer thing, the after-life, a hazy cloud of grey with the odd words of green, and smells of music wafting about the ball that I now inhabited, which I supposed was my soul. The odd sensations of feeling things with senses that other senses required, was I supposed, similar to the medical condition of synaesthesia, which my friend Rohan had experienced not two years ago as a complication of another medical condition, but that made it no less a harrowing experience for me, recently deceased as I was.

Then the unfathomable happened, I shot through the air, as I left the cloud of grey, and flew far above, far, far above, as I watched the Earth pass below me, and the other planets of the Solar System accompany it. I was queerly satisfied by my confirmation that the planet was indeed round, despite the stupidity of flat-earthers across the globe, but these thoughts quickly gave way to those of wonder and awe as I flew further up, through the three dimensions of space, as even the stars, the nebulae, and other stellar phenomena shrunk to mere balls of light, that far dwarfed me in size, but seemed the same due to the vast distance.

As I went further up still, I realised that what I was looking down at, if the sensation could be termed such, as my soul-self lacked eyes, was now the Milky Way, and it too in turn shrank further as I careened upwards, higher still. The speed increased further, and soon, many dozens, hundreds, millions of points soon joined the Milky Way below me, and as I appeared to come to a stop, I gazed down reverently, for the infinite cosmos of the universe lay beneath me.

And then the thought crossed my mind, "If the Universe is beneath me, where am I?", and as if an almost imperceptible being, unfathomably above me had spoken in reply, I was again pulled upwards, and to my shock, that would be ill described in words, I was still staring down at our universe, but cosmic threads arced from it like the construction of an eldritch space spider, as they trickled from it, to several other pools of light, which I assumed were other universes.

But they were not of uniform length, if infinities could be described to be or to not be of uniformity, as I saw that some were outright smaller, while others were of the same size. I'd never possessed great insight into the multiverse theory, but I would have wagered then and there, that the similar sized universes were most likely alternate variations of our own, differing in timeline, stellar constellations, and etc.

But they did not interest me half so much as those smaller, for I could not understand what they could be. And this time, as if in response, I was hurtled yet again against my will, but this time not upwards, but towards one of the smaller universes.

And this time, I could not express pleasure and awe at seeing any sights of magnificence, not only because I could hardly spot any, but also because I was being projected with a speed far higher than the one I had ascended with.

I passed through many a ball of light, which I momentarily recognized to be suns, and passed through many more clouds of cosmic dust, encompassing hundreds of thousands of cubic kilometres, and finally, my path slowed as I entered a Solar System.

I was no astronomer, but I recognized that this system could quite be an anomaly, as I remembered having been a boy when a system with seven possibly habitable planets had been discovered, for what I saw were that there were 12 Planets, which exhibited copious quantities of water on their surfaces.

The invisible force further drew me towards the 4th Planet, which I recognized, dwarfed the others largely. I was lodged in orbit for what seemed to be five minutes, though it could very well have been millennia for all I knew. And I observed the planet rotating, and the first thing I glimpsed was a continent. This continent seemed vaguely familiar to me, and I racked my brains for where I had seen this shape prior. It hit me then. It was near in the shape of Great Britain… but that could only mean? I gazed to the right of it, and my suspicion was confirmed when the large continent resembled Eurasia.

There was little doubt that this was the world of Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire, but then I stopped, could it be the show? If it were the latter, I reasonably hoped I would be born as the son of a camel-herder in Dorne, so the events in the Show would hardly affect me, as the Long Night had been the not so-long episode here.

If it were the books, then it would be a different ball-game, but would also grant me further knowledge of events, as I'd read the books several times, but had watched the show only once, as a 17 year old back in the summer of 2019? Though Martin had expired before releasing A Dream of Spring, the Winds of Winter had finally dropped a year back, and I'd had time only to read the first few chapters, which detailed Barristan winning the Siege but barely, and Stannis winning the battle in ice, and then moving on to capture Winterfell with some long-winded tactical plan.

I frowned as I remembered that Stannis had captured Winterfell and had executed the Boltons, and that Davos had successfully rescued Rickon, but Stannis had died of his wounds and was buried in the crypt, though the North remained grateful to his memory or something.

But then again, I might not even be re-born during this era and my knowledge would be worth little and less. I might even be born before the conquest, and be recruited as a peasant levy only to be burned in the Field of Fire.

There were several similar situations that would be far less than ideal. I might be born in the vastness of Sothoryos as a Brindled Man, where-in I'd have to face King-Kong and his cousins as well as Super-Bats, and who knows what or I might be born in Leng, which would not be ideal either, what with the eldritch beings buried beneath the surface. Ulthos was another place I knew little of; though I mused Sothoryos would be the same, as it was far too large a continent.

I remembered a theory, and I gazed at the far North, and my curiosity was satisfied as I noted the so called Lands of Always Winter, curved around and formed a land-bridge to Essos, and in particular connected to the Grey Waste, which explained the purpose of the Five Forts, as they'd have to deal with Walkers too, or their cousins, Grey Jumpers, much in the same vein the Wall did.

I had a view quite similar to Google Earth, and I would not squander this, as I might be able to make a name for myself as a mapmaker if I retained even a bit of my memory, as I observed that there was a large land-mass West of Westeros, and further west of this Wester-eros was Ulthos yet again, which could explain the theory that the Farmen? Farmer? Farman girl had gone west to reach the east, as the Velaryon had spoken of seeing her ship in Asshai.

But before I could get a glimpse of what was to the South of Sothoryos, the cosmic force that had brought me here sent me crashing down to the Planet. My path was uncontrollable, and I viewed that I was heading for Dorne, which might mean that it was the show-verse and the cosmic force was taking pity on me and planned to make me the son of a camel-herder.

But these thoughts were dashed as I approached a large city, whose architecture resembled medieval middle-eastern cities. I thought, "Sunspear?" and realised that I would be a Martell, or perhaps a commoner who lived in Sunspear, either of which could be both good and bad.

And before I lost consciousness, I saw that my soul-ball was aimed for the palace.

I dreamt strange things, enactments of the things I knew, as well as memories of Earth, before I realised that had retained my memories, which may or may not prove useful. But it also made me realise I would have to face the difficulties of child-hood fully endowed with sentience.

But this extended sleep was interrupted, as my eyes opened, and I realised I was laying on what could only be described as an exquisite bed, which was far softer than the one I had in my apartment. I observed the ceiling, and I noted that it had been painted white, and in the center was a mural of a sun with a spear pierced through it. So I'm a Martell? I thought to myself. But that did not explain how I was on a bed. Infants were placed in cribs, even in the world of ASOIAF. I tried to feel my body and its size and dimensions indicated that I was of similar stature as my former one, though with far less muscle-mass.

So I've hijacked an existing Prince's body. Oberyn? Trystane? Quentyn? I thought to myself. And as I tried to get-up, I was treated to an excruciating pain in my leg, particularly around my joints. As I grunted in pain, a short man hovered above me. I estimated him to be five feet tall, and he was completely bald, with a baby-face. The man was obese, but he had chains around his neck forged of different metals. A Maester, I remembered the term for the half-doctor half-academic jobs that these chained men took.

He spoke, "Prince Doran, I beseech you to not get up as yet, Maester Myles shall get your cane, if you wish to walk, though I do not recommend so. You have been asleep, under dream-wine, as five days hence you fainted after the attack of your gout, My Prince. I must humbly request that you stay in bed."

I smacked myself mentally, for I'd almost forgotten the ruler of Dorne, who'd been butchered having done little in the show, and whose long-wrought plans for revenge for the death of his sister had fallen apart in the books with the death of Viserys, his brother, and then his son. I would not allow this to happen, but I needed to find out what the year was, for it would allow me to dictate the future to benefit Dorne.

I spoke, my mouth rasping to life, "If that is what you shall recommend, Maester Caleotte, I shall do so. But the memories fleet away from me. Tell me, what year is it?"

The chubby Maester panicked momentarily, but having realised I had spoken his name and seemed in control of my faculties opened his mouth to answer. I wondered how I had remembered his name, but the answer it would seem, was that some vestiges of Doran accompanied his body with me, but I didn't know if he was a separate entity, or if we had been fused.

Before I could mull further, the Maester spoke, "It is the fourth month of the year 296 after Aegon the Conqueror's Conquest. The current ruler atop the Iron Throne is Robert Baratheon, the 1st of His Name."

I spoke to further ascertain when I was, "And the Hand is Jon Arryn is it not?"

The Maester nodded, at which I realised it would perhaps be two year or more before the Hand died, though there was the chance that the events would change with the introduction of me, a far more active Doran. And to be frank, I would have to see if saving him was worth it, though I had no doubt that it would require the death of Littlefinger to ensure so.

No, what I needed to do was find out how strong Dorne was in truth, and how I could strengthen it further in the next year or two. While Dorne's location left it unaffected by the War of the Five Kings, I would have to take a far more active hand if I meant to achieve "Vengeance, Justice, Fire and Blood for the memories of both Elia Martell and her slaughtered children.

Wait, I would have to confirm if this was Book-Canon or Show-Canon, and so I asked the Maester, "My children, where are they?"

Caleotte bobbed his head up and down and spoke, "Princess Arianne has returned to Sunspear the moment she received news about your illness. Trystane hovered about your bedside for a few hours every-day to ensure you were recovering, well-meaning child that he is, and Quentyn remains with the Yronwoods."

So, I had three children, and one of them believed I'd set her aside. I understood Doran's need for secrecy about the betrothal, but he must surely have seen that his daughter had been feeling alienated, inadvertently or not. I would need to fix this, and a great other things. But I needed an accomplice, someone to ensure what I would want could happen, as unlike other Self-Inserts that I had occasionally read, I would not have the luxury of a fit body, having already been reduced to the cane, and if I let the future progress in the same manner, a wheel-chair. And who better to do so than my brother… Doran's brother, Oberyn. But that did not mean I would allow the Gout to take control, I would still need to present myself to be active and I knew how to.

My uncle…. Back home, not Lewyn Martell had suffered from Gout as well, and I knew well enough that the best cure was a lifestyle change, and so I spoke, "Help me to the desk, Maester, and send in my brother if he is here and my daughter if he is not. If Oberyn is here, tell Arianne that I will have an audience with her next."

The Maester bobbed his head up and down like a chicken again, and moved to help me up to the desk which was next to my bed. The joint-pain was harsh, but not terrible, not yet, and I wouldn't allow it to devolve to that extent yet. As I sat at my table, I removed a sheet from the fresh ream of paper that sat in front of me.

It was scented, I noted, a hint of cinnamon and lemon had been infused, but that without, I needed to write that which I knew about the future, and that which I knew could alienate my own pain, lest I forgot. And as I began to write, the Maester opened the door and left, and the guard in my room, Areo Hotah, I remembered, moved to close it.

I began scrawling, and I noted that the hand-writing was utterly unlike my own, which was a boon, as muscle-memory like this would be essential to continue in my role as Doran.

Fruits, especially Cherries.

Vegetables and legumes.

Nuts and whole grains, specifically, Brown rice.

Dairy, goat milk preferably.

Tea or Green Tea, which I wager I could source shipments from Yi Ti for.

Spices, which my Dornish/Indian soul approved that I could still partake of.

Plant based oils to cook everything in, which only meant Olive Oil as I was in Dorne.

Exercises to build up strength in joints, and perhaps lessons in the axe from Areo, because if Tyrion could use it, why couldn't I?

Though I knew I was approaching my fifties, wherein which the gout would proceed to fester if I let it, there was always the capability for me to build up enough strength before the sixties set in.

With the weapons to guard my health firmly ensconced, I began writing in my own, tiny, dirty, hand, dipping ever so often into the ink-pot to replenish the quill. Before Oberyn Martell entered, I would have to present something to him that would convince him why our objectives needed to change as well as seem in-line with the cautious nature of Doran.

While I was obviously not going to be a great-commander of men, I believed that I could orate fairly well, allowing me to draw support from the Dornish lords who believed I was weak. I knew little of battle-tactics, but I remembered certain parts of the books well enough, including the fact that horses could be dealt with by camels. Along with this, I recalled a few tidbits from AOE2, though how much a video-game would help was beyond me, in particular the fact that of the Battle of Lepanto, the heavy Venetian Galleases crushed the smaller ships of the Turkish Navy, though constructing such ships would be an arduous task, if the deadline weas to be only three years.

Now, as I contemplated the matter of how to set in motion the things I knew into things that were going to happen, Inspiration struck me, and I began to write the following, "The Son of the Dragon supposedly lives, fostered with Griff, Griffin Lord whose death faked. Possible Blackfyre. Pentosi Cheesemonger and Spider knows more." as part of the first line, and I encircled the word Son with the Sun, rays curving about it.

The second line I wrote as follows, "Stag has no children, all-products of incest. Kingslayer and Queen. Stannis rightful heir."

The third line I wrote next, "Pentosi Cheesmonger Illyrio Mopatis likely to harbour Daenerys and Viserys. Boy King is his father." Followed in turn by, "Kraken prepares another fleet, may seek another rebellion within the decade", and in turn, "Hand's wife abed with Littlefinger, who steals from the treasury."

The penultimate line was, "Tyrells working with Renly to establish Margaery as the next Queen."

And I finished this haphazard document meant to evoke the sense of a report with as follows, "Lyanna and Rhaegar wed in Dorne, Septon located who claims Doctrine of Exceptionalism evoked to allow for a second wife, with consent of Princess Elia. Son taken by brother Eddard Stark, In disguise as his bastard to prevent Stag from slaying him."

As I stared at the document, mildly satisfied by my handiwork, I spoke, "Areo, bring the lantern here if you would." And the large guard moved forward, his iron half-helm glittering momentarily from the light of the lantern, I motioned him to place it near the report which he did dutifully.

Before he went back to his spot, I spoke to him, "Areo…. I have a question about your home, Norvos, would you entertain it? I ask this because it may or may not be something you know of."

The large man gave a look of confusion which lasted no more than a blink of an eye before saying, "It is for my prince to command, and for Hotah to obey."

I clasped my hands together below my chin, ignoring the pain, as I spoke, "Does Norvos possess Camels? If so, how do they use them?"

The large man spoke again, stroking his beard, "Camels? The large beasts with the humps? Aye, Norvos possesses them. The Bearded Priests train some men to ride camels with long-axes that are lighter than normal, to deal with the odd small Khalasar that they would not pay anything to. The beasts terrify horses that the Dothraki are so fond of, as well as being more than capable of cutting through their lines. Though I believe the Qartheen are even more fond of Camelry and field more Camels then Horses as their mounted soldiers." As the man was speaking, I placed the first sheet of paper in the drawer of the desk, while the heat of the lantern quickly dried the ink on the second.

I nodded, and dismissed him with, "Hmm, please light that brazier as you return to the door, Areo." And so the axe-master did exactly that, and as he had finished, he stepped back to the door. As I was reading the files that were present in Doran's desk, I was made privy to information that I would have otherwise not known, while Dorne was not considered to be a wealthy state, Doran had covertly established contracts with…Qarth and Yi Ti of all places for something termed…. Black Oil that Dorne possessed a large supply of, which coupled with our trade of exotic foods had given us an economy only a shade behind the Tyrells, rather than a middling one equivalent to the Riverlands that everyone had been led to believe. As I perused the file about our military strength, learning that though the number of fifty thousand soldiers was a sham, Doran had been increasing the available levies from the twenty thousand he had started, to a thirty, of the same size as the Vale, we were greeted with knocks on the door, a pattern of "rap, rap, tap-tap-tap" in quick succession, which my… Doran's memories told me were Oberyn's style of knocking.

The Axe-Master opened the door, and inclined his head downwards while speaking, "Prince Oberyn."

The person who entered wasn't Pedro Pascal, but a slender man who had three inches on me, with a lined face. With long hair and a widow's peak he quite resembled a Spanish Billionaire or something close, and in curiosity, I looked into the full-length mirror in the room, and saw that I looked older than my age of the late forties, as near most of head was grey, flecked with the odd black. If anything, I resembled the artwork of me holding an orange rather than Alexander Siddig, and looked more like an uncle to Oberyn then a brother.

This contemplation in the mirror was interrupted by Oberyn speaking in a long, slow drawl, "Well brother? You planned to leave us so soon, before the… plan could be enacted? A bad jest indeed." Though Oberyn spoke like there was laughter prepared to escape at the bottom of his throat, I noted that there was a slight glint in his eye.

I sighed, "For once, you're right, Oberyn." And to this, the Red Viper's visage flickered in confusion, before I beckoned him. "Areo, stand outside the door, and allow no-one to enter until my audience with my brother elapses, and if my daughter appears, tell her to not run away, for I have important matters to speak of with her. And if she does not listen to you, the nineteen year old stubborn girl that she is, tell her it constitutes the future of Dorne that should catch her attention."

As the Norvoshi guard moved to obey, Oberyn spoke, "You seek to make her Princess of Dorne? What of the pact?"

I stared at him contemplatively, weighing my words so they were to be believed, while leveraging my skills from the debates I'd taken part in, and spoke, "I have not been idle brother, though Dorne believes so, though my own children believe so, and though you are the only one who knows that this is not the truth, there are some things I have wrought, cloaked as they are in further shadows, that even you do not know."

At this Oberyn raised an eyebrow and I momentarily envied him, for I'd always wanted to be able to do that, and spoke, "What are these things brother?"

Seizing the chance, I spoke, "Varys the Eunuch might be the Master of Whisperers in the Usurper's court, but I have developed a network of spies far-ranging, and the likes of which I doubt even Bloodraven possessed. Me entering a sleep was the signal for them to begin reporting, and look brother, at what I have found." And saying so, I passed the second letter to him.

He began to read it aloud, "The son of the dragon still lives." And as his finger traced the drawing of the sun, his eyes darted upwards to me, staring sharply, as he spoke softly "Elia's babe Aegon?", to which I responded "Perhaps, and I can only hope that it is the same, but do read ahead." At which he began to comply, before speaking, "Fostered with Jon Connington? Who drank himself to death? Another man returned from the grave. Though this… cheesmonger and Varys' involvement is something which makes me consider if he could be Aegon, or if he is a Blackfyre as your… informant says."

I nodded at this, slowly scratching my beard, as I spoke, "And of the second?" at which he glanced back at the paper before erupting in laughter, "So the Stag has been given horns? By the gods, with her own brother, I wonder what Robert or Jon Arryn would do if we were to… discreetly make them aware of this?"

I gave a smile, and said, "The Usurper would no doubt impale his wife onto the Throne, and have Selmy open up the Kingslayer's guts, as he's too fat to do it himself, leaving the…" His voice hardened as he spoke, "Mighty Tywin Lannister with the half-man as his only living heir. But I'd have you read the rest all the same."

Oberyn continued to read, "Pentosi Cheesemonger? As in this Illyrio Mopatis…. This does not seem to be of any good news; the man would be dipping his fingers into all of the Targaryen pies available, though for what reason eludes me still. And now I understand why you would call off the betrothal, if the boy is his father come again. I would not allow my niece to wed a mad-man, no matter how prestigious his blood. Though the daughter may prove more malleable."

I spoke, "Yes brother, though it would seem that no one is aware of the pact apart from us and the Sealord of Braavos, as Willem Darry expired before he could inform both the Targaryens."

Oberyn nodded, before continuing, "Balon Greyjoy is an idiot the likes of which I doubt the Kingdom has ever seen since Baelor the Blessed, if he thinks he can return to his people's ways of reaving a second time without Baratheon crushing the Iron Isles and sowing salt in his fields, meagre as they are. Though this business of Jon Arryn being cuckolded does not sit well with me; Hand of the Usurper he may be, he has no great love for the Lannisters either.

I did not speak at this, merely nodded as he spoke, "So Renly would have his brother annul his marriage to Cersei, while wedding a Tyrell, to gain influence with them? An interesting ploy, that the Reach's marcher lords may use to cause harm to Dorne if it works."

Now I spoke, "The final one…. May seem unbelievable, but my informants are well and truly emplaced about the Seven Kingdoms, and the veracity of this is unquestionable.." at which Oberyn read it, and a shade of red began to form in his face, anger no doubt, at which he spoke so softly that It were almost a whisper, "So Rhaegar did impregnate Lyanna, and the most honourable man in the Seven Kingdoms besmirched his honour to protect the little dragon. I would be wroth if your man had found out that Rhaegar were willing to set aside Elia for this.. She-wolf, but if Elia consented, then I suppose I cannot slay this bastard of Winterfell."

Oberyn then spoke, composing himself, "So what would you have us do brother? There is enough knowledge in this piece of paper that Varys' lost member would throb to take hold of."

"Right now? Burn it brother, Arianne does not need to know no more than that the secret betrothal I had planned for her is broken, and that she will be trained to rule Dorne after me, as I have come to know I have neglected in instructing her so. What contents of the letter, lie only between me and you, but they force me to take a greater hand in events to be, and perhaps involve a few lords, the Bloodroyal and the Qorgoyle at the very least."

Oberyn nodded, and I spoke, "You on the other hand, tell me, is your mercenary company still active?"

Oberyn raised an eyebrow again before speaking, "The Halberds of the Sun? Aye, they are present in Qohor as of now if I am not wrong, with Uncle Manfrey's second son, Morgan leading them. Why? What would you have me do with them?"

"Take part of the fleet of Sunspear, no more than forty ships, and take a strong contingent of Dornish Spearmen with you, to protect from pirates, and in addition to the war-ships, take additional boats. You will also take Quentyn with you, along with his companions, for what I have in mind shall require both your attentions to complete. You will seek out this… Illyrio Mopatis or scour the Rhoyne for Jon Connington if you must, with seven warships, for I must have the truth about this Aegon one way or the other. You will dispatch instructions as well as gold to Morgan to secure atleast three thousand camels, whether from Qarth or Norvos I do not care, and preferably of both the types, that is, with one hump and two. He will also scour the cities for soldiers trained to ride them, and shepherds capable of handling them, whether he has to buy slaves and free them, or hire free-men I do not mind, for it could not be a tenth so as hard to find men for this purpose rather than ask them to sail to Valyria, while Quentyn and his fleet shall bring back the Halberds of the Sun, the Camels, and their handlers to Dorne."

Oberyn's eyebrows went ever upward, and threatened to escape into the sky before he spoke, "Camels brother? What madness is this?"

"Aye, a madness it will be, the reclusive Prince of Dorne has taken a fancy to breeding camels will be what the Seven Kingdoms shall think, though the real reason I entrust to you. The Knights of the seven-kingdoms… especially those of the Reach pride themselves on being masters of the horse, but the Dothraki were wont to do the same, but they can, and have been routed by a host of camels. Horses cannot abide the beasts, and they are perfect for our own home, along with the weapons we possess. Dorne has no great army, but if we are to make a move, this would allow us to fight their cavalry on a more even footing, for I have heard that the Essosi consider one camel equivalent to six horses, though this may merely mean survivability, I do not want to squander a single advantage." I spoke, the words flowing through me as the showmanship of Doran took center-stage.

Oberyn clasped his hands contemplatively as he sat on my bed, "Aye, you speak truly, Camels would be capable of being a match to the Reacher Cavalry, maybe even cause routs if they approach near, and we can further use them as transport in the Desert, making the Reachers further incapable of pursuing us. But, a question plagues me of their training. Yes, these men Morgan hires and Quentyn brings can see to, but where shall they ever get the experience to use this training? Do not mistake me, I have no doubt Qorgoyle for one would view Camels as a blessing, but these soldiers so vaunted of taking on horse cavalry, shall need actual experience to prove effective, and unless you mean to scour the Stepstones or have them fight in the disputed lands, I do not see where they shall gain this experience?"

I smiled, "This is where we press our advantage in securing an alliance with the North. A thousand men shall go to the wall, taking with them food supplies to do so, with the permission of the Iron Throne of-course. For six months they shall fight with the Watch against the wildlings, allowing for their experience to accumulate, as well as making the lords of the North bear a better disposition towards us. I would have you command this Camel Host, for the symbolic strengths this shall provide would further help our position there." And I paused to see his reaction so far before continuing, at which he nodded.

"This in turn would cause other lords across the kingdoms to feel that they cannot be out-done by the 'whore-mongers' from Dorne, and send power to the Wall to do similar deeds. While our camel host would return, having gained valuable insight, these mighty lords will have entered a contest to determine whose sword is longer, seeking to out-do each other, while the lords of the North will be bemused at what they consider the queerness of Southrons. Do not mistake me, for I am not stupid, the two-humped camels, I have heard, are equally resilient to both cold as well as heat, making them valuable beasts for any terrain, and the Northern Lords would not copy us for dearth of funds, while the Southrons would not for believing it to be savagery, further pressing our Camel advantage, and when we make our move, a part of each region's host would be beyond the wall, allowing us further power." I finished.

Oberyn laughed, "You have thought long and deep about this brother, and I shall cede that this is no fancy born of madness, and I know you would have me covertly have words with the Lord Stark, that though he sought to hide the truth from the world, Dorne knows, for whatever happens in Dorne, is known to us in Dorne. Though I must ask, where do we have the coin for this?"

It was my turn to laugh as I spoke, "You must remember Jon Arryn gave Dorne concessions for a better part of a decade to our taxes, in his efforts to wash away the sins that Tywin Lannister and his dogs Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch had wrought, and that which the Usuper laughed at in satisfaction. This coupled with the contracts I have forged with Qarth and Yi Ti for the strange oil that we found when digging for wells, have allowed the treasury of Sunspear to over-flow to such an extent, I would say we are only a shade behind the Tyrells in terms of wealth, who themselves are a shade behind the wretched Lannisters, so do not worry, we have the coin."

Oberyn stared at me, before speaking, "It would seem you have thought of everything again, big brother, as you always do. Then it shall be done, I shall go to Yronwood, from where I shall take your son, to the fleet you have prepared. I shall also explain to Lord Yronwood, as well as send a missive from there to Sandstone to Lord Qorgoyle so they shall meet with you. I shall send the letter to Morgan to do as you command, and when I reach Essos, I shall entrust the Yronwood boy to make sure Quentyn does not have flights of fancy, while I accost this cheesemonger if need be, or scour the Rhoyne as you said. I will send word to your estranged wife, Lady Mellario, for her father's aid in helping dock the Dornish fleet until Morgan arrives with the camels, which would also allow for Quentyn to meet his mother yet again."

I nodded again, and noted that his eyes were glimmering, "Aye, good, it seems good, though I would have you leave the other Targaryens be, for whatever plan Varys and this Mopatis have, may prove to be good for us. Oh and I would have you look at every child that accompanies the fleet, whether they be sailor's waif, squire, or cupbearer, to see if they lack tongues, for my agents tell me that Varys' little birds are these children who lack tongues. I would not have my plans be exposed so."

As Oberyn nodded, and turned to leave the room, "Oberyn, there is one more thing." I spoke.

Oberyn glanced sideways to look at me while I spoke, "Get me cherries, lots of them." And he laughed loudly and truly, saying "It will be done, Doran."

As the Red Viper left my chambers, Areo walked in and with him, he brought in a teenager, who I mused to be my daughter, Princess Arianne. While it was strange for me to consider someone I was only four years older to in my world, my daughter, it would seem whatever remnants of Doran existed, firmly ensconced the belief that she was my child to me.

"Come, child, I would have you be seated for what I would tell you." And I hoped that she did not bear the same level of resentment she did as in Feast for Crows. But playing the dutiful daughter, she took a seat on the bed, in the same spot as her uncle.

I spoke, "It has come to my attention, Arianne that I have been neglecting to groom you to succeed me as heir" at which I noticed her eyes dart up to stare into my face with a glimmer in them. Ignoring this momentarily, I soldiered on, "and I am shameful to tell you that it has been of design for a great while. Yes, I would have had Quentyn succeed, but not because I wanted you to be set aside, but because I had a betrothal in plan for you."

The girl… no, woman, spoke, "Who father? Grandison? Estermont? Rosby." With venom lacing each word as they escaped her mouth, I raised my hands in a placating motion, making full use of my swollen joints to make her feel bad as I spoke, "No, all of the old lords were but a distraction, betrothals that would go nowhere so I could fully hide your own, true one. But it would seem fate has other plans in store, and that you will have to marry a young, robust lord, as the betrothal has fallen through."

Arianne's lip curled in what I supposed was confusion as she spoke, "Who was he?", to which I responded, "The son of the Azure Emperor of Yin, Bu Gai, would have been your husband" I said, the lie coming to me easily, and the name coming from the economic documents. "But the lad, took with him a large fleet to explore Sothoryos, and as the thousands before him, was lost in the jungle."

Arianne seemed moderately pleased at this, and had an expression of mollification too, "So you would have me be Empress of such a distant land, though I suppose it is a fate more desirable than cavorting with Rosby in his bed. Though since the heir is dead, who would you have me marry now? Willas Tyrell? Edmure Tully?"

At this, I was to scratch my own beard, "A heir and a heir, wed to my own heir? No, that would not be for the best, though Edmure Tully might not be a bad choice. If you were to look at the Tyrells I would point you at Willas' younger brother Garlan, for second sons are more malleable than both first and third ones, as well as the fact that the youngest has a taste for men, and in specific, K… Lord Renly whom you tried to seduce years ago."

She began to blush furiously at this, but I continued, "Aye, Dorne views me as complacent, but I have not been lax, Oberyn moves to do my bidding, though why he does what he does I will not tell you yet, for you are wont to gossip, and I cannot abide that. Though in good time, you must know, as well as your brothers. Now, child, I will give you two options of immediate worth, you will write a letter to Mace Tyrell, and ask him, in good-faith, to send Garlan Tyrell to Sunspear so you can get to know him well, or you will take a retinue to the Riverlands to meet Edmure Tully, though the latter I deem, the more risky choice, for your children stand to inherit both Dorne as well as the Riverlands, and I am not entirely keen on having a trout in the sands, for Edmure is reputed to be a brash man, who thinks little of the future. But I would have you make your own choice in this matter, for I have inadvertently treated you poorly, unlike in your childhood when you confided in me freely."

The girl got up from the bed, and paced the room freely, at which I commanded Areo to get the servants to bring me some rice and vegetables so as to assuage my growing hunger, accompanied by cherries if we had any.

As I waited for her response, reading through some other files, she finally spoke, "Father, I would go to the Riverlands, for one, I have been trapped in Dorne for far too long, and the sights of the river-laden Riverlands greatly appeals to me. And Edmure is closer to my own age than Garlan, so I would treat with him first either way."

At this I closed my eyes slowly and spoke, "So be it child, but you shall be courteous to Lord Hoster, for like me I believe his health is failing and you shall explain to him that I could not make the trip to discuss everything with him because of my own ill-health. I would have Oberyn accompany you, but he has matters of his own to see to, so I entrust to you to choose suitable companions of high-birth to take along with you to the Riverlands. And whatever you do, do not stop at Kings-Landing, for that is a pit of scum and villainy like no other, and the heir to Dorne being in the Usurper's city is something our enemies would very much like to make so."

At this the Princess nodded, and I sank onto my velvet-padded chair, thankful that I had made it past the first two problems. But I knew that treating with Yronood and Qorgoyle would prove far more taxing, because unlike Arianne and Oberyn, they were not my family.