Four Months.
It had been four months since he foolishly walked into Dorne and had gotten himself captured by his enemies. In hindsight, perhaps he had been too arrogant to think that the Dornish would honor the basic decorum and conduct of the highborn considering the level of insult that his ward had heaped upon them.
A Princess of Dorne, one who was beloved by all people in Dorne no less, had been raped and murdered. Her corpse desecrated, and two of her children slain brutally. And yet, to think that he had once believed that Dorne would surrender after such an insult, he must have been mad. There were some things that could not be forgiven, no matter what. And now, all that they had planned had turned to ashes.
As he pondered in these thoughts, Jon Arryn paused, even as the men escorting him reached a large tent and waited to converse with the surrounding guards. His captivity, though thorough had not been completely unpleasant. He had been treated as befitting his station, and he had not been starved for news. His captors had taken macabre pleasure in describing the litany of defeats that the young prince of Dorne had inflicted upon his wards.
Soon, his escorts finished conversing with the guards, and led him in. As he reached inside, he finally beheld the young man who had turned Westeros on its heels and shattered a history spanning 300 years. For a roughly 17-year-old boy, he was rather plain to look at. Standard Dornish features, with a bit of auburn tint to his hair. Most likely from his mother's side. But it was his eyes that drew the attention of the Vale lord. Piercing, and a gaze so sharp that it could cut. It denoted his imposing intellect.
Then he looked around, and saw that there were two other men sitting around the table. Oberyn Martell and Mace Tyrell. So, the news of the Reach and Dorne allying together was true, after all. That was something he still could not come around to believe in happening. The animosity between the Dornish and The Reach was one of the eternal rivalries in Westeros, akin to the Bracken-Blackwood feud in the Riverlands, and similar to the enmity between Volantis and Braavos. And to think this boy of seventeen summers had pulled it off.
As he entered, Quentyn Martell looked at Oberyn and Mace, and both men gave a curt nod and stood up to vacate the tent. Both men greeted the Lord Paramount of the Vale on their way out leaving Quentyn and Jon Arryn alone in the tent.
"Lord Arryn, we finally meet at last. Please take a seat," the boy spoke out, even as Jon sat down.
"Wine?" the boy asked, to which Jon nodded, even as Quentyn poured out a goblet of Dornish wine and passed it over to Jon, even as he poured out a glass for himself.
"I suppose you have many questions," Quentyn asked, even as Jon nodded again.
"Ask away, My Lord, it is high time we aired all grievances between us and decide where we stand," the Prince spoke out, even as Jon glared at the boy.
"Did you really order the eighteen thousand men of House Lannister to be buried alive?" Jon gritted out, unable to bear the burning in his heart any longer.
"Yes, I did. It was a necessary act," the boy replied calmly without even a twitch in his eye. There was no inflection in his tone, no remorse, no guilt, nothing.
"This is not war! This is butchery for butchery's sake! This is not honorable conduct … This is …," the Lord of the Vale blew up in outrage to which the Prince of Dorne smiled and replied.
"Would you still be protesting like this, if it was my men that Tywin had buried alive instead, Lord Arryn?" the question from the boy cut sharper than Valyrian steel, and Jon forcibly lowered his eyes as the boy continued. "Even before sacking Bitterbridge, Tywin had made it clear that if necessary, he would butcher every living man, woman and child in Dorne. I did not see any great remonstrations from the honorable Lords of the Vale in Kings Landing at that time. Why, forgive if me I am wrong, but I do not recall you protesting this vigorously when Tywin's dogs murdered my aunt and cousins? You could afford to stay silent when all these atrocities were heaped upon your enemies, but the moment you are repaid in your own coin, you suddenly remember lofty ideals like chivalry and honor?" the boy snorted, to which Jon purpled in rage, but forcibly calmed himself down.
"Let's dispense with the bullshit, Lord Arryn. We both know that this façade of honor and chivalry that you use to mask yourself may fool your bannermen and lesser lords, but against someone like me, it is worthless. On the contrary, it is admirable that you have managed to make the world believe that you are a paragon of honor and virtue, when you are assuredly anything but," the boy smirked, to which Jon sighed.
After a moment, he finally smiled. Yes, it had taken years, but here at last was someone who had seen through him clearly. The second man in all of Westeros to see through his true nature. Pity, that this one was his enemy, unlike the other who was his ward.
"What gave me away?" Jon asked blithely as he sipped his wine. There was no need for any pretenses now. Now, he could truly talk with one his equal.
"Your inaction in Kings Landing was your undoing. You have spent your entire life cultivating your mask. So much so, that one had to wonder if such an honorable man exists! No man is without flaws, Lord Arryn, but you tried too hard to create an image of yourself as an honorable man who would countenance no wrong. And yet, you failed to protest rigorously when my aunt and her children were murdered. But there, you just made token protests and then demurred from taking any serious action to hold Tywin accountable. And when you failed to prevent Robert from condoning those murders, I became certain that your behavior was but a mask that you use to fool others," Quentyn chuckled, while Jon shook his head.
"Damn Tywin," Jon cursed, even as he looked at the boy before continuing, "Tywin put me in an impossible situation with regards to your aunt. I had to choose between maintaining my charade and risk turning Tywin into an enemy, or abandon it and consolidate our gains. Besides, at that moment, none of us were aware of your presence, so we assumed that our victory was certain, and we could afford to be … indiscreet. History is written by winners after all, and in a few decades, nobody would remember your aunt and her children. That is what we thought anyway," Jon sighed as he looked at the boy. "We were wrong."
"You were," the boy nodded quietly, even as Jon sighed in turn.
"We really had no intention of killing your aunt and her children you know. We never expected Tywin to take those actions. We knew he despised Aerys, but to go that extent, that fool destroyed our rebellion by his zealousness," Jon replied with a forlorn tone while Quentyn remained silent.
"Why did you choose Robert as the claimant for the throne? Really, you could have chosen anyone. His Baratheon lineage means nothing if you meant to supplant the Targaryen dynasty by force of arms. Why not choose Lord Stark?" Quentyn asked curiously, to which Jon remained silent.
"We felt that Robert was more malleable … more controllable. He is a wanton man prone to indulging himself with a hedonistic lifestyle. As long as we could keep him sated, he would make a nice symbol for the new dynasty, while we could go on ruling from behind the scenes. Ned knew of it, and that is why he refused. Besides, his sister would be the queen once freed from Rhaegar's clutches, so he could not really complain, or so we thought," he explained quietly, while the boy nodded.
"Anyways, it is now pointless. Robert will challenge me on the battlefield soon, and he will die. Which is why I am now offering to discuss terms with you, so that we can end the bloodshed in the realm and set things right once Robert dies," the boy stated his intention clearly, while Jon stared at the boy with a keen gaze.
There was not a shred of doubt in the boy's mind that he would fail. He was certain of his victory. Jon could admire this sort of confidence.
"You think just having the Tyrell's on your side guarantees your victory?" he asked, honestly curious to hear the answer.
"Yes," was the reply. "With them on my side, my victory comes quicker. I can end this war on my terms within a year. Even if they were not, my victory was … inevitable. There is no one on your side who is capable of matching me on the battlefield. Perhaps Lord Stark can give me some trouble, but it is within my means to deal with him. A man who can defeat me does not exist in Westeros, not at this time," the answer was brutal and searing. More to the point, Jon Arryn could not see a hint of arrogance lacing the boy's tone. He truly believed himself capable of such deeds. And he had the currency to back his words. The shattered Westerlands were testament to this fact.
"You really believe you can prevail against the entirety of Westeros and win! You are not bluffing!" Jon finally realized as he looked at the boy, and for the first time a look of horror crossed his face.
"I am not," Quentyn Martell replied with a thin smile. "Now that you know what I am capable of, can you truly afford to engage in all-out war with me?"
Jon seriously considered this question. "Name your terms."
"As of now, Robert Baratheon is uncontrollable. I have humiliated him too much for him to ever consider peace with me. Besides, even if by a miracle he had managed to subdue me, he would have run the seven kingdoms into ruin with his sloth. Once I get rid of him, install a king of your choice, or take over the throne yourself. I care not," the reply was flippant and breath-taking in scope, and entirely within the abilities of the one who had spoken it.
"Go on …," Jon spoke out, even as the boy pointed to a map of Westeros laid out on the table.
"I lay claim to Dorne, The Reach and the Crownlands. That leaves your side with The North, The Vale, The Riverlands and The Westerlands. We divide the Realm into two halves neatly and that shall be the end of it," the boy proposed, while Jon considered it. As of now, only Robert continued to insist on the war, but now, it was becoming a drain on the kingdoms. If Robert were to die, they could place young Stannis on Storm's End, and end this madness.
Suddenly, he paused as he looked at the proposed plans. "Wait, you have not mentioned anything about the Stormlands. What do you intend to do with them? Surely, you do not intend to have a hostile Kingdom locked within your borders?" the Lord Paramount of the Vale asked, to which Quentyn shook his head.
"By the time I am finished with Robert Baratheon, the Stormlands will cease to exist as an entity. I intend to take over the entire Stormlands and add them to Dorne. The Stormlands will instead just become another province of Dorne. I will let the Crownlands exist as they are because they make an excellent contact point between Essos and Westeros, but I will not rule from Kings Landing. I have a different location in my mind for the capital of my kingdom."
"You would abandon Kings Landing as a capital?" Jon Arryn asked incredulously, while Quentyn smiled.
"Why would I choose the landmark of the Targaryen dynasty to begin my rule, when the whole point of this war is to rid us off the shackles of the Targaryen family in the first place? I will appoint a Lord Paramount to rule Kings Landing, but the days of that city ruling over Westeros is done," Quentyn spoke with a certainty that was impossible to miss.
Jon Arryn looked at the boy with an incomprehensible look on his face and decided to let it go.
"I notice that you have not included the Iron Islands in this partition of yours," Jon spoke out after a moment as he looked at the map, to which Quentyn looked at him in surprise.
"Why ever would I include them?"
"Are they not your allies?" Jon asked curiously, to which the boy seemed taken aback. Then, he smiled as if he was remembering some jape.
"Ah … I see where you could get that misconception," the boy smirked as if he knew a big secret that Jon did not. He was proven right, the next moment.
"No, Lord Arryn, I am not allied with the Ironborn, so I cannot speak for them," Quentyn shook his head at which Jon felt his head spin.
"But … you coordinated your attacks with them … you …," Jon pointed out stammering, to which the Prince chuckled.
"Lord Arryn, for such a devious mind like yours, you can certainly be naïve at times. The Ironborn were always going to look for an opportune moment to reave during these unstable times. For them, Dorne is too far, the waters of the Stormlands too dangerous, and the Reach too risky to attack. You on the other hand, left the Westerlands, the Riverlands and the North emptied of your men, leaving them wide open to attack. Even the Ironborn are not that foolish to let such a chance go to waste. I predicted all this and timed my attacks to coincide with theirs, and you all fell for my trick, believing that I had allied with the Ironborn. If you had attacked me at that time, despite even my skills, you could have beaten me and won. It was the only chance you had, and you did not even know it existed in the first place," as he heard the explanation from the Prince, Jon Arryn reeled in shock and sank into his chair with a pained moan even as he grimaced at the lost opportunity.
Quentyn chuckled and continued, "So, now here we stand. If you agree to my terms, I will release you as soon as Robert Baratheon dies, and you can go back to the alliance and convince them to agree to my terms, and we can have peace."
"And if I refuse? Robert could always beat you in battle, you know?" Jon spoke out, even as Quentyn nodded at that point.
"A fair question," the Prince allowed. "But if you refuse my offer, I will simply destroy the alliance and force you to beg me for terms. More to the point, I will do so without moving a single soldier, and ensure that it is Robert Baratheon who destroys the alliance, not me," the reply was curt, harsh and unforgiving.
Jon looked at the boy as if he was mad. Force Robert to destroy their alliance!? What kind of madness was this? Did the boy lose his wits? That was impossible!
"Tell me Lord Arryn, Lord Stark has been absent for nearly four months now, since he went to recover his sister. Even if he is making arrangements to transport her remains to Winterfell, this is a suspiciously long time to remain absent. Have you never wondered why? What is it that it is keeping Lord Stark so busy that he refuses to return to Kings Landing?" Quentyn asked with a malevolent smile on his face, while Jon became pensive. He did not like where this was going.
"I suppose you know the answer?" Jon asked with a glare to which the Prince nodded.
"I do, and I suppose in your heart you too know it. You just do not wish to even think about it or acknowledge it, so I will say it out loud. Lyanna Stark has given birth to Rhaegar Targaryen's bastard, and she is still alive and not dead as has been reported. Arthur Dayne confirmed it. He was placed as her guard by Rhaegar Targaryen himself, and escaped when Lord Stark's retinue overpowered him and his fellow Kingsguard," the Prince spoke out in a cool voice, while Jon paled at the implications of those words.
"By the gods! If this gets out, then our cause for rebelling will … our legitimacy … our actions … Oh heavens …," Jon began to hyperventilate as his mind went through one nightmarish scenario after another.
"If you refuse my terms, Jon Arryn, I will inform Robert Baratheon of this matter and of the treachery of the man he calls brother. Then, all I have to do is sit back and watch as the members of your alliance tear each other to pieces while I win without losing a single man," the smile on the boy's face was ghastly and literally reeked of malice, while Jon sat down on his chair knowing now that he was defeated.
"So, do we have terms? Once I kill Robert Baratheon in battle, I will release you so that you can broker peace between the two sides, but know that the era of one man ruling the entirety of Westeros from Kings Landing is over for good. The Southern Kingdoms will no longer stand for it," Quentyn spoke out harshly and looked at Jon Arryn who seemed to have aged by ten years in a moment.
"I don't have a choice except to accept, do I not, My Prince?"
"No, you do not."
Authors Note: Apologies. I had posted an earlier draft instead of the finished one, which omitted a bit of the plot line. It has been rectified and I have re-uploaded the completed draft. Thanks to the reviews which made me realize I had posted an incomplete document instead of the complete one.