"Well, to answer your question my lady, what I have to offer is 200 warships, as well as some 7000 fighting men, 300 of those knights. If you ally with the Redwynes fleet, we can completely take out the Ironborn fleet out of the coming war, as well as taking out the most powerful Lord from the reach."

Roxton Flowers was a short man, standing a full head shorter than Daemona. If she had to estimate a height, she would have pegged him at a bit below 160 Cm.

Dressed in a full set of plated steel, and chainmail beneath, he wore a variation of the Redwynes banner of clustered grapes. Only rather than use the purple and blue of his house, or those colors inverted, as most bastard houses did(The Blackfyres, in particular, having the coolest inverted designs ever.), he instead used a symbol of black grapes, and a red background, leaving only the original green of the grapes leaves.

Well… One could not claim he hadn't taken the time to come dressed for the occasion.

The thing that stood out the most in her opinion, however, was not his height, or the way he dressed, but rather his face. Because holy shit, did this guy resemble nothing more than Shinji Ikari in features. His brown hair was a bit brighter, but his face was just barely one step away from looking like a teenage girl.

Admittingly, his more cheery smile made those features substantially cuter than the whiny sad sack, but Daemona hadn't been all that into boys for their cuteness in her previous life, and that had changed little now.

Her types had always been more in the way of Solid Snake, than anime pretty boy's.

As she stared down on the… man? Boy? One question struck her and she decided to ask it before moving on.

"How… How old are you Ser?"

"Why, I'm 16, my lady. Nearing my 17th name day."

This guy was 2 years older than her? Or… 2 years older than she was now at least.

"17? Really? You look like you're 12, not old enough to shave." Brynden piped in behind her. He looked down on the bastard boy with an annoyed look, but the young knight just gave him an equally chipper smile.

"And who may you be, good Ser?"

"Brynden Mudd."

For the first time, a look of confusion washed over the Redwyne boy.

"Mudd? Of… Of the Riverlands?"

"Is there another family dumb enough to name themselves after dirty earth in the world?"

"No… I suppose not. You… Are going to be the new lord of Oldstones then?"

"I am. By the grace of our magnanimous king."

He nodded respectfully towards said king, before turning back to Flowers.

"Well… I wish you the best of luck with that." He turned back towards Daemona, and he still wore that stupid, adorable grin that probably would have worked on a girl who was into his kinda guy. "As for your other question, your Grace, my father wishes to turn his coat to your cause due to… Great slights against my house, as well broken promises from the man who sits on the Iron Throne."

"Against Egg? What has he done to the Redwynes?"

"Well…" He drew out the word, long and dramatically, obviously wanting to milk the moment for drama, but he was cut off by her father.

"The Redwynes were promised a royal marriage, in exchange for their support for a bunch of reforms the egg wanted to make. Then, egg's stupid brother decided he'd rather be fucking one of his fellow squires instead, and so broke it off."

"That… A bit more vulgar than I'd have but it… But it is largely accurate."

Maelys chuckled.

"In any case yes, Darron Targaryen was supposed to marry my Aunt Olenna, who you seem… Familiar with. My grandfather put a lot of energy into that marriage, only for the man to break it off to galavant off with one Jeremy Norridge. My grandfather was not pleased with it. My father was even less so. He was in turn even more outraged when instead of rising in revolt like Lord Lyonel did, my grandfather instead agreed to marry off aunt Olenna to Luthor Tyrrell of Highgarden."

Ah… the wonderful world of dynastic politics. Where everything could fall to pieces due to a couple of teenagers deciding not to play to their father's tune.

"In revolt? Really? The Arbor Alone against all of Westeros."

"Oh, it's not as insane as it sounds. After all, our navy is thrice over as strong as the Royal Fleet. Not to mention the Ironborn that stubbornly refuses to abandon a ship type that hasn't been relevant in millennia. We are self-sufficient, and we have a navy that surpasses any other in Westeros. It does not matter much how many men that Egg would have rallied if he could not get them across the water.

That… Was literally the same thing that Balon Greyjoy had thought as he rose in revolt against Robert Baratheon.

"Well… Your father had balls then, at the very least."

Maelys chuckled again, though she really didn't know why. Nor did she care. She desperately tried not to look at him, and instead kept her eyes on Roxton.

"He is quite the brave man, as most of the men in our family are. My brother an unfortunate exception. He called this plan madness, but smarter heads than his prevailed."

"Yes… The Arbor would not have a good time if it didn't choose to support us. Instead… You guys might just keep everything, and gain even more."

Roxton nodded.

"Aye… That we just might, my lady. In any case, it was a pleasure to meet you today, but I'm afraid we must say goodbye for the moment. We were just about to leave when you entered, and I'm certain you have much to discuss with your father."

That at least was true.

He stood there for a moment, seemingly waiting for someone. It wasn't before he decided to just give her a bow, before he left, giving the king one as well, that she realized he had been expecting her to give him her hand so he could kiss it.

Storms, that… That was just such a silly, stereotypical medieval thing, that it was a bit hard to remember it was a real custom for ladies of Nobles. Gauntlet hand or not.

She looked after him as he left, giving her a great excuse no to look at her father, and she forced herself to keep looking after him, even after the tent flap closed.

For a while, the only sound was that of a whetstone against magical steel.

"Any thoughts?" Her father finally asked.

"It's a… Tempting offer."

It was. Logically, it was a very tempting offer. 200 more warships were nothing to sneeze at, especially considering the rest of the campaigns they would be going on.

"It is. Frankly, even with what more he asked for, it's a really good trade."

"And that more is…?"

"Well, first a royal legitimization, a place in our inner chambers for his father, and finally city charters for the 3 big towns on the Arbor."

"... I'm guessing you didn't tell him that we're gonna make city charters a thing for all who ask?"

"Indeed, I did not. But since I didn't have to share any information about that, I did not."

"Sooo… Are you going to accept it?"

"If I can get the men to agree, then aye. Frankly speaking, I don't think we're gonna find a higher ranking husband for you before we actually conquer it. Not one that has no chance to usurp our rightful power at the very least."

She felt a sinking feeling take hold in her stomach. Maelys continued.

"We haven't really talked much about marriage you and I. And there is a reason for that. I would much rather prefer a son as my heir. It would make things a hell of a lot easier for everyone, but if I cannot get a son… And according to Nine Eyes, I won't… There is of course the simple fact that as a reigning queen, there is a very real chance of any husband I give you, usurping power to rule as the supreme head in practice, as well as name.

It… Wasn't something she had not considered herself, but what was surprising was hearing her father talk about it.

"We Blackfyres did not spend half a century fighting to reclaim what is ours, just to have someone else take the reigns of power right after we finally achieved our goals. That's the reason I haven't arranged a betrothal between you or any of our lords. If I married you off to, say, Bittersteel, no doubt he'd fancy himself as the actual king, and not just the King-Consort."

"You… have thought about this a lot."

"As opposed to you?" He said in a bemused tone. "Don't lie girl, you've been worried about this far, far more than I have. In any case… Roxton. Once legitimized, he's a Redwyne, and that is a family of both great wealth, power, and respect. Going back just as long as the barbaric Starks, or the rest of the Reacher houses. However, despite his assertion of the power of his house, they aren't nearly as strong a land power that they could actually usurp the Throne. Not to mention that while they'll have our favor, I rather doubt the rest of the lords we don't replace will look too fondly on them."

"Probably not. Did you… Tell him about our overarching plans for the Reach? His aunt is the wife of lord Tyrrell after all."

"Yeah, I did. If we do decide to go with this marriage, we'll have to spare the Tyrells, and let them keep that garden of their."

"Keeping the Tyrells as lords of Highgarden isn't a bad idea. They aren't the Stark's, or the Arryns. No one will care that we strip them of the overlordship of the entire region, the way the northerners would if we tried the same with the Direwolf."

"Aye… That's what I thought too. In any case… We'll have to see how it goes. If I can get the men on board, then we can arrange a betrothal. Of course, even if so, there is a very real chance he'll just get assassinated by someone who wants your hand."

That… Was not untrue.

There WAS a very real chance he would get assassinated before any wedding could take place.

"They'll have quite a lot of time to do it too. I'm not marrying you off before you're 16. There is no way in the seven hells, that I'm giving you a husband, while you're still young enough to need a regent. That's just asking for me to get a knife in the back."

Silence followed, as Daemona just thought it over.

There were a lot of conflicting feelings on the whole thing.

It was… SOOO hard against everything she had ever been raised to believe about herself, to just let herself be married off to anyone.

And yet…

If she wanted to become queen… She would need a husband. One who did not have the power to challenge her rule. To challenge her changes to how things were going to be done.

Outside the tent, the wind still carried the sound of cries and lamentation of widows, orphans, and the maimed.

"I'll be honest. I was expecting a passionate argument against the proposal. Not just silent compliance."

"Any boy can call the banners. But it takes a lord to make a marriage match."

That… Was what Catelyn had said to Robb right?

That was the difference between a queen who was going to change the world… And Daenerys Targaryen, who made all the worst decisions regarding partners.

Was that who she was? Some punk girl who just stumbled into one mess after another, only getting by on the graces of godlike luck and overwhelming military force?

No… That was not who she planned to be.

She would be Westeros' Napoleon, not Robb Stark, who acted on emotions when cold, hard logic was what was needed.

She… She had to make this all worth it in the end.

And to do that, she needed to become queen in her own right.

And to become queen, she needed someone who brought real worth to a marriage, but not enough that he would be a threat to her.

"Well… Whatever your thoughts on the matter, you should go to your assigned ship for now. For on the morrow… We return to Tyrosh, the place where our company was born."