"Welcome, Prince Oberyn," Gendry said, his voice steady as he watched the approaching rider. This was the first truly important visitor to Firegrass Manor, and Gendry knew this meeting could change everything.
Oberyn Martell rode a charcoal-black sand steed with a mane and tail like fire. The horse was slender and graceful, its endurance legendary. The rider seemed to merge with his mount, a vision of effortless elegance and deadly purpose. He wore a pale red silk robe over a tunic of layered copper scales that shimmered in the sun like a thousand new coins. A gilded helmet with a polished copper sun sat high on his head, and a round shield bearing the sun-and-spear of House Martell was strapped to his saddle.
"The Dornish have warriors as numerous as the sand," Gendry murmured to Handsome beside him, "but this one is peerless."
"The Wolf Commander's name strikes fear into the hearts of the Myrmen!" the prince called out as he dismounted. "How should I address you? Commander? Liberator? Butter-King? Iron King? I do not even know your name. Let me see your face."
The Red Viper removed his helmet. He had a long, melancholy face, with large, dark eyes like pools of oil beneath finely arched brows. His nose was sharp, and his glossy black hair was streaked with only a few strands of silver.
"A name is just a name," Gendry replied, his own face hidden behind his iron mask. "You may call me Warhammer. As for my appearance, I believe a man such as yourself is not so superficial." He bowed, then introduced his command staff. "This is Handsome, my quartermaster and advisor. Maester Qyburn, my physician. Dick the Fletch, my captain of archers. Longspear, my cavalry commander. Steel-Fist, my infantry commander. Black Billy, from the Summer Isles, who also commands archers. And Grey Wolf, my captain of the guard."
"You have traveled far, Prince," Gendry continued. "Please, come inside and rest."
"With pleasure," the Red Viper replied, and the two men walked side by side into the manor. Gendry knew the countless rumors about this man, of his skill with a spear and his even greater skill with poison.
"I was a sellsword once myself," Oberyn said conversationally. "Many years ago. You know I am a restless man. I attended the Citadel and forged six links of a maester's chain before growing bored. I fought in the Disputed Lands with the Second Sons, and later formed my own company. But I never had your courage, Commander, to overturn the very foundations of this land." He looked with genuine interest at the soldiers of the Free Army, former slaves now filled with a fierce new purpose.
"Circumstances are stronger than men, Prince," Gendry said. "If we had not been pushed to this, we would not have acted."
"This is a good place," the prince mused. "Chaos brings new life. I quite like it here. Many years ago, one of my own ancestors fled Essos to escape slavery." Gendry knew he spoke of the warrior-queen Nymeria, who had led her people to Dorne a thousand years before. "If I did not have matters in Westeros I could not abandon," the prince continued, "I would stay here longer."
"I heard you crushed the Brave Companions," Oberyn said as they ascended to the top of the manor's highest tower.
"A group of criminals and villains," Gendry confirmed. "They were cunning, but they shattered before true strength."
From the top of the tower, they could see for leagues across the Disputed Lands. "To make a long story short," the prince said, his tone suddenly serious, "I wish to discuss a partnership. This is not about Dorne and your little kingdom, but only about the Red Viper and you."
"You are very shrewd, Prince," Gendry said. Oberyn was known for his arrogance, but he was no fool. By acting as an individual, he could shield Dorne from any political fallout.
"I once thought only your Wolf Pack was reliable," the prince said, "but your Free Army is impressive. We can cooperate. I, too, wish to leverage a strong and powerful army." His voice grew cold. "I wonder if you have heard of a murder, a horrific one, that happened in King's Landing over a decade ago."
"I have," Gendry replied, his own voice hard. He knew the story well. Tywin Lannister's mad dogs, Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch, had butchered the Targaryen royal family.
"I am a patient man," the Red Viper said, "but I have waited year after year for justice."
"And what is the benefit to me, Prince?" Gendry asked coolly. "Your game of revenge is a dangerous one."
"Benefit?" Oberyn laughed, a sharp, mirthless sound. "You are surrounded by enemies, young man. The Three Daughters will not tolerate your expansion. Do you not need allies? Support? Dorne is arid, but our sand steeds, our spearmen, our red wine and spices—I think you will have need of them."
"I do," Gendry admitted. "In return, I can offer Myrish tapestries and firegrass. But it is a difficult thing you ask, to make an enemy of such a powerful man for the promise of your support."
"If the conditions are right, we might cooperate," Oberyn said. "I have waited a long time. I can wait a little longer. What else is it that you wish to obtain?"
"I want Myr," Gendry said, his voice flat and certain. "I want the Three Daughters. I want all of Essos."
The Red Viper stared at him for a long moment, then burst out laughing. "A madman! Truly, a madman. Perhaps only a young madman is a suitable partner for me. Your tone is very like another man I once knew, who overturned a kingdom for a mistaken love. You two have some similarities, you know. Both indestructible, and both with a fondness for warhammers."
"You are overthinking it, Prince," Gendry said.
"Perhaps," Oberyn replied, a sly look in his dark eyes. "And the lion's children… it is hard to say, isn't it?" He looked at Gendry. "You are strong enough. There is potential for cooperation."