Warning: Detailed torture scene at the beginning. I have put stars around it if this is something you do not want to read

Oberyn Martell

Sunspear, 300AC

The scream that left the beast as the tip of his spear grazed along an area that had yet to be touched was music to his ears. Slowly dragging it along not deep enough to kill because no, he could not have that. For almost eighteen years he had dreamt of the day he would have the creature that had been ordered by the Old Lion to kill his sweet sister and her babes- only one of which he succeeded with thanks to a clever plot from none other than Lannister's. Granted, Lannister's that were so far down in the line of succession and through a female to boot, they were still Lannister's. As much as Oberyn wanted to thank the pair for what they had done by telling them of the order from overhearing it from Kevan Lannister in Lannisport, he could not bring it in him to do so.

Although the irony of the situation was such sweet nectar. Like he had gone months eating food they gave to their prisoners and finally biting into a deliciously spiced pie and a syrupy slice of cake covered in freshly crushed and toasted nuts. Closing his eyes and letting a smile form on his face as the wails of pain echoed loudly in the room. He'd had him in Sunspear's dungeons for a month now, and yet he had still not tired in putting the beast through every kind of torture he could think of. Whether that be manticore venom mixed with a potion he had been gifted by the Warlock's of Qarth and just before he succumbed to both gave him the antidote to carving into his skin like he were simply a canvas and his spear was the quill.

It was pitiful really, a monster as tall and as strong as the Mountain screaming in delicious agony at the end of a spear tip. Nay, he deserved much worse than this. Grabbing the knife he had strapped to his hip and beginning to trace his skin looking for a place that had yet to be touched and frowning at realising there was none. At first, he had tried to fight back, but the numerous chains they had managed to attach to his limbs were tight which left him no room to break free. Each limb spread out on the large board where there were wheels attached. A torture method that few people knew existed and House Nymeros Martell wanted to keep it as such. The contraption had been used by his ancestors for thousands of years, long before Princess Nymeria left Ny Sar with her ten thousand ships searching for a new home for her people. And if the stories were true, was the exact one used to torture none other than Queen Rhaenys to get King Aegon to stop in his conquest of Dorne.

Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.

Whilst many people considered Dorne to come under the crown, no true Dornishman believed such. They were conjoined through the double marriage of Daenerys Targaryen and Maron Martell alongside Daeron Targaryen and Myriah Martell. They never took on the faith of the Seven who are One, they never changed their views pertaining to expressing their feelings, and they didn't view bastards like they were the vilest creature to exist. Nay, the vilest creature in Oberyn's eyes was the one chained beside him. Bastards to the Dornish were seen as products of pleasure, pleasure being one of the most freeing things a man could experience. His cock hardening as he thought on the woman who was waiting for him in his chambers currently.

Lord Harmen had been furious when he found out his precious daughter was with babe, but when it was confirmed who had gotten the child on her, he had beamed in delight. House Uller were always leal to his own House and having what to them were royal bastards was a great honour. Four children they had, his eldest having different mothers from his many travels around the world when he had been bored, snickering as he recalled how quickly he had gotten the Septa to quiver below him. For someone so devoted to the Seven who are One and had sworn never to lay with someone, she certainly screamed in joy the loudest out of them all. But no, only one woman had his eye. Even if they shared their bed with whores and some of their guards often. Ellaria Sand was his and he was hers.

"Kill me!"

Oberyn quirked an eyebrow up and stepped back. Staring at the monster that had raped his beloved sister and proceeded to split her in half with his giant sword that many people would struggle to lift with both hands never mind one as he did.

"And why would I do that Ser Gregor? Oh no, today is not the day you die."

If he had it his way, he would never die. Forever a prisoner and forever being tortured. His brother had been satisfied after a few days of putting the Mountain through the seven hells, but it was not enough for him. Aiming the spear towards his face and gently tracing his nose. Only realising now he was weeping. How dare he? After all the atrocities he had committed, he had the audacity to weep like a babe desperate for milk from its mothers teat? Well, if he was going to weep he might we well give him something to weep about. With a single movement from his knife his vilest weapon was removed. Yelling in pain and anger as he walked to where it had fallen and picking it up.

"You know, for something so vile it is surprisingly small. To think this was forced against my beautiful sister who was defenceless?"

He cursed aloud before throwing it into the fire that was burning to keep himself warm. Every time he left this room it was snuffed out. Shrivelling up and slowly turning black as the flesh burned. The scent coming from it almost making him gag and wishing he was in the capital instead dealing with the constant stench of shit and piss. Taking one of the many small torches and lighting it in the flames before immediately placing it on the wound because he couldn't have him bleeding out. Screaming in pain as the flames burned and cauterised the wound at the same time and he couldn't help himself from moving it over the rest of his body. Not enough for him to catch fire of course, just enough to cause pain. Making a sound that was suspiciously like a roar.

"So now you roar. Well, you're about to roar so loud your darling Lord Tywin will hear you from wherever the fuck he is."

Only then, did he turn the crank on the wheel. Watching the chains steadily get tighter until they were as tight as they could go without causing damage. Smiling brightly as he turned it more and seeing his leg moving down and the skin beginning to stretch. Where beforehand was small yells of pain, now he was screaming like there would be no tomorrow. Focusing solely on the one limb but eventually all would get the same treatment. Using every ounce of strength within him to keep the wooden cogs turning as the leg steadily got closer to him. After what felt like hours had passed but was likely only a minute or two, there was a sickening pop sound as the limb dislocated from the beasts hip. Stopping and walking up to inspect the damage. Already yellowing but in a few days the area would be a dark purple bruise. Knife moving over the area and about to slice into the skin again, carefully deciding which area would be best to strike.

"Prince Oberyn! Your brother Prince Doran has requested your presence."

Oberyn cursed aloud as he stared at Areo Hotah, a man wholly devoted to his brother.

"Tell my brother I am busy- "

"We have a visitor."

His face fell at this, knowing his fun had been spoiled for the day. Grabbing hold of the beasts leg and snapping it back into place and walking over to the guard.

"Send one of the servants to bind the area for Ser Gregor."

They done just that. The first servant they came across nodding their head and walking away to get cloth to bandage the area to ensure it would heal over somewhat. He wasn't done with him yet, being nowhere close to satisfied for what he had done. For so many years Dorne had cried for justice for their Princess, for years they had been ignored or were flat out told to move on from what had happened by the fat King. Even going to the extent of congratulating the beast for what he had done when her body had been presented at his feet wrapped in two rolls of cloth coloured Lannister Red. Walking into the room where they always had meetings and immediately spotting who had come.

"You really enjoy toying with your life, don't you?"

"Aye, I do, my Prince. What is life without a little rebellion?"

The hidden meaning in his words was music to his ears just like screams of pain from the beast. For so long they had plotted for revenge, and now their revenge was closer to fruition than it had ever been. His brother wanted Dornish blood on the throne, but Oberyn didn't wish for such. Would it be a boon? Without question. But the Dornish are Dornish and therefore should remain in Dorne. Although he did admit to himself it would be funny to toy with the prickly High Septon and his most devout with their ways.

"What brings you to our shores, Torghen Hill?"

Despite what he had done, never would Oberyn consider him a friend. His mother was Tarena Lannister after all and his father a Tollett from the Vale so far down in the line of succession he would never amount of anything of importance who had abandoned his mother when she was pregnant with him. A cowardly thing. A babe was wonderful thing. Eight daughters he had, and whilst a part of him wished for a son he would never trade either of his girls for anything in the world. Yet he was more than happy to consider him an ally, even travelling with him through Essos after he was exiled for refusing to bend the knee to the Stags.

"Torghen brings news from my wife, daughter, his sister, and our niece and nephew."

He quirked an eyebrow up, inviting him to speak but instead reaching into a pocket in his clothing and handing over numerous letters and giving them to his brother. Many people would consider such a move as a slight, but Doran was the ruler of Dorne and a ruler is always informed of everything before his subjects. Even if said subjects were their own family.

"What's got you so pleased, my Prince?"

"Sweet justice. The creature is in our dungeons."

"You got him?!"

A couple of guards laughed at the outburst but from a stern look from his brother they wiped said emotion from their face once more. Remaining ominously quiet until he nodded his head to give them leave. Once only the three of them were left in the room, he answered the question.

"Aye, with a little help from someone with black hair and purple eyes."

That was all he'd refer to him as. Until he heard otherwise from his nephew. The entire thing was a mess and whilst it helped them massively in finally getting the justice they had dreamt about for so long, the plan to do so would no longer work. First the plan had been to wed Arianne and Viserys but this failed when word spread of the boys madness and his eventual death. Then the plan had been to wed Aegon and Daenerys but she was instead wed to a damned Dothraki Khal. Then they had considered wedding Aegon and Rhaenys but both siblings vehemently refused despite it almost being expected of the pair of them as Targaryen's wed brother to sister for centuries to keep their blood pure enough to bond with dragons. Now, they were trying to wed Arianne and Aegon which is what he assumed the letters were. But how to tie everyone else together? His thought process was cut off as his brother growled in annoyance.

"Brother, you will travel to Norvos on the next ship to Braavos, talk sense into my damned daughter please."

Confusion whirred in his mind at first as he took the letter he had finished before moving to the next so he could read it. A part of him wanting to laugh at another of his brothers plans being thwarted. Arianne stating she would not wed Aegon as with their aim to get him on the throne would make her Queen which she was very much against. She had been raised to be the ruler of Dorne, and she had been asked to leave Dorne after getting into a fight with Quentyn who was convinced he would be the next ruler of Dorne thanks to the man he fostered with whispering in his ear that his sister was only good for spreading her legs to please her many lovers. Quentyn had been humbled by such a thing after he had challenged his spoiled nephew to a duel, the fact he was at best passable worrying for a Prince of Dorne. They were snakes, and snakes strike fast with utmost precision. Hiding amongst their surroundings with their coloured scales waiting on the perfect moment to release their venom.

"I will be glad to do so, brother. What about the other letters?"

His brother didn't answer him, being too engrossed in reading them as he crumbled up the one he had and threw it into the fire. Watching the parchment wrinkle and turn black before disappearing from existence.

"Tell us more about Jaeron, Torghen. Since you lived in Greywater Watch temporarily with him."

Hearing the name had anger running through his blood. It was an insult to his House that Elia had been set aside. Even if it was with her own wishes as letters confirmed and that she was fond of Lyanna Stark. How fond of the wild Northern girl he knew nought, but the little she wrote about her being nothing but praise.

"What would you like to know, my Prince?"

"Everything. Apart from the dragons that is. If anything we should thank him for figuring out how to hatch them considering our nephew has a hatchling himself now. Maybe with luck Rhaenys' egg will hatch too."

A smile formed on his face again at this. Imagining the day where Westeros found out that dragons were not extinct. Two of which were already being used in battle from the little they had heard and he himself had been atop the silver, black, and red one. That was a feeling he easily could become addicted to. Oberyn always loved being free and not being tied to anything, and there was nothing more freeing than being atop an incredibly dangerous beast flying through the air. Seven dragons in the skies would be an incredible boon to their cause and would certainly install fear into their enemies so they wouldn't dare rebel again. Torghen was speaking now but the words sounded muffled to him, seemingly not taking them in at all.

"In other words we need to move very fast."

Now his concentration was captured as he looked confusedly at the pair, silently asking for them to confirm. His brother being more than pleased to fill in the blanks for him.

"Our niece alongside Mychelah have sailed for Qarth and not remained in Volantis."

"What? Where are they then? And why would they not stick to the plan?"

"Quaithe. That's what happened."

Hearing the name had him feeling on edge. He'd met the masked woman a handful of times whilst travelling Essos. Her insistence on speaking in riddles never sitting right with him. It was obvious she was a shadow binder, but her accent was not from Asshai. Meaning she had learned the art of such a thing there. Oberyn had seen many strange things in his life but the darkest form of magic was something that made him incredibly uncomfortable.

"Why Qarth? It's so much farther east?"

"Quaithe said she had a vision in the flames that Daenerys will be in Qarth either before they arrive or not long after."

"Why would she be there? Shouldn't she be in the Dothraki Sea somewhere with her Khal husband?"

The following words shattered their plans once again. Khal Drogo dying months before and she had refused to join the Dosh Khaleen and thus scorned by much of the Dothraki. It had been years since he'd last seen Rhaenys. If anyone got wind of constant trips to Lys and meeting with a young female who was her mothers double their plot would've been exposed long ago. The secrecy of it all is what allowed them to plan in such meticulous detail. Whilst Oberyn wasn't going to take a lot of the credit, he did have some say in the matter.

"So she's going to meet her aunt then."

"Aye, she is. Alongside her companion."

"It was a fucking stupid move to kidnap the Stark girl- "

"In my defence, your nephew did order it. Don't hold that one against me, my Prince."

When they had heard of this, Doran had been furious. If word got out that who they were working to get onto the throne was the one to give the order, they would be next to be attacked. Which would further push back their plans and destroy them all again which would cause them to retreat back into the shadows to work something new out once more.

"At least we're somewhat in league with the wolves thanks to the betrothal so that's one loose end. But the others? What if I can't convince Arianne to accept?"

"Then you make her accept. She is not the ruler of Dorne yet, she has no say over me. Even if you have to chase her to the deepest jungle of Sothoryos- she will marry him."

Was this how Mellario felt before the final fight between herself and Doran? Because if it was, he suddenly understand where his goodsister was coming from and why she refused to be in the same city as her estranged husband anymore.

"You do realise she will only accept if she's not Queen, don't you? She has no interest in that damned throne."

The look directed his way at the remark was the last thing Oberyn knew before Doran called for guards where he was escorted immediately from the room. Anger welling deep within him as the real reason why his brother was doing what he was came to fruition. He wasn't doing this to get revenge for Elia, he was doing so as he wanted a Martell on the throne. No other reason was greater to him. Elia had spoken to him all those years before she did not want to go through with the betrothal yet she was ultimately overruled by their parents so she had done her duty. Arianne though? His niece was someone who hated duty and she was a fierce spirit much like he himself was. Had Doran had the needs to get revenge sooner? Because now, he wasn't so sure.

By the time he reached his own quarters within Sunspear, he found his paramour in bed with Daemon of all people, quirking an eyebrow at the man who proceeded to stretch in a way to show off his delicious muscles in all their glory.

"Come to bed, my love."

Oberyn didn't need a further invitation to the words. Walking over and pinching one of her hardened nipples. Her body already being covered in a thin layer of sweat from whatever Daemon had done to her.

"Couldn't wait for me, could you?"

"You were biding your time; I was enjoying my time."

The little minx. Stepping out of his clothes and laying down beside her. Fingers slowly travelling up the inside of her leg but never reaching where she ached to be touched.

"Where are the girls?"

When Daemon realised he wasn't going to give her what she wanted, he reached over to do so. Ellaria letting out a soft gasp from their shared lover.

"How do you feel about a trip to Norvos?"

Jaeron Targaryen

The Northern Camp at Ashemark, 300AC

A massive weight left his shoulders with the promise from Willas Tyrell. The thought had only come to him that morning when they got a report from Dragonstone of what Stannis was planning now he had a much larger army than he had at the beginning. Until now, Jaeron had been focused on Renly and Joffrey as they had massive armies in comparison to Stannis' measly five thousand. Yet now? The tides were changing, and the older Baratheon now had a chance.

There hadn't been many reports from the capital itself, neither of the wargs able to get close enough before someone aimed an arrow at them to avoid letters being sent to and from the city. Something which worried him greatly. If they had no idea what was happening in the capital, how could they plan ahead? One thing was for certain, there was no food entering the city. This angered him massively when Mace Tyrell puffed his chest out as if proud he was doing so. Taking great joy in watching the air leave his chest when reprimanding him that there were hundreds of thousands of innocent lives in the city that would starve if they continued doing so.

It was one of many reasons why he was so hesitant to make big moves. Remembering Ser Arthur's words. There is no such thing as a war without committing mass murder. How many peoples blood did he already have on his hands? A few dozen? A few hundred? Thousands? It didn't sit right with him under any circumstances, and the thought there would be even more innocent blood shed before the war is won sickened him to his stomach. If he couldn't make big moves without having death and he couldn't make small moves which would prolong the war and in turn have even more death, there wasn't much of a choice. He was a dragon, and he was a wolf. Having the blood of the Kings of Winter that had ruled the North for eight thousand years if the stories were to be believed alongside the blood of old Valyria. For so long he had acted like a wolf. Stalking in the background waiting on prey to fall into his line of vision.

He could not do that now. No, he had to be a dragon. Dragons are fearsome beasts, and that was something he was not currently.

Dragonstone to many wasn't considered a part of the Crownland's. Having been the westernmost outpost of the Freehold and being the place many of his ancestors had called home. The timeline to succeed was incredibly small, but it was possible. Every possibility must be explored now. The war had been going on for months with no sign of ending anytime soon. One thing he needed an answer to though was where was Tywin? Elissa had gone to Harrenhal to assess the damage Rhaegon and Lyrax had caused, one of the survivors stating he had left the castle weeks prior. Attacking Harrenhal was supposed to stall the man, but he couldn't stall him without him being there.

He can't have come west because they were shored up far too well on all sides. He can't have gone north for similar reasons. Meaning he either turned south or east. A horrible feeling rippling in his gut if the latter were true. He had spoken to Catelyn long and hard on the matter and both agreed the likelihood of the latter was almost impossible considering Lysa despised Lannister's for supposedly killing her husband. Leaving only one option. The Crownland's. It made sense he would regroup there. Maybe with luck Stannis would succeed in taking the Old Lion and his mad grandson out of the game.

There was no need to think on such a thing right now though because there were more pressing matters at hand. Edmure had sent a raven back stating that the Golden Tooth and Oxcross had been mostly abandoned. The remaining army at the town having kneeled for him and Lord Leo pledging neutrality after he had taken the castle. If this was the case, they would still be there. Helping to fortify them to the eastern border of the Westerland's which would make it considerably harder to infiltrate their camp. Thus giving them the precious time needed to come to a decision on what to do next.

If they succeed in taking Dragonstone, Stannis will be trapped between the Lannister army and his own army. Whilst he had a decent sized force, with the combined forces of the other two it would be difficult to come out on top. But if Stannis did take the capital, he would inherit an even larger army than his own. And with word now rapidly spreading of Rhaegon and Lyrax, there was no doubt in Jaeron's mind someone had a trick in mind for them.

"You know, I always thought your father brooded more than most. You put him to shame in that regard, your Grace."

Jaeron shot Ser Arthur a look at the remark, the older cracking a smile in amusement.

"I'm assuming we've received another report?"

He walked over and handed him the scroll. Opening it and reading the words confirming a portion of the Tyrell host were on route to Maidenpool and that they were riding hard. If they switched horses often so they wouldn't need to stop to water them, they should arrive at the large town in around ten days. From there, they would be getting on a few Velaryon ships that Lord Monford had explained away by saying work was being done on them therefore could not be used alongside numerous Manderly ships to travel down to Dragonstone. It would be unoccupied for a minimum of three days which would be enough to take the castle.

Thus leaving him the perfect opportunity to strike. If Stannis fails, he will retreat back only to see the Seat that was wrongfully given to him had fallen. If he succeeded, he would be close enough to Kings Landing to take the city as then the Crownland's would be covered from all sides apart from the Vale who were opting to remain neutral. At some point they would need to come into the fold. But the only way that was going to happen would be if all of House Lannister were put to the sword. Whilst expected of him, the thought of doing so sickened him.

"Call a council, Ser. It is time we move out from the Westerland's. Our prisoners are still being treated well?"

Arthur's eye twitched which set him a little on edge. The night prior they had found the gruesome sight of Alton Lannister's head being bashed open like an egg and Ser Jaime had attempted to escape only to be captured by the Karstark men. In doing so, Lord Rickard had lost two sons and that entire day he had been giving him loathing looks for not killing the Kingslayer. Whilst it was the honourable thing to do, he had long learned that honour was not the best when it came to war. Not one person acts as such when fighting, so why should he?

"Lord Kevan's sons are being treated well; word has been sent to Casterly Rock of Alton's fate."

Whether they would believe what had occurred was another matter entirely. That was a worry for another day. Being brought out of his thoughts by Robb walking in with his face set in stone, knowing deep within why he had come.

"Please leave us Ser, ensure the council is called by the hour of the wolf."

With the command, his Kingsguard left him alone with Robb. The other wasting no time in revealing why he had come here.

"Why has he not been executed yet?"

"I can't, as much as I hate it, he's much more valuable to us alive than he is dead."

"But Lord Karstark- "

"Can growl and complain all he wants. He will get vengeance for his sons, but it won't be today, nor will it be tomorrow or the day after."

It was obvious he was not pleased by this as he sat down in front of him, watching as he traced the map with his finger and thinking everything through.

"It's not honourable- "

"Nay, it is not. But it will buy us the time needed to come up with a plan to put an end to this damned war for good. He can do what he wants with him once the war has been won."

"If we win."

The words were spoken so quietly they were practically a whisper, but he still heard them. Lips curling in as anger burned deep within.

"What is bothering you? Tell me."

It was silent for a few minutes as Robb opened his mouth a few times before deciding not to say what he was going to. Waiting for confirmation that he was thinking correct into what his brother was feeling. Despite everything that had happened, he was always going to be his brother. Blood would deny such a thing, but Jaeron didn't give a damn about that. Nothing would change how they were raised.

"Father wouldn't be happy- "

"I know. But there is something father forgot. One person acting honourable in a pit is easy prey for everyone who does not act honourable. Nothing about war is honourable no matter what is believed. What is honourable about killing thousands of innocents? I loved father deeply and I miss him every day, but he made an incredibly stupid mistake and now his head is rotting on a spike outside the Red Keep."

"Our way is the old way- "

"I know. It got drummed into us on more than a few occasions. You may have promised Lord Rickard to talk me into carrying out justice that is rightfully deserved, now you can leave this tent and tell him it will not be any time soon."

From the way Robb's mouth immediately closed and tightened at the last statement, he knew what he thought was indeed true.

"How many people were witness to such a promise?"

By now, his voice was dangerously low. A tone he had never used amongst family. It felt wrong, but he was not pleased with his brother publicly undermining him.

"I don't know. We talked out in the open."

At this, Jaeron stood up and pinched his nose tight, beginning to pace on the spot as he fought to keep the scream of frustration within.

"Do you have any idea what you've just done, Robb?!"

"It's the right thing to do!"

"I know that! But now that you've promised something in front of numerous people who are only following me because they are loyal to you, they will see it as me spurning you. Thus creating dissent amongst the camp which at this moment, is the last thing we need."

The other had stood up now, walking towards him with a look he'd never seen him wear before. Very much looking like a wolf in that moment.

"And do you have any idea what it makes me look like? My bannerman is crying for justice for his butchered sons and you expect me to go out there and tell him the man he knelt for will not give him the justice?!"

"Which is why you should not have promised him such. You are forgetting one valuable piece of information here. We are blood, and we will always be blood. Blood of honourable people do not make deals behind one another's backs- "

And then he felt the sting of where Robb's fist connected with his cheek. Head snapping to the side from the sheer force as everything came back into focus. Breathing hard before turning to him with a look he had perfected but never dreamt he would use amongst family. The older was looking sheepish now, looking to his fist in a mixture of shame and shock at what he had just done.

"You will leave this tent, and you will tell Lord Rickard that he will get justice. Promise him when the time comes he can be the one to swing the sword. If he doesn't like this, then he is welcome to pack up and head back to Karhold. But if he does so, I will follow him and execute him on grounds of treason. You are forgetting dear cousin that I am no longer lower than you. I am your King, and you pledged yourself to my cause. Don't you dare undermine me again or make promises without my knowledge to guilt me into agreeing. Now, we will put this behind us because we are taking Dragonstone in a matter of days."