Chapter 115 112

The Vale. 298 AC.

Lord Axel Arryn.

"How many soldiers does Dorne have? Eighteen thousand, let's be generous and say twenty, against forty thousand from the Lannisters, sixty from Renly, and thirty-five from Stannis. And every one of them has at least two to three times your cavalry. I used to think you planned to close that gap with the Dothraki, but I was wrong. The odds are not in your favor. And I haven't even mentioned that the Dornish army is pinned down at the Boneway, which you will only take at enormous cost."

"A cavalry gap can be closed by an ally with the greatest number of knights in all of Westeros," and yes, the Vale had knights the way a forest floor had mushrooms after rain.

"You're missing the point," the idea looked fine on paper, but execution was another matter entirely. "You want to hang the full weight of the war on the Vale, to win it with my knights, my grain, and my gold. No title, not even Queen's Hand, is worth that," the appeal of such a position had long since exhausted itself. My father and I had never forgotten where we came from.

"Would King-Consort suit you better?" Oberyn squinted slyly, though his expression fell quickly when he realized I had no intention of jumping for joy at the prospect.

The offer was interesting, genuinely so. Only I could not shake the feeling that something was left unsaid, that there was a gap somewhere in this picture. I had been Hand of the King for nearly five years and knew this "somewhat more" than other lords. Whatever anyone might think, the Targaryen name still carried weight, and there were plenty of houses ready to return beneath the red dragon's wing. With the right moves from Rhaenys, with bribes and promises of titles and positions, she could peel away a portion of the lords of the Reach, the Stormlands, the Crownlands, and the Riverlands, strengthening herself while weakening her enemies. With those forces she could then fight for the throne.

Against that backdrop, the Vale looked like a pleasant but unnecessary addition. After the Dance of the Dragons, the idea of a queen on the Iron Throne had never been warmly received among the nobility, and were I to become King-Consort, the greater share of power would end up concentrated in my hands. Doran, may he rot from gout, understood all of this and knew a path to the throne that required no marriage between Rhaenys and me. So why had he agreed to let his niece share power with me? And why would Rhaenys herself want that? It made no sense. Let me approach it from another angle.

If there was a wedding, I would be bound to Rhaenys and obliged to fight for her to the end. In plain terms, I would become her most loyal ally. A loyal ally for Rhaenys. Why would she need a powerful ally when she already had one in the form of her uncle? One can never have too many allies? That was debatable; the pie was not endless and everyone wanted the most tender slice. Distrust of her uncle was the only reasonably sound explanation.

"It's amusing that House Martell has split over its own ambitions," Oberyn had never been a gifted actor; his reaction said everything he didn't.

"I don't know what you're talking about," of course, no one in their right mind would air internal quarrels for the world to see.

"I always knew that Doran's love of secrecy and playing in the dark would be his undoing. And judging by your behavior, you're on Rhaenys's side," a fascinating family, weaving schemes behind one another's backs.

"My brother has gotten too deep into his own game and lost sight of the final goal. Even I could see that he's been dragging his feet on entering the war, as though waiting for something," it seemed I was not the only one who had noticed Dorne's hesitation; I had simply been attributing it to the wrong cause.

"Viserys and the Dothraki. He apparently believes that the lords would sooner burn Westeros to the ground than bend the knee to Rhaenys," silence was sometimes the best answer.

And there was the secret behind such a generous reward. I would have to fight all of Westeros with almost no allies among the Great Houses. Most likely Rhaenys was counting on the idea that if I joined and committed every resource I had, Doran would quickly change his tune and fall loyally into line behind his niece. The situation in Dorne struck me as rather entertaining.

"So then, do you agr..." Oberyn did not finish the sentence. Eyris burst through the door of my study, breathing hard.

"Urgent news," he said, handing me a letter at once. I trusted my guard captain and gave him leave to open correspondence that arrived in my absence.

A minute's reading left me with a tangled set of impressions. This news would weigh heavily on the war in Westeros and shatter whatever balance of power remained. I answered Oberyn's questioning look:

"Interesting news from King's Landing," the Red Viper's gaze sharpened immediately. "Tywin Lannister has been poisoned. His condition is unknown. The Stark children have somehow escaped captivity. Their whereabouts are also unknown."