[To Prince Doran of House Martell:

I hope you still remember me.

My name is Jon Connington. I have known your sister for many years and was once a loyal servant to your brother-in-law. I cherish their memory as much as you do.

I am not dead, and neither is your sister’s son. I hid him for his safety. Now, it is time to stop hiding.

The dragon has returned to Westeros, determined to reclaim his rightful inheritance and avenge the deaths of his father, Prince Rhaegar, and his mother, Princess Elia.

Renly Baratheon is dead. We are heading for Storm’s End. The garrison there has been lured away and left the castle defenseless. We will take it by surprise. When you receive this letter, the dragon banner will likely already be flying atop Storm’s End. To counter the counterattack of the Usurper’s brother, we need Dorne’s support. Please, Prince, do not abandon me!

Jon Connington

Lord of Griffin’s Roost

Hand of the True King

Interesting, very interesting.

A dragon has returned to Westeros, but it is not the one he had expected, nor one he even knew existed. Prince Doran set down the letter and handed it to his brother, Oberyn Martell.

To believe that a single piece of paper could convince Dorne, quietly waiting at the southern tip of the continent for the situation to shift, to join blood and fire, was undoubtedly a fantasy. But if this message had been delivered by the Spider, Varys, himself, that changed everything.

…

“Aegon is still alive?” Oberyn read the letter, snorted, and tossed it on the table. “So, the pirates who harassed our coastline, plundered our villages, and killed our people during the Six Kingdoms’ siege of the Westerlands were actually my nephew’s men?”

“No. Only the Golden Company mercenaries who landed in the Cape of Wrath area were Prince Aegon’s forces. The rest, according to my information, were hired by Tywin Lannister.”

“No one wants this letter to be true more than I do, but Gregor Clegane tore Aegon from Elia’s arms and smashed his head against a wall. Countless people saw my nephew’s corpse. Should I tie you up and hand you over to King Stannis as a sign of loyalty? Lord Varys, I am curious. Why did you come out here to support rebels instead of remaining in King’s Landing as Master of Whisperers?”

“A poor man with a ruined body… what else can he hope for? I simply wish to end this long rebellion once and for all and restore peace and order to the Seven Kingdoms. By law, Aegon is the true king. Lord Oberyn, calling him a ‘rebel’ is not quite accurate.” Varys shrugged sadly. “King Stannis firmly believes that I am responsible for the deaths of Lord Arryn and King Robert. If I do not leave quickly, I fear my poor head will be mounted on a spike atop the Red Keep.” He sighed. “The body of little Aegon that countless people saw belonged to a poor farmer’s child. I had already smuggled the real prince out of the Red Keep beforehand. We had planned to strike while the two stags fought each other, but who would have thought their infighting would end as swiftly as the wind, leaving us caught off guard. If Dorne does not act now, we will simply watch as Stannis leads his army into the Stormlands, easily defeats the Golden Company, and kills the last male Targaryen in the world.”

“Touching loyalty, Lord Varys. Your words are entirely irrefutable. Let’s stop discussing irrelevancies and talk about what matters: how can you prove that Aegon is truly Elia’s son?”

“How would you like me to prove it, Prince? Or rather, how could I?” Varys asked. “There are indeed a few methods to identify the child, but none of them work without both the child and the parents present. The Maesters have long proven through experiments that methods such as blood tests are unreliable. Even King Robert, in the end, never knew for certain whether his three children were truly his. Aegon Targaryen was raised by Jon Connington, his father Rhaegar’s close friend. Doesn’t that speak volumes? If he weren’t the real Aegon, would Lord Connington really ruin his honor, fake his death, and live under a false name for over a decade just for him?”

“And who can prove this Lord Connington is even real? The Lord of Griffin’s Roost I knew was a proud and hot-tempered young man. How could he be willing to act as a wet nurse, raising a child? I don’t buy it.”

“If Lord Oberyn doesn’t believe me, why not visit Griffin’s Roost and meet the Hand of the True King yourself?” Varys replied without hesitation. “Lord Connington has changed over the past ten years, but he is not disfigured. Since you are familiar with him, you should be able to recognize him.”

Oberyn frowned and glanced at his brother.

Doran Martell, who had remained silent in his wheelchair since reading the letter, finally spoke. “Lord Varys, no offense, but if I had to send my brother to verify the truth of every letter brought to me, our family would have been wiped out long ago.”

“Prince Doran’s concerns are reasonable.” Varys maintained his calm. “In that case, as a gesture of sincerity, I am willing to remain in Dorne as a hostage.”

…

You, a hostage? Even ten of you would not be worth the life of my only brother. Doran did not say this, but merely shook his head. “Even if all this is true, what does my dear nephew want from me? That line about ‘Dorne’s warriors being as numerous as the sand’ is just empty bravado. Not every Dornishman is a Red Viper. Dorne, combined with a mercenary company that returns defeated every time it comes to Westeros, is not exactly a force that can claim the Iron Throne.”

“And what about the Reach?”

“The Reach?” Doran’s expression shifted slightly. “Why would they help? Let me guess… has this Aegon Targaryen you speak of been betrothed to Margaery Tyrell?”

“No. Aegon’s queen will be Daenerys Targaryen.” Varys shook his head. “To avoid any future disputes over succession, the best solution is to unite the last pair of Targaryens. King Aegon has offered the Rose something else—security, continuity for their house, and political influence. Stannis is not Robert, who could show mercy if his enemies bent the knee. He will never easily spare the Tyrells, who supported his brother’s rebellion. As for the Reach, if they must bear the wrath of the Iron Throne, why not gather allies and fight one grand war?”

“The Tyrells?” Oberyn sneered. “They’ve already been defeated twice and suffered greatly during the battle at King’s Landing. Why do they still refuse to give up and continue to struggle? Their persistence is admirable.”

“The Reach is the Reach.” Varys smiled. “Even if it suffers two more defeats, it remains the leanest camel among the Seven Kingdoms.”

This statement was difficult to refute, especially for Dorne, whose territory was mostly desert and whose population and resources ranked last among the Seven Kingdoms.

The reception room facing the Water Gardens fell silent for a moment, the only sounds being birds chirping and the soft breeze rustling outside the windows. After a long pause, Doran spoke again. “Dorne has shed enough blood more than ten years ago. Now that my sister’s revenge has been fulfilled, we have no intention of becoming involved again.”

“Revenge fulfilled?” Varys nearly shrieked with disbelief. “Your Highness, are you saying that getting the Mountain’s head counts as vengeance? If that’s all it takes, then I have truly overestimated the Dornish spirit.”

“A feeble provocation, Lord Varys. We are no longer children.” Oberyn laughed. “If the Reach has truly joined in, that’s one thing, but what about my nephew’s queen who is said to have three dragons? If Daenerys appears and recognizes my nephew’s identity, then even if my brother disagrees, I’ll go alone and join the true dragon’s cause.”

“Princess Daenerys is still in Meereen in Slaver’s Bay. She is entangled in many trivial matters and cannot extricate herself. My agents are doing everything possible to bring her back to Westeros as soon as they can.”

“As soon as possible means not yet, Lord Varys.” Oberyn did not hide his disdain for wordplay. “Trying to deceive us with empty hands is asking too much.”

“Lord Varys,” Prince Doran interrupted his brother. “Your task was to deliver a message, and you have done that. But joining a war is no small matter. Allow me to discuss it with my brother before we decide.”

“Of course. This concerns the survival of your house, and must be considered carefully.” Varys nodded. Although he had appeared to lose the verbal exchange with Oberyn, he was the Spider, not a courtier. His confidence in persuading Dorne came from the intelligence of his little birds, not his eloquence. He rose and bowed slightly. “Then I shall take my leave.”

“Areo, escort Lord Varys back to his chambers to rest,” Doran ordered. He watched as his captain of the guard led the Spider away. Only after ensuring they were out of earshot did he sigh and look at Oberyn.

…

“This eunuch probably doesn’t know you’ve already sent Quentyn to Meereen to marry Daenerys.” Oberyn crossed his legs and smiled. “As for this so-called Aegon, who knows if he’s just a fabrication by sellswords after the Blackfyre bloodline ended—an excuse to fight their way back to Westeros. In my opinion, we should tie up this Spider and send him to King’s Landing as a gift of loyalty to Stannis. Always side with the winner, and right now, Stannis has won.”

“So after all these years of my advice, you’ve finally come around?” Doran looked at his brother with a faint smile.

“It’s not that I’ve come around, but a stag is better than a lion. Stannis is harsh and rigid, but he can’t cause trouble for Dorne. And we never need to worry about him siding with our enemies.”

“Indeed. Following the principle of always siding with the winner, I should swear loyalty to Stannis immediately. But this time, I’m afraid I must do the opposite.” Doran changed the topic. “You must go to the Stormlands.”

“Huh?” Oberyn thought he had misheard. “But the Stormlands are in chaos right now, with pirates, mercenaries, and bannermen running wild. Even if I had a few more arms, I couldn’t guarantee my own safety.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m not asking you to go alone, but to go with an army.”

“With an army?” Oberyn was even more puzzled. This was completely unlike his brother’s usual cautious nature. “But… having the Dornish army march into the Stormlands without permission is tantamount to declaring war on the Iron Throne. Didn’t we agree to keep a low profile until Quentyn returns with Daenerys?”

“Yes, but Renly was still alive back then.”

Doran looked troubled. “My original plan was to sit back and let the two stags exhaust each other until Daenerys returned to Westeros. But as Varys said, the Baratheon infighting ended too quickly. The Crownlands, Stormlands, and the North remain almost untouched. If we do nothing and allow Stannis to crush the rebellion in the Reach and drive the Golden Company back across the Narrow Sea, then when Daenerys returns, she will face a unified Six Kingdoms.”

“Daenerys has dragons.”

“Dragons are not invincible. We Dornishmen have slain them before. Have you forgotten?” Doran shook his head. “Stannis may not be popular, but he will govern the Seven Kingdoms with order. We cannot allow him the chance to consolidate his rule. Otherwise, we may never again have the opportunity to avenge our blood feud.”

Oberyn was about to speak, but suddenly realized the absurdity of the moment. It had always been Doran who urged him to be cautious. Now the roles were reversed. If his brother had made up his mind to go to war, then he must have considered everything carefully. Oberyn simply had to follow orders, there was no reason to object.

“Alright. If you say go, then I’ll go. My spear is already thirsty.”

“Don’t rush. I only told you to take the army there. I didn’t say when to go, or who to fight,” Doran said. “We must wait for news. If this Aegon fails to take Storm’s End, then all is meaningless. The Golden Company can still retreat across the sea, but Dorne will be left exposed. We will only send troops north once we receive confirmation that Storm’s End has fallen and the dragon banner is raised, under the pretense of helping King Stannis suppress a rebellion.”

“I see.” Oberyn nodded. “That way, if the situation changes, we can align with Stannis and withdraw safely. Tywin once used this tactic.”

“Shameless, but effective.” Doran nodded. “What happens after you reach the Stormlands depends on the circumstances. First, confirm whether the Reach has truly joined the Golden Company. If the Tyrells stay out, then little Aegon’s identity is meaningless. We cannot stand alone against Stannis. In that case, truly help Stannis suppress the rebellion. Seize a few castles held by the Golden Company and return them to their rightful lords. Only if the Reach truly joins the war should you consider other options.”

“And how do I decide?”

“First, when it’s safe, you must meet Aegon. We cannot rule out the possibility that Varys is telling the truth. Targaryens do look different. If the boy truly appears to be Rhaegar and Elia’s son at a glance, then do not hesitate. We will support him fully, even at the cost of our lives.”

“It’s not that Targaryens look different. All Valyrians look that way.” Oberyn shook his head and explained. “I’ve traveled across the Narrow Sea and seen many with silver hair and purple eyes. You can’t determine he’s my nephew based on looks.”

“That’s up to you. It doesn’t matter if you can’t judge. What we must do is stop Stannis from sitting firmly on the Iron Throne while protecting ourselves as much as possible.” Doran’s tone became serious. “If you can’t confirm Aegon’s identity, then treat him as a regular ally. In that case, avoid direct conflict with Stannis and the Northern army. The Tyrells are the ones who fear Stannis consolidating power the most, and the Targaryen remnants are the ones he most wants to eliminate. We are outside the central conflict and don’t need to fight to the death. Ensure that Stannis cannot claim a decisive victory, while we preserve our strength and weaken the Golden Company and the Riverlands. That way, when Quentyn returns to Westeros with Daenerys, Dorne will still have the power to choose a side and influence the final outcome.”

“Understood.”

“Begin mobilizing the army tomorrow. Take them to Yronwood on the Bone Road and wait for orders. Once news from Storm’s End arrives, you may act.”

“Alright.” Oberyn stood and walked toward the door. “No need to wait until tomorrow. I’ll do it now.”

“Wait.” Doran called after him. “I know you love adventure and battle, but this time, I want you to swear—do not take unnecessary risks!”

“You still think I’m a child, brother?” Oberyn smiled. “Alright, I swear.”

(To be continued.)

***

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