Chapter 29: Oberyn's Reckoning

He gave the guard a nod as he approached the tent, the torch illuminating his face. They held Prince Oberyn at the edge of the camp, surrounded by knights. The man held the flap open and Jae ducked inside, absent-mindedly stroking Vermitor's neck. Meleys had been left behind with faintly a bemused Ser Barristan.

Prince Oberyn sat turned away from the entrance, his legs chained to the post in the middle of the tent. He spied the sling for his arm over his shoulder. "Jaehaerys Targaryen!" Oberyn said, still turned away from him. "I've heard the cheers earlier. It must've been a thrilling speech. Celebrating all the good Dornish boys you massacred?" Oberyn leaned back against the post, seemingly determined not to look at him. Some petty act of defiance?

"Oh, I can only wish my words alone could cause such a stir. I'm afraid most of the gratitude goes to my little friend here." Jae sat down on a barrel by the entrance, Vermithor purring in pleasure.

Oberyn heard. Jae saw his body tense. He looked over his shoulder and froze. He shifted around to face him, shaking his head the entire time. Where did the proud Prince go? He reminded him of Varys without his costume; Oberyn wore but a threadbare and dirty tunic, and patched up breeches. A sobering lesson, though not for Jaehaerys. If they ever capture me, I won't live long enough to be humiliated.

"It can't be," Oberyn finally breathed, unable to take his eyes off the dragon.

Jae absent-mindedly brushed some dust off his cloak as he said, "Ravens fly as we speak. This time tomorrow, all of Westeros will know dragons have returned."

That proved enough to break the spell and steel returned to Oberyn's gaze. "Dragons can be killed, we Dornish know better than most. Especially baby dragons."

"Too true," Jae agreed. "But we're not talking about dragons, are we? The ravens claim I walked into the fire with two eggs and emerged untouched with two dragons. Do you think they'll demand Aegon does the same?"

It had been Ser Baelor's idea, and a most inventive one at that. If people believed he'd hatched the dragons due to some hidden knowledge, they wouldn't blame Aegon for failing to do the same. But if Jae hatched them simply because he had Targaryen blood, well...

"You bastard!" Oberyn growled.

Jae smirked. "Don't the Dornish accept bastards? I suppose now I know why. You're all bastards yourselves."

Oberyn watched him in silence as Jae got to his feet.

"You started this war to keep your blood on the Iron Throne, and now you'll pay the price. You'll burn, every one of you. The Dragon's Wroth will be a joke before I'm finished." Jaehaerys stalked around the fallen Prince of Dorne.

"Unbent, unbowed, unbroken," Oberyn hissed, his eyes following him.

"But not unburnt. And I much prefer you all dead." That earned him a flinch from Oberyn. "You see, I've been thinking about this all wrong. I've been thinking small, like most of my pathetic ancestors. I actually worried about how to politically maneuver Dorne back into the fold." He barked a laugh. What a ridiculous notion.

He faced Oberyn then, allowing his thoughts to surface so Oberyn would see the malice in his eyes. "You'll be my testing ground. You'll be the enemy I unite all of Westeros behind. You'll be the threat that frightens the Lords into backing an army controlled directly by the Crown."

"We will defend, but we won't attack. It'll never work!" Oberyn went to lounge at him, but the rattling chains kept him in place. He knows I have plans in place, that's why he looks so scared.

"Won't it?" Jae asked idly. "You Dornish are so proud of your underhanded methods. When Lords start dying like flies from poison, who will doubt me when I point the finger at you? All empires are built on the bones of the defeated, Oberyn. You should be proud. The Dornish are to be the fertilizer that makes a New Valyria bloom."

He shook his head. "You—you can't mean this."

"No? Why not?" Jae raised an eyebrow. "Is it all the death that I am supposed to worry about? Valyria burned millions, yet all anyone does these days is speak of its great achievements. Do you think the elimination of your pesky desert fools too high a price to pay?" He shrugged. "I suppose it doesn't matter, since I can assure you my historians won't."

"Why keep me alive then?" Oberyn asked, his voice much calmer than Jae would've expected.

"Why, you'd be so useless to me dead. I can't be seen agitating for another war. These things must come naturally; a call of fate, if you will. I'll take you to King's Landing instead. One day you'll escape straight to the bottom of the Narrow Sea, while someone else goes on to do such terrible things in your name. We'll see. I'm sure I'll think of something." He gave him an ugly smile. "I do hope your little scheme was worth it because it certainly worked for me."

"I don't fear death."

"Of course you don't." Jae nodded as he completed his circle and sat back down on the barrel. "The world's a shit place. Men like you and I almost welcome the idea." He ran a hand through his hair and pretended as though he'd been struck by an idea. "Say, you've got eight daughters, don't you?" Oberyn's eyes snapped to him. There's the weak spot. "I heard some of them are formidable warriors, yet none of them fought in your army. Wanted to keep them safe?"

"Jaehaerys..." he said.

"I don't mind death, not anymore. Men, women, children; when my soldiers go foraging and come back with bloody blades, you think I ask them what happened?" Jae shook his hand, smoothing a crease in his pants. "You sit here, Prince of Dorne, and you think things through while I go kill that pretender of yours. When I come back, we'll have this conversation again and I hope you'll remember the survival of your family depends on your answers."

With that, he left the tent, leaving a seething Oberyn behind, though Jae saw the sheer terror he tried to hide.

"I gather he bought that, Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked as he fell into step with Jae, having listened in on the conversation.

"We'll see," Jae said, his feet taking him back to his command tent where the rest of the commanders had gathered.

Oberyn had to see the futility of resistance. Let him picture Sunspear in ashes for a few days. The Prince had to know times had changed; the Dornish have grown spoiled, used to eating more than snakes and fruits. During Aegon's Conquest, they fought against an invader. Should the same thing happen again, they would die for the folly of Martells.

In spite of their words, I have to break them. Oberyn had to come to a place where he did not consider burning just to spite Jae. The children, it's always the children. Jae had to remind him what his death would mean for his precious Sand Snakes.

He heard the murmurs coming from the tent, two dozen Lords and knights bending over the maps and discussing what might come in the following days. No one shouted or cursed those who disagreed with him; the fools were all dead or back at Bitterbridge with Lord Fossoway.

They all bowed their heads when he entered, parting to allow him to make his way to the head of the table, their eyes glued to Vermithor. He gently held the dragon and placed him on a perch one of Baratheon's builders had hastily constructed. He meant to have him present for every one of his war councils in the future.

"My Lords." He nodded to the men and turned his eyes to Ser Arthur. "Any news?"

"Tywin Lannister and the Pretender march south towards us. Seaguard's retaken, Royce momentarily broken. They linked up at the Trident and now march for us. It'll be weeks before they cross the Blackwater," Ser Arthur said, his eyes going to the map.

Jae nodded. There wasn't much to discuss except to give orders. "With the addition of the Baratheon forces, we have nearly thirty thousand able-bodied soldiers here and sixty thousand more at Bitterbridge." He looked around the assembly. "Anyone have any inspired ideas besides the obvious?"

"The obvious being marching straight at them for a re-enactment of the Battle of the Trident?" Ser Baelor asked with a slight smile.

"Indeed."

The men looked down in thought, rubbing their beards and sipping their wine. Jae saw them glancing at Vermithor, more interested in the dragon before them than the battle ahead. All but Orys Baratheon. He stared at Jae as though unsure how to phrase his thoughts. Jae smiled at the warrior, beaten and bruised and not even close to broken. "Yes, Lord Baratheon?" he asked.

The eyes of the men turned to him. Orys ran a hand over his face and said, "When your father, Prince Rhaegar, and my uncle Robert came to blows at the Trident, they both charged over the river. They had no other choice, of course, but the fact remains they allowed bloody melee to win the battle."

Jae nodded for him to go on, knowing he had the attention of the other men as well.

"We are weeks away from the river ourselves, but our forces at Bitterbridge are not. They could march ahead and prepare the battlefield." He raised a hand when many went to object. "We cannot know for certain where they will cross, but we can guess. I may not know myself, but I am sure one of the Reacher Lords must know how many crossings over the Blackwater rush there are."

"Five bridges, and one ford where an army could cross," Ser Barristan spoke up, looking to Jae. "Lord Orys is correct."

"The smallfolk called it Death's Doorstep before Aegon's Conquest," Ser Arthur added. "It's where the armies of the Storm Kings and Ironborn went to slaughter each other every summer."

"You believe Lord Tywin's aware of it?" Lord Rowan asked.

"We should operate under the assumption he is," Jaehaerys muttered. It changed the game; instead of hoping for a surprise, they needed speed. Lord Tywin could send some of his men ahead, but not in as great a numbers as Jae. "You propose to send our men ahead, to destroy the bridges and erect defenses at the ford?"

"I do, Your Grace." Orys glanced around the tent to gauge the reactions of the other Lords.

"Lannister will learn of it. What's to stop him from wheeling his army to King's Landing and crossing there?" Lord Rowan asked.

"Nothing." Orys shrugged. "But then we have a different battle. His Grace's forces will be able to harass their army for the entirety of the march since we'll control the only crossing, while the main army screens their movements. In the end, we'll still be waiting for them across the river."

Satisfaction bloomed in Jae's chest.

"Won't these defensive measures have us branded cowards?" Ser Loras asked in worry.

Jae shot the fool a sharp look. "They'll have us branded wise. Aegon's the Pretender, he's the one who has to prove his legitimacy, so he must be aggressive and rush straight into our loving arms."

There were some chuckles around the tent as the Lords came to see the sense of his words. Jae sent Ser Loras a look of warning. What's the use of a Kingsguard if he undercuts a brilliant strategy?

"Are we all in agreement with this plan?" he asked.

"Aye, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said, the rest of them voicing their approval. Jae glanced at the map again, if only to ensure no better possibility would occur to him.

"Sent word to Bitterbridge. Lord Fossoway is to move the entire army to the Blackwater Rush with all haste, destroy all the bridges, and erect defensive palisades. We march tomorrow."

"Aye, Your Grace!"