A Tale of Blood and Monsters Ch. 13

Year 279 AC

Dorne – Sunspear

Doran Martell sat in pensive silence, eyes gliding over the words on the piece of parchment that his brother had brought before him personally. He'd known the moment Oberyn stormed in with fury etched across his face and delivered an already opened letter onto Doran's lap that something was wrong.

That was why he'd had the room cleared, leaving Oberyn and him in privacy so they could deal with whatever this was. His brother had immediately began to pace back and forth across the floor as he waited for Doran to finish the letter Oberyn had already read. Eventually Doran is done, his lips pressed together so tightly that they're going white, his free hand clenched in a fist and shaking, even as he puts down the letter with the other, struggling for composure.

Finally glancing up, Doran finds Oberyn has stopped and is staring at him. As soon as their eyes meet Oberyn starts in, "You must assemble everything. Every ship we have. We have to get her back."

Very carefully letting out a slow breath through barely parted lips, Doran shuts his eyes tight and shakes his head in the negative, even as he knows it will upset his younger brother. As the Red Viper's eyes widen in outrage and his mouth opens, more than likely to scream, Doran raises a sharp hand and cuts him off. It's a testament to their bond as siblings and also perhaps to the gap in age between them, that when Doran does so, Oberyn falls silent, long enough for Doran to explain.

"You must take a moment and think this through little brother. You know that Elia means the world to me, and I would do anything to keep her safe, to keep any of our family safe. But sailing for Tyrosh at the forefront of a Dornish fleet is not the way to ensure her or Lady Dayne's safety."

Oberyn grits his teeth before gesturing at the parchment resting in Doran's lap, "You read the letter! You know they sent the same message to King's Landing. We would not sail alone surely. Elia is to marry the Targaryen Prince, they will have to fight for her."

Once again Doran shakes his head, "Like I said, think brother. Tyrosh has always been a coastal fortress. But more recently they've become far more. Rumors have trickled in for months yet of late, our spies have been confirming them. Not only has Tyrosh seemingly gone insane by resorting to piracy against all Westerosi ships, they're being backed by a fleet of Summer Islander ships as well as the Valyrian Dragonlord. Essentially doubling their naval strength and putting the weight and might of a growing economic powerhouse behind them."

"There is a reason the royal fleet has not already sailed on Tyrosh in the last several months, but even that has nothing to do with why the Iron Throne will not act. Aerys has long cared little for Dorne, now though, he is spiraling and seeing traitors and spies where there are none, through eyes that grow more paranoid by the day. He will believe this letter is an attempt on our part to lure his heir to Tyrosh in order to take him prisoner. And it very well may be exactly what the Valyrian Dragonlord wants."

Doran falls silent to allow his younger brother a chance to assimilate what he'd said, and to respond. After a moment Oberyn does not disappoint, eyes still lit with fire, "Than if we cannot respond to this insult with appropriate force, you must allow me to do as the letter says. I will take a single ship to Tyrosh, with the ransom the Dragonlord has disguised in his demand that we cover the cost of his lost boat, and I will get our sister back. One way or another."

Doran pursed his lips together before answering in a low tone, "Do you not wonder how the crew of one pirate ship took on ten on one odds and came out the victors?

Oberyn sneers at that, "Obviously more lies. One ship could not take ten and win, that would be ridiculous. I imagine the cost of the single ship being demanded is because they only lost one ship in the attack, but given what you tell me of Tyrosh's fleet, it is no surprise if they so overwhelmed Elia's escort with twice or thrice their numbers."

It's Oberyn's turn to speak in a calm tone, his voice sure and confident, and his words clear in their finality, "I will go to Tyrosh brother. I will get our sister back. It is your choice whether I go with enough coin to pay this rat, or if I shall resort to my own tried and tested methods to get what I want."

Doran stares at his brother, knowing with every fiber of his body that trying to forbid Oberyn from this will not only fail, but more than likely lose his brother even more surely than sending him off will. He lets out a quiet breath and stands, stepping up to his younger brother and saying, "Do you think I wish to lose both of my siblings?"

Oberyn just smiles grimly and plants his hands on Doran's shoulders, "You worry too much brother. Have faith in me. You will lose neither me nor Elia. I promise it."

After a moment, Doran nods, "Very well. I will have a ship prepared for you. Go and get ready to depart."

Nodding as well, Oberyn turns and moves to walk from the room with purpose in his step until Doran calls to him.

"Oberyn! Bring her back."

At that, a vicious smile crosses the face of Doran's younger brother, and he gives sharper nod before leaving Doran to his thoughts. As the Prince of Dorne slowly fell back into his seat, he couldn't help wonder if he'd just lost both of his siblings to this Valyrian filth. If he had, there would of course be only one response.

House Lannister's words were 'Hear Me Roar', yet with how often you heard it, you'd think it was truly 'A Lannister Always Pays His Debts'. Well, the Martells had their own secondary creed to go with 'Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken'. It wasn't as popular as the Lannisters' little saying, but it was something the Martells had learned well over the centuries as the rulers of the only Kingdom in Westeros to remain at least partially independent. They were simple words with simple logic to them.

As Doran sat alone in his room, his sister in the hands of a man he knew far too little about, and his brother soon to be en route to treat with the same man, he found himself quietly speaking those simple words to the empty air.

"All slights shall be repaid tenfold."

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Year 279 AC

King's Landing – Throne Room

"Father! FATHER!"

King Aerys II Targaryen sat upon the Iron Throne, where he'd been listening another claimant's inane request or complaint or whatever. Truth be told, he hadn't been listening all that well. His attention was certainly grabbed however, as was the rest of the court's, when his eldest son and heir, Rhaegar Targaryen, strode through the throne room's large doors, dressed in what looked to be training armor judging by the way his sweaty hair clung to his head.

A parchment was clutched in one of his gauntleted hands, and as soon as Aerys saw it, he knew what this damn interruption was about. With a growl, he dismissed the court, though they did not go until he did so a second time, much more loudly. Then, it was just him, his son, and the Kingsguard. Aerys took distinct pleasure in dismissing Tywin from the hall specifically.

After all, it had become clear to him that Rhaegar and Tywin had been conspiring behind his back. Ever since he had refused to marry his firstborn to Tywin's daughter, they had been working together. First Tywin had had Steffon Baratheon assassinated off the coast of Storm's End as he returned from his trip to find Rhaegar a suitable bride. Then, they'd managed to trick Aerys into going to Duskendale, using House Darklyn as patsy assassins.

If not for Ser Selmy, their plan would have worked, Aerys knew that. He would be dead and Rhaegar would sit upon the Iron Throne with the whoreson Tywin Lannister whispering sweet nothings in his ears. It became clear to him that both his son and his Hand had to be put in their places. Rhaegar needed a wife and when word had come from Dorne about the possibility of a marriage, Aerys had swallowed his distaste for the dornish and actively considered the proposal.

While it left a bad taste in his mouth, he still concluded that betrothing Elia Martell to Rhaegar would be for the best. Not only would it spite Tywin, after the Lannister Patriarch had denied a match between Elia and Jaime and insulted the Martells in doing so, it would leave Rhaegar with a wife who was notoriously frail and weak. Given that Aerys was already looking for ways to put Viserys on the throne over his firstborn son, it made perfect sense to weaken Rhaegar as much as possible.

But now there was this. Of course Aerys had already seen the letter Rhaegar was holding. It had enraged him, but he knew himself to be a cunning man, and so he'd immediately begun to plan how to use Dorne's treachery to his advantage. Because of course, that was what this was. The Martells were working with the one they kept talking about from Essos. He had to be another Targaryen bastard, this rat masquerading as a Dragonlord of Old Valyria.

It was clear to Aerys that the rat lusted and coveted after the Iron Throne. He sought to undermine the Targaryen Dynasty and so did Dorne, very obviously. But Aerys was having none of it. He understood their plan instantly, and now planned to use it to his advantage. Plastering a fake smile on his face as an angry Rhaegar came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs that led to the Iron Throne, he spoke in a questioning tone, "Yes, my son?"

Rhaegar crumples the letter in his hand and tosses it to the ground, "We must respond to this father! They have Elia and Ashara and dress up their letter in flowery words and polite indifference, but it is clear they are demanding a ransom. We cannot allow this pretender to coerce such a thing from us. Allow me to take the Royal Fleet to Tyrosh and show them our might."

Aerys kept the fake smile on his face even as he pretended to ponder Rhaegar's words. Of course, Rhaegar was right. The Targaryens could not be seen to be swindled by pirates, paying the ransom was out of the question… yet Aerys could not allow Rhaegar to take the Royal Fleet, if his plan was to work. And so, he shook his head in the negative.

"I cannot allow such a thing my son. Tyrosh's fleet outnumbers ours for the moment, and while I have had more ships commissioned, they will not be built for some time. It is unfortunate, but the Martell girl's fate is out of our hands. It is also quite likely she will no longer be an appropriate bride for the Heir of the Seven Kingdoms after this. The Martells will have to pay the ransom, and I imagine once they have her back, they will not wish to risk her by allowing her to leave Dorne again."

"Once the Royal Fleet is properly reinforced and matches the numbers that we've ascertained of Tyrosh's own fleets, then we will go and bring the Free City to its knees."

Aerys injected the right amounts of fake sympathy into his voice, but he suspected Rhaegar wasn't truly buying his act, even as his son paced back and forth for several moments before stopping, having formulated his response, "If we ignore this, it will look worse than if we paid the ransom father! Our honor will be tarnished!"

After a long pause, Rhaegar's jaw set and Aerys knew that his son had made up his mind. He just hoped it had been made in the direction Aerys wished.

"If the Royal Fleet is not ready, give me a single ship and allow me to go it alone. I shall offer to pay the ransom, it is after all a meager one. Our honor will remain untarnished, and we will gain back any lost reputation when the fleet is prepared to sail on Tyrosh."

Aerys balks and outright scoffs at the idea, even as he suppresses his ecstasy at the way his traitorous son was falling right into his trap, "You would have me risk you, my firstborn heir? Over this frail girl from Dorne?"

He waited with baited breathe as Rhaegar sneered, "I choose to risk myself father. You must allow me this!"

Taking the appropriate amount of time to pretend to think it over, Aerys falsely ponders for a time that stretches into silent minutes, before finally speaking, "Very well. You will not go alone however. Ser Dayne, step forward."

It pained Aerys to do this, but he knew he must, for Ser Arther Dayne, despite arguably being the greatest swordsman in the realm, was his treacherous son's creature, through and through. So as the Kingsguard Knight stepped forward in clear surprise, Aerys gestured between the two of them.

"Ser Arthur Dayne, as a Knight of the Kingsguard, I charge you with accompanying my son to Tyrosh and ensuring he returns safely."

Both Rhaegar and Arthur looked shock at what Aerys knew looked like an uncharacteristic kind gesture. After all, Arthur's sister was with Elia in Tyrosh. After a moment, Rhaegar found his voice and bowed at the waist, "I thank you father. With your permission, we will depart immediately."

Aerys nodded and gestured dismissively, watching the two armored men leave the throne room through hooded eyes. He kept the gleeful smile threatening to spill out onto his features contained, instead affecting a somber air, even as inside he jumped for joy. In one fell swoop, he'd fooled two separate entities out to get him, and would soon have ample reason to destroy them all as well!

See, Aerys knew what the Martells and the Valyrian pretender had been trying at, from the start. After Duskendale, they probably knew that he would never go to Tyrosh himself, but sending his son? Perfectly reasonable. And when Rhaegar arrived in Tyrosh, he and Arthur Dayne would be captured just as Elia and Ashara were 'captured'. Only Rhaegar would probably be the only one truly prisoner, yes, that made sense.

It surprised Aerys, that Arthur would betray Rhaegar so, but obviously House Dayne was in on the trap. Perhaps the Sword of the Morning hadn't been informed contrary to Aerys' beliefs. That just meant more confusion and infighting when he arrived at Rhaegar's side in Tyrosh. And once Rhaegar was captured, the man who Aerys suspected was a Targaryen bastard yearning for the Iron Throne would more than likely demand more concessions or a larger ransom in an effort to weaken Aerys' position further.

But that was the flaw in the plan this bastard they called Vali had clearly concocted with the dornish. They were banking everything on the idea that Aerys cared enough for Rhaegar to not wish to risk his life. Little did they know just how strained things were between father and son. Little did they know, that Aerys planned for Viserys to inherit, and they'd played right into his hands.

He'd been telling the truth about commissioning improvements for the Royal Fleet. However, what he didn't say was that the lion's share of the coin dedicated to such things was going to the Alchemist's Guild. When news came back to King's Landing that Rhaegar had been taken prisoner as well, and the larger ransom was no doubt demanded, Aerys would send the Royal Fleet forth with holds full of wild fire ammunition.

Tyrosh and its fleet would burn, along with the bastard pretender, the dornish traitors, and Rhaegar, his own flesh and blood. The last would of course be an accident, and Aerys would spend the appropriate amount of time grieving, before he took Viserys under his wing personally, and molded the boy into a more loyal heir, one who would not be seduced by Lannister gold and plot his death behind his back.

Oh yes, they talked behind his back and called him all manner of things. But King Aerys II Targaryen was not the fool they all thought him. He was not mad, he was not crazy. In point of fact, he was smarter than all of those imbeciles who sought to topple him.

As they'd soon learn. They would all learn.

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Year 279 AC

Essos – Tyrosh

Ashara was in a euphoric daze as she lulled her head back and forth, barely listening to the voices around her. She'd never felt this good before. She'd give anything to feel like this forever, but when she tried to voice such thoughts, all that came from her mouth was a low moan that caused soft feminine fingers to slide between her lips in response. She sucked on them dutifully, even as two voices in particular carried on a conversation.

"They're on their way my darling, both your brother and your betrothed. They should be here within the month. You understand what I need from you, don't you?"

That was… that voice belonged to the Master yes? Or was it their captor? Ashara's mind was befuddled, confused. She loved her master, she knew that much. Maybe she just shouldn't think about it so hard.

"Yes Vali, I understand perfectly. I'm ready to play my role, though I think you've melted poor Ashara's mind beyond recovery."

That voice, Ashara recognized a bit more readily. Princess Elia Martell, whom she served. Her mistress in so many new ways now. Ashara would follow the princess to the ends of the world, do anything she wished. Of course she would.

"Oh worry not about that, I only break my toys so thoroughly because I know exactly how to put them back together. Let me show you."

Ashara dimly felt her chin being grabbed and her eyes forced open as her master looked down into them with his own eyes, eyes that looked like swirling endless pools she could get lost in forever.

"Hello pet. Time to sleep and forget my dear. When you awake, you will remember your time in captivity as nothing less than proper. You and the Princess were treated as honored guests. You even learned quite a lot more about Tyrosh and Essos than you were expecting. Now, sleep."

Ashara felt only a faint bit of panic as the euphoria left her and her mind scrambled for that hastily departing feeling of bliss. Then she was asleep and knew nothing of what she'd lost.

Thus, she did not hear Elia giggle above her as she stole Vali away from Ashara's sleeping form, "Impressive my lord. But when she does wake up, we won't be able to have fun anymore, and as you said, there's a month left before my brother arrives."

"Indeed, but it will help to solidify the compulsion, if she has real memories to correlate the fake ones. Which unfortunately, means that to continue the plan and this fun little game I've concocted, we must keep our hands to ourselves for the next month."

An answering sigh of disappointment turns into a girlish shriek of delight, even as Vali speaks up with a grin in his voice.

"And that means, while she sleeps we'll have to make up for all of time we're about to lose."

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