[9] Strategy of Dragons
Chapter 9: Strategy of Dragons
—
The firelight danced over the faces gathered around, throwing shadows across their eyes as if to mask the calculations spinning behind them. The tent was open to the night air, its flaps rustling faintly, while the crackling torches cast a warm, flickering glow on the faces of those in attendance.
Somewhere in the distance, the low hum of camp life played out, though here in this space, we might as well have been a world apart.
“I greet the High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis,” Prince Oberyn’s voice rang with surprising formality, “the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, and First Servant of the Lord of Light.” He lowered his head slightly, a respectful nod that bordered on a bow. “I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure. Allow me to apologize for those lousy bastards’ manners from earlier.”
Whoa, that’s a lot of titles. I didn’t know she was the First Servant of R'hllor. Just how old was she?
Kinvara’s lips curled in amusement as she raised a slender hand as if to wave away the matter. “Oh, please, prince,” she replied lightly, her voice lilting. “They’ve already returned to the Lord.” A subtle gleam in her eye suggested she took more satisfaction in that fact than she let on.
I watched the exchange with muted interest. Here we were—an open tent, the torches holding back the night, the distant murmur of the camp all but drowned out by the significance of conversation in this space.
I could feel it settling around me like a cloak. These men, these warriors—half of them already belonged to me in name and loyalty, but I knew they needed something more, something that tied their purpose to a future worth believing in. They needed their King to show them results for all their hearts to move.
“This is a very pleasant meeting, Prince Oberyn,” I said, shifting my gaze to meet his. “The last of the Targaryens haven’t forgotten the friendship of the Dornishmen. As such, I was thinking of visiting Dorne soon. Who knew I’d meet the Red Viper of Dorne here?”
Oberyn’s smile grew, its warmth almost alarming. “Of course. You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. My niece... your fiancée... she misses you dearly.”
That was polite fiction at best. I knew about her character, and although not in-depth, it was enough for me to know that was a lie. If Arianne Martell missed me at all, it was likely because of what my name represented, not because of who I was. She could have been the Queen of Westeros if that engagement had remained, after all. Still, the words were meant kindly enough, and they fit his role well. I allowed a small smile to play on my lips.
“As far as I'm aware, that engagement has been broken by the Martells…” I said with a softer smile, and he shook his head.
“Only in front. You have to understand that we had no choice but to play by the new King’s rules. Now that Robert is dead and you have risen with your head held high, I’m certain my brother will be happy to reignite the marriage,” he smirked. “Or you can have one of my daughters. They’re a little… venomous, but I’m sure a Dragon will manage.”
I laughed, and he laughed along, raising a glass of wine at me. I held back my thoughts from forming on my lips, returned the gesture, and sipped my own drink.
Kinvara shifted beside me, her attention turning to Oberyn. “It eases my worries to see you guys get along. As you might have guessed, Prince Oberyn, I have chosen to support Viserys, the rightful king, in his cause,” she said, her voice carrying a calming conviction. “The Lord of Light shines brightly upon his path, and so I shall help him reclaim the Iron Throne.”
Delight flickered across Oberyn’s face. “The High Priestess of the Red Temple backing a Targaryen,” he murmured, his eyes dancing. “It sounds like the gods might be real after all,” he burst out laughing and looked at me again, an unspoken question lingering behind his gaze.
After a while, the conversation drifted to small talk and questions about trivial matters. But the air between us was coiled, stretched thin as we waited to address what really mattered. Finally, it was Ellaria, seated beside Oberyn with her dark, perceptive eyes, who leaned forward, her voice low.
“My prince likes you, that is good. But, tell me, Targaryen, what exactly are your next plans?” She glanced around at the encampment. “Westeros is fractured. The Five Kings each scrape against one another, drawing more blood than sense. Your new soldiers are an impressive bunch, I’ll admit since my prince was a part of Second Sons before, but they’re just a thousand men. It's spare change against five kingdoms.”
“...Dorne will support you,” Oberyn added, “but she has a point. I believe we’ll need a larger army to make that throne yours.”
I met his gaze, letting a slight smile play on my lips as I took a sip of wine, the rich taste curling over my tongue. “An army isn’t an issue, Prince,” I said with quiet confidence. “Elsewhere, someone else is building an army for me. I’ll just need to wait. In the meantime, I just have to get involved in Westeros’ politics and this ridiculous war.”
Ellaria tilted her head, brow lifting in a half-skeptical, half-amused look. “Involved in politics?” she echoed in a voice full of doubt. “Without an army, that sounds like the sort of plan that gets men like you killed.”
I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’re right, Lady Ellaria. But I’m not going to fight armies by myself. Not yet, at least.” I let the last words settle, a touch of gravity pulling them down. “I’m going to let the kings destroy each other while I stay in the shadows, nudging them along. When they’ve drained themselves dry, I’ll arrive—not as the beggar prince but as a king with an army at my back.”
That was precisely the plan.
Joffrey Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon, Renly Baratheon, Balon Greyjoy, and Robb Stark. These so-called Five Kings grew ahead after the passage of Robert Baratheon. Thanks to my knowledge from the TV show, I knew more than enough points to remove or move around, which could change the entire field we were playing at.
Prince Oberyn leaned back, his brow creasing. “Moving between camps, sowing discord—it sounds... clever in theory. But you’re no shadow assassin. You’re a Targaryen. Your main source of power is your dragon. You can’t stay hidden.”
I nodded, appreciating the doubt. It gave me the chance to make my point all the clearer. Without a word, I drew a dagger from thin air, letting it appear between my fingers as if plucked from the night itself, and tossed it toward him. Oberyn caught it, surprise flickering across his face. I pointed at my chest.
“Throw it at my heart,” I said simply. “Trust me.”
The tent held its breath. Oberyn hesitated, then lifted his arm.
“...I’m a better marksman,” Ellaria interjected smoothly, taking the dagger from him. Her eyes gleamed with reckless mischief as she looked at me. A heartbeat later, her arm whipped forward, the blade hurtling toward my chest.
The dagger struck, but instead of piercing flesh, it dropped to the ground with a dull thud as if it had hit an invisible wall. Silence rippled across the tent, broken only by the soft clink of metal against the earth.
Ellaria raised a brow. “You’re wearing armor, aren’t you?” Her lips curved in amusement. “That’s cheating.”
I held her gaze, then lifted my shirt, revealing bare skin beneath. No armor, nothing but the slight rise and fall of my breathing. Ellaria frowned, her eyes narrowing in curiosity, and then picked up a knife from the fruit bowl beside her. She tossed it again, and this time, it brushed my skin before falling once more, impotent.
“Believe me when I say,” I continued, letting my shirt drop back into place, “that I’m not invincible. But my defenses are greater than most. It is touching seeing you worry for me, but I have special powers, Prince.” Although I was sure an arrow could still pierce me from a close enough distance, I didn’t need to explain that. “And my methods will allow me to slip between the cracks unnoticed, stir the fire, and disappear before anyone suspects.”
Oberyn and Ellaria exchanged glances and then gave me slow, cautious nods. Ellaria Sand appeared quite humbled and was now eyeing me with a slutty look. I ignored it.
Oberyn’s lips quirked with a faint smile. “I find myself intrigued, Viserys. You can bring things in and out of thin air, and you have skin thicker than armor. It all makes me very curious, but more than that, it makes me feel safe. I can rest assured without worrying. Alright then, I’ll take the bait. I agree with your plan. I’ll arrange for all of us to travel to Dorne, including the one thousand Second Sons. There, they can rest, waiting for the call, while you stir the pot in the War of Five Kings.”
“Thank you, Prince Oberyn,” I said genuinely. I trusted the man. If someone questioned his loyalty to the Targaryens, they’d fail to disprove his hate for the Lannisters. That made him an easy friend.
“But I have a question,” he said, his gaze sharpening as he sipped rich wine. “Earlier, you mentioned someone else is building an army for you. What did you mean by that?”
I held his gaze, then let my eyes drift upward, gesturing for him to follow my line of sight. The night sky stretched out above us, studded with stars. “Look.”
Beyond the dissipating red comet, two more fiery trails blazed through the darkness, brighter and newer.
“My sister,” I said softly, my voice edged with a touch of reverence, “doesn’t share the abilities I do. So I left two dragon eggs with her—precious gifts, waiting for the right moment. Those lines in the sky...” I watched the understanding dawn on his face, the widening of his eyes, “are proof. She has awakened them.”
A stunned silence filled the tent, thick and heavy. “Three… three dragons?” Oberyn whispered, more to himself than anyone.
Prince Oberyn, his whore, and Kinvara all understood the implications of my words. No matter what the rumor about me and my sister’s animosity was, they’d believe my words more than those rumors. To them, she and I were working together.
I’ll let the plot in Essos move as the original. My dearest Dany would carve her way through Essos, building a force while I bring Westeros to its knees. And when the right time came, I’d reunite with my dear sister and make her submit.
Together, we’d claim what was ours.
Far above, the stars shifted, and the comet’s tail stretched wider across the sky—a silent reminder that for all my plans, the fire I intended to unleash was a force beyond any of them.
**
**
**