Chapter 20: Ch20 The Changing PiecesNotes:
Had a great holiday, saw a lot of sites in northern Europe and Russia. Anyway, we're back with a bang now! :D Lot's of people have been asking for what's coming ;D Special Thanks to Cymraeg (also known as The Dark Scribbler) for letting me bounce ideas off of him concerning Dorne.
Chapter Text
Chapter 20 The Changing Pieces
Oberyn Martell
His head ached.
It ached and ached. He grasped the right side of his head and held it tightly. The pressure alleviating the pain for a second before it came back again just as intense. The maester had given him a drought for the pain but that only dulled the pain slightly and he couldn't take milk of the poppy now. He needed all of his wits about him...now more than ever.
The pain was not the worst he had ever felt, the pain that came as he felt his skull crack had been worse but that had been over in an instant not this overwhelming dull aching that never ceased. Nor the itching that came from his new wound.
He scratched at the wound, around the eye patch that covered his right eye and the gaping hole where the eye had been. It was an eternal reminder now of his hubris. And the path that his unbridled rage had led him down.
Even now, everything at times seemed like a dream. He remembered Tyrion Lannister's Trial by Combat, his chance to finally avenge Elia and kill Gregor Clegane. He should have gone for the kill and not played with his prey, but it had been too enticing, the chance to have the Mountain beg for mercy, to have him scream out Tywin Lannister's sins to all the Lords and Ladies watching.
It had been his last mistake of that old life. The last chance of vengeance squandered by his arrogance.
The darkness and pain had consumed him, Ellaria's horror stricken screams the last thing to echo in his ears. The last sound he ever heard in that last life.
Darkness and pain had consumed him and then suddenly it had all disappeared. The heat and humidity of the air had confused him before he recognized his chambers in the Water Gardens of Dorne.
Ellaria had been by his side, sleeping peacefully at first. He'd woken her and questioned her but she'd been horrified and confused as he spoke of what he remembered. She called it a nightmare, but deep in his bones, he'd known the truth, even if he couldn't understand what was happening. Or how it was possible.
Their reunion had came to a sudden halt as the doors to his chambers had suddenly been knocked off their hinges, the doors crashing to the floor with tremendous noise. The hulking and massive Areo Hotah had stood there outlined by doorway, a look of disgust and rage written across his face, his great halberd held at the ready.
Oberyn had risen, his blood rising at this unwanted intrusion but his words of rage had died on his lips as Hotah had stepped aside and Doran had stalked forward on shaking legs a drawn sword in his hands. His rage had turned into joy as he tried to remember the last time he had seen Doran actually looking martial.
Oberyn had smiled and opened his arms in welcoming but the joy at seeing Doran and seeing him walking as well, died as without a word Doran ignored him, stepping past him, towards Ellaria and proceeded to put his sword through her heart.
Time had frozen for him as Ellaria quickly slumped to the ground, her lifeblood spreading across the floor.
In an enraged fit, he had thrown himself at Doran, sending them both sprawling to the ground. They'd struggled together for a moment before he'd felt the large hands of Hotah grabbing him and throwing him across the room.
He'd found his own weapon, where he usually left it, by the bed and he'd attacked Hotah, his blood boiling with little sense in his head, he'd attacked the big man, ignoring the sprawled Doran.
Unlike with the Mountain he hadn't played with Hotah, his rage had overridden his better instincts and he'd attacked without respite. The rage lent his arms strength, and he'd driven Hotah out of his room, leaving recovering Doran and Ellaria's cooling corpse behind.
On and on the fight went on. Both men were experts with their chosen weapon. Back and forth they went, down the corridors of the Water Gardens. Men were drawn by the sound of combat and seeing Prince Oberyn battling Prince Doran's loyal sword Areo Hotah had been the second match that lit the fire that had consumed the Water Gardens.
The first match that lit the fire had been a much more public incident.
All he knew was what the surviving witnesses had seen. Prince Trystane had come to the sparring grounds and without warning had put his spear through Obara's head before anyone could react.
That had been the opening moment of the chaos that consumed the Water Gardens. The first match that lit the fire...the Water Gardens had choked with blood and smoke after that.
In the aftermath, he understood what had happened. Many had thought that Prince Oberyn was staging a coup to remove his brother. Others thought that Doran was purging Oberyn's seed from Dorne. It didn't matter...the result was the same. The unity of the Martell guardsmen had split, some declaring loyalty to Doran and others to Oberyn.
And then the fighting had started...
Oh, how Mother would be ashamed of them now. Oh, how House Martell has fallen because of their own hubris...
To make matters worse, this was the Water Gardens. The peaceful palace had been a both a refuge of innocence and a political home for heirs or spares, children of the various Dornish houses grew up here as guests or guests depending on the House they belonged to and their relationship with House Martell. It had been always a way to strengthen House Martell's ties to Dorne and to politely bind their bannermen to them.
When the dust settled, House Martell no longer had a legal trueborn heir, the Water Gardens was in flames and the pools were all red with the blood of the innocent. The heirs and spares of several noble houses dead in the fighting their small bodies floating in the red waters of the Water Gardens. Blood and rage had consumed what had once been the most peaceful place in Dorne.
Trystane was dead. Obara, Nymeria and Tyene were dead. Houses Yronwood, Uller, Qorgyle, Dalt and Toland had all lost children. Areo Hotah was dead but not without claiming a blood price from Oberyn. Oberyn's right eye was a ruined, useless mess. It was all an unmitigated catastrophe for House Martell. One that screamed weakness to the high heavens.
House Martell was shamed before all of Dorne and the Seven Kingdoms. Oh...how Tywin Lannister would laugh at their misfortune!
When he and Doran had finally spoken, after their retreat to Sunspear that shame had grown to unimaginable heights as Doran told him all that Ellaria and his daughters had done after his death. Doran and Trystane murdered...all because he died fighting the Mountain.
His only solace in all the tragedy was that the manticore venom would have consumed the Mountain painfully. There was no cure for that poison.
Oberyn shook his head, too many dark and consuming thoughts threatened to overwhelm him. He needed to pay attention now. Circumstances were much too tense and disarrayed for carelessness now. And something extra had been eating at Doran for several days now. Something he had yet to share with Oberyn.
He focused on Doran as he paced and stalked back and forth, a cane in his hands, in his own solar in Sunspear. Each step was painful and Oberyn could only imagine the agony that Doran felt...but Doran's rage was numbing the pain...or at least that's what he believed.
"I have had word from Sarella, she comes from Oldtown with news. Important news," Oberyn cut in interrupting Doran's stalking.
Doran stopped and cast him a look.
"What news?" demanded Doran angrily.
Oberyn frowned and shook his head, "She would not say. She claims it is too dangerous to be trusted to a raven."
Doran's already dark expression darkened further, "As if we did not have enough problems already! Toland and Dalt men already attack our men in retribution for their lost children. The Yronwoods call for our heads and gather men to attack. And we still have no idea what magic did this!" he shouted in exasperation.
Oberyn looked at his brother, seeing the changed man standing before him. Doran still planned and schemed but his anger simmered much more closer to the surface than before. Before, many had complained and questioned that Doran's hot dornish blood didn't exist...but that was before the Water Gardens. There were many heads on spikes on display at Sunspear now...all men and women that questioned Doran's commitment to Dorne in the aftermath of the Water Gardens calamity.
All grumbles in Sunspear had disappeared after the executions.
Doran was still speaking, "...Whatever news Sarella brings will have to wait till she arrives, we have more pressing issues at the moment. You will command our men and bring me the heads of all our defiant Lords." Doran commanded angrily, "They think us weak, but we will show them the bloody truth."
"And what of you? What news are you hiding brother?" Oberyn said, eyeing Doran suspiciously. Perhaps now Doran would tell him, what had set him further on edge.
Doran turned to him and cast an angry look at him. He stopped pacing and pulled a raven scroll from his pocket. He held it and ran the scroll between his fingers.
"I have debated telling you...it is news from Starfall. Lord Alester Dayne vexes me," Doran sucked in a deep breath noisily, "It is troubling...and infuriating news," he sneered "And it turns all of my plans into mere whispers on the winds!" To Oberyn, there was a wild and disturbed look in Doran's eyes.
What news could the sickly Lord of Starfall have for the Prince of Dorne that was so important? Lord Alester Dayne was rumored to be nearing his deathbed and hadn't left Starfall in years. His son was squiring for Lord Beric Dondarrion. His soon to be goodbrother, when the Lightning Lord finally married Lord Dayne's remaining sister.
Oberyn shook his head, nothing came to mind...it yet more uncertainty for them and too much uncertainty already plagued House Martell.
Doran didn't continue immediately, instead he paced forward and slid into his chair, grimacing in pain as his knees bent. Doran slouched in his chair as his look turned pensive. Oberyn watched his brother, as his eyes turned distant before Doran suddenly looked up. His eyes had turned into hard angry chips now.
"For now his words are secret but it is only a matter of time before this truth spreads," he grimaced and snarled. "I expect news of what happened at the Water Gardens has already reached Lord Dayne, but still he begs caution and peace."
Oberyn snorted angrily, "The time for peace is gone. Our men already fight and die! The sands of Dorne will run red with blood before the cries for vengeance are quenched."
An unhappy look crossed Doran's face before it turned stony, "He also pledges his House and men to the one true King of Westeros. And calls on us to put aside old prejudices and join him pledging to the King."
Oberyn looked at Doran for a moment before laughing out loud in derision, "One true King? Which one is that? The fat old Stag who laughed and named Elia's butchered children Dragonspawn?! Or the incestuous Lannister bastard? Or that pretentious fool of a boy at Storm's End? Which damned King? There are so many fucking possibilities!" His voice was hard and cutting as he named just a few of the possibilities.
Doran's face was unreadable as he stared at Oberyn, "Jon Targaryen."
He blinked his remaining eye in surprise. "Who the fuck is Jon Targaryen?!" he asked in surprise. Only Viserys and Daenerys were left...and they were across the Narrow Sea in Pentos now.
Doran's answer was succinct and turned Oberyn's world on it's head.
"Lyanna Stark's trueborn son." Doran said the words with a sour smile on his lips.
It took him a moment to absorb the answer and all that it implied. It was Oberyn's turn to stalk and rage when he finally grasped the full meaning of the words.
He roared as he jumped from his chair, "That fucking silver haired brooding bastard! Gods damn you Rhaegar to all the Seven Hells! He set her aside?! He set our Elia aside?! For that Northern whore?!" It was Oberyn's turn to pace Doran's solar, his rage fueling him as he spewed curses and obscenities at the memory of the Silver Prince, Rhaegar fucking Targaryen.
The old memories filled him of that fateful day at Harrenhal. To the Lords' horror Rhaegar had rode past Elia and placed a crown of blue winter roses in Lyanna Stark's lap. The outrage he'd felt and the stilled tongue he'd had to keep because Aerys was there. The looks of rage and scorn on the faces of the Northmen and Stormlords for Rhaegar's dishonorable act. That was the day that the smiles died and it had been death knell for the Dragons. Or so he thought...
The laughter of Aerys Targaryen suddenly echoed in his ears. It had incensed him then and it still did! The Mad King had enjoyed the turmoil his son had created at the tourney. Laughing and laughing, perversely pleased by his son's dishonorable act.
He whorled back to face Doran, "Who is this Jon Targaryen? Where has he been so cowardly hiding all these years?!"
The sour smile turned genuine and strangely, Doran laughed mirthfully for a moment before answering, "Winterfell."
Oberyn gasped and gaped in surprise. Winterfell?! The Starks had betrayed the Baratheons? For fifteen years?! The honorable Eddard Stark betrayed Robert Baratheon?!
Oberyn threw back his head and laughed at the sweet irony of that. Suddenly, he could understand Doran's mirthful laughter. The Baratheons' power was even more tenuous than the Usurper realised. Oh to see Robert Baratheon when that truth was revealed to him! The North would support their Lord's nephew...and with the North came their Lord's goodfamily; the Tullys. Riverrun would join with Winterfell...though what that madwoman, Lysa Arryn would do was anyone's guess. At the very least, it was the North and the Riverlands rising up in rebellion against Robert...
The irony, the delicious irony! Oh such sweet nectar!
"...Eddard Stark's bastard is not his bastard." Doran continued.
Oberyn laughed again, "I had heard that the bastard takes after his father more than Stark's trueborn sons...except he's not his son!" he laughed again. He stopped his pacing and instead took back his seat, opposite his brother.
Doran was looking less angry than before and there was a strange glint in his eye now.
Oberyn's mirth disappeared as he recognized the glint, "You cannot be seriously thinking of it?!" he spat angrily, realizing that Doran might just be doing precisely that.
Doran waved off Oberyn's accusation with an irritated look, "At the moment it does not matter who we support as King. Dorne rises against us and nothing can be done or decided till we bring them all to heel."
Oberyn grimaced, for a moment, he had forgotten just how precarious House Martell's position had become. The fighting had already started and soon he would show them the full might of Sunspear.
"Brother, fulfill your duties. Go show our enemies the strength of House Martell... Unbowed, unbent, unbroken, " Doran's eyes shone with defiance and rage now.
Oberyn silently rose and bowed before leaving Doran to his scheming. He had preparations to make before he left. Thoughts of Dragons, Wolves, Stags and Lions danced in his mind. And of the silent serpent that would strike when ready...
xoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
Olenna Tyrell
Watching her oaf of a son strategize was a painful thing to watch...at least he'd been convinced of the truth of their return. Enough of his sycophants remembered to convince him. Meetings dragged on and on as he proposed one useless and stupid strategy after another. Thankfully, he'd called his banners quickly enough and men were already securing their borders, especially those with the Westerlands.
He'd called his impromptu council meeting together again now, she was here in his meeting chambers along with the Lords of their nearest bannermen who had already arrived to reinforce Highgarden.
Mace sat at the head of the table holding up a raven scroll and beaming widely.
She wondered what the oaf was smiling about now.
Mace held up and shook the raven scroll triumphantly, "Good news! Mother! My loyal Lords! My Goodfather, Lord Leyton Hightower writes he is dealing with traitors and will march to Highgarden soon...he's probably already on the move by now! And he's probably already dealt with the Tarlys by now!" he proclaimed with a beaming smile, "And dear, loyal, cousin Paxter is with him! They're both already moving to reinforce Highgarden. With the Reach secure, our enemies will see the might of Highgarden and I will crush them!" he proclaimed in the same arrogant and stupid tone that he always used.
Olenna paused as the assembled Lords cheered and clapped, that was actually very good news. Also, very surprising and troubling news. Between the Hightowers and Redwynes, they had enough men to completely overwhelm Randyll Tarly...but Lord Leyton Hightower hadn't left Oldtown in...far too many years for Olenna's ease of mind. All through the War of Five Kings and the unrest that followed, he hadn't budged from the Hightower. So why now? Why was he personally coming to Highgarden? Why not his heir, Baelor?
"Leyton is coming here?" she asked cautiously.
Mace continued to beam and nodded, completely missing the significance of her question, "My goodfather always stands by his duty to me."
Olenna rolled her eyes and then narrowed them as she glared at Mace for his obtuseness. She would have reprimanded him and questioned Leyton's motives but the door to the meeting chambers burst open. Maester Lomys raced to Mace's side. Lomys was out of breath, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. His face was pale and there was fear and sorrow in his eyes.
"A...huff...raven...huff...from...huff...King's Landing! From...huff...Lord...huff...Renly!" Lomys managed to exclaimed between breaths.
Mace frowned and grabbed the open message from the maester. He read quickly before freezing for a moment before his face cracked and he slumped bonelessly into his chair.
Fear fluttered in Olenna's heart.
The Lords looked amongst themselves, while casting nervous looks at their liege lord.
"Mace! What does it say?" she called out, breaking the silence.
Mace didn't answer, he just sat there in despair.
Olenna frowned and looked to Lomys who looked to have finally caught his breath.
"Well? You're read the message?" she demanded irately of the maester, who only nodded once, "Well spit it out! What else has happened?"
Sorrow dominated Lomys face as he spoke, his voice filled with anguish, "There was fighting in King's Landing...Loras...was slain."
For a moment there was a pain in her breast but just as quickly it disappeared.
Oh, my sweet boy...Loras, you daft fool....
The Lords reacted just as she would have expected. They were in a complete uproar now. Mutterings and whispers and shouts of anger.
In the midst of this, Mace finally found his voice. It held a strange and dangerous lilt to it as he spoke, "Renly says...he says it was the Kingslayer. The Kingslayer slew my boy!"
Suddenly he stood, his chair clattering to the floor behind him as he began raging and screaming, vowing bloody vengeance on the Lannisters. He stalked back and forth along the length of the chamber before finally turning and calling for maester Lomys.
"Lomys! Send word to Lord Mathis, he's to gather the Houses around him and invade the Westerlands! After my goodfather arrives, we will all join him! I will have Lannister blood for my boy!" Mace cried out, his face was red and spittle was flying from his mouth in his rage as he commanded the maester.
War...it would be war...much earlier than the first time. Oh Margery! Her sweet granddaughter would be crushed when she heard the news.
For the first time in a long time, Olenna found her tongue silent as she sat absorbing and thinking of the implications of this...of the sheer scale of this calamity. Highgarden no long had a proper heir! Whatever happened after...the Lannisters had to pay in blood now. The Tyrells had to show their strength now or be finished for a second time. And for once, her oafish son knew what had to be done.