Wife of the Wolf, Husband of the Sun

Chapter Eighty

The wine was far too sweet. Father had always told her that wine from the Reach might as well be colored water and as she sipped it. Obara found that she agreed with that, as she often agree with most of what her Father said. She upended the cup of the stone floor on the castle and took her skin off of her hip and used it to fill the goblet instead.

A sip and her mouth was filled with the taste of Dornish Red, peppery and a little sour at the back of her throat. The first time she had drunk it, a little pathetic thing she was who was terrified of the world that the man who had claimed to be her Father had brought her to, where the men and women wore fine silks just like the highborn in Oldtown, the taste had been enough to make her splutter and drop the cup.

Now, it was a taste that was familiar. Comforting as much as anything in her life ever had been. It meant that she was away from Oldtown, away from the highborn boys would jeer as her for being a bastard and lowborn and half-Dornish, away from the boys who would throw stones at her and the lords of the Reach who would spit at her and the master of the brothel where she and her Mother had lived who would pinch her in the darkness.

The sour taste meant safety, it meant strength. It meant that she wasn't little Obara Brownface anymore, but that she was Obara Sand. A highborn bastard girl who had been claimed by her Lord Father and that she would never be weak again. It's why she had chosen the spear, after all. Her mother's tears had been heartbreaking but it hadn't been able to stop her from leaving, as a weapon it had been useless.

But the spear, she had felt the strength in it the moment she had picked it up. It had been so heavy, but the moment she had touched it she knew that it was hers. Her weapon. She took her Father's hand and did not look back, even as her mother had begged and pleaded and screamed and wept. She had own life to live now, her own day.

When word came to Dorne a year latter that her mother had drunken herself to death, Obara was not surprised. Even before she had left with Prince Oberyn to come to her new home her mother had been overly fond of of the drink in order to deal with the pain that was the wrecks of their lives. She had probably a dozen cups a day, and that was just when Obara was there and cared enough to try and stop her.

Considering that Obara was certain that drinking piss would both taste better and do more to dull any sort of pain, she did have to wonder why her Mother had bothered. She had no tears to shed for her when she had learned, what would be the point of them? The only lesson her Mother had ever taught her was that tears were useless.

And she had a lesson with Father how to use the spear, and her Father had taught her to put anything of how she might be feeling into how she fought. And she had, the spear had become an extension of herself and the day she had learned of her Mother's death. She had fought better than she ever had before, it was the first time she had even been able to land a blow against Prince Oberyn.

How far she had come, from a scared little girl who made the choice to not be scared any more. Obara had never thought that she would ever return to the Reach, she had never wanted to after all. But she had, and now with an army alongside her to take her revenge.

The Reach and the Westerlands had more people in them than all the other kingdoms put together and they could field more men in the field than all of the other kingdoms put together and if Tywin Lannister and Mace Tyrell had truly declared for the King, then they would outnumber them in the field. They had to do something to make sure they could bring their full strength out into the field.

That was her task then. The Dornish host, twenty thousand strong, had been split in half. Ten thousand Dornishmen rode with the rest of the forces that now rode under the king in swaddling's banner while the other ten thousand had been sent back down the Boneway in order to come back up through the Prince's Pass.

Lord Fowler of Skyreach had been sent a raven by her Uncle as the spears had been gathering, commanding him to gather his own forces and to hold his strength there in the Prince's Pass. Some five thousand men were waiting for them and then they began to rode all the way up the Pass, to get to the Reach proper where the Mad King's men would feel the wrath of Dorne.

Obara was a girl, and while most Dornishmen would not care about that her Father had made her dress up in man's clothes and pretend to be his son in order to fool the Northerners. Considering how her Father had that look in his eyes, she had to wonder if in truth it was simply done so he could play some sort of jest on them. And she was young, no one would expect her to be in command of ten thousand Dornishmen. None of the high lords would stand for it.

But if it was a smaller number, a hundred of them, then she would have command. The lord of Skyreach, who had been placed in command of the raiding by her Father. Had made it clear that once they had rode into the Reach, they were to break into ten groups of a thousand and some of those groups were to break into small groups of five hundred, three hundred and one hundred, and each of those groups would be under one person's command.

Obara was the daughter of the Red Viper, trained at his hand and when she suggested herself to be in charge of the group of one hundred she had been placed in. A few voices she knew came to her support. Osmund Starton, The Knight of the Dunes, Jon and Edric Sand, the bastard twins who had both served her father's as squires and in bed according to some, thin and sour Tommen Wells, Lady Nyssa whose trueborn sons rode with Prince Oberyn and Lord Eddard and her three bastard daughters each of whom had been trained to be as deadly with their Mother rode with Obara, The Seven Brothers, seven brothers who were knights and who travelled among the dunes and sought glory and honor and all of whom had been knighted by Prince Oberyn.

And old Aaron Sand, a proud old warrior with a face covered in scars. Who skewed the spear in favor for a black iron axe. All of them counted her Father as a friend, and to Obara it did not seem it like a coincidence that her group was comprised of so many who knew her Father, loved him like a brother or more, or indeed owed him a debt.

Yes, the Red Viper could be sly. When it pleased him to be. And Obara found herself in command of all of these fierce warriors. Her company rode into the Reach alongside all the others, through the densely wooded foothills on the Reach's side of the Red Mountains and from there they had rode straight into the heart of the Reach.

They had seen Oldtown in the distance and not for the first time Obara had thought it would have been better to lay siege to large city instead of sending all of them into different directions of the kingdom. Oldtown aflame would certainly send a message to the lords of the Reach that their own lands were more in need of them than the King.

But alas she was only in command of her group of one hundred riders and such a small number would never be enough to pose a threat to the might of the Hightower so it seemed that her dreams of seeing the place of all her misery burn to the ground would have to remain only that, sweet dreams to visit as she slumbered.

Once Oldtown was behind them and out of sight, then did the host break apart into the decided groups. Some circled back to ride back into the foothills so they raze the fields and strike at the heart of Lord Tarly's power while yet others would set fires to the fields outside of Oldtown. No attack was to be made against Oldtown itself, of course, merely the flames were meant to serve only as a distraction.

The rest of them rode straight in to the heart of the Reach and then spread like seeds being carried on the wind. Obara had overseen the burning of the fields and raided a dozen small villages and towns, some knights in their small holdfasts of stone and wood had ridden out to meet them but they rode off in the other direction while peppering them with arrows.

Fields of barley and wheat burned from their fire arrows and torches, trains of men and supplies that would go to support the larger hosts that the Reach had already marched in service of the Mad King had found themselves attacked with arrows and thrown spears, every attack cost the train more and more men and when the supplies were vulnerable they were lit with flame.

In the night, When a host of men came to a stop they cut the lines of horses and sent them running off into the darkness, they set the tents of the highborn aflame and in the chaos of it all, arrows and spears fell as quick as rain on the reachemen. They hit and and ran, each attack cost the men of the Reach at least a dozen men and their group was gone and fled before they had the chance to respond.

Some would call it dishonorable, craven, perhaps even cruel. But all the blood that had been split so far was the blood of Reachmen, and Obara had not yet lost a single man. And all across the Reach, nine thousand and nine hundred other Dornish men were doing the same thing. And how could the men of the Reach be expected to fight properly when their fields were burning, their people were being killed and denied their supplies to keep them going.

Of course, then it became a matter of what would really get the attention of Mace Tyrell. Soon enough they would need to press north into the Westerlands, to raise Lord Tywin's ire but that could wait for a moment or two longer. Burning fields, stopping supplies, attacking camps and raiding towns well, that was one thing. But what they would need to do to get a highborn's attention would be to prick at their pride.

And the best way to do that, would be to take a castle.

Obara had never heard of Sweetwater Castle until the day before they had taken it, it was a fairly squat, ordinary and by reachmen standards probably quite ugly castle. It's walls were grey stone and it's towers were short and stubby and just barely peaked over the curtain wall. The lands surrounding it were quite pleasant, all heavy woodland with a lake at the rear of the castle. It was a small and unimportant feeling place, one that she would be surprised to know if any of the great lords of the Reach even knew existed.

But this was a bull that would be killed by a thousand wasp stings, and the castle would be theirs. Obara had ridden straight up to the gate with thirty men armed with yew bows at her back. They were greeted by at least a dozen bowmen and a knight dressed in armor who she would bet a thousand gold dragons was the castle's master-at-arms.

"I am Obara Sand, daughter of Prince Oberyn Martell. In the name of Dorne, and his grace King Renly of the House Baratheon, I command you to lay down your weapons and open your gates and yield the castle to us. Do so now, and I swear to you. None of you shall come to any harm." After she had finished speaking, there had been a moment of silence.

It had been broken when the man in armor had spoken. "I am Ser Thomas Byriver, master-of-arms of Sweetwater Castle. I do not know of your Father, my Lady. Perhaps his name invokes awe and dread in Dorne but this is the Reach, and if a snake slithers it's way into our gardens, we cut their head off. My Lord had ridden off to put down this unlawful rebellion and charged me with defending his home and we are king's men. I am not in the habit of killing women, even bastard women, so I would suggest that you ride on."

"I think you know that I am not going to do that, I mean to have your castle. Your only choice in the matter if you mean to live through till the morning."

The knight stared at her for a long moment before he drew his sword and held it high into the air so all of the riders outside of the walls could see it well. "This is my choice, do you worst."

Obara had taken that as a challenge and so as night had fallen, they began. Obara took thirty of her men and rode slow and gentle into the woods while the rest of the riders rode hard and fast under the command of Aaron Sand to raid and set aflame the closest villages and towns near to the castle, the night sky flickered orange and smoke rose from the horizon.

Obara's group then, garbed in dark materials and spreading mud across their faces, tied their horses to the trees and made sure they were given food and water. Sand Steeds did not need to eat as much as a full grown horse, but she had wanted to leave nothing to chance. The group kept low to the ground and moved on the castle.

Ropes with hooks at the end found purchase on the castle walls and soon the thirty of them were on the battlements in different places, as soon as the fires had been set, the riders would be making their way back to the castle and the gates needed to be opened for them. Two guards came across them as they were climbing, but two thrown knives made quick work of them.

Sadly, as they hid the bodies, a third guard came upon them and while one of Obara's throwing spears made him silent, she had not been quick enough to stop him for raising the alarm and all too soon all chaos was breaking free. What she had hoped to be a quick strike straight to the gatehouse quickly turned into a bloody and desperate melee.

Most of the men must have ridden off with their lord, she had realized that when a boy in leather cap and armed with a pike that he clearly had no idea how to use came rushing at her, she merely had to step to the side and then cut his throat with her knife. Obara took a second to watch him die, on the ground and drowning on his own blood.

She had already killed her first man when she was his age, and there was more to do and so she left him to pass on his own. More and more came at her, a guardsman whose eyes she hit out with her whip and then buried her spear into his gut, a man who looked like he worked in the kitchens with a heavy meat cleaver in his hands who she smashed her shield into his face, the bronze spike in the middle going through his eyes, a stable boy with a pitchfork who ended up wit her knife in his throat when he attempted to take her while she was trying to pull her spear free.

All around her, men fought and died. Daggers, one of Lady Nyssa's bastard daughters, who had thrown the knives that had killed the two guards had pulled her namesakes free of their sheathes and was cutting the throat of any who were fool enough to come near her. Her sisters, named Spear and Whip, were taking on a large guardsman. When he attempted to take Spear's head of, Whip's whip would crack. When he attempted to kill Whip, Spear would respond but taking the advantage of the opening.

Jon and Edric were back to back, their swords were shinning with blood and a dozen guardsmen surrounded them. Tommen Wells was moving from cover, to cover, letting arrows fly and never missing his mark. Five of the Seven Brothers move through the chaos, their blades singing before all of them together moved to give aid to Jon and Edric.

It was then that she heard the horses, and the rider's calls to be let in. Obara had moved towards the gatehouse and Ser Thomas Byriver had come down to met her. His helm was closed so she could not see his face, but he was a tall man and broad and his blade was red with blood. He had said nothing, what needed to be said? He merely pointed his blade at her and Obara had grinned as she raised her spear.

This was who she was.

She had opened with the whip, Ser Manfrey had once said he never understood why some choose to carry one as a weapon, a whip would do nothing to a man in full armor but that was entirely the point. If she hit a man in armor with the whip and he responded to it, then that meant that she had found a weak spot in his armor.

And that was what she needed, she danced and ducked and dodged out of the way of Ser Byriver's blows, her shield coming up to block them when he got to close and using the butt of her spear to push him back. When she needed more time, she brought the whip down hard on his helm. It was no weak spot, but it would at the very least give him quite a headache.

After what was near to be the twentieth blow, the man let out a shriek when the whip landed near the shoulder. That joint was unprotected and Obara smiled, she had found it. She dropped the whip and tossed her spear into her now free hand and marched towards the knight, he swung his sword at her and Obara blocked every blow with her shield.

All fighting is a matter of endurance, sword fighting just as much. It's why the men of Dorne favored lighter armor, so they could move quickly and it would not tire them so overly much. The man's armor was heavy and when he drew his sword up for the last time, it was slow and sluggish and when he brought it down, Obara was able to step to the side and raise her spear and to bury it into the joint, the chain mail and the thin material of his undershirt not able to stop it.

Her spear was stuck and snapped in half as she tried to pull it free, leaving her with a wooden spike in her hand. The knight sunk to his knees and Obara leaned down and had taken his helm off. An old man, pale and dying. He looked up at her, no fear in his eyes. He looked at her and spoke, tired and strained with pain but determined. "Make an end to it."

Obara did as she was bid, she rose the spike and made an end to it. Once it was done, the sound of the portcullis rising made her look. Someone had made it to the gate house while she had been fighting and she had smiled when she saw her riders come through the gate. The castle defenders dropped their weapons and a cheer went up into the air.

The cheer died with Spear, as a crossbow bolt went through her chest. Whip screamed and ran to her sister, but another bolt through her wind pipe made a quick end to her as well. It was coming from the higher floor of the great hall and thus that was their target. All of them raised their shields to gave them cover as they made their way to the barred doors.

The doors broke down to them, and her men were given their orders. The highborn were to be brought to her, and whoever had been firing the crossbow at them as well. Obara took place in the Lord's seat and allowed herself a moment to enjoy her victory, if she shut her eyes then she might just fall asleep.

But there was still work to be done and soon enough, Lady Sweetwater was in front of her with her four children. Three young boys, the oldest of whom could not have been more than six, with a girl babe in her arms. Lady Sweetwater was a weepy sort, just like her Mother had been. Every other word was begging for mercy.

The crossbow user was brought to her as well, Lady Sweetwater's eldest daughter Alyson, who instead of taking shelter in her Lady Mother's apartments, had taken possession of her Lord Grandfather's crossbow and decided to defend her home. Obara could not deny it, she found herself impressed. She was surprised any gentle and perfect Northern lady would even attempt it.

Daggers, and Lady Nyssa who had been apart of the riders she had sent out to raid, were somewhat less impressed. Both demanded that the girl be killed for the murder of their blood and for a moment, Obara was tempted to give them what they wanted but then she thought better of it. "She was defending her home, not murdering anyone. I would not be tried for murder if I killed a Reach solider who marched down the pass as part of any army. The girl will be confined, that is her punishment."

Lady Sweetwater had almost collapsed with gratitude but Alyson had merely glared at her, hate burning in her eyes. Perhaps she had been sweet on one of the men Obara had killed? Oh well, it did not matter to her. Though the look that Lady Nyssa and Daggers were giving her made it clear that they were not happy with her choice either.

The gates were sealed, and just like that, they had a castle. Alas, they would not be able to keep it for long, to be sure. But ever castle taken would be a blow to the pride of the Reachmen and a few days out of the cold would do all of them some much needed good. All of the castle servants had been placed in the dungeons, poisoning would not do after all, and thus they cooked their own meals.

Obara took another sip of her wine and shut her eyes before Ser Osmund came to her and informed her that they had all gathered in the Lord's Solar, they wanted to know what they thought it was that they should do next. Maps of the Reach had been spread out on the Lord's desk and Obara took a seat behind the desk as they began.

"A raven came from Highgarden this morning." Donnla Sand, a bastard granddaughter of the Lord Gargalen of Salt Shore who has fostered her uncle in her youth. "Apparently, word of this castle falling had not reached them. It contained news that Lord Tarly is chasing raiders up and down the Reach, and all castles are to give him shelter. Also, all castles should be weary of strangers, at least half a dozen castles have fallen to Dornish treachery."

A cheer went up at that. "We should not stay here, all the same." Osmund spoke. "I say we should push North now while we have the chance and make our way into the Westerlands, the lords of the West will have heard of our raiding by now. If they are given sufficient enough time, then they could prepare and be ready for us."

"Lord Fowler and Lord Ladybright's thousands will be pushing into the West soon enough anyway, to make a push for the Golden Tooth. If we help them get control of it, then we can control passage from the west. That is far more important than one castle, the Lords of the West would need to march south and through the Reach via the Roseroad to get to the war."

Obara knew that he was right and so she nodded. "Very well, has their been any news about the war?"

"The Stormlanders have had a few clashes with the Reachmen, but nothing definitive as of yet. Eddard Stark is bringing the full force of Northmen down from Moat Cailin, the Vale is silent which I do not like and the Riverlands have declared for us, well, most of them by all accounts. The King is said to be furious grows more and more restless by the day. He wants this to be over."

"Well." Obara said as she stood from the chair. "Soon enough, he shall have his wish. If we take the Golden Tooth, then my Father and Uncle Eddard will be free of the threat of the Westermen and they can march on the Capital and crush what little resistance Mace Tyrell and Tywin Lannister can offer with the few men they have. We might be done here by the next moon, gather your supplies. We leave for the West, tonight!"

Another cheer and Obara dismissed her men, wouldn't her Father be proud of her? She had played her part in tying the Reachmen up, the West's passage to the Riverlands would soon be lost to them and the Mad King would be dead, all they would need to do then was find Uncle Ned's sister and all would be well and then they could all of them go home.

She did have to wonder what Tyene and Sarella thought of all of this, Tyene was not a babe anymore and Sarella had just been starting to walk and talk by the time Obara had left to join her Father on his way to war along with their sister. Well, she would have plenty of stories to tell them. She could train them both to be the strongest warriors they could be, just like Father had done for her.

They were all ready to go by the time that Night had fallen, Lady Sweetwater had been brought from her apartments alone had the ropes that bound her hands cut and was given the keys to the dungeons. "Thank you." She had said as she had taken the keys from Obara's hands. "Though, I pray that we never meet again."

Obara did not think that they would, the gate was raised and her men rode out with her into the dark and they rode silent through the darkness. High above them, the Western star shone brighter than any other and Obara smiled as she imagined so many Lion banners aflame.

End of Chapter Eighty.

Okay, another chapter done. Next chapter will be an Elia chapter and the one after that...I am thinking it might be a chapter from Jaime's perspective and the one after that will be from Oberyn's and the one after that will be from Ned's.

Any who, I really hope you liked this chapter. If you did, please give it a follow, a favourite or a review.

A ton of love,

DiscordantSymphony