Chapter 39: Brother to Brother

As weeks went by, the Dornish went to prepare. In case of War breaking out, The Daynes waited in the western front of the Torentines, the Jordaynes were preparing the Dornish fleet in Tor, the Yronwoods and Wyls waited in the Boneway to advance to the Stormlands, while Martells, Qorgyles, and Ullers were guarding the Prince’s Pass, waiting for the two sides’ delegations to come. 

 

While the Martells were in Prince’s Pass, they decided that the tower would be their base of operation. They started to arrange plans in case of an attack with the Ullers and the Qorgyles, while also sending messages to the other fronts, giving them plans of attack if where is really necessary.

 

In a tent near the tower of joy, Prince Oberyn was doing his morning routine, fucking a common whore that was brought for entertainment for the army. Suddenly, the tent’s entrance opened, and Morian entered the tent, not even caring about the intimacy that was going on inside the place.

 

Morian looked serious, he was holding a piece of paper, a message from Sunspear. Oberyn quickly dismissed the whore, and sat up from the bed, while casually dressing himself.

 

“So brother. What brings you here?” Oberyn grumbled. “It must be important for you to disturb my routines.”

 

Morian looked at Oberyn dead in the eyes. “Ashara has given birth. A son.”

 

“Well, congratulations then,” said Oberyn sarcastically. “But if you want some fatherly tips, don’t ask me, ask Doran.”

 

Morian could only hum in acknowledgement, but he didn’t move. “I want to talk about something else.”

 

“What is it?” said Oberyn, finally getting up to get his shirt.

 

“It’s time for you to do your duty as Prince,” said Morian calmly, making Oberyn frown.

 

“Meaning?”

 

“You need to wed someone, brother.”

 

“You know who I am brother,” said Oberyn. “I would sooner break her heart because of my countless bastards rather than consummating the marriage. But I’ll listen first, who is the bride?”

 

Morian didn’t say anything, instead, he just looked outside of the tent, where the tower of joy stood proudly.

 

Oberyn’s eyes widened at the signal. “Her? I don’t understand? What in god's name are you thinking?”

 

“You know how they treated infidelity, Oberyn.” said Morian calmly. “But last I heard, you don’t mind that sort of thing.”

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“Well I have experienced it… being the ones who’s doing the infidelity.” Oberyn chuckled. “But, even I think this thought of yours is maddening. It’s unnecessary.”

 

“If the storm lord heard about what really happened here. He’ll either forgive her, or be disgusted.” said Morian. “Such as the thoughts of men.”

 

“Hm, yeah, well, the northern lords are known for their double standards.” Oberyn hummed. “Continue.”

 

“That means, if the storm lord is disgusted, the north has an available bride to be taken. Now I’m willing to bet that no one outside of Dorne would be willing to marry her after what she’s done.”

 

“Yes, I know that brother, but I still don’t know what you are thinking.” Oberyn pointed out. “We have an unmatched army with never before seen weapons of mass destruction, we could crush the entirety of Westeros easily like when Aegon did with his Dragons.”

 

“But unlike Dragons, brother, technology can be copied.” Morian answered. “If war breaks out, it’s only a matter of time before our weapons and technologies spread throughout Westeros, or even Essos.”

 

“Your point being?”

 

“If that ever happens, and the six kingdoms of Westeros copied our technology, what would be our fate?”

 

“We’re royally fucked.” Oberyn chuckled.

 

“Exactly.” Morian nodded. “So we need to split them apart, from seven, to six. From six, to five. And so on, and so forth.”

 

“Quite an ambitious plan you have there brother.” Oberyn commented darkly.

 

“Brother, you might think of me as mad or insane, but think about it. While we’re still alive, we might not see it, but the fates of our children, and our grandchildren…”

 

Oberyn could only sigh. He patted Morian’s back and spoke fondly. “Sometimes, I am scared of you brother. If there’s a vote on who shall be the ruling prince, I would vote for you, and Doran will probably do that too.”

 

Oberyn stood from where he seated and looked outside, towards the tower of joy. “Well, your plans depend on if the storm lord forgives her or not. So I shall wait for his reaction.”

 

Morian could only smile and nodded. “Indeed, brother.”

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