Prince Olyvar Martell
Spring had come to Dorne first amongst the seven kingdoms. The snows of winter had withered and died before the light of the sun, and the heat that it brought with it. It was a welcome relief for Olyvar Martell, Prince of Dorne and the last remaining independent sovereign from the days when there actually were seven kingdoms before the dragons came. Still as he looks out over the streets of Sunspear from his room in the Tower of the Sun, he knows that with spring, the problems of winter will still remain. His lords have grown restless and angry, the follies of his father and sister have harmed his family's hold over Dorne, and not a day goes by that he does not curse his father for his foolishness.
The White Fever had claimed his father some two years ago, but before his father had died, confessions had been uttered, words had been spoken that now Olyvar knew had forever changed how his lords viewed his family. His father, Prince Rhodry Martell had been a proud and ambitious man in his youth; Olyvar had grown up hearing stories of his father's exploits as a warrior in the wars against the pirates who had invaded Dorne and the Stepstones during the earlier part of the century. Hence he had been deeply surprised when he had learnt for his father's fevered confessions that he had promised aid for Aegon the Usurper, in return for a wedding between Olyvar's sister Mariah and the usurper's brother Prince Daeron. Olyvar had not been able to believe it, had not wanted to believe it, but had had to face the facts when the maester of Sunspear, Maester Borros, confirmed Olyvar's questions, and showed him the ravens between the usurper's hand of the king and his father.
By then Mariah had been dead for some time, dead of the White Fever, and it had fallen to Olyvar to try and make sure that the words his father uttered on his deathbed were not heard by anyone outside of the immediate family, and yet somehow word had gotten out. Olyvar still knew not how it had happened, whether some servant had found the letters and had blabbed about it to another servant, whom for all Olyvar knew could have been a spy. His father had told him once when he was no more than a boy, that the Iron Throne had spies everywhere even in Dorne, they took the form of servants, of common folk, but they still were present. Olyvar's father had allowed them to remain in Dorne, for as long as they could only report the mundane issues of what occurred in Dorne, no harm could ever come to them.
And yet now his father's greatest secret had been found out. Now Olyvar and his own family were paying the price for his father and sister's follies. Lord Mors Yronwood had marshalled a rather large base of support, and was proving to be quite a pain, constantly questioning every decision Olyvar made with regards to the welfare of Dorne and her people. It seemed Yronwood had gotten the support from some of the key houses in Dorne as well, those who had been saved by the Iron Throne's help in the war against the pirates in earlier years. Houses Gargalen, Dalt, Manwoody, Jordayne, Uller and Vaith had all allied themselves with House Yronwood, Olyvar had been told by his uncle the Lord Seneschal of Dorne Ser Cadance Martell. The houses had signed some sort of pact, that said that in the event of a Targaryen invasion they would work together, but to what ends Olyvar knew not, and for all his sources and spies his uncle had not been able to find out himself.
It was very worrying for Olyvar, especially considering the trade embargo, that King Valarr Targaryen had imposed upon them was still in place. The reasons for the embargo confused Olyvar, from what he had been able to gather, it seemed as if his father and sister had plotted to side with some Pirate King, in his attempts to go raiding along the Westerosi coastline, and had been found out. As a result, the Iron Throne had ordered its lords not to trade with Dorne; as such the economy had begun to fail, people were running out of coin to pay for goods, and due to a lack of trading option with the rest of Westeros, the prices of goods was going up. With the establishment of Valyria in the east, Olyvar had tried to establish a trade partnership with first King Baelon and then King Aenar Volcarys, and yet it seemed the two kings had adopted their Targaryen counterparts, views and stance on Dorne and as such trade had been scarce for the past three years.
There were times like now, when he would sit and look over Sunspear, and he would curse his father and his sister. For one hundred and twenty years, Dorne had managed to reside with the Targaryens peacefully, but one foolish action by his father, and now they were paying the price for it a thousand fold. The people were beginning to starve and were becoming restless and angry, and Olyvar knew not how to calm them and bring them hope, he had never been meant to be Prince of Dorne. It was his sister, Mariah, beautiful, strong and proud Mariah who was supposed to be Princess of Dorne and rule over the people. His sister had been beloved of the people both in Sunspear and the rest of Dorne, she had been smart and glib of tongue, if a little rash, it was that rashness that had cost her, her life. The fever had come to her from foolish sailor from Westeros she had slept with. Olyvar, the spare, the son who was nowhere near as handsome as his twin brother Trystane, nor as strong as he was, he had not even grown up in Sunspear, being sent to foster in Starfall when he was but a child. There were times when it all became too much for him, and now was one of those times.
The sound of the door to his room opening brought Olyvar away from his dark thoughts. He was unsurprised to see his brother Prince Trystane standing in the doorway. His brother was tall and broad shouldered with a mop of dark brown hair, and eyes that always shone with mischief. Every maiden's fantasy, Olyvar himself had grown up being very jealous of his twin, but still he trusted no one half as much as he trusted his twin, perhaps that would be his downfall. "Brother, what brings you here?" Olyvar asked.
His brother snorted slightly then, and said. "You know full well what brings me here brother. Our uncle has spoken to me of what Lady Gargalen wrote you in her raven."
Olyvar sighed; the letter had not been pleasant. Lady Alayne Gargalen was a proud woman and one who had been horrified by his father's treachery, more so because she had not been included in it, he was not a fool, no matter what his bannermen thought of him. She had called him a craven, a coward, and not someone worthy bearing the title his ancestors had worn for thousands of years. "What of it brother? Let Lady Gargalen write what she wants. Words are wind."
His brother snarled at that. "They are not wind if she has insulted the Prince of Dorne, and her liege lord. She would do well to be reminded who it is that saved her family from the fever, when it still reigned here."
Olyvar sighs once more. "How I saved her family is one of the reasons why she writes so strongly now. Besides reminding her of her place, will only serve to driver her farther into Yronwood's arms. We cannot afford that Trystane you know that. No there must be something more she wants, the question is what?"
He did not need to look behind him to know that his brother's face would have contorted with disgust, always one to resort to the sword Trystane was, Olyvar supposed that was why their father, their sister and their mother and everyone else they had ever met had always preferred Trystane, to quiet and bookish Olyvar. Hell, even his own wife seemed to prefer his twin. "Why should we give them what they want brother? We should give them fire and steel, and show Dorne and the Targaryens that we will not bow to anyone but ourselves."
"Because," Olyvar began. "Serving them fire and steel, will bring war to Dorne, and that is when Matarys Targaryen shall invade Dorne, to take advantages of the chaos, your suggestion would create. And this is not the time of the conquest brother, Matarys Targaryen is not Aegon the Dragon, but he has more dragons than the Conqueror had, and those dragons he has are more battle hardened that the dragons that came from the conquest. I will not damn my people to death by dragon fire, if a peaceful solution can be found."
Olyvar heard his brother snort once more. "So you would do nothing brother? You are the Prince of Dorne; the commons still love our family, even if the nobles who have sided with Yronwood do not. Starfall and others will support us, if you called the banners and declared war on the Yronwoods. It would show them how strong we truly are."
Olyvar sighed once more. "It would, but it would cost many lives. Lives that would be better spent tilling our fields, growing food and sailing the seas. Matarys Targaryen will know that he cannot keep the embargo going for ever; eventually he will have to lift it and concede that there is sense in trading with us. Besides, he hungers for glory Matarys Targaryen does. He grew up in the shadow of his father's impressive reputation during the Dance and the various rebellions that occurred. Matarys himself fought against the rebel Stormlords, and against the Slaver cities and the Pirate King. But according to what our uncle has told me, he hungers to bring Dorne into Westeros, to 'finish' the work the Conqueror started. He has fought battles, but never as commander. We know how to bring dragons down, but we will need to be united to do so, waging a civil war will not achieve that."
Trystane is silent for a moment, thankfully for Olyvar, and then he says softly. "So you will do nothing then? You will sit on your hands whilst your lords plot treason, and the dragons eye our home?"
"Come stand next to my chair brother," Olyvar says, once his brother stands next to his chair, Olyvar speaks once more. "What do you see out of the window brother?"
His brother sighs, and says in an almost bored voice. "People, and the sea, and buildings brother. Why what else am I to see?"
Olyvar says nothing and then, speaks slowly so the full force of his message is not lost on his brother. "Exactly, that is what you see, that is what the lords of Dorne see, that is what the Targaryens would see where they to come here. What I see are the people and the lives of the people, whom I rule over. House Martell swore a vow, to protect the people of Dorne all those years ago when our ancestors took the throne of the sun. I will not break that vow, not when our father's actions or our sister's actions threatened to do just that all those years ago. When the lords of our realm write and threaten treason, let them. They will not do anything until Yronwood does something, and the man is all talk and no action. I will not endanger the safety of my people, simply because a few of my lords are unhappy. Let them come to Sunspear if they are so unhappy, and lay their grievances before me, and then I will deal with them, not before. So you see brother, you and everyone else might see just people and buildings, but I see the whole of Dorne, and what it stands for, and as such I must act in a manner that will benefit Dorne. I will not let her people bleed needlessly."
His brother says nothing after that, and they stand for a long time simply staring out of the window into the city below them, watching and listening as the city hums with activity and for a moment Olyvar can almost imagine that he is back to when he was a child, and all was right with the world. But then there is a knock at the door, and the image is broken. "Come in." Olyvar calls, and when he hears his brother groan, he knows that their uncle has entered the room and with him most likely will be Septon Merribald, the man sent from Oldtown to ensure that Dorne did not retreat to the gods of the Rhoynar when the wars of religion occurred in Westeros.
"My princes." Ser Cadance Martell said his voice smoky. Their uncle was a good looking man, tall and strong with a crop of black hair and black eyes, he looked like a younger version of their father, something that often meant Olyvar would not look at his uncle when he spoke to him.
"Uncle, Septon Merribald, come in and tell me what you would say." Olyvar said, still facing the window, it would be easier for them all if he could simply look out the window for this conversation, he did not want anyone else knowing of what ailed him.
His uncle as ever knows to remain behind the chair, but close enough that Olyvar can hear him. "Septon Merribald has come to bring tidings from the sept in Sunspear as well as in Stony Shore."
Septon Merribald, a fat and balding man of a nervous disposition speaks then. "I have my prince, brought news of the gravest sought. Septon Morren wrote to me, to inform me that Lady Gargalen has burnt the sept in Stony Shore, and has proclaimed that House Gargalen and its people shall follow the ways of the Rhoynar from now on. In Sunspear, the people continue to be pious and devout, though some say you mean to convert to the Old Gods."
Olyvar sighs slightly and then says. "And what is it you would have of me Septon? Lady Gargalen is free to do as she wishes. The Gargalens have always been proud of the fact that they embraced Rhoynar culture earlier than some of the other houses in Dorne. Would you have me censure her, as I would Maron or Myriah?"
"Surely some form of censure would be welcome my prince. After all Lady Gargalen has grown bold in her disputes with you, and such a thing could prompt Lord Yronwood into doing something similar." Olyvar hears his uncle say, a reproach in his voice.
"Lady Gargalen, will do as she pleases whether I offer her censure or not nuncle. As she did during father's time, so she will continue to do during my reign. No I shall let the matter pass, but let it be known that should she seek to trade with other noble families who follow the seven, then she shall find their keeps and towns locked and barred to her. She shall never trade within Dorne again." Olyvar says fiercely, he has had enough of the old crone, what father ever saw in her, he will never know, and once more the anger at his father blooms.
"Yes my prince." Both the septon and his uncle say. "I will take my leave my prince, and write to Oldtown and the High Septon." Merribald says. Olyvar nods his head in acceptance.
Once the septon has gone, Olyvar waits and sure enough his uncle speaks, his voice laced with worry. "Is the pain worse Olyvar? Do you need me to get Maester Borros?" He continues to fret like an old maid, and Olyvar feels his anger boil up once more, forever to live in the shadow of his brothers and sister and cousins, never good enough because of something that happened because of his father's foolishness.
"Enough uncle. I am not a child anymore. I do not need people fussing over me. No, now tell me news of my kingdom. Is the faith secure in their knowledge of our loyalty to them?" Olyvar says his voice sharp.
"Yes my prince, they are secure in their knowledge of our loyalty. The High Septon has sent word, that should we need it he can send knights to aid our cause." Cadance Martell says.
Olyvar does not turn round but he lets his disbelief enter his voice when he says. "And what knights would these be uncle? The faith militant was disbanded after the last Tarling war. The High Septon is a scared old woman, as are most of the most devout; Westeros follows the Old Gods now, and is better for it. No, the man offered us empty promises."
"There is also news from Vulture's Roost. Ser Gorgon Sand has written that the marcher lords seem to be mobilising their men, for what he knows not, but it seems they are mustering in great numbers. Lord Laenor Baratheon himself came to oversee their mobilization." Cadance says.
Olyvar feels himself tense at that, out of the corner of his eye he sees his brother tense as well. "Very well, tell Ser Gorgon to have the men at Vulture's Roost alert for any movement from the Marcher Lords. And write to Blackmont and High Hermitage, and tell them to prepare a defence of the Prince's Pass. Soon enough it will come to war, and we shall need to be ready. What do your sources report of the Tyrells and their actions?"
His uncle is silent for a moment and then he says. "My source within Highgarden reports that Lord Tyrell has called the banners, for what he knows not, but it is obviously a pre-emptive move waiting on orders from Matarys Targaryen. Soon enough they shall be marching to war."
"Marching south you mean. Very well, send word to Kingsgrave as well as to Skyreach, tell them to mobilise their men. The Tyrells will not care what word their king gives them, they shall want blood for what father did. It seems the dragons are coming south once more." Olyvar said, and he felt a chill run up his body then, war, why did it always come to war, when dirty secrets were unveiled?