You had best have a convincing reason for my daughter not being with you, Oberyn, or else I may have to do away with the only remaining sibling I have." Prince Doran's voice was level, yet dangerous, his eyes locked on his hotheaded younger brother, who, for some reason, was carrying something covered by a cloth under one arm.
"Ah, but first, brother dear, I need to get you into a better mood to hear me out." Despite his brother's icy anger, Oberyn's voice was jaunty, full of good humor. "Ah, even the two week's voyage from King's Landing hasn't diminished my pleasure in this. There is nothing, nothing at all like a vendetta fulfilled!"
He went on, his voice suddenly becoming much more serious as he moved the box from where he had been carrying it under his arm, holding it with one hand underneath as the other gripped the loose cloth that covered it. "Doran, may I present… the head of the Mountain that Rode!" With that, he removed the cloth with a flourish, presenting the preserved head of the hated Ser Gregor, preserved in the blue fluid the alchemists had prepared to his brother.
Doran's eyes widened. His lips, which had been locked in a thin frown now quickly formed a grin, such a grin the likes of which he hadn't shown since boyhood. He leaned forward, taking the glass container from his brother reverently.
Turning it this way and that, he examined the head inside minutely, part of him almost certain this was a trick. After a moment, he looked up at his brother once more. "As an opening gambit to keep your own head on your shoulders, this would indeed take some beating, Oberyn." There was even a hint of true humor in Doran's voice but he had some control of himself again, which showed in his sharp old eyes. "It seems as if we have more to talk about than just my wayward daughter. What exactly is going on in King's Landing?"
"That will be quite a telling, brother, and all of it centers around Ranma Stark, his father, and the effect they are having on the halls of power." Oberyn chuckled, shaking his head. "And that in turn is tied up with what your daughter is up to presently."
From there Oberyn went on to describe what he had seen occurring in King's Landing, not only about Ranma and his execution of the Mountain but all that he had heard or seen for himself. He didn't know everything, not having made any contacts in the court but he knew about Eddard's anti-corruption campaign and how many enemies it was winning Lord Stark.
He also knew that while there seemed to be friendship between Ranma and Margaery, the Rose of House Tyrell was also playing for the Crown Prince. And he had seen the friendship, almost the squire-ship, between the youngest Baratheon and Ranma. Oberyn had also noticed how unlike their father any of the Royal children seemed in countenance, though how alike in spirit they were he had no way of knowing.
Through all this, his older brother listened silently, asking no questions. Occasionally, Doran could not stop his eyes from twitching over to the head in its container, but he always turned away. He was a Prince, the ruler of his kingdom. He could not allow himself to be swayed by something like that, no matter how long his hatred for his sister's butchers had simmered. In that, Doran was utterly unlike his hotheaded kin.
Doran also knew things, plans going forward that he had long since made with allies both in Essos and Westeros that made any idea of allying with the Starks premature. Let the wolves beard the lions in their den and weaken both families. A scorpion knows how to wait, to plan, and to hide until it is in position to deal a fatal blow.
Oberyn finished by saying. "And so brother, I think Arianne is on the right track. Influencing the Stark heir can influence young Tommen, killing two birds with one arrow, let alone gaining us an ally. Tyrell has overreached badly. If we can but take advantage of their arrogance, step forward with our own offer, a real one, to House Stark, then we will gain much influence over the usurper's own household."
"You think we should prioritize our vengeance against the Lannisters over House Baratheon?" Doran said coolly. "Remember it was the Usurper's war that allowed the Lannisters to betray their rightful King and all that happened to our sister and her children. Do not forget that the Starks stood beside Robert, though their reasons, even I will admit, were better than most. Yet even so, I will not ally with the House of honorable fools. You said it yourself, House Stark is making enemies in King's Landing, and even a direwolf can be pulled down by enough hyenas. Let the wolf and lion savage one another, we can wait."
"I am sick to death of waiting!" Oberyn shouted, standing up suddenly and smashing his fist down on the small desk Gregor's head rested on at present. Luckily, the desk was a sturdy affair and withstood his blow. "Wait, wait, wait, that is all you ever council, Doran! We have done nothing but wait for far too long! Dorne is seen as a joke now, a barbaric land with a coward for a ruler! We must risk something to gain anything, brother."
"Besides, the Baratheons without the Lannisters, or even with the Lannisters badly weakened, will be much easier to destroy! Robert is a drunkard, drinking himself into an early grave. Joffrey is a buffoon, arrogant and egotistical, and, as I said, if we influence Ranma, his influence on Tommen could turn the family into an ally for us. Renly is a fop, a toy knight who knows nothing of war outside the tourney and Stannis is so cold, I doubt he could muster enough humanity to rally more than a few of the Stormlands' lords to him."
Doran kept his cool with the ease of long practice in front of his brother's bluster. "And Tywin? What of him? He is no fool, and he has undoubtedly already taken action against the Starks for their daring to remove one of his best tools. You make the error of seeing their influence in King's Landing as the source of their power. Brother, I assure you it is not. So long as Tywin lives and has control of the gold mines in Westerlands, his power will remain unchanged. No, I will send a message to one of my factors in King's Landing to find and remove Arianne and your daughters from the city as quickly as possible. Regardless of how good you think this Ranma is, he cannot be everywhere nor is he proof against arrows or other means of attack."
He paused for a moment, staring sternly at his oh-so-much younger brother. Such happened when all the children between the youngest and oldest of a family died but it was at moments like this that brought it to his attention. "There are plans in motion, Oberyn, plans that have been moving for years now, plans that have just recently begun to bear fruit. I will not act precipitously when waiting a little longer may bring us an ally with which we can have our justice in full."
Oberyn scowled but saw Doran wasn't about to share more details of these plans with him he nodded abruptly. He stalked off angrily before he could say anything they would both regret, leaving Doran alone to contemplate the future, his plans, and the head of one of his House's enemies. Let there soon be many more heads beside this one. The winds of change are blowing; one only needs to know how to harness them…
OOOOOOO
Almost at the same moment, Oberyn was speaking to Doran, two weeks before Ranma left for Pentos, another Lord Paramount was contemplating the news of King's Landing. Though in his case, he knew quite a bit more than Oberyn had been able to discern, right from the wolf's mouth, so to speak.
Despite his body failing him, Hoster Tully's mind was still sharp and could discern the most important bits from the news Jason Mallister had just imparted to him. The Lord of Seagard had stopped in Riverrun on his way back to his demesne, to speak to his ruler about his grandson and what was going on in King's Landing.
"Ned's overreaching." Hoster said after staying silent for several minutes, so long Jason was afraid he had fallen asleep as old people were wont to do without warning. "He believes that his friendship with Robert will be a shield against his enemies while he does away with the corruption in the capital and searches for why Jon Arryn died so abruptly. He is wrong, Robert is not the man he once was, he is far too easily swayed in many ways and distracted in others. I'll send another hundred men to augment the men I've already sent. Hopefully, they'll help keep the stiff-necked Stark alive when things go badly."
"Hah!" Hoster laughed suddenly, a hacking, sickly sound despite the humor in it as he switched his gaze over to where his son Edmure was leaning against the wall. "I'll send you as well, Edmure. You could not do better than look to Ned for a teacher, in many ways, and this Ranma sounds fascinating, above and beyond his martial prowess. Perhaps he can help you liven your ideas up, boy! A friendship between you would also strengthen ties between Tully and Stark."
Edmure scowled a little, irritated at the idea that the younger Stark heir was somehow brighter or a better heir than him. Hoster knew his son thought himself a fine lord but he was untried, too full of the vain glory of the tourney when it came to matters of war, and disinterested in the management of his lands. Edmure had also not settled down yet, too busy wenching, something Hoster was always irritated by. But he lacked the desire to estrange another family member by coming down on his son too hard about it or by attempting to set up a marriage for him.
He had hoped Edmure would grow up on his own but he hadn't yet. Hopefully the example of Ranma Stark will start that process, Hoster thought. It's high time that boy settled down and begot some brats to secure the line of succession and if he doesn't by year's end, well, I'll have to take the plunge and set one up for him. "I'll let you in charge of choosing who to take, Edmure, though I want you on the road within the fortnight, so you best start now."
Despite knowing his father simply wanted him out of the room to talk to Lord Mallister alone, Edmure went gladly, eager to be off on this jaunt despite the reasons his father had for sending him. King's Landing and the pleasures found therein, called to him. Edmure also thought if he could prove himself an able leader of men on this job then it would show his father he needed no further training to be ready to take over the lordship of Riverrun and the Riverlands.
The moment his son left, Hoster turned back to Jason, his rheumy eyes hard. "Eddard is too focused on finding the reasons behind Jon Arryn's death to see the real threat coming. Tywin may reply to the death of the Mountain in some fashion, though in what fashion I know not, but regardless, once word reaches Tywin of the changes being wrought in King's Landing, he will react to correct his family's loss of influence in the court."
"I would not think he would care over much for the graft being so diminished." Jason replied, one grey eyebrow raising in surprise.
"It isn't that!" Hoster said sharply, pushing himself more upright in his bed. He had been confined there for a month, his body slowly giving out with age, his legs having gone first. "You're making the same mistake Eddard is making! No, it is the influence over the Baratheon children that will concern him. If, as you said, Eddard is preparing to push for Tommen to be named heir over Joffrey then that will be a disaster for Tywin's influence. Tommen will look first to Ranma and Ned, not to his grandfather who he has rarely met. The Lannisters, even with the Queen playing the game as well as she is, will lose the ear of both the King and the future King. Tywin will not allow that to happen without a fight and I am worried about what method he might use to offset it."
Jason chuckled a little despite the seriousness of Hoster's words. At his lord's interrogative look, he shrugged. "I would honestly think that Tywin could look to influence Ranma in turn by shoving young Myrcella into Ranma's arms. Certainly it wouldn't take much of a push, the girl was besotted with him, even I could see that the few times I saw them together."
This caused Hoster to chuckle as well but he shook his head. "No, he won't trust the girl to be able to guide Ranma, not when he has had no hand in her rearing. He'll act in some fashion to remove Ranma and Ned or force them to be called back to Winterfell. And it is that action we must be prepared for."
"What do you think he will do?"
"That I do not know. Tywin is prideful but intelligent and pragmatic. Whatever he does, it will be calculated, yet what he will do I cannot say." Hoster paused, thinking hard then nodded his head. "I just feel as if there is a storm coming, one we need to be ready for. I will call up my men and prepare Riverrun for open war. That is the worst case scenario, though I doubt it will come to that and cannot ask my lords to do the same without proof of coming troubles rather than my own feelings on the matter. None, save the Freys, have deep enough pockets to weather the expense of such a move if it proves unneeded and I do not trust the Freys farther than I could kick their blasted castle."
Jason's eyes narrowed, making him look like the hunting eagle on his family's crest. "If he wants to draw Ranma and Ned away, then Tywin could make overtures to the Ironborn. They've been restless lately and I doubt the Starks having a hostage truly matters to them at all. They could strike the North or Seagard and the western holdings of the Riverlands. I will prepare my lands for such, in any event. I can cover the costs of ordering up my men for several months, at least, without aid from the Riverlands coffers."
The trade they got as a seaport and transportation hub through the Hag's Mire to Fairmarket and thence down the Blue Fork, made Seagard a rich holding in comparison to most of the Riverlands lords. Though not large in area, since it abutted into the mire on its southern reaches and Frey holdings north and east, Seagard itself gave House Mallister both some industry and a decent population to call upon.
The two lords looked at one another, wondering if this would be enough, and somehow knowing it would not be.
The next day before he left Riverrun, Jason made use of one of the castle's ravens that was set to the Citadel, home of the order of maesters, down in Oldtown, in the Reach. With it, he sent the sealed message Eddard had asked him to send, unopened of course. Jason had no idea what the message contained, some suspicions were too terrible to speak of until they could be proven and this was one of them. The return message would be marked as if it came from Winterfell so no one in the Red Keep would be concerned by it.
OOOOOOO
A week before Ranma sailed from King's Landing, Illyrio and Viserys looked up from their conversation as the door to the sitting room opened. Daenerys stepped through. She curtseyed to Illyrio while ignoring her brother, who scowled at that act of defiance, yet smoothed it away from his features quickly.
After all, the girl is just trying to get a rise out of me. Illyrio's right, she's doing all she can to get out of marrying the barbarian. The thought brought Viserys some mixed feelings, irritation and anger, of course, but some approval as well, which was surprising. It was the first time that his younger sister had shown the will that he expected from someone of their house. Daenerys' disdain for physical wounds and her actually trying to get him to wound her further in an attempt to put off her marriage showed she had some Targaryen will to go with her looks.
Yet, it ill-suited their House's purposes for him to continue to fall to her games and Daenerys still had no idea of the big picture, obviously. Otherwise, she would embrace the opportunity to bring such a force into the fold. She still had romantically foolish ideas of gaining popular support in Westeros, which was foolish in the extreme. No, Viserys thought to himself, not for the first time, his eyes taking on a glittering aspect even if he didn't know it. The only way to return our house to power is through fire and sword!
Illyrio knew nothing of his prince's thoughts, of course, though he could read some of it from his face. Still, he stood up, light on his feet for all his weight, bowing grandly to the Princess, his florid beard flouncing forward. "Your highness, I trust you are feeling better?"
"As if the nurses you have set upon me had not already informed you." Daenerys said smiling thinly. "I am well enough, at least to once again take part in discussions. What have I missed?"
Her brother would probably not have told her anything but Illyrio spoke up before Viserys could send her away. He filled her in on what the two of them had been up to, gathering support among the other powerful merchants in the city, paying for a fleet of hulls to be set down to carry their forces across to Westeros, making further overtures and inquiries to various lords in Westeros for their aid when the time came. There they were not having much headway, not yet at any rate. "Dorne remains the only land that as a whole is waiting for us to make our move."
Viserys smirked as he thought about that. He was looking forward to seeing if the stories about the licentiousness of the women of Dorne was accurate and with that marriage, he would bring Dorne in on their side.
"What of the Riverlands?" Daenerys asked, looking at the two of them. "You've mentioned the Vale, Dorne, and the Crownlands. The Stormlands obviously won't welcome us in the main, though I think our continued search there for one or two lords that might at the very least be willing to pass on knowledge is a good idea. But you haven't mentioned the Riverlands or the North."
Illyrio smirked, his beard twitching. "The North is completely devoted to a new issue your highness, one that has only recently been confirmed. You recall that Jorah Mormont told us of a rising threat, the new King Beyond the Wall? I've talked to a factor of Lord Manderly here in the city. He was asking around for mercenary bands that would be willing to travel to the Wall to help defend it. Unfortunately, he hasn't found any takers here in Pentos, though I would assume that other factors might be having more luck in the rest of the Free Cities."
For just a moment, Daenerys shivered and didn't know why, feeling a cold bite in the air for a brief second before she shook it off. "Are we certain that that will occupy the North's entire military strength? We know that Lord Stark is loyal to the Crown and is, I would not doubt, an effective Hand at present. Surely, the North would send him aid in some fashion? And, if he is removed or called home, who would replace him?"
"It's almost certain he would not be called home at all; his son would be sent instead." Viserys said shaking his head with a laugh. "The tales we've heard from Domeric about him make that almost certain. Even if only half of them are true, that move would be a good thing for the entirety of the kingdom and…" he said rather grudgingly, "Illyrio has an idea there."
Daenerys cocked an eyebrow at Viserys and then looked over at Illyrio, who smiled blandly. "Eddard Stark is probably making a lot of enemies, going by what Jorah has told us at least, which are simply waiting for the right opportunity to drag him down. By the time we are ready to invade, he might already be dead and his son fighting on the Wall. If so, sending overtures to the North saying that we will aid them on the Wall in return for their remaining out of the War against the Baratheons and the Lannisters could well gain their neutrality, if not their aid to avenge him."
Daenerys actually nodded thoughtfully at that seeing, it could make sense, though she didn't agree that Lord Stark would be gone by the time they were ready. She had talked extensively with Domeric about House Stark and both Lord Stark and Ranma struck her as survivors. On top of that, they were honorable men, who took their duties seriously, though where that might take them was beyond her ability to predict. Certainly, Eddard would not go down without a fight, at the very least. "And the Riverlands?"
"We have several powerful agents there, just waiting for an opportunity." Viserys scowled a little. "They're not bound by honor or loyalty to us, unfortunately, so they'll probably have to be removed in the future but they can serve our purposes until then."
"A treacherous blade is ever one the hand that wields it should fear." Daenerys said, nodding, as she sat down. The conversation continued from there. Daenerys fully participated in it, interjecting what she could, trying to plant the seeds of doubt in Illyrio's mind as to which Targaryen child he should back.
In this, she was successful. Illyrio retired that evening rather wistfully wishing that he had decided to invest more time in Daenerys when he contacted the two initially. An accident could easily have been arranged for Viserys and, with some careful molding, Daenerys would've been an excellent leader. Now, he couldn't get out of it; his personal word was on the line now with Khal Drogo and the next time Drogo stopped by the city, Daenerys would have to be presented to him. It would win them the swords they needed to conquer Westeros. No single other act would bring them as much strength.
OOOOOOO
Since Jorah's arrival, Domeric had found himself being slowly pushed aside as a source of information on the Westeros. He was still called upon for his expertise on the Stormlands as well as the Reach and the Crownlands, where he had spent the majority of his time since leaving the North, but that was all. No longer did either Viserys or Illyrio call upon him for his opinion on other matters nor did they ask him for any new information about general goings on there.
He still showed up occasionally with tidbits of information but for now Domeric allowed himself to be pushed to the side. Indeed, he seemingly only stayed out of a desire to see what was going to happen firsthand, as well as the various lovely ladies on Illyrio's staff. He put some effort into that image and did not attempt to grow close to his fellow Northerner. The man had been a slaver and, despite his time in Essos, Domeric still looked upon that practice as abhorrent in the extreme.
Of course, this also allowed him more time to get to know the guards. Domeric could be regularly seen in the guard house singing songs, admittedly mostly bawdy ones for them as they bought him drinks and they shared tales of wenches they had known.
He also finished making his key to Illyrio's strong room and found out when the guard on it was weakest. None of the guards actually believed that the watch on Illyrio's strong room was needed at all since to get to the strong room one would have to get into Illyrio's house in the first place and the watch on the walls was as strict as always. So during the dark of night, two youngsters, the newest members of Illyrio's guard, a pair as yet not blooded in any kind of battle beyond training, had been forced by their fellows to take this watch.
Other aspects of their planned escape had not been going nearly as well. For one thing, Daenerys and Domeric both knew that Daenerys could no longer incite her brother into attacking her. Not only was Viserys showing more self-control lately, as if he had cottoned on to Daenerys' plans there, but Illyrio had taken the precaution of hiring several female guards, massively muscled women who looked almost like extremely strong men, to stand guard over Daenerys at all times. Any overtures in their direction were firmly rebuffed and they only answered to Illyrio. They almost reminded Domeric of stories of the Unsullied, but not quite, and they seemed immune to Daenerys' charisma.
That meant talking to her about their plans going forward had become much more difficult. They had gotten around this by creating a system of hand signals to tell one another simple information but there was only so much they could convey that way. The news elsewhere wasn't good either. None of the captains that Daenerys felt could be enticed to help them escape the city had put into port.
Checking on that was what Domeric was actually doing now. He sat in a dockside bar speaking to another bard, exchanging news. "Captain Costanzo won't put into any port ever again." the man said shaking his head, talking about one of the captains Daenerys had mentioned. "If you're waiting for him you'll wait in vain. Costanzo's ship was sunk about ten days ago. It looks as if the Ironborn are acting up again or, at least, a few of their captains are at any rate. There've been several ships that have gone missing recently, all of whom were plying the straits between Westeros and here."
"Ironborn? They are far afield then, aren't they?" Domeric asked cocking his head, remembering his time fighting those bastards when they tried to rebel. He was also trying hard not to curse, since that meant the two most likely captains to be sympathetic to Daenerys' plight would not be available, no matter how long they waited. This would force them to find one they could appeal to with only what they could steal from the magister, a chancy business at best. "Their islands are on the other side of Westeros!"
"True, but that doesn't matter to the Ironborn. They go where their ships can take them and this isn't the first time they've been able to sail straight around the Dornish Peninsula and through the Stepstones. It's the first time in a few years, true, but it isn't all that unusual. The merchants and captains here in Essos consider them more of a nuisance than anything, simply because they are unpredictable and fractious."
"And you're sure it's Ironborn, not some kind of pirate band questing out from the Stepstones?"
"Positive." Was the firm reply. "The pirates who ply the waters around Essos know they can only take so many ships every month and know what ships not to take."
"Are you telling me that piracy is also part of the game here?" Domeric scoffed. He had never even heard a hint of that before.
"Indeed." His fellow bard said, laughing. He was an older man with the slight accent of Norvos in his voice. "The cities of Essos are ruled by gold, my friend, and their money can buy many things, including the pirates keeping their hands off certain ships. And if the pirates act up, a city could buy enough mercenaries and ships of their own to go in and clear them out, as has been done before."
Domeric nodded, he knew that of course. Westeros had mounted such an expedition during the Ninepenny Kings war.
His fellow bard continued. "That's what makes the Ironborn so irritating. They don't play the game. They aren't willing to be paid in gold, mouthing on and on about their 'iron price'. Worse yet, they don't take prize ships. Pirates always do that, and they can be bought back later. No, the Ironborn always sink their victims. That kind of thing could ruin some of the smaller merchant houses, let alone the loss of the actual cargo."
"Interesting." Domeric murmured. "Tell me more."
For the next few hours, he plied his fellow bard with questions and returned with this news to his employers, which interested Viserys and Illyrio greatly. After all, if the Ironborn were getting restive, that would hopefully draw off the Westeros fleet to deal with them. If so, their own moves would be made that much simpler.
Unfortunately for Domeric and Daenerys, he had been unable to find any news that would help them. Both went to bed that day with anxiety slowly growing in them.
OOOOOOO
Littlefinger was not one to leave anything to chance. Despite this, the sudden nature of Petyr's convincing the King to send Ranma out of the city on this mission to find the Targaryen siblings had forced him to use common footpads to make certain that Ranma would never came back, rather than a single specialist as he would've preferred. These two were former sailors, able to fit in easily with the crew of the trade caravel that was carrying Ranma to Pentos.
That was part of why the two had been chosen but it was offset by their eagerness to get the job over with and the fact that they had no idea about Fenris. Used to the way Fenris was around Tommen and Myrcella as well as how Lady was all the time, Petyr had overlooked the direwolf, considering him a pampered pet. This was, to put it mildly, a false assumption.
That evening, the first evening out from port, Ranma was asleep against the railing at the back of the ship. While he had been given a cabin, for now Ranma simply wanted to enjoy the sea air for a time, clear his senses of the stink of politics mixed with the actual odor of King's Landing, which he had never gotten used to despite the amount of perfume he used. Fenris, however, was awake keeping guard and could move almost as silently as his brother Ghost despite his somewhat larger size.
The deck was empty of other observers that first evening save for a few men on watch at the front of the ship and some men up high in the rigging. None of them were near enough to make out anything occurring on the deck, however, nor were the men on watch even facing the right direction.
"A'ight." whispered one of the would-be assassins to the other, his lowborn King's Landing gutter accent thicker even than usual. He pulled out a long stiletto from a belt scabbard, which had been specially oiled. The knife, too, had been darkened so as not to reveal itself by any chance gleam of moonlight.
Despite his lack of education, there was nothing wrong with his survivor's instincts, so even as he prepared to kill the wolf heir, his thoughts were on his own health. "Let's da this quick-like, and then ahh 'tink it best dat we stay in Pentos. Assassins who gulch lardships never live long if'n they be stupid enough ta return ta tell such."
"Truly, I'll agree ta that." his companion said, his own accent far less pronounced. He frowned for a moment looking behind them. One of the hatches to the crew quarters had opened, but at night, with only a few men up on deck for the few hours of deep night, there shouldn't have been anyone coming up onto the deck. After a moment, no one appeared and he nodded. "If we're going ta do this, best we do it now." With that the two of them moved forward silently across the deck.
Halfway to their target, there was a sudden growl behind them. One of them had a moment to turn and whimpered in visceral terror as the direwolf, who they had been told was some kind of neutered pet, loomed up out of the night. Before either assassin could raise their weapons or even scream, Fenris was on them. His jaws closed on the head of one, ripping it off with a 'shluck' sound that disappeared in the background noise of the ship at sea. At the same time, his foreleg flashed out, catching the other man in the jaw and snapping his neck.
Waiting for a moment to see if the sounds of combat had carried, Fenris glared at the two men he had just killed, wondering why they had been trying to stalk his bonded human. With a shrug of his large shoulders, Fenris pushed that thought aside. And wasn't that fun, the ability to actually think was a treasure to Fenris and his siblings.
For now, Fenris ducked his head down and got to work cleaning up, whining a little at the smell. The man had voided himself right before his death, which made this even worse than it would have been.
Moving quickly to the side of the ship Fenris tossed the body overboard with a swift flick of his head. Fenris padded back to the other body but stopped just as he reached it. Two more humans, both female (despite the way they were dressed he could smell the difference) had just come up from the interior of the ship and were now staring at him.
Arianne stared at the gigantic direwolf. Standing on his four feet, he was nearly tall enough to look her in the eye and far heavier looking. "There is something decidedly unnatural about that creature." She said looking at her cousin who was gripping the hilt of her short sword, hidden under her sailor's smock. "And I'm not just talking about his size; it's his intelligence that bothers me. When I look at him, it is obvious he is looking back at me and seeing far more than an animal should."
The direwolf huffed in amusement, taking that as a compliment. And if the humans, other than his master and those bonded to his littermates, didn't realize they had all been able to understand much of human speech even before Fenris left the home place, all the better. He stared meaningfully at the human female who was pawing at one of the metal claws the humans had. So amusing that they could hide them like that or take them off at all, yet also sad that they needed such. Why, their fangs were practically nonexistent, too.
Obara stepped forward lifting her hand away from her hidden sword. "You haven't been around him every day for the past few months." she muttered out of the corner of her mouth. "Unnatural is putting it mildly." With that, she turned back to Fenris holding out her hands in token of peace. "Hello Fenris, I don't suppose we could wake up Ranma? We wish to talk to him."
Fenris looked the two females over, then shrugged his massive shoulders and turned away. He kept one eye on them while he disposed of the second assassin's body, causing both girls to start, not having noticed it before behind his bulk.
"I don't suppose you have any reassurance to give me about this?" Arianne said, waving her hand a little and moving slightly away from the large direwolf. "He's not going rabid or anything?"
Fenris spared her an irritated glance at that insult but continued his way carrying the dead body easily before tossing it over the side. The direwolf then came back to smack the man's head, which he had spat out after ripping it off (skulls were horrible eating and humans were unhygienic in the best of cases), over the side to join the body. Job done, Fenris padded over to the two women, looking at them again before moving towards Ranma. He nudged him in the side, growling lightly.
Under his familiar's gentle nudging Ranma awoke swiftly. He glanced around and towards the two newcomers cocking his head. "Obara? What are you doing here?"
While saying this Ranma what had stood up and was poised for trouble, though his stance told nothing of that. Despite interacting with them on and off since the tournament, Ranma did not trust the Sand Snakes and seeing one of them here on the ship that was to carry him on his hunt for the Targaryen siblings made him even warier of them.
Obara shrugged. "I'm here sort of as a bodyguard. Ranma Stark, be known to Princess Arianne of Dorne."
Ranma looked at the other woman, his eyes widening in surprise.
Arianne swept her covering cloak and hood back, revealing her face. Her dark hair, which Arianne had let loose from her initial disguise, cascaded down the back of her neck and down the back of her cloak, her eyes luminous in her face. The rest of her disguise, alas, was not so easy to remove nor was Arianne willing to reveal her gender entirely, not at least until Ranma took the two of them under his protection.
This crew, after all, was not beholden to her father or, indeed, to any other noble. It was simply a trade vessel, one of the more than three dozen privately owned ships that traded almost constantly between King's Landing and the various free cities. That was why it had been chosen, after all. Nothing about it would indicate that its passengers were anything special until they arrived and disembarked, at least. That meant that she wasn't about to trust the sailors as much as she would her own.
"As my cousin said, I am Princess Arianne of Dorne, heir to the lordship of Dorne." Arianne said, bowing her head slightly never letting her eyes waver from Ranma's deep ocean blue ones. He really was quite handsome, with that Stark stern sort of manner, though it was much softer in his case. It was not the softness of easy living, for if there was an inch of fat on his body anywhere she couldn't see it. No, it was the softness of kindness, which went well with what she had heard from her two cousins and seen for herself, albeit from a distance.
That also meant her task here might be easier than she had hoped. "I have a proposal for you, Ranma. Did you know that your mother, Lady Catelyn, sent us a raven asking for the two of us to meet as you and Margaery of House Tyrell have?"
"I did." Ranma nodded, but his tenseness did not go away even as he leaned back against the mast. "I also know Prince Doran declined it. I'll even say that some of his reasons, which my mother sent us in a missive after receiving his reply, made sense. The fact that Dorne and the North are so far apart and so different socially makes any such union not nearly as good in real life as it seemed to my mother on paper. But how does that tie into you being here aboard this ship?"
"Ahh, but that was without having met you." Arianne murmured, coming forward to stand close to him, undoing her cloak a little further. The sailor's clothing I'm wearing doesn't do my body enough justice for this, she lamented a little, but needs must. She had taken the time before coming up on to the deck to undo her bindings around her chest and she knew that Ranma was getting of very good glimpse down her shirt at her large breasts. "And did you really think that your mission would remain a secret for very long? I know what you are about, Ranma Stark and I want to talk to you about other… options, both for your mission and for your marriage prospects."
Ranma groaned. Not another one. I'm getting tired of women who try to use their body to try and influence me! He moved back quickly, his eyes hardening. "None of that, lady. You will not find me as easily swayed by such impulses as you might think."
He shuddered a little internally, wondering if he would've been able to muster the will to ignore stuff like this back in Nerima, if he knew what the hell was going on. Ranma thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't had to. Shampoo would've had me wrapped around her little finger and that would've been in many ways a fate worse than death. Maybe Ukyo as well, come to think of it, she was a looker too. Although, I might have realized what I was feeling for Kasumi, too… He shook that thought off and stared hard at the woman in front of him.
For moment, Arianne was nonplussed by this but then she smiled. "Very well," she said, redoing her cloak and moving forward again but keeping well enough away to make Ranma think that she wasn't about to attempt any further seductions. She, however, kept close so they could keep their voices down. Despite Fenris prowling around the three, she wasn't about to assume that they could be overheard. What you know about my country, Ranma?"
"I know that Dorne had close ties with the Targaryen Dynasty, even before your aunt, I believe it was, married into the family. I know that your family still has a somewhat unfriendly relationship with House Lannister and Baratheon. Historically, you don't get along well with The Reach, either, though that has since stopped because the lands that were formerly causing that dispute are now counted among the Stormlands. Did I miss anything?"
"Not much." Arianne shrugged, still smiling faintly. "However, you do not understand the totality. You may say the words that Dorne is a nation apart but you don't understand. We are Dorne, unbowed, unbroken, unconquered! The Targaryens could not subjugate us, we did not, like your ancestor, bend the knee to them." She went on, ignoring his sudden growl, sounding very much like his pet, who had come suddenly to stand beside him to stare at her. "The desert and the terrain is a better deterrent than any martial force. If the Targaryens couldn't conquer us, Robert Baratheon certainly couldn't."
"But neither do we have the forces to fight an offensive war against the other nations of Westeros. So there is an uneven sort of peace between us. You know of the rising power of the Lannisters. Tywin, their Lord, is not the sort to allow any nation to remain aloof from the power of the Iron Throne. Even with the help of your family, Robert's position is precarious and that of his sons, as well. The Stormlands are the weakest in terms of men and money of any realm, save the North, which means Robert's power base was small to begin with and, as King, he has left the running of that land to his brothers so he doesn't have even that to call upon as his own. If either of his sons comes to the throne, it will be their grandfather who truly rules."
"I think you overestimate the strength of the lions at court." Ranma said smirking. "My father has been doing an excellent job of pruning back their fangs, not just because of the corruption but because he saw the downside of their rise to power as well as you do. Robert might not be my favorite individual or even a good king but he is strong of body, at least, and should last another five years or so."
"I don't know about that one." Arianne murmured shaking her head. "I think he's drinking himself into an early grave. I have seen such things a few times and it happens much more quickly than most would suggest. That is neither here nor there, your influence over the young Tommen is fine but you haven't any influence over the Crown Prince and, if he comes to the throne, his grandfather will rule all seven nations behind the scenes. Do you want the man who allowed Gregor Clegane to remain a lord and knight to become that powerful?"
That struck home she could tell, and she closed quickly, now attacking Ranma's thoughts from another angle. "And you said it yourself; Robert isn't that good a king. What has he done for the kingdom since claiming the Iron Throne? No new laws, no new building projects, all he did was put down the Greyjoy Rebellion, and what good has that done the rest of Westeros? Oh, the Ironborn are no more threat but they weren't before the rebellion either, which only happened because they thought Robert was weak."
"Robert was an excellent general." She went on staring at him earnestly. "But that does not mean that he is a good king and he set a very bad precedent. Even if the Baratheons are distantly related to the former ruling line, his kingship boils down to 'might makes right'. Can you truly say that a nation built on that ideal is a safe one? Your former fiancé Margaery must've told you about her family's misgivings? Their concerns about what might happen when Robert dies. What about Stannis, will he allow a young, untried boy to take the throne or even Renly? How many will try to claim the throne?"
"Get to the point, lady." Ranma said crossing his arms and staring at the woman belligerently.
"You know Robert will have both the Targaryen siblings put to death, if not in the near future then in a few years' time, when he thinks he can get away with it. Do you want their lives on your conscience, the lives of the true heirs to the Iron Throne?"
Arianne licked suddenly dry lips, somewhat put off by the predatory look in Ranma's eyes. Whoever thought that Ranma was some kind of northern bumpkin or dunce was far off the mark, she thought. The mind behind those eyes was clear for her to see and, now that it came to it, she wasn't certain at all that she could pull this off. His completely ignoring her body and sexual nature had thrown off her stride, taking away her most potent weapons and leaving her with only her words.
Still she pressed on gamely. "If the Targaryen siblings die in Baratheon custody, Dorne will rise in war. And despite your fathers influence, the Baratheons are on the decline and Lannister gold has bought many allies. But if you find Daenerys and Viserys Targaryen and return with them to Dorne, they can be kept safe. If needed, they can make a vow before the Seven to never seek the throne but alive they can still be married into the line to the ruling line, strengthening its legitimacy.
"And also give Dorne a powerful tool against Lannister and Baratheon power." Ranma replied dryly, shaking his head. "I might be a neophyte at this politics crap, lady, but even I can see that. I will say this for your… concern for my conscience. I never had any intention of murdering the two surviving Targaryens. The only reason I would do that is if they were already showing signs of Targaryen madness and I doubt they could gather any support, even in Essos, for their return to power if that was the case."
Really, how could someone think I'd be willing to do that, no matter how much a threat they are, right after threatening Robert about giving that very order!? "No, I'll decide what I will actually do when we get to Pentos."
Though he hadn't said anything about it for months, Ranma hadn't forgotten about the real threat building in land of always winter or what weapons had been used against such in the past. He didn't know if the Targaryens still had it in them but he was willing to take the chance to see. And if that proved to be the case, and he had to anger Robert fucking Baratheon to keep one of them around in the North, well that was just tough. Still, we'll see when we get there.
Arianne looked at him, every part of her stance screaming at Ranma, begging for more information but Ranma merely waved her off, laying back down against the railing. "Now, it's late and I'd like to get some sleep in the fresh air here before tomorrow. You two can take over my cabin; sleeping with the rest of the crew would be asking for trouble. I'll tell them you're under my protection tomorrow, if you want, but for tonight, let me get back to sleep."
The Dornish women looked at one another but realized they weren't in a position of strength here and that Ranma wasn't about to tell them more than he already had. They backed away, turning to go as Fenris curled up next to his master, both of them closing their eyes once more.
OOOOOOO
Tommen sighed dejectedly. It had only been a few days but he was already missing Ranma. He hadn't realized until Ranma wasn't there how much of his time was taken up with the Stark heir, training and simply hanging around with him, being treated as a younger sibling.
But that was it really; Ranma had seen him, not Tommen the youngest Prince, Tommen the young Baratheon, or Tommen the baby of the family, just Tommen the boy. He would never tell his mother this but she tended to treat all of her children almost as extensions of herself at times, simply assuming that they liked to do the same things she did and ignoring all evidence to the contrary, while everyone else in the court was worse, even the master-at-arms and others.
Over the last few months, Ranma had instilled in Tommen a need to train, which was why he kept on getting up early despite not having their exercises to look forward to. So here Tommy was, running around the castle grounds which Ranma had started him on a few days before his departure. Then he would go through exercises with the practice sword, swinging it twenty times per each form to build up his muscles, after which he would perform calisthenics exercises designed to keep him limber.
He was halfway through those sword practices when he noticed Lord Stark walking into the exercise area, stripped down to an undershirt and padded leggings, holding his own practice sword. The older man moved up to Tommen and smiled his slight public smile at the young Prince. "As my son is no longer here to instruct you, I hoped to take over the position."
Ned looked around as if checking to see they weren't going to be overheard and leaned down. "Between you and I, Your Highness, I also need the exercise. The rich food here at court and all that sitting I've had to do going over the books has had a marked effect…" he patted his stomach suggestively.
If Caitlin had been there, she would've sighed and shaken her head with a fond smile. It was moments like this, where he let his inner warmth and good humor show, that had caused her to fall in love with Ned in the first place, despite all the issues they had faced.
The droll tone this was delivered in caused Tommen to chuckle a little and he replied in the affirmative. He soon found that Ned was a somewhat sterner teacher than Ranma and, yet, he noticed certain things that Ranma seemed to take for granted.
For instance one of the exercises, a group of movements with six strikes and two parries all made to be done while on the move, had been giving Tom fits. Eddard paused him mid-form and then gently tapped one of his feet back into another position with the end of his own practice sword. "Try again." he ordered. "Keep your front foot thusly, facing at an angle from your opponent, which you had correct, but not that far forward, while the other is ready to move or pivot at need."
With his feet now corrected, Tommen moved much more smoothly through the form. He cocked his head quizzically as he finished.
Ned smiled faintly again. "My son is a genius when it comes to anything related to combat. However, geniuses often overlook the fact that other people aren't so quick to notice little things. He neglected to correct your position on that form from what he showed you to address your shorter stature. Now, why don't you show me a few of the other forms giving you trouble and we'll go through them?"
Tommen nodded eagerly and the two of them spent the rest of the morning together in this fashion.
Later, Ned watched Tommen walk out of the training area up with a faint smile on his face. The time spent with the young boy had reminded Eddard of the time he spent with his own children up north. It had given him a pang of homesickness, though that hadn't been the real reason why he joined the young boy in exercising.
Part of the reason was indeed he wanted some exercise but the other part was the fact that Ned wanted to see if the changes Ranma had wrought in the young child had stuck. Over the past few days they seemed to have, which was a very good thing his opinion. It will make transferring the position of Crown Prince to him all the easier, he thought shaking his head. Regardless of what he discovered about their parentage, Ned was becoming more and more convinced that Tommen would become a much better candidate for the position of King than his older sibling Joffrey was turning out to be.
He sighed as he moved up the stairs of the Hand's Tower, then was almost bulled over as he finished ascending the stairs into the family area by Lady, once more decked out like a doll. "Oh, dear." Ned muttered, shaking his head. "I'd apologize for my daughter but I think that you wolves knew precisely what you're getting into in some fashion when you entered our household."
Lady huffed, seeing her escape route blocked by her bonded's patriarch and then turned leaping through the open doorway to Ranma's room, quickly turning and closing it behind her with a flash of that intelligence in the direwolves that was so startling to people who weren't used to their ways.
A second later, Sansa and Myrcella came out of Sansa's room. "Don't run away lady!" Sansa ordered, angrily looking around. "We're just having fun."
"Sometimes, daughter, one person's fun is another person's torture." Ned replied with a faint smile on his face in a dust dry tone.
Myrcella quickly dropped a curtsy to the northern Lord, although Sansa simply sighed with a nod. "I suppose. I was just trying to cheer myself and Princess Myrcella up. It worked… for a time anyway."
Both girls looked a little disconsolate. Since Sansa had made up with Ranma, the two of them had spent at least an hour a day together. It was only now, with Ranma once more gone, that Sansa realized how she had enjoyed that time.
She was still enjoying her time here in King's Landing as a whole: the Queen was magnificent, Joffrey was her Prince whatever that bitch Tyrell girl had tried, the court was lovely, the dresses were amazing, and she loved being treated like an adult. But without her oldest sibling here, there seemed to just be a bit of a spark gone out of the place. She still enjoyed it of course, since she spent most of her time around Joffrey, who, to her admiration had not been effected by it but could not help feeling melancholy sometimes.
Myrcella on the other hand had been quietly miserable since Ranma had left. Not only had Joffrey stepped up his bullying of her, though thankfully not Tommen from what she could tell, but Myrcella had come to realize that the few 'friends' she had cautiously made in the court were not really her friends but were merely hangers on. Thanks to spending time with Ranma and Sansa, she could tell the difference. And while Sansa was lovely, she was besotted with Joffrey.
In contrast, Ranma's presence had simply lit up her life. I should've gone after him harder after Margaery left, she groused to herself now, keeping her thoughts off her face with the ease of long practice. Myrcella didn't know what was behind Margaery's suddenly being recalled to High Garden but she should have taken advantage of it, regardless of her mother watching her like a hawk, for the little time that had been between that and Ranma himself leaving. She had actually developed some curves, after all, and she knew Ranma enjoyed spending time with her, so maybe…
Ned smiled faintly, reaching down to pat the girls' heads. "I think you should leave Lady alone for now and find something else to do, perhaps a walk across the gardens or something else. Call for Ser Jory or Mattimeo if you wish to go into the city and they will provide an escort for both of you along with your primary guard." He looked over to Ser Oakheart, who was leaning against the wall by Sansa's bedroom, smiling. The two men nodded at one another and, with a final pat to his daughter's head (unheeding her pout at being patted so like a child), Ned entered his room.
Alone he smiled quite a bit wider than he would have in public, shaking his head with a chuckle. Myrcella would probably be appalled to know how easy it was to see how infatuation with my son but it still was amusing. He frowned then shaking his head. Neither girl has even a hint that I might be canceling the engagement to Joffrey. If they did their reactions would be entirely at odds with one another, I'm sure.
He smiled even wider when he saw a small raven carrier roll with the mark of Winterfell on it on his bed, left there by Ser Willowtree, who Ned had assigned to watch the raven's tower and pick up any messages from Winterfell. Ned didn't trust any of the servants assigned the task of taking care of the ravens; they were all Pyrcelle's men, after all. Reaching forward Eddard picked it up, pulling out the note and smiling tenderly at the familiar flowing script of his wife
He began to read the message but was interrupted by a bellow from outside. "Ned!"
With a sigh, Eddard opened his door to see his old friend standing there, his rather pudgy now that Ned can come came to notice it, face formed into a grin. "Ned, the huntmaster has told me of a stag of six tines being sighed in the Kingswood! I already have the horses prepared!"
"And?" Ned said coldly. "What is it that you wish of me, Your Majesty?"
Robert frowned at the 'Your Majesty', and glared at his friend. The past few days had not been pleasant ones to those that were around the two men. Where before there had been an easy comradery, built on an old friendship and mutual adventures when they were young, now there was a cool distance between them. "Are you still on about that, Ned? Give over! Who cares about the Targaryen bastard and bitch?! Your son will see to the two of them one way or the other."
Lord Stark carefully did not roll his eyes. Honestly, if any of the small Council thought that his son would kill either of the two surviving Targaryens, they should have their heads examined. Oh, that was what the King had ordered, if they were a threat take them out, but there was no chance of Ranma following that order. He would probably return with both of them and hand at least one over to the Baratheons as a ward of the crown or some such. But the only way he would put either down was if they already exhibited the madness that had shown so up often in the Targaryen line to the detriment of all around them. If that was the case, Ranma would put them down like mad animals but he would take no pleasure in it and he would only do so as a last resort.
All of which Ned was fine with. He had not been lying when he said he still had nightmares about what happened in King's Landing during the rebellion, the sight of those bloody sheets covering the tiny bodies of the children, the baby not even a year old. No, some things could not be born. "I regret to inform you, Your Majesty, that I have a lot of work I need to do today, the running of this kingdom doesn't happen by itself, after all."
"Damn it Ned! Why do you care so much?! They're just dragon-fucking scum! Don't you remember what they did to us!?"
"That is the difference between us, Your Majesty." Ned replied coldly, shaking his head. "You have extended your hatred of Prince Rhaegar and Aerys to the rest of the family, I never did. I hated the King and I hated the Crown Prince, but I never allowed that to splash over to the rest of the family. Vendettas like that are pointless."
Robert flushed angrily but Ned shook his head. "I can understand your anger and I can even accept it, in part, but I will not condone such a dishonorable act as sending assassins after them. Such is not the act of an honorable king or man."