NOVEL NEXT Chapter 49: The Sand Snakes
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“The Pretender will be here soon. We must decide how we are going to deal with him.”
“We should never have let him bring his armies into Dorne in the first place. Dorne has fought off Targaryens and their dragons before, but now we’ve invited Dothraki, Unsullied, Northmen and Reachmen to our doorstep. And for what? Don’t tell me we’re going to bend the knee.”
“It would spit in the face of everything we’ve done to do so. But matching the Pretender army to army was never an option. Perhaps a more… subtle approach is in order?”
“Girls, please. I’m sure that your cousin has her own ideas for how we are to move forward. My beloved, your father, will be avenged. Of this I am certain.”
All eyes turn towards her, and Princess Arianne Nymeros Martell straightens up, not quite stiffening as the other four women in the room, her so-called ‘Council’, all await her opinion. Mostly so they can take issue with her thoughts, no doubt.
From the outside looking in, Arianne imagined it would appear like she had it all. Not only was she the seemingly undisputed ruler of Dorne, having ‘inherited’ from her father and becoming the ruling Princess of Dorne, but she was also a great beauty in her own right. She had power and looks alike and could command thousands of men to do her bidding at the drop of a hat.
Unlike many of the other political forces in the whole of Westeros, she also had no desire for that idiotic throne of swords, nor did she have any inclination of tangling with the Faith Militant. All reports pointed to the followers of the Seven all but going crazy, and while they paid lip service to the religion down in Dorne, it had never been all that important to them, truth be told.
Arianne had no misconceptions, based on the Faith Militant’s single-minded, over-zealous pursuit of Margaery Tyrell, that if they’d gotten their way in the Reach, they would have eventually made for Dorne to put an end to what ‘debauchery’ they deemed happening here. Arianne would have liked to see them try, in all honesty… unlike the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, Dorne was strong, even with the loss of its ruling Prince and her Uncle, the Red Viper.
Dorne was as strong as ever… at least on the surface. Beneath the surface, however, was another story entirely.
Arianne’s grasp on both her seat and her people was tenuous at best, and it was all a result of these four women sitting around her. Ellaria Sand, her Uncle’s former Paramour… and Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene Sand, her Uncle’s three eldest daughters. The trio made up the oldest and most trained members of the Sand Snakes, the name Oberyn’s bastard get had taken for themselves in a bid to reclaim the word ‘Sand’ for their own.
Arianne had never thought less of her bastard cousins for their parentage, to be clear. She had never believed them necessarily lesser than her, merely because they were born out of wedlock across several different mothers. No, she considered them lesser than her because they were born to her Uncle and she to her father. She was the heiress to Dorne, the one who would take over when Doran was gone. Uncle Oberyn had never even wanted to be part of the line of succession from what she knew, and his bastard daughters certainly wouldn’t be.
So then, why did it feel like Arianne was a prisoner more than a ruler, these days? Why did she feel trapped between her cousins and the oncoming tidal wave threatening to drown Dorne in blood?
Truly, the Princess understood Ellaria and the Sand Snakes’ concerns. She did. This Targaryen King had started life as a bastard just like them. Assumed the bastard son of Eddard Stark, he had begun life as Jon Snow. Raised in the North, he had then made his way to Essos, where everything had changed. The Iron Bank themselves had provided the proof that not only established Jon Snow as the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, but also evidence that made it clear Rhaegar had set aside Elia Martell as his wife and remarried Lyanna before the boy was born.
This made him a trueborn Targaryen, and in fact gave him the rightful claim to the Iron Throne… if it was true. Needless to say, the Sand Snakes were loathe to accept it, and Ellaria was all too willing to stoke their impassioned flames, if it kept them angry and furious like she was.
Uncle Oberyn had never made secret his love for Arianne’s dearly departed Aunt. The deaths of Elia Martell and her two children had been not just a tragedy, but a horrific crime against House Martell. Oberyn had never forgiven any of the parties involved, from the Lannisters who ordered the deed, to the Baratheons and Starks for all but condoning it by rewarding the Lannisters after the fact.
Ellaria Sand, meanwhile, was happy to back them up, as it kept their anger focused in the right direction… that is, the same direction as her own. Ellaria did not hold the same love in her heart for Elia’s memory that they did, but her Uncle’s old Paramour HAD loved Oberyn with all her soul, and his death at the hands of the Mountain had been infuriating for them all.
When Arianne’s own father Doran had refused to do anything, she had leapt at the chance to depose him alongside Ellaria and the Sand Snakes. Her presence and pedigree offered a degree of legitimacy to their hostile takeover. She was always destined to become the ruling Princess of Dorne, after all.
However, she had never agreed to some of the things that had happened afterwards. Her father had been deposed, yes, and quietly set aside… and that should have been it. His poisoning… that, Arianne had never condoned. And though Tyene Sand would swear up and down that she did not play a part in it, Arianne did not think she would ever believe her.
Alas, there wasn’t really anywhere else that the Princess could turn to. She was trapped in a gilded cage of her own making. Oh, certainly she was the ruler of Dorne. She was in charge, and people listened when she gave orders. They listened perhaps a little too well. For a while now, Arianne had begun to wonder what would happen if she gave the wrong order. If she gave an order that the remaining Lords of Dorne could not accept, would they not rise up against her and replace her with someone among them… and be right to do so?
On the other hand, if she pushed back too much against Ellaria and the elder Sand Snakes, would she find herself poisoned at one of her meals, or waking up in the dead of the night to a knife between her ribs?
It was a tight rope, the Princess of Dorne found herself walking. And now the Targaryen King, or as her cousins called him, the ‘Pretender’ threatened to upset everything with his visit. He was powerful and growing more powerful by the day. He was strong and threatened everything Arianne held dear. But she didn’t think killing him was the answer.
Unfortunately, she knew that wasn’t what her so-called ‘council’ wanted to hear. Ellaria might pretend to be aloof, but with the Sand Snakes baying for the man’s blood, Arianne knew which was her Uncle’s Paramour would ultimately fall.
And yet… and yet…
“I do not think provoking him is the best option. His armies are vast, his influence expansive, and his reach… well, his reach has brought him all the way from the North’s vaunted Wall down to us here in Dorne in just a few short months. I believe caution is our best path forward, cousins, Lady Sand.”
Giving Ellaria that title, especially in private, was such a small thing for Arianne to do, and it always served to please the older woman. But this time, she can tell her carefully considered words are not finding purchase in the four in front of her. Obara’s eyes narrow and she scoffs.
“Caution? Pah! Dorne has never fully bent the knee! It is why you are still a Princess, and not a Lady! You would have us bend the knee to the Pretender now? To what end?”
Looking the most brutal of the Sand Snakes directly in the eye, Arianne tries not to let any of her fear for Obara’s physical strength show on her face. At the same time, she’s careful not to give too challenging of a gaze towards the bull-like woman, lest she decide to charge.
“To the only end that matters. Our survival. You said it yourself, Obara. He has united Northmen and Reachmen alike under him. Westeros has seen untold death and destruction in the last few years, and now this man comes to our lands with fresh armies and the backing of the Iron Bank. Whether he is truly a pretender or not, he is dangerous… and I believe we would be best served to placate him.”
There’s a pause as Arianne throws Obara’s words back in her face. Then, the martial woman’s face scrunches up in anger, and she opens her mouth to speak, only for Nymeria to place a hand on her arm and silence her.
“Perhaps the Princess is right. Perhaps it is time to let bygones be bygones. Pretender though he might be, his power and influence are indisputable. If he can offer us all a brighter future… who are we to toss that aside?”
The last thing Arianne expected was for Nymeria of all people to take her side. The closest in personality to their father, Nymeria Sand has always been a cunning, observant, and calculating character. So then… what’s her game, here? Before Arianne can even begin to suss that out, Nymeria gives her a smile and nod.
“I’m sure there is much to do to get ready for the Pretender’s arrival, your highness. Do not let us keep you. And of course, if there’s anything you would require from us, please do not hesitate to ask.”
Dismissed from her own council meeting. How hilariously sad. Still, Nymeria isn’t wrong. Rising to her feet, Arianne holds her head high, considering some parting words. Ah, to hell with it.
“All I ask of you is to please consider NOT addressing him as the ‘Pretender’ while he is here. Whether in his presence or anyone else’s. We know not what ears will be floating about.”
Not waiting for a response, the Princess of Dorne leaves the room, not quite fleeing. As she goes, she wonders if she’s finally stepped over the line with the Sand Snakes and her Uncle’s Paramour. Probably. Almost certainly, even. Still, not even they would be so foolish as to make a move while the Targaryen King was visiting, right? And so, she should have at least until his departure to make her preparations. And if she wanted to continue living, if she wanted to continue ruling… she would have to make those preparations ironclad.
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Dorne. Had there ever been a more wretched hive of scum and villainy? Alright, so setting aside the ancient bad blood that his Targaryen Ancestors had with the only Unconquered Kingdom of Westeros, Jon supposed that was probably a little unfair of him to say.
Still, having arrived in Sunspear, he could see precisely how things had gotten to where they were in Dorne. The place was teetering on the edge of all out civil war, with the Dornish Lords all growing more and more dissatisfied with the ruling Princess, Arianne Martell. And yet, thanks to his divinity, Jon could tell how in over her head Arianne was. She wasn’t a bad person… she just hadn’t exactly surrounded herself with good influences.
The Sand Snakes and Ellaria Sand also weren’t necessarily bad people, at least originally. But the death of Oberyn Martell had brought out the worst in them, and the taste of power that the four women had gotten from the part they’d played in deposing Arianne’s father for her had clearly gone to their heads.
They were convinced at this point that they knew best, and more than that, that the only way for them to complete their vengeance against House Lannister was to continue to pick fights with just about everyone who so much as looked at them funny.
Jon and his entourage received a truly Kingly welcome to Sunspear, at least on the surface. His armies were allowed to camp outside of the gates, and he and his family were accepted at the palace as honored guests. Rather than get straight into negotiations, there had been feasting and merriment alike. After all, unlike Sansa or Margaery, Arianne didn’t necessarily need anything overt from him. So, they had no need to rush things.
That didn’t mean there weren’t situations going on behind the scenes, however. Situations that Jon, thanks to his divine senses, was more than capable of gleaning. Princess Martell had gone so far as to tell the Sand Snakes that her goal was to placate him and ultimately bend the knee in an effort to keep Dorne’s independence intact. It was, frankly, the wisest move she could have made, the smartest path forward in his somewhat biased opinion.
But of course, the Sand Snakes couldn’t accept that. They saw him as a pretender, as a fake, and as an insult to their Aunt’s memory, all wrapped up in one. And so, behind the Princess’ back, they’d decided to take matters into their own hands.
Jon wasn’t too concerned, if he was being honest. Their plans were actually rather simple. They were going to poison both him and his dragons and use those deaths to force Arianne into turning on the rest of his armies. By removing him and his dragons from the equation, they thought it would be child’s play for Dorne to carry the day. They were wrong, of course. Not only would Daenerys have stepped up, but Jon’s armies still outnumbered Dorne’s forces by about five to one and were literally right outside the city at that.
Still, it didn’t really matter, because Jon was immune to the poisons, they intended to use on him, and as the God of Dragons, conveying that same immunity to his dragons was equally simple.
Really, as the day winds down and the Sand Snakes prepare to put their plans into motion, all that’s left for Jon to decide is how much rope he wants to give them to hang themselves with. He could nip it in the bud before they even got started, but knowing their true natures and thus their plans, Jon could also see some value in letting things play out as they intended for them to, until the point at which it became obvious the poison was having no effect.
Could be fun, to see just how far they were willing to go…
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