Viserys Targaryen and Oberyn Martell—the Dragon and the Red Viper—stared at each other across the gap.
Oberyn sat astride his horse alone amidst the reeds of the wildlands, appearing as suddenly as a ghost. The riverbank was narrow enough that they could see each other clearly.
Viserys raised an eyebrow slightly. Typical Dornishman, he thought. Always late.
But Viserys couldn't really complain. Back in the day, Dorne, with its meager population, had practically emptied its reserves to field ten thousand spearmen for the royal cause. They had done their duty and then some.
The Dornish way of war favored light cavalry harassment and feigned retreats, using the scorching heat and treacherous terrain of their homeland to bleed invaders dry. Sending Dornishmen to charge headlong into heavy armored knights on the open plains of the Trident was suicidal—fighting against the meta, as it were.
The crushing defeat at the Trident had severely weakened Dorne, turning Prince Doran into a defeatist strategist, overly cautious at every turn.
Still, for Rhaenys's sake, Viserys had to offer hospitality.
As for the proposed marriage alliance with Arianne Martell... Viserys felt nothing. Arianne was certainly beautiful, but her lifestyle was a bit too... loose for his taste. Viserys, admittedly superficial when it came to looks, had been surrounded by unparalleled beauties—the Black Pearl, and to a lesser extent, women like Moonshadow, the Daughter of Dusk, and the Nightingale.
Arianne's beauty was a tier below, and she was too short.
Regarding the alliance with Dorne, they were already bound by blood through Rhaenys. A marriage was hardly necessary to seal the deal.
The Red Viper was tall, slender, and elegant, moving as if he and his mount were one beast.
His high, gilded helm was adorned with a copper sun on the brow. Behind his saddle hung a round shield, polished to a mirror sheen and emblazoned with the golden spear piercing a red sun—the sigil of House Martell.
Strapped to his saddle were bundles of Dornish throwing spears and a double-curved Dornish recurve bow.
The Red Viper, in turn, studied the handsome youth in the straw hat. Viserys was tall and lithe, with silver hair and violet eyes—a beauty that seemed almost inhuman.
He wore a simple black Han-style tunic embroidered with a large red three-headed dragon, with a longsword and dagger at his waist.
The silver-haired boy didn't seem constrained by formality; instead, he exuded a martial, uninhibited air. He needed no embellishments. Just standing there, he radiated kingly authority, a natural charisma born of absolute self-belief.
"Is this truly the Viserys I knew?" The Red Viper felt a moment of disorientation. When he had last seen Viserys, the boy had been utterly unremarkable, save for his looks.
Truth be told, the Dornish had never cared much for Viserys. The Mad King's relationship with Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia had been toxic. Aerys had even tried to send men to Volantis to find a bride of "pure, noble Valyrian blood" for Rhaegar, slighting Elia.
The court knew Aerys had harbored thoughts of disinheriting Rhaegar in favor of his younger son. And that younger son, Viserys, had been a spoiled, arrogant brat in the Red Keep.
Oberyn never expected that after the death of Ser Willem Darry, this same Viserys would undergo such a transformation—shedding the skin of the Mad King's prickly son to reveal the soul of a Conqueror.
While the Red Viper was still searching for words, Viserys spoke first.
"Boatman, bring us to shore. My honored guest has arrived," Viserys commanded. "Garin, take the fleet back to Viserys Fort. I wish to speak with the Prince alone."
"At once, Your Grace!"
Viserys stepped off the boat and faced the Red Viper.
The towering knight Aggo shadowed Viserys like a moving mountain.
"Dornishmen are as numerous as sand, but this one alone is worth the world," Viserys said, clapping his hands in admiration as he removed his straw hat.
"My brother, Prince Doran, is unwell and unable to travel," Oberyn said, removing his helm.
He had a long, melancholy face, with large eyes as black and shiny as pools of oil beneath thin, arched brows. His nose and forehead were sharp, and his lustrous black hair was just beginning to show streaks of silver.
The Red Viper, like Rhaenys, was a true "Salty Dornishman."
"Your hair?" Oberyn asked curiously. He noticed Viserys wore his silver hair cropped short, unlike the long flowing locks favored by most nobles.
In Westerosi history, only one man had famously favored short hair: Aegon the Conqueror.
"I prefer it short. It's easier to manage," Viserys replied.
"King Viserys has been crowned once more, and I am late to the party," Oberyn said, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. While Viserys was conquering lands in the East on horseback, Dorne had been sitting on its hands, waiting.
Oberyn had wanted to move sooner, but he was bound by Doran's orders. He had warned Doran repeatedly that Viserys's power was growing too fast—if they waited too long, Dorne would miss the boat entirely. only then did Doran finally relent, giving Oberyn strict instructions to travel in secret.
Doran Martell was a man who played the long game to a fault—thinking ten steps ahead but taking none. His caution paralyzed his execution. Even his pawns had their own agendas.
If Viserys had remained a wandering beggar, he would never have seen a single golden dragon from Dorne.
"There is an old saying from the ancient Yi Ti: 'A good meal is never afraid of being late,'" Viserys said with a faint smile. "To have a great hero like Prince Oberyn visit me fills me with comfort."
Oberyn nodded, marveling at how time changed a man. In just a few years, Viserys had become not only a warrior but a man of wisdom and poise.
"That is my navy. What do you think?" Viserys gestured to the flotilla of small boats drifting away on the river.
"Quite impressive. It reminds me of the Orphans of the Greenblood," Oberyn said, watching the boats recede.
Oberyn had wondered how far Viserys's expansion had truly gone. Now he saw that Viserys had not only secured Andalos but had begun absorbing the remnants of the Rhoynar. Such a rapid rise couldn't be explained by luck alone. Viserys possessed genuine capability and political acumen.
As they spoke, the sound of hoofbeats approached again. Rhaenys Targaryen arrived with a retinue of knights, bringing Viserys's black stallion and a mount for Aggo.
"Your Grace!" Rhaenys bowed to Viserys.
She wore a black studded leather vest, looking every bit the warrior princess. Her horsemanship had improved vastly; she sat her horse as if born to the saddle.
Viserys affectionately ruffled her thick black hair.
The Red Viper watched in silence.
"Come, let us ride and talk," Viserys said to Oberyn.
The group spurred their horses, galloping toward Viserys Fort.
"Prince Oberyn, traveling so far... are you not afraid of the spiders in Sunspear?" Viserys asked as they rode.
Oberyn shook his head. "Though the Spider's webs are everywhere, a viper can always find a small crack to slip through. Besides, the Iron Throne has little mind to watch us closely right now. The news of the Kingdom of Andalos has caused quite a stir in King's Landing."
"I never expected Prince Doran to send his right hand as an envoy," Viserys remarked. It was an exaggeration, but it fit the reality of Dorne.
Prince Doran, crippled by gout, rarely left the Water Gardens, yet his administration was precise. The power structure of Sunspear was a pyramid, but the actual enforcer of Dorne's will was often the Red Viper.
Doran's cousin, Ser Manfrey Martell, served as castellan; the blind and elderly Ricasso was the seneschal; the Alyse Ladybright served as Lord Treasurer. The Sheriff kept order in the Shadow City, the Justicar handled arbitration, and Maester Miles handled correspondence that didn't require the Prince's personal attention.
Above them all, Doran placed Oberyn. Meanwhile, the heir, Arianne, was left with nothing to do but drink and entertain guests. With such a structure, Arianne's resentment and paranoia were practically inevitable.
"This is my sincerity. Being Doran's right hand has not brought me any closer to the vengeance I seek. I have waited long enough. Now, I have a new idea... perhaps I should see the new King's realm for myself," Oberyn said with a sigh.
The sun shone on the Upper Rhoyne, casting a golden light on the muddy road and the green fields as they rode.