The Emancipation of Rhaegar

Chapter 53

Raven

Dorne – Sunspear

No one could deny Oberyn's love for Dorne, he would die just to know his home would continue living for the rest of its days in peace. He couldn't believe that it was already 280 AC, an entire year had passed since the Great Tourney of Harrenhal. He was a father now, not that he saw his son much, Merida was not used to the Dornish climate and had cried for weeks that she wanted to go home. But in truth she had no home, her brothers had vanished and the Frey's held Harrenhal. Their son, Blaise, Oberyn had named him, looked more Dornish than any Dornishmen he'd ever seen. Sunkissed skin, dark eyes and dark lips, Oberyn couldn't wait to raise him as a warrior should be raised. To let him wander the world as he had wandered the world.

But he could not help remembering that it had been an entire year of Rhaegar twiddling his thumbs and waiting for the King to die in his throne. An entire year watching his sister slighted while no one stood for her.

Oberyn was never one to strike fast, and so he had waited, along with the young Stark wolf it seemed, for when the throne was at its weakest to claim revenge for his niece and nephew and the embarrassment Dorne had felt upon the annulment of Rhaegar and Elia's marriage. Lord Stark had written to him, informing him of the treasonous acts he was ready to commit to avenge his father.

Prince Oberyn Martell,

I am writing to you as a son who has lost his father. As a man who is wary of being crippled under King Aerys' rule and as a Lord who has called on his banners to meet Aerys in battle. I want you to join me. I along with the Stormlands, the Tully's and the Vale, have called our banners and we will eventually hold more numbers than the King, granting us an easy victory. Should we win, the North is offering to give Dorne back its independence from the Seven Kingdom's, to rule as Kings of your own domain. As you are reading this, we are preparing to ride by the fourth moon of the next year. It will reach you once we have entered the first moon. I hope to receive your response by the second moon if not earlier, no response will mean to me you have sided with the crown.

Lord Paramount and Warden of the North, Brandon Stark.

Oberyn had scoffed at the boldness of the letter, the boldness of the young wolf. But he could not deny his words held weight in his mind. He could not help but remember that Arianne, Rhaegar's wife, had given birth to two children. A set of twins that were now above Aegon and Rhaenys in name and birthright, something that displeased him and Elia greatly. She had sent a botched letter, detailing her anger at Rhaegar for naming the new child, Valerion, as his heir in Dragonstone.

How will I look Aegon in the eye when he is grown, tell him his father loved him, but loved his second son with another woman more to crown him heir? Elia had written.

"Have you lost your mind!?" Doran had shouted to his brother, Oberyn had just shared his thoughts with him. He wanted to ride with the Northmen and take back what was theirs.

Oberyn rolled his eyes, resting his feet on the low couch and playing with the peelings of his half-eaten blood orange. "Are you?"

"Oberyn, Elia is safe in Starfall with Ashara. No one knows she is there except for us, we need not upset the King any more than we already have."

"Upset the King?" Oberyn seethed, looking to his brother coldly. "Elia and her children, the children she had fought life to give to Rhaegar were discarded like a used whore and bastard babes. They are the Prince and Princess heirs to the Iron Thrones. What if she had not left? What if they killed her then and there? Would you do nothing to keep from upsetting the King?" Doran bit his tongue, unsure of how to respond to his hot-headed brother. It was one thing to want revenge for a death, it was another to want revenge for a death that could have been. "I want Dorne for my family again. We are the Martell's of Sunspear. We are Unbowed, Unbent and Unbroken."

"As do I," Doran warned him, standing slowly from his seat. His health had been declining and standing only made the pain he felt worse, "let them tear at each other first. Then when they are all at their weakest, then you plan what you do. A viper," Doran pointed to Oberyn, "does not strike simply because it is time to strike. A viper will strike when it's prey will surely die."

Oberyn's ears perked, was his brother agreeing to move Dorne from the Seven Kingdoms? "No Doran, the winner will be at their strongest. This is when knees are bent, and great Houses are given castles and land for their loyalty. This can only go two ways and this one is easiest for Dorne."

"Arianne's first son, my daughter. We will betroth him to the young Visenya. If there is a possibility Rhaegar will be King and we can avoid this whole war. That way Dorne is still an heir to the Iron Throne," Doran offered. "If we can avoid the war, we must Oberyn." He could not stress that enough.

"Arianne is eight," Oberyn pointed out, he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "If Rhaegar would just grow some balls, get his head from those books and witches and seers he listens to he'd see that Elia would not care, truly care for another child from another mother. She just wants Aegon to be given his birthright." Oberyn knew his sister was traditional in a sense, but she was also Dornish and it would have only taken a little persuading from Rhaegar to have her agree to a second woman. She didn't have to become his wife. He didn't have to go as far as cutting his own flesh and blood from the succession.

"A birthright that will be no more should Aerys find out Elia is still in Dorne," he neared Oberyn, "he burnt a Lord Paramount, the one who fostered his daughter for sixteen years, to the crisp. What will he do to us? The ones who took away two heirs from the throne without permission?"

Oberyn shrugged, looking up at Doran. "It has been ten moons; he has done nothing but send envoys asking for Elia. And to their knowledge, we do not know where she is. What more can he do?"

"I have two children to care for Oberyn-,"

"As do I!"

"I have an heir to protect. Elia is safe. I'm telling you this, let them tear each other apart if it comes to war or waits for Rhaegar to take the Throne. Then the conversation can be had without war."

"Rhaegar will take the Throne when we are all dead, he moves slower than a man with heatstroke in the desert," Oberyn tutted, annoyed by Doran's refusal to join Brandon in his war. He wouldn't respond to the raven; he'd have to wait. Like he had waited before, but if it meant Dorne could be returned to their hands with no blood spilled then he would wait. "My love," Oberyn called out, watching as his paramour, Ellaria Sand made her way from the shadows into his arms.

"What are you discussing?" She asked him, placing a kiss on his lips.

"How we will make Dorne ours again," Oberyn smiled back to her, pulling her on top of his body.

Doran rolled his eyes, sitting back on his chair. "This is our entertaining area. Please go to your chambers."

"Gladly brother."