Hello everyone!
This is my first story as Zizabelle and I don't think that I will be making it novel-length, but it won't be short either. Please feel free to leave reviews, and please keep in mind that although I have access to google, I will be discussing many things in this story that I have no practical knowledge of and therefore may make some mistakes.
Enjoy!
It was an unbearably hot day, the sun beating down without mercy on the small party that made their way through the deserts of Dorne. Though some of the procession was born and raised in the arid southern deserts of Westeros, the same could not be said for two of their number, who instead had travelled from the northernmost and coldest of the kingdoms. The two men had divested themselves of most of their clothes along the way, instead only wearing thin tunics and breeches that were still drenched in sweat. The party was a curious one to say the least, comprised of only two men, one woman holding a new born babe, and a cart. There were no guards or servants, only four tired and weak travellers that waited with bated breath for their destination to finally be seen over the sand dunes.
This party had come together a month ago. Before that, there were five more northerners that had accompanied their kin south, only to perish in a skirmish outside the Tower of Joy where the woman and babe had joined them. It had not been a good month for Ned Stark. He had travelled south to find and save his sister, and all except one of his brothers at arms had died in the attempt. Despite succeeding in finally bringing the guards blocking the path to his sister down, Ned had not found any joy there either, as he arrived just in time to exchange a few words with his beloved sister before she also died, leaving him with a new nephew he knew nothing about and a wet nurse. He had cried his eyes out for hours, holding on to the bloody body and begging his Lyanna to come back, praying to all the gods he knew to just give her breath again, until Howland Reed, the last of those to accompany him south, had dragged him away and helped him dry his eyes.
Then had come the fury. An anger that had lived in Ned since he had seen the bodies of those small children in the Red Keep while the new King that he had helped to put on the throne laughed at the sight of blood and brains. Children that could easily have been his new found nephew. It had been put aside while they rode through the rocky mountains of Dorne, desperate to save the last victim of war, but now confronted with more blood and death, the anger came back with a revenge and burned through his veins. It was all for nothing! All because one man - their new King - couldn't keep it in his pants and had drove away the only woman Ned cared about.
They had arrived at Starfall three days after the death of Lyanna, bringing back to House Dayne the body of their son and his sword. Ned had been the one to kill Arthur Dayne himself, as he was one of the three that had barred the Northerner entrance to the tower and to his sister, and yet the Daynes only had sad smiles and understanding eyes as he stood gloomily in the shadows, thoughts delving deeper and deeper into the quiet rage that had taken him over. The party stayed there for two weeks as the Daynes argued that the babe was too young to travel through the deserts and arranged to have the Silent Sisters come and embalm the body of his dear sister so that he could take her home to the North, where she belonged. For these two weeks, Ned planned in silence and solitude, gratefully taking over one of the studies as his solar when Lord Ulric Dayne offered.
First he sent a letter to the new King Robert. He didn't want to speak to his former foster brother, but Lyanna was his betrothed and so he needed to know. Still, all Ned wrote was a curt 'She's dead. - Ned' and sealed it with his signet ring before moving onto other matters. He would need to get himself a new ring, he had reminded himself, as the one he wore was only meant for a minor member of House Stark. The Lord's signet ring had burned along with his father, and the heir's had disappeared with his brother's body. Probably fed to the dogs of the Red Keep. But plans were made and Ned barely came out of his temporary study, often skipping meals and avoiding anyone other than Howland as he wrote pages upon pages of lists: things to do, things he would need, people who would assist, estimation of costs...
The enemy of my enemy is my friend. That was his reasoning and that was what led his small party to the desert. To Sunspear.
The first sight they had of the palace was the golden domes that topped each tower glinting under the bright desert sun. Smiles cracked the party's faces for the first time in days and their pace picked up, eager to reach the shade and comfort that the great castle offered. They rode for many more hours, barely exchanging a word as they sped through the dunes until the sun was low on the horizon and they finally reached the great gates of the city, where they found a small retinue of men awaiting them.
"Lord Stark." The man in front greeted from atop his sand steed. "I am Andrey Allyrion, Steward to House Martell. Follow me and we will get your party refreshed before meeting with the Prince."
It was an order that Ned, for one, was happy to comply with. They waited for a moment as the Dornishman and his retinue turned before following behind as they led the way through the streets of the city. The palace was on top of a great hill, and as they made their way through the streets various inhabitants could be seen attending to their businesses. The sight of so many scantily clad people would have once made Ned blush in embarrassment and horror, but after two weeks of genuinely considering riding through the desert fully nude, he knew better. The people here seemed acclimated to the heat, all of them being darker of skin than any Northerner could ever dream to be, but the sun was relentless and any dress that exposed the skin to whatever slight breeze there might be was a boon. Ned definitely wouldn't turn down any clothes he was offered, no matter how revealing they may be.
Finally, they arrived at the top of the hill and the receiving party dismounted, handing their horses to the stable boys that came to greet them. The travellers did the same and followed their guides through the gates, into the wonderful shade of the palace and through the hallways until they arrived at a corridor that was empty except for servants.
"This is the guest wing." Steward Andrey explained. "In this corridor you will find your quarters while you stay here. The servants have already drawn up your baths and set out clothes and refreshments, and one will be waiting for you, Lord Stark, to take you to Prince Doran's solar."
With a final nod, the steward and his guards left the servants to direct each member of the party to their respective rooms, and Ned was comforted to know that the wet nurse and his nephew Jon were in the room next to his.
The room was quite large and airy, beautifully furnished and coloured, but more importantly to Ned, the windows were open and letting in a cool breeze, making the sheer silk curtains blow softly as it entered the room. Ned wasted no time in divesting himself of his clothes and making his way into the side room where his bath awaited, the cool water refreshing him even further. In the North, the baths were boiling hot to counteract the cold of the air. Ned found it comforting to know that they had the same logic down south.
An hour later he was washed, dressed and fed as a platter of bread, salt and fruits had been brought to him by a servant, and he was being led through the palace corridors once more to meet with Prince Doran, uncle to the murdered dragon babes and brother to the violated woman that had ignited Ned's ire against Robert. When the door opened and the Northern Lord stepped into the solar, the first thing that crossed his mind was that it looked a lot like his father's - now his - solar back in Winterfell. It was plan and simple, with a desk and a few chairs and the walls covered in book cases, all made from the same finely crafted wood that gave an earthy tone to the room. He then took a moment to observe his hosts as he made his way to the offered seat.
Prince Doran was a man of around 35 years years of age, with bright eyes and hard lines on his face. He looked at Ned with a stern and intelligent eye, and a face that could not be easily interpreted. Price Oberyn, however, was slightly younger and much easier to read. The slight tightening around his eyes and the furrowing of his brows showed his displeasure at having to play host to a man who had assisted in the deposition in the Targaryens.
"Lord Stark." Prince Doran greeted, his voice just as unreadable as his face. "What brings you to Sunspear?"
Straight to the point then. Ned nodded once to himself before speaking, his eyes alternating between the two brothers to show that his words were meant for both.
"I came to express my condolences for the loss of you sister, niece and nephew, and to apologise for my part in the events which made their deaths possible."
It was a risk, he knew, to discuss Princess Elia and her children with her brothers, and even to come to Sunspear in the first place, but he had no choice. It was no surprise that Oberyn bristled at his words and began to rise from his seat in fury, only to be held back by his elder brother.
"Thank you for your words." Doran said, but his eyes showed the same rage as Oberyn's had. "But if the new King wishes to get Dorne back into his good graces -"
"I do not come on behalf of Robert." Ned interrupted. He was just as unrestrained as the younger Prince and let his rage be seen to all. "The King" he spat, "laughed when he was presented with bodies of your niece and nephew! He didn't even glance at Princess Elia. No I do not come for Robert, nor will you ever hear any words of his from my mouth. I came for myself. Because she was no threat and they were mere babes. Because Aegon was smashed against a wall until his brains were visible and Rhaenys was stabbed half a hundred times, and I could nothing more than stare at their bodies once the deed was done."
The Princes were slightly taken aback by the tirade. The words and even the tone itself was borderline treason, against his own foster brother, his best friend. But Northerners were not known to lie and even if they were, Doran was shrewder than most, and this was no lie. The way Ned spoke, the way he spat his words in disgust and the way his hands clenched beneath the desk made it clear that Lord Stark was genuine.
"I came" the lord continued, "because I went to war for a dead brother and father. And now half of your family is gone, just like mine."
"Thank you, Lord Stark." Price Doran responded softly. This time there was no rage in his eyes and his words were genuine. "And you also have my condolences for the loss of your family."
Ned nodded in thanks, and the trio remained in silence for a moment, reminiscing on those they had lost, on the grief and rage that consumed them. They stayed quiet for minutes, sipping on wine and nibbling on fruit that was on a platter on the desk as they thought about their hopeless situation.
"I have also come because I would like to foster a closer relationship between the North and Dorne." Ned spoke up once more once he had come back to himself.
"In what way?" Doran asked, cocking a head to the side. "You have a son and I have a daughter, however in Dorne it is the eldest that inherits regardless of gender, and I struggle to believe you would consent to giving up your only heir to be Prince Consort to my Arianne."
"You would be right, I am not here for a betrothal." The Northerner agreed. "Rather I would have a trade deal between our two kingdoms."
"And what do you have to trade, Lord Stark, that Dorne would be interested in?" Prince Oberyn finally lifted his head from his half empty cup of wine to address their guest.
A slight smile took over his face then, even while Ned's eyes continued to show the grief he felt. "I have been in Dorne for over a month, and in that time I have wished for nothing more than for a piece of the Northern cold. I would trade ice with you, Price Oberyn. To keep the food you eat and the wine you drink cool enough to comfort you in this heat. I hear you have sweet desserts that you cool in the night's shade. With ice this will make them all the more cold and refreshing."
"Ice?" The elder brother repeated, brows furrowing in confusion.
"Indeed. You may have heard but we have plenty in the North." Ned joked, once more pulling his lips into a slight smile to avoid confronting his dark thoughts and the tension that still remained in the room. "Believe it or not it also has medicinal purposes. In the North we soothe bruises and bumps with packs of snow to reduce swelling, and people take ice baths to treat fevers. It may be a simple thing, easily found where I am from but it has many uses."
The two Dornish Princes were intrigued. Never before had anyone seen the need to trade ice of all things, and yet the advantages that Lord Stark described were certainly useful.
"And what would the price be for the ice, assuming we accept this deal?" Prince Doran asked.
"I would be willing to send one full trading cog to Dorne without charging you coin. Instead I would request a favour of Prince Oberyn. If you appreciate the first shipload and wish to confirm the set up of a trading route, then we may discuss price at that time."
One elegant eyebrow raised, Prince Oberyn swirled his cup of wine slowly as his brother's and guest's eyes turned to him.
"And what favour would you ask of me, Lord Stark?"
Ned cleared his throat before answering. "I understand you are a well travelled, charismatic man who has many friends all over Westeros and Essos?" When the Prince confirmed with a slightly confused nod, Ned continued. "I would request that you send as many men looking for work as you can North. Architects, shipwrights, miners, warriors, merchants. Whoever is willing, let them know that before long, the North will have work for them."
This was critical. The North was not greatly populated and more than that, the land was so hard that the inhabitants were mainly focused on farming what they could than they were at changing the status quo. If he wanted the North to become powerful, he needed more workers and more qualified men. All his plans would go down the drain if he did not get this, or at best they would be postponed by years or even decades. He could not afford that. The two Princes stared at him, baffled as to why he would need so many men of so many different trades, their brows furrowed in confusion and Ned simply stared back, awaiting an answer.
"You would send us a full ship of ice, in exchange for a few measly letters?" Prince Doran asked finally.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"That is all I need at the moment." Ned responded simply. "I have plans for the North and none of them can happen without qualified men. I also want to ensure a happy and mutually beneficial trade deal between us both, and this allows you to sample the product I want to sell before any agreement is made."
"Well," Prince Doran began. "In this case I would be happy to agree to a first ship. Oberyn?"
"I agree to the favour asked." Oberyn responded, eyeing Ned closely. "May I ask what plans you have for the North, Lord Stark? I must say I am quite intrigued."
Once more, Ned nodded once as he leaned forward slightly, a new glint in his eyes. "I plan to make the North powerful once more. Increase trade, increase farming, increase wealth. I mean to make my kingdom prosperous and undefeatable."
"Undefeatable?" Oberyn asked, his eyes darkening just a touch. "The war has just ended, why would the North need to be undefeatable now?"
Doran raised an eyebrow at that question, also feeling something stirring within him at the Northern Lord's words. The brothers exchanged a grim glance and wondered if they were right in thinking that this trade deal might just be the best opportunity they had had in years.
"Yes, undefeatable. There is a reason the North was never conquered before the arrival of dragons." Ned stated, his voice firm and the rage glowing once more in his dark eyes. "People forget that it is not to a crown that Torrhen knelt, nor was it to a throne made of swords, but rather a dragon. And dragons have been extinct for 150 years. Oaths held us back from rebelling since then but I have sworn no oaths to Robert the child slayer Baratheon, nor do I intend to. The Kings of Winter shall return once more, and I would cast a curse upon myself before considering Robert my King."
