Varys XX

Varys had no sooner arrived in the Small Council's chamber than he was confronted by a most terrible enemy and one he didn't expect at all.

"Aerys Blackfyre, you had better have an excellent reason for disturbing my daughter's sleep to call a meeting at this absurd hour." Alysanne Baratheon jabbed him firmly in the chest with one finger.

Varys stared down at her finger. "I was rather hoping to learn why I'd been dragged from my bed before dawn."

"The messenger clearly said it was the Master of Whispers who instructed -"

"Mother." Cassana was bundled in layers of robes against the cold of the night. "I'm no longer a child who must sleep the entire night."

Alysanne turned back to her daughter. "You're taking on too much. Your father..."

"Father isn't here. We are." Cassana rested her hands upon the arms of her chair. "And I have more than one Master of Whispers."

As if on cue, the door opened and Obara Baratheon entered, followed by her father, her sister Nymeria and the Hand of the King. Obara seemed to have aged ten years since the evening meal and Oberyn Martell's face was dark, his pace brisk. He seemed to have too much energy to sit and instead gripped the back of his usual chair.

"My queen, I apologise for the hour." Obara sat down and waited for Stannis to circle the table and sit at Cassana's right hand. Alysanne sat at her daughter's left and no one gainsayed her. She offered Varys no apology but he wouldn't have expected one.

"We're all awake now. Please explain the reason."

Obara cupped her hands before her. "In the next few days a raven will arrive from Dorne. It's probably already on the way."

"Are we going to break the habit of my husband's reign and have it be good news?"

"Mother, this is my Small Council." Cassana didn't look aside. "I would value your counsel, but I'll have no gibes."

Alysanne turned to look at her daughter. "I..." She took a deep breath. "I apologise. I've slept poorly since... I should not allow my temper to get the better of me. With your permission, I will withdraw."

"As I said, I would appreciate your counsel," her daughter said quietly.

"My brother is dead." Oberyn Martell's simple words brought the council back to business. "My niece will say that he died in his sleep."

"My condolences, Prince Oberyn." Cassana rubbed her eyes. "I've never met him but through his family I have learned to value Doran Martell."

Varys' eyes narrowed as he considered the exact words and the weight each was given. "Of itself, you would not call Council so urgently," he observed. "There is more."

"It is true my uncle died in his sleep." Obara looked up. "He was smothered."

"How do you know this?" Stafford Lannister seemed lost. "Sunspear is a thousand miles south of us."

"A thousand years ago, when Nymeria led the Rhoynar to Dorne, she didn't just bring ten thousand ships. She brought artifacts of their realm. It was a different age, one where dragons ruled the skies and sorcerers were more than a dusty topic for Maesters and old men." Oberyn smiled darkly and produced a short chain of metal links from his tunic, holding it so one link was most plainly visible. In the candlelight it was still plain what metal it was. "What lore I learned I passed to Doran and such of those artifacts that didn't fall into the hands of the Citadel are still ours."

Colemon nodded. "I have seen glass candles at the Citadel. All acolytes spend a vigil in their vault before they may give their vows."

"Using such tools, my uncle was able to communicate with me at night, as we slept." Obara rubbed her eyes. "Tonight was such a night. As men pinned him to his bed and smothered him with a pillow, I could hear his every thought."

Varys fought back a shudder. He was not alone in the reaction although he thought most reacted to the death and not to the thought of what Doran might have been doing. If he could share his thoughts with his niece, who was to say he could not have violated the thoughts of others - perhaps without their being aware.

Stannis XXIV

"I don't understand your magic." Stannis clenched his fists beneath the table. Murder of a prince. It reminded him of Tywin Lannister's death. Was nothing beneath the Dornish? "But if you tell me Doran was murdered I believe you. We need to know, though, who it was."

"If we make unsupported accusations, we'll likely face opposition," Cassana said quietly. "I don't know Arianne well. How is she likely to respond?"

"She's almost certainly behind it."

Cassana paled at Obara's words. "She'd kill her own father?"

"Not with her own hands." Obara looked around the table, meeting the eyes of everyone in turn. "She prefers to act through others."

"There was always the suspicion that she pushed Quentyn Martell into poisoning Tywin Lannister." Alysanne looked over to Nymeria who had been waiting quietly by the door. "I know my husband suspected that Tyene Sand provided the poison but there was no evidence and Quentyn claimed sole responsibility."

"Arianne is my brother's heir." Oberyn leant over his chair. "I don't wish to think that she'd stoop to kinslaying, and for no cause I can see."

Stannis nodded. "Sandor Clegane tells me there's always a reason, however twisted, for a crime being committed. The criminal invariably considers themselves justified. What justification could there be for killing her own father? No one lives forever so she would have inherited his throne in time."

"Not necessarily." Nymeria stepped forwards to the table. "I'm sure Obara has told you that although my uncle ultimately decided to throw his support behind House Baratheon, for a long time he was considering backing Prince Aegon or possibly even Ser Viserys in restoring House Targaryen. The price for this support would have been the new king marrying Arianne. As queen, Arianne would have had to pass the succession of Dorne to one of her brothers."

That, Stannis thought, would have been as foolish as Robert passing Storm's End on to he or Renly. Retaining the direct fealty of lords in both the Crownlands and the Stormlands was one of the key reasons his brother was arguably the most powerful king since the Targaryens lost their dragons.

"If those plans are as done with as you say, I don't see why she'd still be feeling her father's... an obstacle." Stannis thought from Cassana's tone that she was still struggling with the idea.

"Yes, well..." The dragon rider looked embarrassed. "Well we didn't know about the Targaryen matter for years, but Arianne knew that Prince Doran was preparing Quentyn to be heir. And after Quentyn died, she and her father never quite reconciled."

Alysanne studied her hands. "Trust, once damaged, is hard to rebuild."

Oberyn nodded sharply. "If my brother had decided to remove Arianne from the succession I believe he would have done so without drawing out the matter. If she believed it was impending though... well, I'm less convinced than Obara but I could see her acting precipitiously."

"It's just a theory. We need facts." Stannis glanced around the room, glad Viserys wasn't present. "For all we know this has nothing to do with Arianne - or it's her younger brother trying to set her up and have us clear a path for him to take the throne."

"I request permission to get those facts." Oberyn looked over to Nymeria. "If your dragon can manage a rider and a passenger, we can reach Sunspear and I know Doran's guards."

"I've flown Orbar short distances," she said thoughtfully. "If we take as little gear as we can, I think she can manage two of us for a few hours at a time. It would take a few days to reach Sunspear."

"Just being able to cross the Sea of Dorne without worrying about wind or tide would help."

"I have the recollection that the Dornish have a history of strong disapproval of dragons. Something tells me that arriving on dragonback won't do much for your credibility," Stannis pointed out. "We want justice, not a dragon-backed change of power in Sunspear."

"Are you sure about that?" asked Oberyn slyly.

"Yes."

"Oh, well it's a good job I don't want to be Prince of Sunspear and that Nymeria has next to no claim to succeed. As long as Arianne or Trystane wasn't involved in my brother's murder it isn't a problem, and if they both are then I can abdicate in favour of Obara."

Obara buried her face in her hands. "Please don't do that."

The Red Viper smirked. "It's my duty twice over - as Doran's brother and as Cassana's Master of Laws - to punish those who killed him. After that it's my duty to prevent a civil war in Dorne that could weaken us against the Others. Wouldn't you agree, Prince Stannis?"

"Preventing a civil war is my duty," Cassana declared before Stannis could - however grudgingly - confirm Oberyn's reasoning. "I'll allow you both to travel back to Dorne and to establish the truth but you're to bring the guilty to me for trial."

"That would not be easy, your grace."

"Would you be a kinslayer?" she asked coldly.

"Ah..." The prince eyed Cassana ruefully. "You're a grim one, your grace. A winter queen to your father's summer."

"And my brother's autumn." Cassana touched her crown. "Let us hope that we do not need a new ruler when spring comes."

Alysanne rose sharply. "Excuse me, I should see to your sisters," she told her daughter before exiting the room.

Stannis watched his goodsister leave and then looked across the table at the rest of the Small Council. "War in Dorne wouldn't just split the loyalties of the armies in the North. Dorne's supporting herds that we'll need to rebuild more northerly farms. If they get slaughtered to support warbands on the march then it'll likely extend the hardships of the winter by at least a year."

"I don't think dividing it the way we did the Reach would work."

He nodded at his niece. "Correct. Dorne is far more united under the Martells. Ideally the Martells can deal with this themselves."

"And if they can't? If we have a kinslayer on the throne in Sunspear."

"Then we... then you have to decide." Whether to remove the kinslayer by force or... given the likely cost of doing so, to do otherwise. Stannis found the idea distasteful but the logic was grim. And his sons wondered why he'd chosen not to claim the throne himself. Not that they had asked him about that, not yet.

Cassana rested her hands upon the table. "Oberyn, you have permission to go. But I'm sending Duncan Selmy with you as well as Nymeria. I want to send someone else with you and I'm sure that Orbar can't carry three..."

Viserys XX

Viserys's dreams of riding dragons had prepared him for the great vistas visible from the back of one and his extensive walking in the north had prepared him for the cold. They hadn't prepared him for the aching thighs and buttocks. Dragons didn't move the way horses did and the habits from there left him tensing at the wrong moments. He'd tried to keep it from Daenerys but he thought from the twinkle in her eyes that she'd noticed.

Of course, Banthis was also a lot smaller than Balerion had been. Large enough to carry two riders, but not all day, the black dragon had carried the siblings north in easy stages and it had taken them a week to reach the Mountains of the Moon.

"It's almost as if we're recreating Visenya's flight to the Vale," Daenerys offered cheerfully as the Eyrie came into view at last. "Back in the conquest, I mean."

"Well hopefully we won't have as much issue with the young Prince's mother."

She half-turned before him. "I don't know how much you remember Lysa Arryn from before you left..."

Viserys sighed. "Well enough. And if I didn't, her decision to winter up here of all places..."

Frost turned the Eyrie into a sparkling vision when light broke past the winter clouds, but fantasies and practical living had very different requrements. Daenerys had Banthis circle over it, looking for a suitable landing spot and ultimately settled on a tower. "See if they'll open the hall for us," she directed Viserys as he dismounted, legs stiff. "I don't want Banthis..." she paused and slapped the dragon's neck reprimandingly as Banthis craned around to eye Viserys speculatively, "getting cold out here. Night isn't far away."

"You might want to glide down to the Bloody Gate then. They'll have more firewood available."

"And leave you alone up here? I don't want to find you underneath the Moon Door in the morning."

"I'm reasonably sure Princess Arryn won't do that."

"I'm not and I'm the one with the dragon so it's my decision."

Viserys realised he was conceptually ill-equipped to deal with what had been his ancestor's core philosophy for thousands of years and yielded the point. "Well, I'll go introduce myself."

He'd barely reached the door at the bottom of the tower before he was greeted by two sworn swords, the lady of the keep and a very excited boy who greeted him with the words: "May I ride your dragon!?"

The temptation was too much. "You'd have to ask my sister." He stepped aside and the boy darted past him with an annoyed cry of "Rennart!" from his mother.

So this wasn't the young prince but his brother. "Princess Arryn." Viserys bowed. "Greetings from King's Landing."

"What do you want here, Ser Viserys?" she asked, tone as cold as the wind.

"My sister would like a warm hall for Banthis to spend the night in. I, on the other hand, have been asked to study the Seastone Chair. I gather your late husband had custody of it last."

Lysa Arryn eyed him suspiciously. Her eyes were as cold as her sister's had been when Viserys brought her husband back without half of one arm. "It's in the cellars," she told him after an uncomfortable pause. "I'll have the great hall opened but I doubt we can feed the beast for long."

Viserys nodded. "I thought as much. Tomorrow Daenerys can fly down to somewhere with better winter stores. If I can have a look at the chair..."

"Why do you want to see my brother's throne?"

He looked and saw a small boy looking out of a window above them. "Your brother's throne?"

"Robin!" called Lysa angrily. "I told you to stay inside in the warm!"

"But..."

Viserys gestured to the hall. "Perhaps we can all talk in the great hall once some fires are laid there."

With a acerbic sniff, Lysa turned to one of the men with her and gave firm instructions about laying fires in the hall. "And you go fetch Rennart," she said. "I don't want him riding that... aaaaah!"

Banthis spread his wings and took off. There were evidently two riders on the back of the dragon as it circled the Eyrie.

"I can tell she's going to be a soft touch when she has children of her own," Viserys noted to himself. "As fast as young Rennart talked her into riding Banthis, she'll be wrapped around her own children's fingers almost immediately." Not that she neeed much incentive to show off her current 'children'.

Olenna XIV

Being wrapped in furs she was convinced weighed as much as she did made it hard for Olenna to enjoy the opportunity to ride on a dragon's back. Then again, it would have been suicidal to sit side-saddle so for the first time she could remember she was wearing trousers and sitting astride a beast. She was quite sure she'd need to be lifted off it once it landed.

Assuming that it made landfall safely, that was. Duncan Selmy appeared to have inherited his father's conceit that death somehow only happened to other people or his uncle's belief that only the risk of death made life entertaining. Since both men were dead the lesson seemed obvious to Olenna but not to the boy in whose hands her own life rested upon.

Since crossing the Sea of Dorne, the two dragons had flown through the hills and mountains of Dorne and she was certain that the beasts had either been racing each other or daring each other to see who could fly closest to cliff-faces. Olenna privately judged Orbis the winner at the latter but Qelos, on which she rode, was certainly the faster.

She was resolved to return northwards by some sane method of travel. Or perhaps just to take a ship south from Sunspear. Somehow she doubted that she would be able to retire peacefully in any of the Reach's courts, particularly that at Highgarden. Garlan was the most sensible of her grandchildren but for that reason he wouldn't want her presence casting a shadow over his lordship.

To her great relief, after one overnight stop in a fishing village to orientate themselves, they reached the point that they could see the Summer Sea glittering ahead of them and the Rhoynish towers of Sunspear piercing the horizon.

Massive circle walls encircled the town that clustered around Sunspear and spilled westwards past the walls - the only direction that it could for Sunspear was surrounded on three sides by water. From aloft, Olenna could see crowds in the labyrintine streets and guards staring slack-jawed up at them from the Threefold Gate.

Bypassing all of this the two dragons landed in the open yard before the Tower of the Sun. Better disciplined than the gate guards or perhaps with slightly better warning, two score armsmen spilled out of doors, raising spears and bows towards the new arrivals. Most wore the sun and spear of Nymeros-Martell but there were others - all of houses among what were called the Salty Dornish: coastal lords, those whose houses had the deepest ties of the Rhoynish of old.

Oberyn vaulted down from Orbis with ease. "A strange welcome for a prince of Dorne."

"Not so strange when he comes on dragonback." Tyene Sand had found a balcony overlooking the yard. "Father, I greet you."

"Daughter." He put his hands on his hips. "I would see my brother."

The young woman lowered her face. "You must have passed a raven going north. I regreat to advise you that my uncle died in his sleep four nights ago. I am sure Princess Arianne will welcome your counsel."

"Will she?"

Olenna pushed at Duncan's shoulder. "Boy, help me down."

"Ah, Lady Olenna... if we need to leave hastily."

She wished for her stick. "Then leave me. The worst I'd face would be being thrown into a pit of vipers. At my age that's not much of a threat."

"I'm sure they wouldn't do that," he said hastily and dismounted, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting. She heard him murmur something too soft for her old ears, even at this proximity.

"What was that about respecting snakes more?" she asked sharply.

The boy coloured. Even if she hadn't heard him exactly, it hadn't been hard to guess. "My apologies, Lady Olenna, I don't know what you mean."

"Learn to lie better. You're a lord and even with no dragon, some subtlety can cover for many faults."

"Do you have a new paramour?" Tyene asked her father wryly. "Ellaria will be crushed."

There was a muffled snort from Nymeria.

"Alas that I must admit that the good lady is immune to my charms." Oberyn's smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Is that what they're called these days?" She leant upon Duncan. "I would rather speak with Doran even so. My experience of his daughter is that he'll still provide a more civilised conversation."

"Your own grasp of that seems wanting, Queen of Thorns." Arianne Martell stood between the wide doors of the Tower, looking down the steps at them. Despite the cold she wore a dress in the Dornish style. "Perhaps your son's indulgence gave you the impression you have licence to insult a princess while a guest in her own court?"

"I would say more that it's the habit of serving kings - and now a queen - who would prefer a blunt truth to a self-serving lie. Doran Martell thought likewise and by preferring otherwise you prove my point."

Oberyn looked around the yard. "I see few familiar faces. A new princess, a new order at court, one supposes."

"Quite."

"A shame. I would have wished to speak with Areo Hotah. Quite firmly, given my brother's wellbeing was his charge."

Arianne frowned. "I wouldn't imagine he has gone far in a few days. Though, in truth uncle, my father was old and unwell. A guard can do little against such things."

"He can prevent a pillow across the face."

The princess showed only surprise. "A pillow... you suggest father's death was unnatural."

"Some would say that assassins are a natural cause of death for princes."

Arianne's gaze flickered back to Olenna at the remark. "This is a matter for Martells. Tyene, be so good as to arrange quarters for Lady Olenna, Lord Selmy and the dragons. Uncle, cousin, please join me in my father's chambers where we can talk with fewer rumours spreading."

Too late for that, thought Olenna. By sunset the rumour that Doran was assassinated will be all across Sunspear. Arianne could not afford to let this matter pass now, she needed a quick and clear resolution. If she was guilty she would now need a scapegoat - and if she was not then she might well share her uncle's lust for revenge.