Chapter 16

Water Gardens, Dorne

Watching the children playing in the Water Gardens was the only joy he was left with these days. Their cheers and happiness brought a warmth to his heart, a fleeting reminder of better times. The laughter of innocence filled the air, reminding him of his own youth. He reminisced the days he used to play with Oberyn and Elia, carefree and innocent. Everything was so simple back then, no burdens, no responsibilities. But everything changed as they grew up.

His ever-loyal guard Areo Hotah, who had been brought here by his wife Mellario, came forward and said, "Everyone is assembled for lunch. They are waiting for you."

Doran nodded, and Hotah began pushing his chair toward the dining hall. While the Martell's seat at Sunspear was the heart of their power, Doran liked the tranquility of the Water Gardens. Here, surrounded by lush green and vibrant flowers, he could briefly forget the politics and plots of the outside world. With the opening of the canal in the North, the ship traffic had decreased, but thankfully, due to the trade deal he had secured with the Starks, House Martell's income had remained steady.

As he entered the hall, he was greeted by his daughter Arianne, who came forward and kissed his cheek, followed soon by Oberyn's paramour Ellaria and their bastard daughters, who had the same wild, untamed look in their eyes as their father.

Sitting at the head of the table, Doran's gaze shifted toward the two empty seats. One belonged to his elder son Quentyn, whom he had been forced to foster at the Yronwoods, due to the ongoing tensions between the Martells and the Yronwoods. The other seat had once been filled by Mellario, but after Doran had sent Quentyn away, she had left for Norvos.

He turned his eyes to his daughter. Already sixteen namedays, and she was very beautiful and quite buxom, but somewhat short. Doran had noticed her growing interest in exploring her sexuality. Though he couldn't control the wild Dornish blood that ran hot through her veins, he had done his best to steer her away from rash decisions. Sending her would-be lover Daemon Sand away had been a necessary act to keep her maidenhood intact. He had been receiving several marriage offers for her, all of which he had declined, much to her frustration. 'Why do I feel like Arianne will be something greater than just a Princess of Dorne?' he mused.

"What are you thinking, brother?" Oberyn's voice broke his thoughts, his hand firmly groping Ellaria's thigh as he spoke.

"Nothing important, brother. How was your travels in Essos?" Doran asked in a measured tone, ignoring the scene unfolding in front of him.

"I must say it was eventful for the most part. I went to Myr. Seems like the city has lost some of its splendor with their loss in the glass trade. Apparently, somehow most of the glassmakers have been killed in the past few years. Knowing them as I do, I think the Myrish tried to kill their competitor, but failed. And the Bloody Wolf lived up to his name again. It was just like those Ironborn cunts. This is not Lord Cailstark's teaching, this is Ashara's teaching. It seems she has cultivated the Dornish blood in him," Oberyn said, grinning widely.

Doran nodded at that, chewing his meat slowly. "Yes. Since he has become the Warden of the North, even with Regent Eddard Cailstark, the dreary North seems to be the center of all activities. I must give Eddard Cailstark credit. Anyone else in his place would have seized the power for himself, but the honorable Eddard Cailstark didn't."

"I have heard that he has the violet eyes of his mother and is very pretty. Father, can I marry him?" Arianne asked, her cousins giggling around her.

Adding more fuel to the fire, Oberyn chimed in, "Brandon Stark was very handsome, pity he died at the hands of Aerys. With such good-looking father and mother, I'm sure the boy must be very good-looking."

"Father, will you send a marriage offer to him?" Arianne asked, her eyes wide with innocent hope.

Lesser men would have fallen under the spell of those eyes, but Doran Martell was no such fool. His body may have been constricted to this chair, but his mind was sharp, his patience honed through years of careful planning. Many saw him as weak, as the crippled ruler of Dorne, but he had learned to bide his time. His plans would soon come to fruition.

'You are lucky in this case, Arianne' Doran thought to himself, a smile tugging at his lips as he turned to face his daughter. "We already have trade deals with the Starks. Soon, I will broach the topic of a marriage alliance with them. And I am not doing it because of your sudden infatuation with Aryan Stark. Keep in mind, Arianne, that this marriage alliance with the Starks will be very crucial for our house."

Oberyn spoke again. "I heard some interesting news. At Tyrosh, I rode with the Second Sons for a while, fighting in the Disputed Lands. But we got crushed by the Company of Rose. I must say, that Company of Rose is very good, only surpassed by the Golden Company. The Second Sons were almost decimated, and I had to escape to Lys. What's interesting is that Lys is gaining more control in the Disputed Lands."

Doran perked up at that, his interest piqued. "Truly?"

"Lys has now hired the Company of Rose on a yearly basis. With Myr losing its power and Lys gaining it, perhaps soon the Disputed Lands will no longer be disputed," Oberyn finished with a smirk.

"Interesting. Perhaps we can look for more trade deals there. With the opening of the Northern canal, Sunspear doesn't get as many ships as before. Only due to our trade deal with the Starks has our income remained stable. It is time we invest in more trade. The North has transformed itself in these twelve years. Perhaps we must also think like them," Doran mused, considering the possibilities.

"The North had thousands of years of untapped natural resources, which they are finally discovering and using. And they have a capable lord to lead them. All we have is endless sand and a weak leader. Both of them are of no use. The Starks started a war for Lyanna Stark and again for Catelyn Cailstark, while you hide here instead of taking revenge for Elia and your niece," Ellaria accused, her voice laced with bitterness.

Doran closed his eyes as her words hit home, but when he opened them again, he saw the shared sentiment in the eyes of his family. They were all looking at him. Yet he remained calm, unfazed. In moments like these he thinks whether letting them know about Aegon's survival was a good idea or not.

"I am not blind, nor deaf. I know you all believe me weak, frightened, feeble," Doran began in a low, even tone. "Oberyn knows me better. Oberyn is ever the viper. Deadly, dangerous, unpredictable. No man dares tread on him. I am the grass. Pleasant, complaisant, sweet-smelling, swaying with every breeze. Who fears to walk upon the grass? But it is the grass that hides the viper from his enemies and shelters him until he strikes." His voice became sharper, his tone a bit colder. "I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children. So do not presume to understand things which you do not know about. Words are like arrows, Ellaria. Once loosed, you cannot call them back."

Changing the subject, Doran continued, "We have been invited to the upcoming marriage of Allyria Dayne at Starfall."

"Who is Lady Allyria going to marry, Father?" Arianne asked curiously.

"Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven. He is a good man compared to many other idiot Stormlords," Oberyn added with a smirk.

"Regardless, Arianne, you will go there to represent our house. Obara, Nymeria, Tyene, Oberyn, and Ellaria will accompany you. I have heard from my sources that Aryan Stark and Ashara will both be attending. I want you to at least develop a friendship with him and his mother," Doran ordered.

"Yes, Father," Arianne agreed readily, relieved to escape Doran's watchful eye for a time.

Arianne hesitated before asking, "But I'm curious, why is the marriage alliance with the Starks, is so crucial for our house?"

Doran paused, his expression grave as he thought about the matter. "As much as it pains me to accept this, the Starks are the only house who are not afraid of any other kingdom in Westeros and have the financial and martial prowess to back it up. If you haven't realized this, the Starks are now the richest house in Westeros, and the North is the second richest kingdom in the realm. We have already seen their martial prowess, and I suspect that Aryan Stark has not yet unveiled the full martial might of the North. We've already seen his ruthlessness against the Ironborn. From the correspondence, I've gleaned that Aryan Stark holds a huge grudge against the Baratheons and Lannisters, because their actions caused Ashara pain and suffering. A day will come, when the Bloody Wolf will turn his gaze towards those who wronged his mother. Don't forget, Ashara and Elia were sisters in all but blood. The Starks will be our most powerful allies against the Baratheons and Lannisters."

Everyone had finished their meal, and people began to rise from the table, but Doran's voice stopped them. "Stay, Oberyn. I need to talk to you."

When the hall was empty, and only the two Martell brothers remained, Areo Hotah closed the doors behind them.

Five years ago, Doran had sent Oberyn to Braavos to determine whether their sister's son was truly alive or if it was just some cruel joke by Varys. The gods had been merciful; a part of their sister still lived in her son. He was being raised by his grandmother, Rhaella Targaryen, alongside his aunt Daenerys Targaryen.

Three years ago, Oberyn had slept with Lord Edgar Yronwood's paramour, and Edgar had challenged Oberyn to a duel. Oberyn had won, but Lord Yronwood had died from the festering of his wounds, and it was rumored that Oberyn had poisoned the spear. To keep peace, Doran had exiled Oberyn for a time. To make amends with the Yronwoods, he sent Quentyn as a ward to Yronwood. But Oberyn's exile had also served another purpose: to allow him to spend more time with their nephew, Aegon. This, however, had come at the cost of Mellario's departure, as she had left Doran when he sent Quentyn away.

Oberyn turned to Doran and asked. "Do you think Aryan Stark really holds a grudge against the Baratheons and Lannisters?"

"Yes," Doran replied, his gaze steady. "And he has taken more after his Dornish heritage than many would like to admit. He loves his mother dearly. And if destroying the Baratheons and Lannisters will bring a smile on her face, then he will do so gladly."

Oberyn's eyes narrowed, a fire of intrigue lighting in them. "Do you believe the rumors about the Lannister mines running dry?"

"I don't know brother. Knowing Tywin anything can be true. But I have heard that these days the Old Lion is always very angry." Doran said. Then seeing a familiar fire in Oberyn's eyes he added, "No Oberyn. I know your blood sings for revenge. Mine too. But wait till all pieces are correctly positioned. I want to see Tywin's precious legacy crumble down forever."

Oberyn growled, "Whatever your plans are brother I hope they succeed. I will never forgive you if your plans failed and I lost my chance for revenge. I will do whatever is necessary if you fail and you will not stop me."

Not saying anything about that Doran said, "Tell me about our nephew."

He saw a genuine smile on Oberyn's face when he started talking about Aegon.

Highgarden, Reach

"Our revenue is decreasing year by year, grandmother. While initially the North was gradually reducing their food procurement from us over the years, they have now completely stopped. Though it will not have an immediate impact on our vast wealth, it will show its effects in the coming years," Wilas said, reading over the reports.

Olenna grimly nodded at the reports. Old age had certainly taken its toll on the once beautiful woman, but still, her mind was as sharp as ever. It was she who still held the Tyrells' grip on the Reach, despite her husband Luthor's incompetence, and now her son Mace's. While she loved both of them, it could not be denied that both were oafs. Thankfully, her grandchildren had been spared the idiocy of their father and grandfather. Wilas, the heir, was knowledgeable and brilliant, though the wound in his leg had made him lame. He was still unmarried, and Olenna had set her sights on the Martells for him. Garlan was fostered at the Fossoways, and had recently married Lady Leonette Fossoway. Loras, wanting to be a knight, and was squiring under Renly Baratheon. And then Margery, the Rose of Highgarden, very beautiful and with a sharp mind—her protégée. Olenna was grooming her to become a Queen.

"Will we become poor, grandmother?" A twelve-year-old Margery asked from beside her.

The Queen of Thorns smiled at her, "No, dear. We do not have to worry about that. The Reach is still the second richest kingdom."

"I doubt that, grandmother. I recently met a few Archmaesters of the Citadel, and during a discussion about economics, I learned that the North has eclipsed us to become the second richest kingdom, with their four cities. Even more surprising is that the Starks are now the richest house in Westeros. They've overtaken the Lannisters," Wilas said.

Both women's eyes went wide. To achieve such power and prosperity was unheard of.

"Lord Eddard Cailstark seems to be keen on changing the North," Wilas added.

Shaking her head, Olenna said, "No. No. You've got it all wrong. I met this Eddard Cailstark at the Tourney of Harrenhal. The man is unassuming, honorable to a fault, and quite unambitious. The brain behind the North's surge is the Bloody Wolf. He's earned that fearsome title at such a young age—quite unpredictable, like his father Brandon Stark. A Bloody Wolf born to a Wild Wolf."

"Maybe we can propose a marriage alliance with the Starks for Margery. We would have strong allies," Wilas suggested.

"And they would have beautiful children. Brandon Stark was a handsome man. And Ashara Dayne—a beauty more than even Cersei, with those haunted violet eyes. He would be a delight to the eyes of any girl," Olenna said, looking at Margery, who blushed at that.

Olenna continued, "But your father is set to make you a Queen, my dear, and I agree with that. Already, there is discontent among the other Lords against us. A royal match would secure our position." She had already begun to teach Margery the ins and outs of court politics and manipulation.

"The wine trade has decreased for the Redwynes, so they have reduced its production," Wilas read from another report.

Olenna exclaimed in disgust, "That vodka from the North! It has invaded every castle, every household in all seven kingdoms. How can they even drink it? It's too strong—unlike our sweet wine." Being born a Redwyne, she was anxious about the state of her birth house.

Wilas explained, "Grandmother, wine was once the only beverage available, with no alternatives. So everyone used to buy it. Vodka keeps a person warm on cold nights. Most of the menfolk like to drink vodka after a hard day's work. Recently, when I visited Lord Tarly at Hornhill, I was surprised to find that the man who never drank wine was enjoying the vodka."

"Grandmother, can we not do anything to remove the Starks from power? If we somehow remove them, perhaps we can make the North comply with our interests?" Margery asked.

"That is one of the most foolish questions I have ever heard, dear. Only a Stark can hold the North, and they have done so since time immemorial. Not only are they now the richest house, but they also hold a close friendship with the King. So they are very secure. I've noticed that they've made sure that all their lords are becoming prosperous in one way or another. The meat and leather from the Boltons, horses from the Ryswells, tea and coffee from Flint's Finger, etc. This doesn't even include the food they produce. Now, the Starks have the total loyalty of all their vassals. Maybe except the Boltons. But Roose Bolton is a very cautious man. He will only act if he's sure of success, which he is not right now."

"So the Starks have the total loyalty of all their houses?" Margery asked.

"Yes, they have. Understand this: in the Seven Kingdoms, should a threat arise, only the North and the Westerlands never have internal conflicts. Both Robert's Rebellion and the Blackfyre Rebellions proved it. But the thing is, the Lannisters have gained loyalty only through fear, while the Starks have gained it through both fear and respect. Mark my words, when loyalty is concerned, loyalty through only fear is less powerful," Olenna explained, to which both grandchildren agreed.

It was then that Archmaester Gormon entered. He had been called to the Citadel a few weeks before. Gormon was Mace's uncle, who had joined the Citadel. Even though Maester Lomys was the maester of Highgarden, Gormon, using the Tyrell influence, had stayed in Highgarden for extended periods.

"Good to be back again, good sister," Gormon said, sitting in a chair.

"Is something happening in the Citadel?" Wilas asked.

"You could say so. Archmaester Marwyn is going to be elevated to the Grandmaester title," Gormon said sullenly.

All of them looked surprised. Becoming a Grandmaester was very difficult and rare. Having two Grandmaesters at the same time was unheard of.

"Two Grandmaesters at the same time? I've never heard of it before," Olenna said.

"It's never happened. Pycelle is pissed and has written his objections about this decision," Gormon informed them.

Margery quietly asked, "Doesn't the word of the Grandmaester Pycelle matter in the Citadel's decision? He is, after all, the highest-ranked Maester."

Everyone looked at Gormon, eager for an answer.

"The Grandmaester has no power in the decisions of the Citadel. The conclave meets behind closed doors and makes decisions. Marwyn's recent discoveries in the fields of medicine, anatomy, arithmetic, economics, and architecture have forced the conclave to elevate him," Gormon said.

Wilas exclaimed, "Oh yes. I've read his book Anatomy of the Human Body, which gave a detailed description of all parts and organs of our body. Did you know we have two hundred six bones? It's very enlightening."

"Yes. It was that book that made Archmaester Ebrose propose Marwyn's elevation," Gormon said.

Olenna asked shrewdly, "Marwyn must be happy to hear the news."

Shaking his head, Gormon disagreed, "Surprisingly, no. Marwyn has written that whatever the conclave's decision may be, he will not leave his position at Winterfell. Apparently, he gives credit to Aryan Stark for many of his discoveries."

Olenna frowned at that. That name again. Now she understood. With such a brilliant mind, it was no wonder the boy lord had transformed the entire North. She shuddered to think of what more was to come once he took his proper title.

Gormon continued, "There was also a proposal to set up a 'University,' something like a Citadel at Widow's Watch in the North. Lord Stark had sent the proposal on Marwyn's suggestion. The university would be funded by Winterfell. It was a heated debate, but it was finally approved."

"Really? I doubt the Citadel would so easily agree to share their resources," Olenna asked skeptically.

Gormon smiled. "That's the thing. Winterfell has been providing us the glass equipment at half the price. So we cannot outright refuse them. While the Citadel will allow the university, they will not provide them with any records or books. So, in the long run, this university will stop functioning."

'Who knew even the Maesters played their games?' Olenna thought.

"I doubt that. Winterfell is said to be the oldest castle in all of Westeros. They must have enough materials that may predate the Citadel itself," Wilas offered.

Gormon thought for a moment and said, "It may be possible. We used to mock Marwyn the Mage. He was always interested in higher mysteries and had traveled as far as Asshai in search of them. I don't know how we are going to face him now."

Olenna was mentally laughing. Mace had been trying for years to make Gormon the next Grandmaester. With Marwyn becoming the new Grandmaester, their plan had failed. And to prove her words, Mace came bustling in, shouting, "Mother, did you hear? A nobody, Marwyn, is to be the next Grandmaester."

Olenna mentally groaned, not at all prepared to deal with another one of Mace's tantrums.

Kingslanding, Crownlands

Varys the Spider was scuttling through the underground tunnels. He had received word that the 'Fat Lord' was waiting for him. He reflected back on his past.

Varys was born as a slave in Lys where he apprenticed as an orphan to a troupe of mummers who worked the Free Cities, Oldtown, and occasionally King's Landing. During their stay in Myr, a man offered a large sum of money for Varys, an offer his master found too tempting to refuse. The man gave Varys a potion that made him powerless to move or speak, but did nothing to dull his senses as his manhood was cut off at the stem, then burnt in a brazier in a blood magic ritual. The man had no further use for Varys and tossed him out on the streets alone to die, but Varys, out of spite for the sorcerer, vowed to live and held a hatred for all things magical ever since. He resorted to begging, prostitution, and thievery, eventually becoming the best thief in Myr, until a rival forced him out and he fled to Pentos.

Impoverished and despised in Pentos, Varys made an agreement with a poor sellsword, Illyrio Mopatis, who he had befriended. Varys would steal objects from lesser thieves and Illyrio would get the objects back for their original owners for a small fee. Soon, everyone in Pentos who ever had valuables stolen from them knew who to ask to get their belongings back. Varys and Illyrio quickly grew rich. Realizing the value of information, Varys began training his spy network to acquire the information, letters, ledgers, and charts of the wealthy and powerful. His little birds were agile orphans purchased by Varys.

These secrets increased Varys and Illyrio's wealth tenfold. In time, Illyrio became a Magister in Pentos and Varys became so infamous that word of his talents reached the ears of King Aerys II Targaryen across the Narrow Sea. As a spymaster in King's Landing, Varys tried to give Aerys good advice but his ever-increasing paranoia led the Targaryens to their destruction. But Varys managed to save Prince Aegon and since then he has been working for Targaryen restoration. Things were made easier when Robert pardoned him and then even allowed him to remain master of whispers.

Dismissing his thoughts, he exited the palace through an underground passage disguised as an old man. He started to walk towards Flea Bottom to meet the Cheesemonger and soon entered a shabby house. There, sitting on the dirty bed, was Illyrio Mopatis, the Cheesemonger.

Time had been kind to Illyrio. After having gained significant wealth and power, Illyrio had grown morbidly obese. He had pig's eyes and fat cheeks along with a white belly and a pair of heavy breasts that sagged like sacks of suet covered with coarse yellow hair. When he laughed, his flesh bounced vigorously, and he had an oiled forked yellow beard. Although he was using heavy perfumes, Varys could still smell Illyrio's flesh.

Grimacing at the smell, Varys said, "I thought we agreed on not meeting like this."

Stroking his beard, Illyrio said, "I was here on trade. So I decided to meet my old friend. How is everything going on here?"

Varys said, "I believe it is coming slowly. The Lions are having problems. There is discontent for the Roses, Fishes, and the Stags. The Krakens' arms have been cut off. The Falcons are dying out. The King Stag is drinking to his death while the Lioness cuckolds him with her brother. She hates the Stag. The Stags and Lions are alienating themselves from the others by their foolishness. A few more years and they them will be fighting each other. And the Wolf and the Sun are coming closer."

"We have some new problems. With Lys' rising power and Myr's current state of affairs, they will soon try to take the disputed lands. Tyrosh alone cannot stop them. They have contracted the Company of Rose on a yearly basis. The disputed lands were the biggest income source for the Golden Company. If the disputed lands are resolved, the Golden Company will be in a difficult position to sustain itself, which will make it difficult for us when the time comes. Our fighting force will be reduced," Illyrio stated.

Illyrio continued, "I have also been able to hide the dragons from Littlefinger till now. But I will need your help to continue doing so."

That was one thing which Varys did not like. Littlefinger was proving to be a thorn in his side. It frustrated him. It looked like something drastic needed to be done.

"Do what you can to stop Lys. But don't loose much sleep over it, Golden Company is just a means to an end. I have Littlefinger to deal with," Varys said.

After some more discussions, they parted their ways with new problems to solve.