Chapter 9: United We Stand - I

A black haired child was chasing something small, and then the image was gone. The wisp of memory was frustratingly ephemeral. Severus could barely register it. He had been employing occlumency for nearly an hour now, hoping for a glimpse of his life as a Martell, but he had achieved nothing more than a mild headache. He could extract an image or two now and then, but they were all devoid of context, and they disappeared before he could even process them. At least he knew now that the memories were there. If only there was a legilimens who knew what to look for, to trigger the right train of thought, or a pensieve to store the milliseconds that he saw so that he could connect the dots...

Severus had hoped that he would have been able to extract a modicum of his true feelings or memories before he met his half-brother. It seemed it would not be. Were they fond of each other, he wondered. Granger had told him that there was likely bad blood. Severus was more comfortable with that, he told himself. Bad blood with family was normal. Something he could deal with.

Severus closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, calming himself as well as he could. His mental exercises would have to stop for now. He'd likely need his wits about him. Having a headache wouldn't really help with that. Breathe in, breathe out...

When he opened his eyes Sansa Stark was sitting demurely, her hands folded on her lap, and not a hair out of place. It was obvious that she had dressed specifically for the occasion. It was a new dress, Severus noted, and in the colours of House Martell.

Severus had made an effort too. He had dressed in his second best robes, and he had made an attempt with his hair as well. He'd tried his best to look Princely. He wasn't sure whether it had worked, though. There was a wave to his hair, and...well that was it really...his skin was still sallow, his teeth were still yellow...

Granger was in the adjoining room, just within the perimeter of the anti-eavesdropping spell. He had instructed her to come in wand in hand, in case of an emergency. Bad blood in noble families could be fatal, if history (or the Malfoys) were any indication.

The door opened with a suddenness that startled him. Prince Oberyn had arrived. The man was tall, swarthy, and compelling. He exuded a dangerous grace that dripped sex appeal. Even the demure Sansa Stark was staring at him wide-eyed. Even so, the prince entered without fanfare, and he came alone. There was a smile on his face, but it did not reach his eyes.

"Severus," he greeted, pulling him into a hug, then looking at Sansa, bowed smartly and kissed the back of her palm. "Princess Sansa."

Severus found that there was nothing at all that he could recall about the man, even though it was likely that they had spent a lot of time together.

"I hope you had a good journey, Prince Oberyn," said Sansa. Inoffensive small talk was her specialty, a talent that Severus was coming to appreciate.

"A journey full of hope is the best journey there is," replied the prince, looking intently at Severus. "I am sure you agree. I hope that justice will be served."

"Indeed," replied Severus.

His answer seemed to have been inadequate, however, for the prince's eyes narrowed. He stared intently at Severus, and Severus in turn occluded, his face blank.

"You seem unmoved," remarked the prince, coldly. "I had hoped the rumours to be untrue."

"Rumours?"

"That Prince Severus Martell," he spat the words, "is craven. That all he cares for is his own life. We are but half-brothers, but I had hoped that the blood of Nymeros Martell would run true."

Severus had been called that and worse, both as Severus Snape, and as Severus Martell, and he had rarely given it any heed, but for some reason, coming from the man with the fire in his eyes, hurt. What answer did he have to give, besides empty denial? So he said nothing.

"You do not speak? The Lannisters have your tongue? It matters not. Just tell me this: what have you heard about the Mountain. Did Tywin Lannister give the command? All I need is your word, Severus, and I will take Justice, whether they give it or not."

He didn't know, and yet he felt compelled to answer, for the pain in Oberyn's eyes was familiar. The prince, for all that he was grand, and handsome and dangerous, was broken. He was looking at Severus greedily, waiting for the confirmatory word, the spark to initiate his vengeance.

"I don't know," his reply was pained. "I just don't know! I see flashes of it, but my memory is patchy."

"Your memory is patchy?" roared Prince Oberyn in disbelief. "I don't know whether to envy you or end you, you useless mass of flesh! I see their deaths in my mind's eye every free moment I get."

"It's not his fault!" cried Sansa. Great. Did he have to be rescued by that girl every single time.

"And why," said Oberyn, viper-like eyes piercing the girl, his voice icy with rage, "is it not his fault?"

"The maester said it happens. After his fall. His head was hurt. He was knocked out." Then Sansa added meekly, "it will come back, they said."

"Fall?"

"An assault, actually, finally culminating in a fall." Severus replied coldly. "The King did not like me wedding his former betrothed. He ordered his knights to teach me lesson. I daresay you should beware yourself, now that you are to wed Lady Margaery."

It was obvious from Prince Oberyn's expression that he had finally noted Severus's bruises as well as Sansa's misery and fear.

Prince Oberyn's jaw tightened. "Bloody Lannisters."

It only made Sansa tense further. Severus could see it clearly, her fear of being heard by the Lannisters. He reached out to her. "They can't hear us," he whispered. She didn't believe him.

Prince Oberyn heard him, though, and any sympathy that he had for them disappeared in his grief. He looked at them in contempt. "You fear being heard? After everything they have done? I will shout from the rooftops. I DEMAND JUSTICE! JUSTICE FOR MY ELIA, FOR HER CHILDREN!"

"AND YOU WON'T GET IT!" Severus found himself shouting back. "Not if you scream, and rant and cry to the gods!"

Silence

"I don't fear being heard," Severus added more softly, "but it would be foolhardy to broadcast my plans. I have, in fact, made active arrangements to prevent being overheard. Shouting from the rooftops, wearing your heart on your sleeve will only give weapons to the enemy."

Prince Oberyn looked shocked, as if he did not expect Severus to react in such a manner. He slumped back into his chair, like a puppet with its strings cut, and sighed. "You sound like Doran." The sensible brother, went unsaid.

Severus poured Oberyn a drink, and the other prince took a large gulp.

"I hate them," said Oberyn, uncaring of whether Severus had truly secured the room against eavesdroppers. "I saw the boy king sat upon that hideous chair, set aside and humiliate Margaery Tyrell, a lady betrothed to him only hours ago, raped, like Elia, and all I could think of were the humiliations heaped on our sister. By Aerys the Mad, by Rheagar the Madder, by the Usurper and his filthy Lannister dogs." He paused, refilling his goblet and drinking deeply from it. "She did not deserve it. She was good and noble and kind." He took another gulp. "I had never thought that I would wed. Ellaria is my love, and Doran hasn't given me leave to marry her. She has given me four daughters, and I want her by my side, always, but she understands..."

"Lady Margaery is noble and kind and clever," said Sansa, and both Severus and his half-brother looked at her in surprise. "She was kind to me, and before we were wed," she said, looking towards Severus, "she had hoped that we would be sisters."

"You were to wed a Tyrell?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes. Lord Willas or Lord Sirius, but the King ordered me to marry you, instead. But this way, we will be sisters after all!"

So that's why they had married the girl to him. The pieces were slotting into place. It was the only way they would be able to control the North. Any delay would mean the loss of Winterfell to the Tyrells. Severus and Oberyn looked at each other in mutual understanding.

"So you will be," Prince Oberyn said to Sansa kindly. "I am sure you and Margaery shall be great friends." He lifted the goblet and had another sip, smaller this time.

"At the citadel, I had once read that memories are tied to images, and like associate with like."

"You were at the citadel?" asked Sansa.

"I forged six links, Princess."

Prince Oberyn took off the medallion that hung from his neck, and opened a clasp to reveal a tiny portrait of an elegant young woman, sickly, but with regal bearing. It looked familiar to Severus, but he knew, from the way Oberyn handled it, that the portrait was that of Princess Elia. An image of a laughing face rushed passed, and then nothing. Prince Oberyn looked at Severus beseechingly. Severus shook his head.

Prince Oberyn was on his feet now, his expression fiery. His frustration obvious. In two quick steps, he grabbed Severus by his robes, and cried, eyes flashing, "How can you forget the bodies of Elia, of Rheanys, of baby Aegon? Elia, who cared for you as her own child," Oberyn thrust Severus's face in front of Elia's portrait roughly, "Rhaenys, who played in your lap, Aegon who thought pinching your nose was the greatest game ever? Murdered! Butchered like pigs by those who imprison you under this roof!" He was shaking Severus now. "How can you forget the face of Elia, raped by the murderer of her own son. Aegon's blood and brains in his hands still, and then cleaved in two by the monster! At times I wish I could forget it, and then I ask for her forgiveness, for how can I not avenge her!"

As Prince Oberyn spoke, the images flashed. And it was a torrent. Elia Martell the sister Severus Snape never had, but would have loved with all his heart. Little Rhaenys Targaryen who followed Severus Martell around as if he were the greatest thing in the world after her cat, and baby Aegon who insisted on grabbing Severus's nose every opportunity he got.

If only the torrent ended there. He saw Elia sobbing in her humiliation, of her telling him about some absurd prophesy that had sent her husband into the arms of another woman. Of investigating that ridiculous piece of garbage in the library, when he heard the screams, only to find the doors of the library bolted, and finally of rushing into the throne room, the bodies of his family displayed on crimson cloaks before the new King. They had seen him, then, and Robert Baratheon had nearly killed him. But even as Robert had rained punches on his person, all Severus could see before him were the images of Aegon, his brain leaking from his tiny skull, of Rhaenys, her body nearly cut into ribbons, and Elia, her face grotesque in death.

It was Eddard Stark who had intervened and saved his life, and he had been a hostage ever since, and it had been hell.

Oberyn was no longer holding Severus. He had let go some time ago, but Severus hadn't noticed. He was feeling drained, he wanted to puke. He occluded, instead.

"You remember," said Oberyn. It was a statement.

"I do," replied Severus solemnly, nevertheless.

"Tell me," demanded Oberyn, a hard glint in his eyes.

"They were butchered. It was certainly on Lord Tywin's orders. Their bodies were displayed like prize meat for Robert Baratheon to appreciate."

There was an unsettling expression of satisfaction in Prince Oberyn's eyes. "And where were you? Why didn't you save them?"

"Rheagar's prophesy had just been proven false, with his death. Elia had asked me to look it up. I wasn't there when it happened, but I saw the aftermath."

"Why did she not look it up herself? Why wasn't she with you?"

"Aerys. She was too Dornish, he said. He had decreed that the library be closed to all without Targaryen blood."

"You had the better claim, a better claim in fact, than the usurper himself," Oberyn noted. "Yet you survived, Elia died. Why?"

That was another thing he remembered. Where he came from. The Princess of Dorne had wed old Prince Daeron Targaryen, while both were grieving for their lost loves. Severus was the unexpected outcome, for the Princess was old, and the Prince even older, and it had been grief, not attraction that had brought them together. Severus hadn't been a welcome child. His parents both had seen him as a symbol of betrayal of their love, and they had separated shortly after. Doran hadn't really cared much. It had been Princess Elia who had cared for Severus Martell, brought him up, and given him affection. She had even insisted on him accompanying her to King's Landing, and Oberyn had resented him for it.

That didn't matter anymore. They had common cause, now. Severus Snape and Severus Martell were not very different after all. Both had debts to pay, and Severus would pay all of his with interest. To Lily Evans, his childhood friend, to Elia Martell who had virtually brought this avatar of him up, and to Sansa Stark, whose father had ensured he had not been killed in the general culling of all Targaryens.

He looked his half-brother in the eye and answered the question that had likely plagued the man for seventeen years. "Lord Stark, Dornish law, and a bit of luck. Robert Baratheon, in his fury nearly killed me that day, but Lord Stark refused to allow my death. He insisted that I would be a useful hostage. Dornish law dictates that my name is Martell, not Targaryen. Thankfully, that seemed enough. What army could I gather? Dorne did not have the strength, and the Tyrells were disinterested. On the other hand, the North, the Riverlands, Casterly Rock, the Vale and the Stormlands were strongly united. Lord Tywin was unhappy, but reconciled himself. He felt that as long as I did not step out of King's Landing, there was little anyone could do."

"And what now? We have the North," Oberyn looked at Sansa, then turning back to Severus added, "we have the Reach, and we have Dorne. The Riverlands may yet rise with us. Brynden Tully still lives. Even now, fifty thousand men camp outside King's Landing. What say you?"

"I say that I do not wish to plunge the realm into war."