The Small Council.
Dorne was promised a seat on the Small Council when the Lannisters sent Princess Myrcella Baratheon to Dorne to be fostered before she was wedded to Prince Trystane, son of Prince Doran, and Oberyn was officially in King's Landing to claim said seat. Oberyn did not know under what capacity he would enter the Small Council as, but since his brother Doran could not travel far due to his health, he was the one who would sit on the Small Council in his stead. However, there was no open position for him, despite the fact that the position of Masters of Ships and Laws were vacant since the Baratheon brothers Stannis and the late Renly rebelled against the King. Tywin Lannister did not trust Dorne enough to give its lords such a high office, Oberyn mused.
"So... does this mean that I'm a 'Master' of something now?" he asked the Council as they all sat down. Varys found that joke quite amusing. "Coins... ships..." Well, it had been worth the try. Just as he finished speaking, Tywin Lannister came into the chamber with Cersei hot on his trail. Everyone in the chamber stood for them, while Oberyn remained in his seat. Dorne and the Iron Throne were on equal terms, for Dorne was not conquered, but married into the Seven Kingdoms, after all. He was not required to stand for anyone except the King, and the King was not there.
"Prince Oberyn, you've finally decided to join us," Tywin greeted. "Being a married man suits you well." Empty words, of course.
"What can I say, the Gods decided to bless me with a beautiful, young wife," Oberyn answered, appearing to be very pleased with himself. It was the truth though.
"Sansa is a sweet little dove," Cersei added. "I do hope the both of you would fine happiness in your marriage."
"I thank you, Queen Cersei," Oberyn thanked. "We are definitely most happy. I am sure that my lovely wife would be happier still if she were to see the wider world away from King's Landing..." Sansa was no longer a royal ward (or that of the Lannisters'), and was technically free to roam where she would.
The rest of the Small Council merely watched as the three of them exchanged barbs. It was evident that neither of them liked one another very much, but business was business and business had to go on. "My lords, Your Grace, we have a terrible lot to discuss today, let us put family matters aside, shall we?" Varys offered.
Clearing his throat, Tywin said, "Agreed. Lord Varys, what do your little birds report?"
"Well, Robb Stark is getting busy in the Westerlands, my Lord Hand," Varys answered. "He's not only reorganized his armies, but the crops his men are planting seem to be highly successful. If everything goes well, the Westerlands would be able to survive the winter without any issue."
It was good news for anyone who had the allegiance of the Northmen, but bad news for the Lannisters. "What are the lords of the Westerlands doing there?" Cersei demanded. "Don't they remember where their fealty lies?"
"Despicable!" Pycelle spat. "Such behavior from these Westerland Houses will surely anger the Gods!"
"The problem, dear sister, is that they're doing nothing," Tyrion said. "If they do nothing, they gain everything."
"How is that possible?" Cersei asked. "Don't they understand that if they do nothing, they'll have Father's wrath to answer to?"
"Yes, they have that to face," Tyrion said. "But that's far off into the future after the war's over and done with. Right now, they have Robb Stark trying to buy the love of the smallfolk for them with the food his army's planting for them. They can't do anything unless they want the smallfolk to rip them to shreds once they're out of food like our previous High Septon."
A great silence crossed the room and Oberyn continued to observe the rest of the Small Council. After Tywin nodded, he said, "Robb Stark's also captured Roose Bolton trying to flee his ranks and join with the Freys. After doing so, he had Lord Bolton's lands and arms stripped away from him and sent him to manure the fields. He also divided Bolton's men to the rest of the Northern lords as gifts for their continued support."
Tywin harrumphed. "The Starks and the Boltons have been at each other's throats for years," he said. "That will only drive the wedge between them further. How long before the Bolton men start to avenge their master?"
"The thing is, Robb Stark's had his entire army reorganized," Varys added, much to the dismay of the Small Council. "He's had new uniforms made for them, with nothing to differentiate one another with. He's banned the use of House banners and now the army of the North only have one grey banner to ride behind with. The Northern lords seem to be very happy about it, and their morale has never been higher."
"Does this mean that we do nothing at all?" Cersei demanded. "What about Uncle Kevan? Do we even know if he's alive?"
"Ser Kevan was not found in the body count at all, Your Grace," Varys said. "Perhaps he was taken prisoner?"
All eyes moved to Tywin, including Oberyn. "I said it once and I've said it again, we will wait until Robb Stark makes his next move. It's impossible that this stalemate will remain for long. He might have gained Casterly Rock, but he only has twenty thousand soldiers. We have the greater numbers."
"What numbers do you have?" Oberyn asked Tywin. "Last I counted, you have the same number of men in the capital."
"That is where you've miscounted, dear Prince," Cersei replied. "With our alliance with the Tyrells, we will have seventy thousand men all within a week's march." Seventy thousand was a great number. Even in full strength, the North had fifty thousand warriors, but they are cut off from their King by the Freys and Winterfell was taken by the Ironborn. Robb Stark would break like water on rock if he dared to take the capital, reorganized army or no.
"An alliance that must be set to stone," Tywin stressed. "Joffrey and Lady Margery must wed, and soon. We must bind the Tyrells to us as soon as possible."
"Where do we find the gold for the wedding?" Tyrion asked. "I'm the Master of Coin, but I can't just... give birth to gold out of thin air!" Oberyn actually chuckled at his choice of words. He actually found Tyrion Lannister to be a very amusing man.
"Ask the Tyrells," Tywin concluded. "If they want Lady Margery to be the Queen, they'll have to pay their dues as well."
Tyrion obviously wilted after being set with such an immense task. There was only one person who could have such a great say in the affairs of House Tyrell, and it would be Olenna Tyrell.
"If there's nothing more to discuss, this meeting will be adjourned," Tywin declared sternly. "Varys, I want your little birds to send reports of Lord Baelish and the North the next time we meet."
Varys nodded. "Of course, my Lord Hand," he replied and said nothing more.
"The North still has twenty five thousand men that hasn't been deployed, Your Grace," one of Robb's bannermen told him as Robb gathered his bannermen for a war council. They had already rested and recuperated well enough in Casterly Rock, and with a bumper crop of vegetables and enough livestock, they were ready to fight again. "Call them all to your side and with the Dornish army, we can take King's Landing."
"When the little butcher-king marries the Tyrell girl, they'll have seventy thousand men in the capital," Obara countered. "No one sane enough will even dare to meet such a force." With a piece of yellow chalk, Obara drew a line around King's Landing, and with a green one, she drew another line, with more space between the first line and the walls of the capital. "This... is what seventy thousand soldiers looks like."
"Thank you, Obara," Robb said, gently holding up a hand to signal that Obara should keep her peace. "Even at our full strength, we can't take King's Landing with a greater force. It will be our suicide if we even try."
"So what do we do?" Edmure Tully asked him. "The soldiers of the Riverlands are yours, Your Grace."
"Uncle, your men will remain in Riverrun," Robb said. "They'll protect the Riverlands as they know best. You'll have Uncle Brynden as your advisor." In truth, it was a measure to prevent Edmure from doing anything that all of them would regret again. The Riverlands had forty thousand men, and by technicality, they were Robb's subjects as well. As much as he wanted those forty thousand men, Robb knew that they belonged in the Riverlands because they were the most familiar with them. "However, you must come to me if I send word for aid in a moment's notice."
"Yes, Your Grace," Edmure said. He had promised his nephew that he would not fail him again. He would honor his promise even if it meant his death.
The Northmen were in no position to be gloating, either. The lords of the Westerlands were only simply tolerating their presence there. So long as they harmed none of their holdings or lands or men, they were safe from their wrath. One false move and they will be torn to shreds. No, Robb needed his own men to come to him.
"Lord Umber," Robb said to Greatjon. "I'll need you to go with Uncle Edmure and Uncle Brynden to sack the Twins," he said. "We'll need them if any of our men are to cross the Trident." He needed the Twins to be open, so the Northmen could retreat back into the North, or the rest of the Northmen could come south with ease, but he could not risk anything to the Freys. He might have broken a marriage contract, but the Freys had conspired with Roose Bolton to deliver his head to the Lannisters. It was reason enough for them to exact their vengeance on them and have control of the Trident once and for all.
Greatjon Umber nodded. "Leave it to me," he said enthusiastically.
"Succeed and the Twins are yours, Lord Umber," Robb declared after nodding to Brynden Tully. The Twins were a small price to pay to Greatjon if he could take them from the Freys. A Northerner needed to control them if Northerners were to be allowed to freely pass them.
"I won't fail you, Your Grace."
"What do we do about Winterfell?" another bannerman asked.
"Winterfell is a lost cause," Robb heard a quiet voice muttering words that he knew were true. It was too far away for him to return to, and if they did return, all their work in the Westerlands would be for naught. Winter was coming and if the Northern Lords returned north, they would never go south to fight even if their King demanded them to. He had already made his peace that he would never see Winterfell again unless they returned home in triumph.
Looking at the ranks of his bannermen, his blue eyes focused on his most untapped resource. He needed those he could trust to handle such a mission of subtlety and strength. He needed bannermen of unwavering loyalty and ability. No one could fulfill all the criterion that he needed save for Lady Maege Mormont. The Mormonts of Bear Island were known for their loyalty and honor, despite the actions of Jorah Mormont. As an added bonus, the Mormonts have been fending off Ironborn and wildlings since time immemorial.
"Lady Mormont," he said to Maege Mormont. "You will follow the Greatjon and my uncles at the rear. Once they have taken the Twins, I will have you and your daughters re-sack Winterfell for the North. Winterfell might be a lost cause, but we cannot let it fall to ruin. Cleanse Winterfell of any Bolton and Ironborn you see. Take back the capital of the North for the Northerners."
Meage Mormont bowed and nodded. "My girls and I will make sure those bastards regret they ever set foot in Winterfell, Your Grace," she reassured him.
The departure of the Mormonts and Greatjon Umber would mean that at least seven thousand men would be leaving northwards. It was a risk that he had to take if more of the Northern army were to be able to assemble at Casterly Rock. For now, he would have to rely on the Rivermen that his uncles had as well.
"I want word to be sent out," Robb added. "That ten thousand men are going back up north to reclaim it, that the rest of us are here in Casterly Rock, waiting for their good news so we can complete our retreat."
He had hoped that by the time the Lannisters found out what he had done, the Twins would have fallen and the Mormonts and their men would have been well on their way back towards Winterfell. He had hoped by then, Tywin Lannister would think them to be defenseless, running with their tails between their legs and try to take Casterly Rock. He would be met with at least ten thousand Northmen and three times the amount of Rivermen if he tried to do it.
With all the preparations done, all he could do was hope.
"Being an advisor to the Small Council is tiring work," Oberyn complained to both Sansa and Ellaria as they walked through the gardens on their side of the Red Keep. "All this scheming and plotting..."
Ellaria merely swatted him on the arm while Sansa appeared to be more concerned. "What did you discuss?" his wife asked him.
"Your brother, dear Sansa," Oberyn answered. "Tywin Lannister aims to wait him out and win the war by attrition. There's also to be a wedding soon. The Gods know that the Lannisters need the Tyrells' armies to support them."
"How many do they have?" Sansa asked. She knew that the Tyrells were rich, but she had never heard of the strength of their arms before.
"Fifty thousand swords, apparently," Oberyn replied. "Queen Cersei was very happy to tell me that, mind you." Sansa paled at the number that her husband had relayed to her. Her brother did not have fifty thousand soldiers, she knew that as much. Sensing her distress, Oberyn scooted over to her and kissed her forehead. "Robb is not such a fool to want to take King's Landing with what he currently has," he reassured her. "He has a lot more work to do before he can actually attempt such a... stunt."
"Come now, my love," Ellaria said to Sansa, taking her hand in hers. "We have a wedding to attend, and we need new dresses for such a grand event. My maids have told me of this excellent dressmaker in the market..." Before Sansa even knew it, Ellaria had already moved her far enough away from Oberyn to even garner another question.
Oberyn sighed. At times he wondered if he should divulge so much to Sansa. It had less of his trust towards her abilities to keep her mouth tightly sealed, but more of his worry that she would overburden herself. She loved her family and she wanted every single bit of news that she could have of them. She was not to blame for such a simple wish, of course, but when her family was in the center of the fray, and when his could only work in secret...
He cursed himself for wanting to dote upon his wife. He cursed himself for immediately being enslaved by her soulful, blue eyes.
"Strange seeing you alone without any company, Prince Oberyn," Varys greeted him from across the garden. The Spider had been monumental in
"Sansa and Ellaria are out in the market," Oberyn explained. "To distract my lovely bride from the mundane things that go about this Red Keep."
Varys shrugged pointedly. "Oh, I agree that this Red Keep is a little mundane," he replied. "But it can be quite interesting at times. Former political hostages can become princesses here, as an example. Princess Sansa might have been able to escape the Lannisters by marrying you, but if the Lannisters were to sniff out any... anomalies, they will want to swallow her whole again."
It was not a threat that came from Varys. It was a word of caution. Together, they walked towards a part of the Red Keep where no one else could hear them - the Godswood, and they walked in silence.
"What do the Lannisters already know?" Oberyn asked Varys.
"Not much," Varys replied. "But Dorne, not Robb Stark is the only thing that can save her. If you fall, so will she. Sansa Stark is getting more and more politically astute, but without a backer, she cannot grow into her own. That would be such a waste, don't you think?
"Why would anyone need Sansa?" he asked.
"Her talents lie not only in politics, my prince," Varys answered. "The Starks... have quite a magical quality about them. Some say that since they have never been conquered, they're the direct descendants of the First Men, who have powers that cannot be comprehended by other humans." Oberyn understood what Varys was trying to imply. Incensed, he unsheathed his dagger and pointed it towards Varys' almost non-existent neck. "If you want to protect your wife, you'll know that you'll need me alive."
"Why Sansa?" Oberyn asked, re-sheathing his dagger. "Why not Robb himself? Isn't he the Young Wolf? Who knows what he can do with his direwolf already?"
Varys shook his head. "Our friend across the sea might have hatched several little... lizards, but she might not be able to control them. Any knowledge of how to do so has been lost to the known world ever since the last lizard died here in the Red Keep. Besides, Robb Stark has not shown any sign yet of having the same gift your wife has."
"You think that she can learn how to control beasts?"
"My Prince, she has learned to survive the malice and cruelty the denizens of this wretched place can throw at her. Learning to control beasts will be nothing compared to that."
HAN: I'll have to say, this chapter is a bit dry, but necessary. It was also very, very difficult for me to write, precisely because of how dry it is. All the scheming and plotting is very tiring indeed.
I will also be omitting the little scene between Varys and Oberyn, because it is highly evident that Varys was the one who made the Stark-Martell-(hopefully) Targaryen alliance work. So, in this fic, Oberyn and Doran have long known Varys' motives to restore Targaryen rule.
I hope you like what I'm planning for Sansa, although that won't happen in the near(ish) future for her.
Enjoy!