Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 83: A Small Man Can Cast a Large Shadow

YEAR 302 AC

—At King's Landing—

Red Keep — Small Council chambers...

Within the Small Council chamber, Daveth stood at the head of the seat—having decided to restore order and return holding meetings in its original adjacent room instead of taking place in the Tower of the Hand; an act thereby reasserting his display of dominance following the death of his late grandfather Tywin Lannister. Returning as head of the council, today's meeting was bound to be busy. And personally, Daveth was more than eager to get back to work. Namedays, the birth of his twins... he felt somewhat restless during this last month. As he was waiting for his advisors to arrive, the Young Stag was taking a brief moment to look over a letter Olyvar Frey delivered to him. The wax seal bore the sigil of House Martell, a yellow spear piercing a red sun. Once breaking the seal, Daveth read the letter.

"To the Oathkeeper Daveth of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,

As a gesture of good faith in light of the fulfilled promises made to House Martell, we hereby invite you to Sunspear to discuss formal peace talks between Dorne and the Iron Throne. One of our own—Prince Oberyn—has gone so far as to suggest on having us meet you in-person. Had it been someone else, I might have been more skeptical. But my brother told me about the risks you took and how you saved his life during the Trial by Seven against Gregor Clegane the Mountain.

When Oberyn returned to Sunspear with the Mountain's head and told us what had happened, it served to confirm your earlier talk of reconciliation with Dorne was in fact a genuine one. It will not bring back our sister Elia or her children, but perhaps knowing that justice was served could bring us closure. As such, I'm inclined to agree with my brother on this one. If you are indeed serious about establishing an everlasting peace with us, then we appeal to your judge of character. Come to Dorne so as to make it official.

Your sister Princess Myrcella has also extended an appeal to you, one sibling to another. She grows more anxious to see you again after spending many years apart.

Signed,
Doran Martell · Prince of Dorne, Lord of Sunspear"

Daveth examined the last part repeatedly. This was it; a formal invitation to the principality of Dorne, to properly mend the bridge between the Iron Throne and the Dornish houses. Years of planning and each action carrying serious risks with it, the time had actually come. And Myrcella... the thought of seeing his sister again brought a small smile to his face, one that Daveth quickly brushed off as soon as he saw Pycelle, Varys, Tyrion, Barristan and Randyll arrive in the Small Council chambers. Much to their surprise, the royal councilors were joined by Mace Tyrell—Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Reach and Warden of the South.

"You're late," he spoke, motioning for them to sit down.

As they each took their seats, Varys shuffled his arms in his sleeves. "We apologize for the delay, Your Grace. But I'm afraid that we were caught unaware that the meeting room was to be relocated here instead of the Tower of the Hand."

"You could have sent us notice," Randyll seconded.

Daveth remained unmoved. "True, but time is a luxury we cannot afford even during times of peace."

Standing between Varys and Randyll, Mace looked at the Young Stag. "Your Grace, it's a great honor to have been granted a seat on this council. I—"