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Chapter 9 Part 3
=Sith=
291 AC
the Water Gardens
Dorne
Oberyn looked on proudly at his youngest daughter, who was dead to the world, sleeping contently in her mother's hands.
"I am glad you are well, my love," he beamed at Elaria.
His Paramour smiled tiredly at him and gently patted Dorea's blanket.
"She's a little terror, just like her father."
Elia and Obella finally let go of their father and scrunched their faces at their youngest sister.
"She's so loud!" Elia whispered.
"That's rich coming out of you, dear. You were very loud for a very long time," Elaria chided happily. "You still are the terror of the Water Gardens."
"I must agree with your mother, daughter." Oberyn grinned at the look of betrayal Elia shot him. He glimpsed Horath's approach and sighed. "I would love nothing more but to spend all night with you and my other daughters, but it seems my brother requires me," he nodded at the approaching massive form of Doran's trusted guard.
"Go speak with Doran and get back to us," Elaria ordered imperiously.
"As my Lady commands!" Oberyn wigged his eyebrows suggestively, earning himself ewws from his girls and walked to meet Horath.
"Your brother requires your presence, My Prince," the Norvosi Axeman informed him.
"Of course he does," Oberyn scoffed. "Let us go see him. Is Doran well?"
"His legs troubled him more for the past few months until recently," Horath shared. "Your expertise is always appreciated, My Prince."
"Doran must finally stop indulging himself with red meats and rich red wines," Oberyn grumbled at how hard-headed his brother could be.
Horath led him to Doran's resting place. Dorne's ruler sat comfortably in a large armchair, his legs propped on a low table covered with cushions.
"Oberyn, it has been far too long, brother. You look good for someone who just spent most of a year sailing!" Doran smiled in relief at seeing his brother. "Do sit and tell me all about your journey!"
The Red Viper looked around, ensuring they were in an area of the Water Gardens where no one save the loyal guard could overhear them.
"I've got a mixed bag of news, brother. I am relieved to be home with my daughters," Oberyn gleefully admitted.
"And Elaria, too," Doran chuckled.
"But of course! I've missed her," Oberyn sighed. "What about you?" He looked critically at Doran's legs.
"It could be better, it could be worse," Dorne's Ruling Prince hedged. "Tell me of the Targaryens."
"Viserys is sane, competent, more dangerous than he has any right to be, and out of fucks to give," the Red Viper bluntly told the truth. "He's a sorcerer, the kind I've never seen or heard of before, and he is training Princess Daenerys. With Sorcery, she can match an experienced knight in combat, and she's only two and ten with less than a year of training. She might very well be Visenya reborn, with powerful magic to make her even more formidable."
"Good," a very different smile graced Doran's face. "The betrothal?"
"I wisely didn't mention it," the Red Viper raised a hand, forestalling his brother's protests. "Viserys is murderously bitter over all loyalists abandoning them when they needed aid the most. I mentioned that we discussed a potential betrothal with Ser Darry. I am doing my best not to say a single outright lie, just in case."
Doran closed his eyes and rested his head on a plush cushion, thinking over what he had just heard, while Oberyn recounted the rest of his experiences about the Targaryens.
"That might be for the best for now. We remain unbound. We can make any arrangements we need and see how events unfold. Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully have been very busy since you left. The Queen of Thorns sails North…" Doran filled in his brother on recent political developments.
"I also spoke with Arianne," he added.
"Finally! What does she want?" Oberyn leaned forward, keenly interested to hear his niece's stance.
"Ari doesn't care about the Iron Throne. She wants to be the next Ruling Princess of Dorne; for now, she's determined to stick with that. Arianne threw a temper tantrum of epic proportions when I told her about the betrothal with Viserys."
"Good girl," Oberyn grinned at his grumbling brother. "Between magic, the Unsullied he has, and the military he's training, Viserys might have a shot at restoration without our full support. I don't believe he is playing things up to make himself a more enticing target for marriage, and he is murderously determined not to sell his sister for an alliance."
"Is he a fool then or that arrogant?" Doran inquired.
"By their nature, dragons are arrogant creatures, and there is no doubt that Viserys is a dragon," Oberyn explained. "I believe Viserys is confident in the kind of military he will have at his back when he returns."
"Astapor won't be enough for that. He'll need a powerful alliance to have a fighting chance," Doran focused on the apparent flaws in the Targaryens' plans.
"I raised that same point, brother. Viserys is certain that the slaver cities will attack him sooner rather than later, and I concur. They might be already on the move. When we stopped at Volantis, envoys from Meereen, Yunkai, and Tolos sought mercenaries to aid them in taking Astapor."
"There will be no Targaryen restoration then," Doran sighed. "We will have to wait much longer for an opportunity."
"Will we?" The Red Viper's showed his fangs. "No one knows what Viserys is capable of. He might be an arrogant fool or know something no one else does."
Doran looked contemplatively at his brother and smiled in turn, looking like a weasel in its burrow.
"We are loyal to the true King of Westeros, whoever that might be," Oberyn laughed heartily at his brother's words. "Arianne will need a consort. Not having a daughter, sister, or niece stuck in King's Landing might be for the best, even if it means we won't have our blood on the Iron Throne…" Doran pondered. "Trystane is very young, but perhaps it might be good for Quentyn to tour Essos like you did…"
"All the way to Astapor? It might do my nephew some good indeed," Oberyn wondered. "I haven't seen him in a few years, you know."
"I'll call him back so we can all talk," Doran decided. "Our merchants are naturally free to ply their trade throughout Essos as long as they don't partake in slavery."
"We'll be emulating the Tyrells then?" Oberyn sounded less than pleased.
"Willas is your friend, is he not?" Doran countered.
"He is. I don't blame children for the actions of their sires, much less grandmothers, you know that, brother!"
"The Reach could have won us the Trident. Viserys knows that, does he not?" Doran wondered.
"He is aware and not happy. I told you, he is unhappy with the loyalists who were conspicuously scarce for years."
"Isn't that interesting…"
=Sith=
291 AC
Casterly Rock
The Westerlands
Tywin Lannister sat in his summer solar on top of the tower, crowning the Rock. The view was breathtaking, even if he was getting too damn old to climb all the way up here, even when using all lifts that could ease up the trip. The tower was old, meant initially as a lookout post on top of the mountain, but eventually, his predecessors rebuilt and expanded it. The view alone was worth it, and the breeze made it pleasantly cool in summer mornings and evenings. Up here, the Lord of Casterly Rock felt like a Lannister King of old.
The Old Lion should have been content with his achievements. His legacy was secure. His daughter, the Queen. His grandson would be King. He had a young granddaughter who was all Lannister like dear Joanna and another grandchild on the way. If Cersei gave Robert a second son, then the royal succession would be more than secure and thus the future of House Lannister.
The only blemishes on Tywin's golden future were his fools of sons. Jamie, the Golden Lion who wasted his life as a Kingsguard, and that little grasping demon Tyrion. How could the boy believe that he deserved Casterly Rock?! Who in their right mind would fight loyally for such a wretched creature when Tywin was gone?
It didn't really matter. Tywin had grandchildren, and Casterly Rock could be a good seat for a second Prince. Or a Princess might marry a Lannister cousin. Either way, Tywin would have his blood and name holding the Rock for countless generations to come.
The solar's door opened, revealing a panting Kevan.
"I'm too old to climb up all these steps," Tywin's younger brother groaned and dragged himself to the nearest chair.
The Old Lion raised a judgmental look at Kevan. "Remind me again, who is the older one among us? You should spend more time riding and sparring rather than eating meat pies."
"Our new cook makes the best pies!" Kevan bemoaned.
"That's not an excuse. We have things to discuss," the Old Lion growled. "Besides, Marla made the best pies long before becoming head cook. That's no excuse!"
"Peace, brother," Kevan raised a hand in surrender. "I have no intention of turning into father," he added quietly.
"Good. We have things to discuss."
"The Targaryens," Kevan's cheek twitched. "You know I'll always support you no matter what, but that could have been handled better."
"I know," Tywin growled. "They were done."
"And Aerys slighted you. Otherwise, you might have given different orders."
"What's your point?" Tywin demanded.
"You weren't your usual rational self at the end of the Rebellion. Aerys was mad. Rhaegar was a fool. Viserys might be neither. We need you at your best, brother!"
"Aerys took my son! He slighted me for years!" Tywin glowered at his brother.
"I don't dispute those facts," Kevan spoke soothingly as if trying to placate a hungry lion, which wasn't far from the truth. Besides, this was precisely what he was talking about.
"The past is dead and buried," Tywin declared. "The future is what we must concern ourselves with."
"Viserys is still alive and now has a dangerous army at his back," Kevan relented.
"Sorcery hasn't won a war in ages. Dragons haven't won one in centuries. Armies do it all the time, which makes Viserys Targaryen a real threat," Tywin admitted. "You will travel to Braavos. Jon Arryn is doing good work as a Hand right now and is needed at King's Landing. You will be the Crown's envoy to the Sealord. For once, Robert speaks sense. We need to secure the Stepstones. We won't face the Unsullied on land but will break them on the seas. We need an alliance with Braavos to make taking and securing the Stepstones cheaper. I will send envoys to Tyrosh, Myr, and Lys to check the price of their neutrality until Viserys is dealt with. I'll offer the Triarchy possession of the Stepstones as soon as the Targaryens are dead for good."
"King Robert might not want to let go of such a conquest," Kevan pointed out.
"I won't let anyone endanger my legacy! If Robert wants to be a fool and kill himself over those islands, let him, but only after the real threat is gone!" Tywin speared his brother with a deadly glare. "You will also visit the Temple of Black and White. Rumor has it that the Faceless ensured no Dragonlord survived in Essos past the Century of Blood. Let us see what they want in exchange for removing Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen."
"I will see to it. What are you going to do?" Kevan inquired.
"Right now, we have only the Redwynes between us, a Viserys Targaryen sailing into the Westerlands and landing an army. That won't do. I am opening the vaults. We will rebuild and expand the Lannister fleet until it is the most powerful in Westeros."
Kevan's eyes bulged at that.
The mines below the rocks had been mined for over a thousand years. Perhaps thousands of years, though there were no records that old. Further, the Lannisters got a percentage of any mined gold or silver in the Westerlands. Gold wasn't as common as iron in Westeros because most of the extracted precious metals from the Westerlands were sealed in vaults to ensure the Lannister's prosperity in the distant future when their mines eventually ran out. Even their father's incredible idiocy failed to make a meaningful dent in those reserves.
=Sith=
Chapter 9 Part 4
=Sith=
291 AC
Valysar
A few months after the Golden Company returned to Volantis, Jon Connington deemed it safe to visit the nearby town of Valysar. Thanks to Varys and his ally, Mopatis of Pentos, the exile and a small band of loyalists had a villa in the hills near the walled city, for no matter what the people of Volantis thought, this settlement was no mere town. Valysar was larger than King's Landing and had working sewers, ensuring the place didn't stink.
It burned something fierce that Jon had to pretend to be dead and hide his true loyalties, but there was nothing he wouldn't do or endure for Rhaegar. He failed his silver Prince once; he would die before failing Aegon, too! That was why the exiles hid at the manse until they were damn sure the Golden Company was far away. If one of his former comrades at arms recognized Jon, the revelation that he was still alive and in hiding would raise questions that would be better left unsaid.
"Duck, they're talking about dragons!" Aegon exclaimed, darting between people at the busy market.
"He's your son, Griff; go handle him," Septa Lemore happily threw Jon under a speeding carriage and went to bargain for herbs at a nearby stall.
"Don't run away! Young Griff!" Rolly shouted and stumbled after Aegon, earning himself curses from the locals.
Jon spat a vile curse as well and darted after his ward. In truth, after all these years, he saw Aegon as his own son, which only made him angrier at the boy risking himself in such a way. Connington shoved his way through everyone in his way, shouting apologies as he pushed through the crowd until he found the boy standing beside a couple of merchants swapping tales.
"I saw it with my own eyes! There are no more harpies above Astapor but dragon banners!" One of the merchants waved his hands to emphasize his point. "It came as a huge shock, I tell you! We were supposed to buy carpenters and woodcarvers for Selhorys, but there are no more slaves to buy or sell in Astapor!"
"What do those upstarts have to do with anything?" another merchant asked. "The Targaryens are no better than us now that they have lost their wings!"
"Viserys Targaryen liberated all the slaves in Astapor after taking the city! He's been busy turning them into warriors, or so everyone claims! I heard it from the locals in Astapor and from the Wise Masters of Yunkai when I went there to buy the slaves we needed!"
"I heard that too! People say that the harbor in Astapor is a death trap now!"
"That's true! There are Catapults and scorpions all over the place! Prince Viserys is turning that place into a graveyard for anyone foolish enough to invade! There were at least a thousand Unsullied patrolling the docks!"
Jon's breath caught in his throat at yet another reminder that his Prince had other family members who needed protection, yet they were left to fend for themselves. His hand fell upon Aegon's shoulder and squeezed far gentler than he intended when the boy darted off.
A few moments later, Ducky joined them, puffing all the way.
"Aren't you supposed to be a knight?" Jon was glad there was someone he could safely aim his ire at.
"What are you all gawking at?" One of the merchants asked.
"You were talking about dragons!" Young Griff exclaimed. "Who doesn't like dragons?"
The merchant's face softened at that, and he laughed. "Are you sure you aren't Valyrian, lad?"
"My wife was Tyroshi and had some Valyrian blood in her," a well-practiced lie slipped from Jon's lips before he could even think.
"Yes! Mother had the prettiest blue hair, but her eyes were purple! That much I remember!" Aegon blurted out, to Jon's relief. Elia's eyes, who looked up from Young Griff's face, were anything but; however, Rhaegar was another matter. Fortunately, Jon's eye color was close enough to Elia's and, thus, Aegon's, especially in the right light to pass muster. He had to thank Elia for that much, at least.
"There might be no true dragons anymore, but there are three-headed dragon banners all over Astapor," the merchant who allegedly recently returned from Slaver's Bay told them.
"What's happening over there? The rumors that reach us here are late and unbelievable," Jon fished for more information.
He quickly learned that Viserys had done well for himself and his sister, securing Astapor and consolidating his power there instead of ridding off on some hair-brained scheme. Between a few thousand Unsullied and the army he was training, the Targaryen Prince might soon turn Astapor into a fortress that was too tough to crack through an assault.
Aegon unsurprisingly absorbed every piece of news he heard of his aunt and uncle. After that encounter, Jon hurried to gather their party and marched them back to the mansion before Young Griff could give up the game. To his credit, despite his youth, Aegon managed to keep his excitement somewhat contained until they were back safe behind the manor's walls.
"I want to meet them!" Aegon bounced from foot to foot. "We finally know where they are, and they aren't on the run! Uncle, you can't tell me we are safer here than behind city walls with an army loyal to my uncle!"
Haldon raised an eyebrow at that, and his gray eyes locked on Jon, looking for answers.
"We heard more recent rumors about Viserys Targaryen in Astapor," he informed the rest of their small group.
"Young Griff is right," Haldon's voice was full of approval for his student. "Your reasoning might be incomplete, but it does make sense. However, you missed one important point, young man," the 'halfmaester' leaned forward so his face could be on level with Aegon's. "Your uncle and aunt are targets now. Everyone knows who they are and where they are. Any enemy of your house knows where to strike while out here; we are safe because no one knows you are alive."
Aegon pouted and stomped his foot.
"I think it is time for a bath. Walk with me, Young Griff," Septa Lemore ushered Aegon towards the baths.
"That's not my name!" Aegon grumbled.
"There will be a day we can call you Aegon. Until then, you are Young Griff, for otherwise, we will slip up when in public, and all this mummery would have been for naught. It is all to keep you safe, boy!" Lemore patiently explained.
"What are you thinking, Griff?" Duck asked after carrying two leather bags inside with purchases from the market.
"I find myself tired of our benefactor's arguments about staying away until we see the truth of Viserys. Everything we hear of him paints him as anything but a fool or a madman. Besides, going to Astapor doesn't' mean meeting him or telling him who Young Griff really is!" Jon grouched. "However, Viserys has an army and a city now. He might not be thrilled to see a rival for the Iron Throne, even if that rival is his own nephew. Thirst for power can twist even the best of men!" Jon admitted a bitter truth.
"We've waited for this long since we first heard of Viserys being a sorcerer. Has anything really changed?" Haldon needled him.
Jon gave the learned man a droll look. Viserys taking control of Astapor could be chalked off to sorcery and luck. However, what he had been up to ever since was telling. Slavers all over the region weren't concerned because Viserys was an incompetent fool; on the contrary, they were scared of him making another Braavos at their doorsteps.
"You heard the merchants, Griff," Duck reminded him. "There's a storm coming for Viserys and Daenerys. That's not the kind of mess we want to sail into, and sailing is the only way to get there."
"This might be the only chance for Aegon to meet his remaining family," Jon admitted.
"If they're a decent sort, they won't thank you for getting their nephew killed with them, and if they aren't, then who cares?" Rolly shrugged.
"We'll stay put for now. If Viserys survives what's coming for him, we'll go to him in a year or two," Jon decided. If he was to be honest with himself, the sticking point was that this way, he could spend more time with Aegon as if the boy were his son.