A/N: It has come to my attention that I began to misspell Willas' name, so I have went back and fix that. Thank you to alec-potter and BloodRaven46 for telling me about it.
Draedon POV
Ruby is becoming more anxious by the day sitting on this ship. She needs to run and hunt something, all she has eaten for this past week is fish, and she is not happy with it. I have had to sparingly feed her what food was brought onto the ship for her. I am half tempted to kill one of the sailors for her, but that would set a bad precedent. I am so glad that we are close to our destination. We should be boarding the dock on this day, and I am so happy for this trip to be done, but the hard part comes next.
I rub Ruby down her spine as she eats the last of the chicken we brought. The feeling of her soft fur running between my fingers brings a smile to my face. I do not know what I would do without her by my side anymore. She begins to purr as continue my petting of my faithful friend.
I enjoy feeling her fur, but I pet her for a rather selfish reason. Running my hands over Ruby eases the tension in my head. It is the only relief I have from the ache that came with being King. I wonder if father had to deal with it when he ruled.
A knock on the cabin door takes my attention away from Ruby. "My King, we are close to docking." Ser Balon's thick words shock me.
That was quicker than I had anticipated the trip to be. I suppose I will just have to make do with the preparation I have already done.
"How did our gift handle the travel?" I ask through the door.
"Still unbroken, last time I checked, Your Grace." The white cloak knight says.
I can only smile at his words. It is good that it is still in one piece, it should give a few moments of reprieve with my future hosts. I think they will enjoy it.
I look back over to the book that is open on the table that I occupy. One of many that I read on the sail here. Ten Thousand Ships says that Queen Nymeria sailed a fleet of ten thousand ships, a feat no one else can claim, and settled her people into Dorne. I do not know if it is true, but I sincerely hope it is not.
It would mean, that the Rhoynar people either commanded their citizens to build the utterly massive fleet. While impressive, and a truly devastating sight to behold, would have been pure torture on their followers. And the other option is that they stole the majority of their fleet, and that makes them no better than pirates, like Euron Greyjoy. I pity them, either way.
The royal fleet only contains a little over 200 ships. How do you compete against a fleet a ships that is fifty times bigger than your own fleet? I am glad the ships were burned, and that the dornish people never rebuilt them. I would hate to think about what would have happened to the Westerlands had Oberyn had that fleet when the Sacking of King's Landing happened years ago.
I shake my head of the thoughts as I try to continue reading my book, waiting as anxiously as my feline friend until we finally dock. After I finish the book of Nymeria, I place it on top of the stack on the table and grab the next one up.
The Conquest of Dorne by Daeron Targaryen, first of his name.
"Your Grace, we were not expecting you to make the trip here, especially now with your uncle rebelling against you." Prince Doran says from his wheeled chair. His family sitting around him on cushioned seats. "So what brings you to our sands?"
His brother has yet to take his eyes off of me or Ruby, like a viper waiting to strike his prey. Oberyn's daughters to his left, his paramour to his right. Being the bastard daughter of a Lord, she has the look of regality about her. She looks at me with a questioning gaze. Which I will easily take over how the infamous Sand Snakes are looking at me. I have never met them, and I can easily spot the distrust and the contempt that lingers in their eyes. I can not bring myself to look at them for too long.
Directly across from the Sand Snakes is two of Prince Doran's three children. His eldest daughter, and the heir to Sunspear and all of Dorne, and his youngest son, Trystane. A young boy, with straight black hair. When he grows and begins to fill out, I have no doubt that bedwarmers will be easy to come by for him. His elder son is no where to be seen, he must be a squire or maybe even being fostered somewhere.
Clutching my hands together behind my back, I speak. "I had to see whether these sands were still loyal to the throne, or if they have changed their loyalties."
I hear the scoff coming from Oberyn. His daughters shifting around in their seats, blowing the extra air from their mouths, in the same way as their father did.
Doran looks their way briefly, before turning back to me. "I can assure you, Your Grace, we have the same loyalties that we have had for years." He says in a soft voice. "I am sure you are tired from the journey here, I can have someone show you to a room, if you would like." He says with a reassuring smile on his face.
His smile should put me at ease, but it does the complete opposite. I am tempted to pull my sword from its sheathe and begin swinging at the people seated inside this room, but I am not some halfwit.
"That would be nice, Prince Doran. And if I had the time, I may have just left this conversation at that for tonight. But I do not have time, because, as you said earlier, I have a rebellion in the Reach that requires my immediate attention." I say easily.
"So, what is it you wish to discuss then?" He asks me with calculating eyes.
"The North and the Westerlands are fighting amongst themselves, that leaves the Stormlands as my army. And while I have complete faith in their abilities, when it comes to war, the side with the bigger army usually wins, and well, Renly has the bigger army." I say, staring at the older man.
"And you want Dornish spears at your back for this war?" Oberyn asks from his seat, surrounded by his army of daughters.
I turn to look at the infamous Red Viper. "Better with me than against me. And I know that even with Dorne, we would still be outnumbered, but hopefully, a war on two fronts would ruin them." I say with a nod.
"Your Grace, with respect, I am the protector of Dorne first, and loyal to the crown second. And sending my people to war does not seem like the wisest decision I can make." Doran pulls my attention back to him.
I sigh. Turning my head to look down at Ruby. I bend down and pet her giant head. "I understand that, but hopefully I can persuade you to change your mind." Prince Doran raises his brow at my words. "I know nothing of Dorne, this is my first experience in this Kingdom, and it will have to be a short trip for me. And since I do not know the people or the land, I do not know what would be best for Dorne." I turn to look the ruling Prince in his eyes. "So, if you would join in and help fight this rebellion, I would offer you a spot on the Small Council as an advisor. And, if you can not make the trip to King's Landing, you may send a proxy in your stead." I say calmly.
Oberyn laughs from his seat. "It is what you have always wanted, brother. A spot on the illustrious Small Council. That is a great reward for the lives of our army." His daughters laugh at his words, his paramour has a bright smile.
Rubbing Ruby the right way, makes her roar at the Dornish royalty. That silences their laughs, but makes the older girls grip their weapons. All of their eyes snap to my feline protector. In that moment, I notice the similarities with their eyes. Most share the same color, but all share the same shape. The shape of a viper.
"Do not think me naive because of my youth." I say to the now silent onlookers. Patting Ruby in a way to calm her, and pushing her to go lay by the door. Her steps eventually stop, and I hear the thud of her body laying on the ground. "I know what it is that you wish. Justice. Justice for the atrocities that happened to your sister and her children." That gets their attention, eyes staring at me.
"And you would give us that justice?" Prince Doran says, gaining my attention.
"I am not my father." I state simply.
I look back to Balon Swann, my only Kingsguard who accompanied me on the trip here, standing silently by the entrance of the room. I nod to him, and he nods back. Turning around, he grabs a strong deckhand, who came with us just for this moment, and they exit the room.
"Where are they going, Your Grace?" Prince Doran asks me.
"To get a gift that I brought for you. Whether or not you decide to join me against this rebellion, it is yours to do whatever you wish to do with it. I just hope that, if nothing else, it will at least keep you in Dorne, and not going against me." I say, surprise and confusion in the eyes of the Dornish family. "Remind me what happened to your niece that night." I request openly to either brother.
Doran answers me. "She was pulled from under her father's bed, and stabbed a half hundred times." His eyes show sorrow and rage as he speaks.
"And who stabbed her?" I ask, knowing the answer.
"Amory Lorch." Oberyn chirps in from his seat.
The door opens, and I turn to see Ser Balon and the deckhand walk back in holding a rather large chest. A chest that is big enough to hold a full grown man. Uncomfortably, but it would still hold them. After dropping the huge chest unceremoniously onto the ground, I turn towards the audience that is surrounding me.
"Tywin Lannister and Gregor Clegane are currently waging war against the North, while destroying the Riverlands in the process. But, after losing most of his calvary, Tywin ordered Amory Lorch to return back to Casterly Rock and collect more men." I look around to see that I have the Martells' full attention as I speak. "After having successfully collected the men, he traveled to Lannisport and began to drink. After drinking far too much, he entered a brothel, in search of a woman. After his fun, and even more drinking, he was last seen stumbling towards the docks of the city." I smile as I finish. Their eyes following me.
I walk behind the large chest, and unlock it. "I give you," I say as I open the lid and grab the bound and gagged man out, before throwing him down, "Amory Lorch."
When the body of the horrible man hits the ground, the sound echoes throughout my head. The dull throb in my head only intensifies as I realize that I sentenced this man to die a horrible death.
Oberyn stands from his seat, the elder Sand Snakes grab at their weapons, but do not draw them. The younger children sit silently, unmoving. But, Doran's reaction is the most surprising. He looks to the man, before turning back to stare at me. I expected anger, or excitement, not silence.
"What do you want for him?" He asks simply, his voice subdued as he speaks.
I shake my head. "You misunderstand. He is a gift for your family. Whether you fight with me, or not, he will stay here. The world thinks him dead, so that will help you." I look at Oberyn, who is almost ready to strike the man, and turn back to Doran. "He is to show you that I am not my father, that I am willing to help you get the justice you crave." I say firmly.
"What happens if we fight with you?" Doran asks me. Oberyn looks to me, waiting for my answer.
"If we win, at the end of Renly's Rebellion, you shall get Gregor Clegane, unless, of course, he should fall in battle." I respond. "But I must ask that before he is delivered to you, I get one day with him." I say.
"And what could you possibly want with him, Your Grace?" A husky voice asks from the opposite side of Doran.
I turn towards the voice, and fully view Arianne Martell for the first time. Her large dark eyes are the first thing I spot, I almost got lost in them. After forcefully breaking contact with her eyes, I barely manage to get past looking at her full lips. She is short, barely over five foot tall. Her hair is long, falling to the middle of her back in dark lustrous ringlets. I can easily see her large, round breasts that is being covered up by golden silk and lavish jewels. I wish she would have chosen different attire for this day, perhaps something more revealing. I shake myself out of the thoughts, before I do not have the strength to do so, and answer her.
"He is a popular man. I have already promised vengeance to another." My eyes look towards Ruby, who moves from her laying position. She stands and begins to wander towards me, rubbing her head across my legs when she reaches me.
The Princess of Dorne stares at me for a long moment, before smiling a dazzling smile at me. Father once told me that Dornish women have been trained in the sexual arts since birth. It was implemented into them for so long, that they can not stop it from happening, it is a natural process for them. Seeing Arianne just smile at me proves that theory. I have to turn away from the Dornish beauty before I begin wearing a blush.
"And, as I said earlier, there will be a spot on the Small Council will be for you." I say to Doran, who nods.
"And what about Tywin?" Oberyn asks.
I look towards the sharp eyed man. "For all of the man's faults, he is of my blood. And for that reason alone, he will not be a part of this deal as a prisoner." Oberyn continues to switch his stare between me and Lorch. "But, should you decide to move against Tywin and the Westerlands, I will not step in to stop you nor will I contribute to either side." Doran nods slowly. "I understand that this is a lot to think on, so I do not need an answer right now. But, I will be leaving in just a few days time though, so please decide quickly?" I almost beg of the gout-ladened ruler.
"We will discuss it as a family, and come to a decision before you board the ship to leave." Doran says to me. "But you and your companions must be tired, perhaps I should have someone show to some guest rooms?" He asks in calm voice.
I nod, gratefully. "That would be most appreciated, Prince Doran."
The ruling Prince of Dorne turns towards a hulking mass of a man. Areo Hotah, the captain of Sunspear's guard. A man with broad shoulders, and shaggy white hair. Sadly, I can not tell if it is his natural color, or if age is the reason.
"Areo, please escort King Draedon and his company to the rooms in the guest wing." The ruling Prince of Dorne says to the possibly old man.
Areo nods his head in understanding, he grabs his long axe, and begins moving towards the door. Petting Ruby, I gesture towards Ser Balon to follow, and we begin after the silent man. My feline companion silently trotting beside me as I exit the room full of Dorne's royal family, and a knight who will probably be in pain for the rest of his limited days.
As the thought crosses my mind, my skull throbs violently. I just want to lie down in an actual bed for the first time in weeks, and forget about Amory Lorch for the rest of my life.
Eddard POV
Being in the Riverlands has become more of a nuisance than I would have imagined it to be. The rainfall that has occured these past few days has been just dreadful on my leg. The storms bring a tremendous amount of pain to my leg, while the mud that is left from it, is just terrible to trudge through. Then again, perhaps it is my fault for not really giving it the necessary time to heal. But, I could not stay in the capital any longer, not after I discovered the foul... habits of the Queen and her brother.
The fact that Robert had a true-born heir is easily the most surprising fact that I had found out from my stay in that disgusting city. They claimed he had four children, but only in name alone. The three younger ones are the spawn of incestrous couplings from the golden twins of Tywin Lannister.
But, these thoughts are cleared from my mind, as I trudge towards a small tent, with my son, Robb, following behind me. I, myself, followed behind Ser Barristan Selmy, a familiar face that I was not expecting to see here on the battlefield. Him being here means one of three things.
Firstly, it could mean that he has abandoned his post as Lord Commander, but I sincerely doubt that happened. Ser Barristan is too honorable to do that.
Secondly, he escorted the King here. That would be surprising, I do not see Draedon coming here without the entirety of the Stormlands behind him.
And that leaves the third option; Ser Barristan is here as an envoy for Draedon. I expected this after the first missive about Renly rebelling against Draedon and his mother. Renly had also sent a missive to me, asking me to throw the power of the northern banners behind him and his cause.
And I would have been lying if I said that I was not tempted to do so. Stannis will undoubtedly stand behind Draedon in his war. Duty and family is his biggest concern, Draedon is the rightful king and Stannis will accept that. And if Stannis does not join Renly out of duty for fighting for the right King, how can I not do the same?
All I could think is that this better be worth the pain I have endured to get here. The two hour ride was just torture on my throbbing leg. Every step of the horse, sent a jolt of pain through my entire body. Barristan tried to ride at a comfortable pace for me, but it did not help much.
A deep fear enters my body as I spot a handful of guards in Lannister red, standing near a pack of horses. Close to a dozen of them. The garrison I brought with me is smaller, only seven men. If a fight breaks out, we are out numbered, and that is something I do not like.
Moving the tan flap with my arm that isn't holding the cane, I look around at all of the occupants that are already here inside the tent, surrounding a dark cherry wood table that takes up the majority of the room that is available in the enclosed space. Ser Barristan standing at attention behind the head of the table. At his side, the burned man they call the Hound, Sandor Clegane, staring at me and my eldest child as we enter. His scarred face glistening in the torchlight, his burns oozing a red substance. It is not blood, but I can not identify it.
A man I have never seen before sitting at the head of the long table. He is young, mayhaps a few years after his twentieth nameday. He has light brown hair that comes down to below his ears, but the length does not mean much. It is swept back, in a way many would consider windblown. His eyes are an unusual shade of brown. Lightly colored, but darker than amber. He sits with one leg stretched out underneath the table, a cane leaning on his chair. The parchment in front of him is the only thing adorning the table.
At the table, also sits an aged man with a shaved head. Golden whiskers streak down the sides of his face, trimmed properly, even in a time of war. Broad-shouldered even in his advanced age. A man with an imposing calculating stare of green eyes, green eyes with flecks of gold staring at the table as we enter. An intimidating figure even when he is sitting. The man is Tywin Lannister.
Sitting beside him is a portly man of fair skin. Balding on top of his head, but what hair he has remaining is cut close to his head. A close cropped golden beard covers his massive jaw. Tywin's younger brother, Kevan.
All eyes, but one set, turn to me and Robb as we enter the darkened tent. We halt at the opening flaps, making no move towards the only open two seats. Eerie, almost deafening, silence is the only sound we can hear. No speaking, no drinking, no movement of any kind.
Until the crippled man stands hastily from his seat. His cane is swiftly in his hand to help steady his balance as he tries to stand to his full height. A grimace easily visible on his face as he finally stops rising, before it is quickly replaced with a warm smile. It is a foreign sight to see here on this soil. The land that has been overwhelmed with the blood of our country men.
"Lord Stark, I am glad that you have joined us. My name is Willas Tyrell." The young man stiffly bows towards us, grimace reappearing as he does so. I bow my head towards him in acknowledgement, I see Robb mimicking my movements. "Please, sit down, so that we may begin negotiations to end this needless feud." Willas extends his hand towards the open seats, opposite of the Old Lion.
I notice that Tywin did not stand when we entered. Coming from a Great House, the traditions are burned into you as a child. Even in the North, away from the politics and the alliance making. You show respect to people that are of equal or greater status to you, to people with titles. Tywin not standing, or even acknowledging the entrance of a Lord of a Great House, is just his way of trying to belittle me. His way of going to war with me on a mental level.
It shows that he believes I, and my entire family, am below him. It is a tactic that I am sure he is using to make me angry. To make me furious, so furious that I try to prove to him that I am worthy of his respect. I would prove it by sending my men in an ill advised attack against his easily defendable camp. Sadly, for him, I will not fall for it, and send my men to their deaths.
"I would rather stand, if that is fine with you." I answer back, rather stiffly. I just want to leave.
He nods his head at my words. "I understand that, my Lord. Truly, I do. But I must insist that you take a seat, this meeting may take a while." He smiles gently at us, but I can not tell if it is genuine or a ploy.
I reluctantly agree with his suggestion to sit down, as my leg begins to ache fiercely. I tentatively take the offered seat, I look over to see Robb following my actions. I thought bringing him along would be a smart decision, a way to help instill in him the politics necessary for when he begins to Lord over the North and Winterfell.
Looking at him, I realize that his dark auburn locks have grown to his shoulders almost. The makings of a beard adorning his jawline. He is becoming a man, and quickly as well. He is younger than I was when I was at war for the first time. The thought of that saddens me.
"I have been sent as an emissary by King Draedon, first of his name, to persuade you to put your weapons down against one another, and to pick them up in his name against the false King Renly." Willas states openly to the room.
"And why would His Grace send you as an emissary and not someone else? Perhaps someone of a higher station?" Kevan asks the boy. Begrudgingly, I accept it as a question I wish to know as well.
Willas places a smile on his face before he answers. "I understand your hesitation in me being the one to help this treaty happen. But it is misplaced, my Lord." He begins to sit a little straighter. "King Draedon has named me his Master of Coin on the Small Council. And as wars cost a considerable amount of coin, His Grace has decided that I should be the one to oversee this agreement." I was not expecting that answer, and judging by the looks on everyone else's faces, I am not alone.
"So, who wishes to start the negotiation?" The young Master of Coin asks the room openly.
Both sides are declining to speak first, the already thick tension growing palpable. Kevan keeps his stare pointed towards Tywin. Robb looks towards the Tyrell boy. Willas transitions his eyes between Tywin and myself. While Tywin finally looks towards us for the first time since we entered. I feel his stare on me, forcing me to looking towards him. Green and gold meet grey, and a battle begins.
Both of us refusing to break the battle of wills we have begun. To be the first to break eye contact will show weakness, which is something neither of us can afford to do now. After a half minute of silent staring, I can see Robb begin to shift uncomfortably in his seat. I brought him along to show how the world will work if he ever comes to the South again, to show him how to handle these situations.
He has to know when to put your differences aside for the greater good. Men, Lords especially, are fickle and they need their egos stroked, and the best way to do that is by making them feel like they are in charge and are making the decisions. He needs to see how the game can be manipulated in his favor. I have to initiate the conversation with Tywin.
I sigh inwardly at the thought. "I am willing to work out an agreement between us that will put an end to all of this, if Lord Tywin is." My eyes never stray from the Old Lion's.
Silence, once again, fills the small room. He never loses his composure. He does not show any sort of indication that he heard my words. No subtle widening of his eyes, no movement of his body, not a single indication. His only reaction was a few blinks of his eyes.
"Well good, then. I have already spoken with Lord Tywin before you arrived here. He has concessions for you that I would expect you to not accept." Tywin and Kevan look towards the young man in mild surprise. "Which is exactly why His Grace has terms that he believes you will both accept quite readily." A small smirk plays at his lips as he finishes his words.
"Are the terms that agreeable?" Robb speaks up for the first time.
A full smile adorns the young Tyrell's face when he answers. "It is more likely that should you disagree to them, the punishment will be both swift and harsh." Willas and the Hound make eye contact briefly, before Willas turns around to face Robb.
Robb takes one look at the Hound and proceeds to promptly sink into his chair. I dare a glance towards the burned man, only to see him staring back at me, hand on the pommel of his sword. I do not break my look for a few moments, I can not appear to look weak to anyone. Especially to the person who spends the most time with Draedon.
Willas clears his throat to gain everyone's attention. I finally look away from Clegane, and toward the heir to Highgarden. "Firstly, you shall release the prisoners that you have. From what I hear, you both have quite a few of them."
That is a true statement. Wylis Manderly, the heir to White Harbor, Lord Medger Cerwyn, and Harrion Karstark are all prisoners of the Lannisters. They are not the only ones, but the most important of them. While we have imprisoned some of our own enemies. Enemies such as Tywin's favorite son, the infamous Kingslayer, Ser Jaime Lannister.
"Lord Stark," I turn and look towards Willas, "for your involvement in this unnecessary feud, Winterfell, as well as the rest of the North, will receive a higher taxing for the next seven years."
I scoff at his words. "Seven years of higher taxes? That is a bit severe, don't you believe?" Tywin has a almost unnoticeable smirk on his face.
"His Grace believes that one year of higher taxes for every battle that you fought in was a fair and just punishment. The extra coin will be put towards buying supplies for the upcoming Winter, whenever it shall arrive."
I take a deep breath. "Winter is coming." My voice is met with silence and a slow nod from Barristan.
"You Starks' are always right eventually." Willas says with a light chuckle, before his face becomes serious once again. "Now, for the Westerlands' punishment." Tywin and Kevan move in sync, as their heads turn towards the young man. The Master of Coin's face shows a hint of being unnerved by their movements. "The King has decided that Casterly Rock and the rest of the Westerlands shall find a way to pull together a sum of three million gold dragons and deliver it to the ruling House of the Riverlands, the Tullys. If Lord Stark could tell his married family of this agreement, it would help greatly move this long and arduous recovery along."
I nod my head once at the request. Catelyn can make sure Edmure does not do anything too rash, that is if I can convince Catelyn of the necessity of this deal, as she will be gone too pleased about a deal with the Lannisters.
"Secondly, Lord Tywin, King Draedon believes that because of the unauthorized destruction of the Crown's land, the debt the Crown has accrued with you and House Lannister should voided and nullified."
"My son was falsely taken prisoner by the Starks and put on trial for ridiculous crimes. Crimes he did not commit." The Old Lion speaks for the first time since I have entered the pavilion. "So what, as a father, was I supposed to do when these slandering accusations reached my ears? Sit idly by until he was set free or killed," he scoffs, "what kind of Lord would I be?"
"His Grace would have seen to the issues when the time came, and he would have doled the punishments out, as well. Time was what was needed, not bloodshed of men who had nothing to do with Tyrion's imprisonment." Willas responds quickly.
"A different King sat on the throne at the time. And I doubted in his involvement in the situation. I did what I believed to be necessary, so I feel these concessions are unjust and thus cannot be accepted." Tywin says deliberately.
"My Lord..."
Tywin slaps the table. "They took my son." He says loudly.
Kevan looks to Barristan and the Hound, both have their hands on their swords, ready to draw them quickly. Tywin stares down at Willas, who looks increasingly more uncomfortable as the stare continues. Robb nearly jumped out of his chair when Tywin's hand hit the table.
"My Lord, I was told by the King himself, that if I should return to the capital without either both you and Lord Stark, in tow, or without both of your signatures on this non-aggression pact agreement, that you will be branded as traitors to the Crown, and thus you will be far more severely punished when His Grace is done dealing with the Rebellion of his Uncle." Willas responds, pushing the parchment that sits in front of him towards the Old Lion.
Tywin grabs the parchment up from the table and begins reading over it slowly. Kevan begins to glance towards it, as well. So silence once again fills the small room, a now familiar sound to my ears. I see Robb turn towards me, and then to Willas, who makes eye contact with him. A head nod is exchanged before they both look away.
"How long do I have to think on this agreement?" Tywin asks after a full three minutes of silent reading, startling us all.
"You will either leave here with it signed and this feud moot, or you will leave as a traitor." Willas answers in a soft voice.
The Old Lion looks towards his brother, and then to me. We stare at each other for what feels like minutes, before he closes his eyes and takes a very heavy breath.
As he opens them, he looks back to the parchment before turning to Willas. "Do you have a quill?"