Needing: Thanks. More like Willas is looking for a way out of an awful situation and if he could get his hands on a dragon of his own...
Sage: True, but if Willas pushes Jon enough, who knows what might happen?
Guest: Willas' plan is that, if he has a dragon as an ally, then he can either negotiate on even footing or even try to defeat Daenerys (by betrothing Jon to Margaery and getting rid of Tommen?). He knows his options are limited if not null if he doesn't try anything. Also yes, this will have consequences.
salt: Are you sure? Because canon Jon is very lax with what duty entails (see his relationship with Val). In any case, this isn't 14 year-old Jon anymore, he's grown and has turned 18, and after a series of disappointments while seeking to do what is best for everyone, he allowed himself to do what he wanted, for once. Needless to say, there will be consequences.
Edric
Edric never went beyond the Narrow Sea. Come to think of it, before squiring with Lord Beric, he had hardly gone beyond Starfall. His father was quite protective of him, since he was the last thing that reminded him of his wife – Edric's mother.
However, the past few years, he had had the opportunity to travel, be it Westeros or Dorne, as Prince Quentyn's squire.
But today, he would go even further. After Lys, he would discover Volantis, the Queen of Cities.
Nothing could have prepared him for the sight he had in front of his eyes. As the fleet approached, he could see the wide delta of the Rhoyne, from which Nymeria's ten thousand ships had likely escaped from all those years ago to eventually find refuge in Dorne.
Edric's ancestor thus sailed these waters, and many Dornishmen did feel a lot of emotion as the ships sailed past the marshes and wetlands of this region.
But more than emotion, Edric was awestruck at Volantis itself. The Queen of Cities certainly earned its name as it towered in the distance. It spread along the coast, its harbor wide enough to engulf any Dornish city, while its walls seemed to never end.
The city was so large that it stretched on both sides of the Rhoyne, connected only by a long bridge whose foundations epitomized sturdiness as they supported not only the bridge, but the multitude of buildings perched atop it.
Despite this, however, there was an eerie feeling.
Indeed, black smoke rose from the western part of the city, while there were gaping holes in the walls. Fires burned and there were clearly traces of some sort of battle on the shores beneath the walls. The long bridge itself wasn't safe. It spanned as usual, with a few columns of smoke rising here and there…until it stopped, about two-thirds of the way from the western part. There was a whole section of the bridge missing, cut clean in half by some sort of unnatural force, as it had been cleaved by a giant axe.
The eastern part of the city was much more intact, at least, from the outside. The black walls of the inner city were clearly visible. It was there, Nymeria Sand had told him, that the Old Blood of Volantis ruled from. Edric could also distinguish a building larger than the others, clearly a religious one, much greater than the Great Sept of Baelor. Could this be the famed Temple of R'hllor?
Edric didn't have time to ask himself the question, their ship was docking on the outskirts of the city, where a vast fleet bearing golden standards was waiting for them. The ships were less impressive than the modern vessels the Dornish had chartered for this endeavor, but all the same, it was an impressive sight if one never had seen a ship in his life.
The Golden Company clearly hadn't done things half-badly.
But Edric continued to scour the sky. Looking for what everyone was impatient to see.
Finally, as he walked down the plank, a black dot could be seen, right on the burning sun. The dot grew larger and larger, until Edric gasped. It was heading for them!
But then, the figure took some height, and passed right above them all, earning gasps from the entire retinue behind him.
Looking up, Edric could not contain his amazement.
A dragon.
In the flesh.
They had come back. They were real!
The golden-winged dragon did a few circles over them. It was clearly not as massive as the old ones he'd read about in his histories, but no less impressive. It passed between the ships at low level, a plume of seawater rising slightly as its wings scraped the crest of the small waves, before disappearing into the horizon, towards the north.
It took a few moments for Edric to snap out of his daze. He had seen a dragon!
And while most were enthusiastic, he could see that Prince Quentyn was uncomfortable. In fact, he was almost as white as the scales of the dragon that had passed between them. Surely, dragons were formidable creatures, but if the dragon had wished them dead, it would have ended them in a sea of dragonfire already. Then why was Prince Quentyn so afraid?
Edric had long given up on asking stupid questions.
Instead, he helped set up the Dornish camp, on the outskirts of Volantis, in a relatively well wooded area, allowing for some shade while taking advantage of the sea breeze to cool the area, and the rivers of an affluent of the Rhoyne to ensure a steady supply of freshwater.
Then, he chose his garments carefully. Quentyn had asked him, as second-most important lord in Dorne, to come with him for a diplomatic mission, towards both King Aegon and Queen Daenerys. What an honor!
Edric did forget that, after all, he was Lord Dayne, and since Anders Yronwood did not travel with them, he was indeed the second most powerful person on this expedition, although he would have said third.
Nevertheless, he wasn't the only one on this expedition, oh no! All of the main Dornish houses had sent at least a kinsman, to show the power of Dorne and the extent at which they were committed to their cause. For some, they were brothers, sons or daughters of the current lord or lady. For others, like Edric or Lord Dagos Manwoody and Lord Daeron Vaith, they were more than happy to go along to represent their own house.
Therefore, appearance mattered. Edric chose clothes that were purple and white, showing the prominent features of his house. A scarlet belt, for like of better, and…oh, well, he wasn't skilled enough to have Dawn…his usual sword would do.
A cape bearing the sigil of House Dayne, the necklace given on his nameday by Aunt Allyria, a cream vest and some water sprayed on his hair so that his blonde hair would stick towards the back, and not drop in front of his eyelids which meant having to constantly bringing his hands to his hair: in front of royal company, it would not do!
His almost regal attire was matched by the prince, who had taken out the set he'd worn at the Baratheon wedding, except this time, it was the Valyrian steel sword taken from the corpse of Tywin Lannister that was at his side. This was bound to make a good impression on both dragons.
Although, he saw Prince Quentyn was clearly much more uneasy than usual. His features were drawn, as if he hadn't slept, and he hadn't regained his colors.
Still, he did his best to put on a smile while welcoming Edric.
"Where are we going?" Edric asked.
"To see Aegon, first of all," Quentyn replied, fidgeting with his belt. "Since he is my cousin by blood, we won't need a large ceremony. Just the two of us, and the two of them."
"The two of them?"
"Yes, Aegon and Ser Jon Connington."
"Wasn't he dead?" Edric reacted, surprised.
"So was Aegon." Quentyn chuckled. "Essos works miracles, don't you think?"
Edric didn't know what to answer to that, and instead chose to move on to the subject he was most interested in.
"And Daenerys Targaryen?"
"I've sent her a missive, but she will only receive us tonight, when the sun is setting," Quentyn replied, "this way, we may talk with Aegon for an hour, and we may attend this meeting with him, as to show unity."
Edric nodded. After all, it was Quentyn's idea that Aegon and Daenerys be betrothed, but he wasn't sure the interested parties were aware of this.
"And…the other lords?" Edric asked.
"They'll join us there too."
It seemed Quentyn had it all planned out, as usual. Then why was he worried, did something escape him? In any case, he did not ask.
The two of them, and their escort, made their way to the camp of the Golden Company, which was in a frenzy of activity.
There, some knights led them to a massive command tent, flying the golden flag of the company, coupled with the usual golden skulls at the entrance of the said tent.
At the door, the guards on duty stopped them.
"Your weapons, please," the bulkiest one said.
Quentyn let out a sigh, but did as told. He and Edric got rid of their weapons, giving them to their escorting guards, before walking into the tent.
There were no guards inside, just two men, sitting down on two small chairs. A bit…poor, especially for someone who called himself King of the Seven Kingdoms.
Nonetheless, Edric did not say so out loud.
And it did not take long for him to identify who was who. Lord Connigton was there, an imposing figure, with a dark vest bearing his house's sigil, his red hair and beard trimmed, looking at them sternly. Aegon, though, was a boy about Quentyn's age, with indigo eyes and silver-blonde hair.
"You stand in front of his Grace, King Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name," Lord Connington boomed, "King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, rightful Lord of the Seven Kingdoms."
"Your Grace." Quentyn knelt in front of Aegon, "It's an honor to finally meet you, and an honor to finally be able to tell you that my sword is yours."
"Rise, Prince Quentyn, your loyalty is appreciated, cousin of mine. And your letter came at the right time."
Lord Connington puffed.
"Lord Dayne." Aegon turned to him. "It is a pleasure to meet you as well. Your uncle Arthur died for my father, I remember his sacrifice."
Edric could see Quentyn make a slight face at that, but had to ignore it. Instead, he mumbled a few courtesies and left it at that.
Quentyn, for his part, turned to Lord Connington.
"Ser Jon Connington, rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated." Quentyn smiled, almost wickedly.
"A necessary lie, to protect his Grace." The older man uncomfortably shifted. "I had to disappear."
Quentyn nodded slowly, bringing his eyes to Aegon, whom the prince observed for an uncomfortably long time.
"Jon told me of conditions you placed on our alliance," Aegon finally broke the lull that had installed itself in the tent, "may I know what they are?"
"Nothing that cannot be discussed, Your Grace. Benefits for Dorne, mostly, as rewards for our loyalty."
Jon Connington huffed, and mumbled something under his breath. Quentyn continued talking, unconcerned.
"However, these can be talked about once we have settled your betrothal, that's why we are here, after all."
Aegon nodded slowly.
"The leaders of the Company also wish to see me wed to my aunt, to unite our claims. I am of the same mind, with her dragons, my company and your host and fleet, we shall reclaim the throne that has been stolen from us!"
His company? Didn't the Golden Company answer only to gold and not to a man? Edric shrugged it off. Figure of speech, perhaps.
"It remains to convince Queen Daenerys, Your Grace." Quentyn straightened up. "By all means, an alliance should be as beneficial to her as it is to us, but you musn't forget the circumstances of her upbringing."
"I agree with you there." Aegon nodded. "But there is no need for 'Your Grace' around here. These are formalities for the people. In private, Aegon or cousin would do. After all, we are tied by blood, aren't we?"
"We are, your…cousin." Quentyn nodded.
"There, much better!" Aegon smiled widely, sparing a sideways glance at Connington, who finally decided to speak up.
"If I may say something, Prince Quentyn." Connington shifted apprehensively in his seat. "When we received your letter, we had expected it to be signed by prince Doran."
"Prince Doran is no longer the Prince of Dorne, Ser Jon." Edric found himself defending Quentyn.
"In circumstances that are, to say the least, troubling," Connington added
"And that are of no concern to you," Quentyn snapped at the exile. "My father is no longer Prince of Dorne, I am. That is all you need to concern yourself with. If King Aegon wishes to hear more of it, I shall be glad to tell him, but remember, Connington, you do not order me."
"Peace, my friends," Aegon calmed everyone down. "Cousin, I think Ser Jon only meant to say that your presence here was unexpected."
"I am sure Ser Jon meant no insult," Quentyn turned back to Aegon. "I only wished to remind him that I bear him no ill will, as long as he respects my position."
"Do not fear Old Griff." Aegon heartily smiled. "He is as loyal to me as he was to my father."
Quentyn and Edric both cringed at that comment. Both knew how loyal Jon Connington was towards Rhaegar, so much that it blinded him. Though, to not add more oil to the fire, none of them spoke a word.
Instead, Quentyn sighed, and took up the mantle of speaker once more.
"There is something I must speak to you about, cousin, but I can only do so in private, with no other ears than yours with mine."
Aegon took a moment to think, as Connington frowned deeply. The exile spoke first,"That is out of the question, his Grace…"
"Accepts." Aegon nodded. "Do not fear, Jon, we will be right behind the curtains. If we speak calmly, you will not hear a thing, but you will be a few steps away. If there is any trouble, I shall send for you."
Connington sat back in his chair, leaving Aegon and Quentyn to leave behind the golden curtains. It also meant that Edric and Jon Connington found themselves face to face, both staring awkwardly at each other.
It was Jon Connington that finally broke the silence, once again."You don't look like Arthur Dayne, boy."
"I…I took after my mother," Edric defended himself, "she was a Blackmont and had blonde hair. I got my blue eyes from my father."
"Old Alyn, hah!" Connington esquissed a half-smile. "A good man, that one. More pragmatic than your uncle, smarter too. How is he faring?"
"My father died three years ago." Edric immediately sighed.
"Ah." Jon Connington shook his head. "A shame. He was a right old man, you know, loyal to a fault. I'm sorry for you, boy. Losing a father is not something I would wish on anyone."
"Thank you." Edric nodded.
"You know, I've raised this boy," Jon Connington said. "From his days as a mere babe to what he is now. I've tried my utmost to be a father to him, since his had died long ago. And now he's grown up and will become a king, and I will call him 'Your Grace'. Will he need me anymore? I fear I've got nothing to teach him."
"Your presence might be enough, ser," Edric answered.
"Perhaps," Connington rumbled, "or perhaps he will tire of me. I am an old man after all. We shall never know. But at least, I will be proud of my boy. But when I pass, I've always wondered how he will remember me as: his father or his protector? Bah, I'm not sure why I am telling you this…"
With that Connington sighed and looked behind him, the curtains ruffling while both Quentyn and Aegon emerged.
While Quentyn looked perfectly fine, it looks like Aegon had gone through a wide array of emotions. He walked slowly towards before Connington, his face devoid of any emotion, before finally saying:
"Jon, how about some wine. I…I think I may need a glass…or a bottle…"
Connington frowned, but got him a glass. Not wanting to be a bad host, he also fetched three more glasses, pouring out one for everyone.
Quentyn, of course, did not touch his, but for Edric, it was a welcome refreshment. And by the looks of it, for Aegon as well.
Finally, Aegon rose after finishing a second glass, and politely accompanied both Quentyn and Edric back to the door.
"I thank you for your coming, however, Jon and I need to talk about…about my father. I shall meet you in…an hour? Here?"
"In an hour at the entrance of the tent." Prince Quentyn bowed, along with Edric, and both left under a sky that had become overcast.
"What did you tell him?" Edric asked once they had recovered their weapons, his voice full of curiosity.
"The truth." Quentyn shrugged. "The ugly truth."
"The Tower of Joy, the Rebellion and…"
"Everything." Quentyn left it at that.
Edric gulped and nodded. Being exposed to so many events at the same time could only be a shock for someone who has lived his entire life thinking he was alone.
While waiting, Quentyn and Edric returned to the Dornish camp, making sure preparations were underway for the meeting with Queen Daenerys tonight.
Quentyn selected one person from each major house in order to represent the numerous Dornish houses, as a united front behind their leader. It was all about image, and they needed to be at their best. For if Aegon was all but forced to join forces with them, a girl who has not tasted defeat and managed to hatch three dragons would be a more difficult sway.
Thus, it is united that the Dornish party made their way towards the Queen's camp, on the other side of the city. After, of course, Aegon had been presented and the Dornish lords all sworn fealty to him, which didn't take long. He had the looks, and Connington's presence was enough to sway most. To them were added the presence of Shireen Baratheon, who looked out of place between everyone, but was nonetheless flanked by Monford Velaryon and Davos Seaworth, towering over the little girl, ensuring nothing would happen to her.
It is thus on the front row that Edric advanced, alongside Quentyn and his paramour. As for Aegon, he was accompanied by Connington, as usual, but also Ser Harry Strickland, the commander of the Golden Company, a quite simple man who could have been mistaken as a simple clerk if not for his rich armor.
There was no tent to welcome them this time, but a large throne in the exterior, surrounded by dozens of Essosi soldiers from various corners of the continent. In the middle, a golden throne, with a ravishingly beautiful girl sitting on it, wearing a pale white dress with straps looking like dragon scales.
On the right side stood a knight in shining white armor, whose beard seemed to reach the middle of his chest, while to the left, a girl only a third as tall as the knight stood, heralding Queen Daenerys.
And to be fair, Edric stopped concentrating after Queen Daenerys Stormborn, for the rest of the titles just never seemed to end. Queen of this, liberator of that…and of course, Connington, stung in his pride, gave a few other meaningless titles to Aegon. Fortunately, Quentyn just introduced himself plainly. No need to do complicated when you could do simple!
"Prince Quentyn, Prince Aegon." Daenerys Targaryen finally rose from her throne, stepping towards them. "You are most welcome here, and I appreciate your loyalty, having come from so far to meet me. Let us sit somewhere more appropriate, and have something to eat, you must all be hungry after such a journey."
Both Quentyn and Aegon thanked her, as they were led to a table where a feast awaited them all. Edric could thus admire Daenerys Targaryen, and he could safely say that she was by far the most beautiful woman he ever saw. Silver hair, indigo eyes, slender, confident…gods he was charmed, like most of the other lords too.
So much that he avoided her gaze. Unluckily for him, it turns out that it settled on him a little too much, as if she had eyes only for him. Or, at least, that's what he thought he'd seen.
Edric just told himself that since he tried to avoid her gaze as much as possible, every time she looked at him likely felt like a languid stare.
He thanked the heavens when he saw he was placed quite far from her at the small table that had been arranged for them. Only a dozen seats, which were quickly filled: Daenerys Targaryen herself, of course, Prince Quentyn and Prince Aegon, as well as himself, Ser Barristan, the white knight, Lord Jon Connington, Nymeria Sand, likely out of courtesy for Quentyn's partner, the Queen's translator, an odd choice, Ser Harry Strickland, the three Stormlanders, and a few lords from conquered Essosi cities.
Quentyn did not hesitate to be direct even before sitting down.
"A pleasure to see you, Ser Barristan the Bold. Your disappearance has been quite the mystery in Westeros." Quentyn looked the man up and down, judging him.
"I only wished to serve the true Queen," Ser Barristan simply replied.
"Your loyalties seem to switch a lot, Ser Barristan. Why not have declared for your rightful King earlier?"
"I did not know about Prince Aegon's survival."
"You know what I mean, ser."
"Prince Viserys was his father's son, I'm afraid." Ser Barristan shook his head.
"A boy of seven?" Quentyn questioned. "Clearly, that is the lie you told yourself so that it did not besmirch your honor."
"Careful, Prince Quentyn." The white knight warned, without success.
"If someone should be careful, Ser Barristan, it might well be you. I intend to crown her grace Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and I do not wish for her to have a Kingsguard that changes allegiances like one changes clothes."
With that, Quentyn left the knight, slightly dazed by the encounter, and went to position himself to Queen Daenerys' right, with his paramour next to him, while Edric sat beside her.
The first order of the day was the public declaration of fealty of Shireen Baratheon to Prince Aegon, something that slightly unsettled the Queen, since there was no question of the girl kneeling before her. Princess Shireen did bow, of course, but did not address Queen Daenerys as Queen of Westeros, but rather as Queen of the Free Cities.
Nonetheless, she brushed it aside for now, and took some pleasure in talking to Monford Velaryon, surely a distant cousin if one went back far enough.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?" The sand snake phrased it as a question, but it felt more like a statement.
"Yes," Edric answered.
"More than me?" she teased.
"Yes." Edric's words came out immediately and without hesitation. Suddenly realising what he just said, he immediately turned around to apologize, but the snake just laughed.
"Don't be ashamed, Lord Dayne, she is gorgeous. I think Quent is reconsidering not asking her hand in marriage."
"I would never!" Quentyn laughed in turn.
While the courses flowed, the conversation got more serious. Daenerys and Quentyn started with some small talk, but now, we were talking about the prize.
"You wish me to marry Prince Aegon?" she asked.
"It would be preferable to unite the claims," Quentyn explained, "and marriages between Targaryens are hardly exceptional."
"You will excuse me if I doubt that my nephew is who he truly says he is."
"Lord Connington was believed dead and yet he stands before you now."
The Queen relaxed a little and conceded the argument.
"You know that I will not move until I have freed the slaves."
"A great objective, your grace, and one that I support wholeheartedly." Quentyn nodded. "But after you have freed Volantis, we must go to Westeros."
"Volantis is the key to the other cities. If I leave, it means one of the Free Cities may rise to take its place." Daenerys frowned.
Quentyn continued to press on,
"Then let it happen and free the rest later."
"Why is that," the Dragon Queen frowned, "when I can free thousands of slaves in the coming months?"
"Winter is here, your grace," Quentyn explained, "and with it, the weather deteriorates greatly. In a few weeks, it will be impossible to have a few days at sea without storms. If you invade by then, you risk your fleet being scattered to the seven winds."
Edric noted that Davos Seaworth frowned at that comment. No doubt that the sailor was feeling excluded from a conversation that he would have wished to be included in. Though, alone, it could not support the effort it would require to bring all of the Queen's armies to a safe haven.
"Besides, Westeros is fighting each other at the moment," Quentyn continued, pressing his point, "if you wait a year, even a couple months, who is to say that the realm will not be united and ready to throw you out? Having dragons is good, Your Grace, but dragons alone cannot help you. You need an army."
"I have an army."
"Of foreigners, Dothraki and Unsullied." Quentyn sighed. "It would be easy for anyone to rally against you by showing that you are not Westerosi, and that is if your army could cross the Narrow Sea and make a safe landing. The coasts of Dorne are treacherous, and so are those of the Stormlands. The Vale and the North…in the winter? Let us not talk about it. This leaves the Crownlands, and this means a journey through the Narrow Sea and the storms, into the heart of the power of your enemies. If the weather prevents you from riding your dragon for but a moon, it will all be over."
The Queen stayed silent during these arguments, listening attentively. Once Quentyn was done talking, she finally nodded.
"And what will you bring me, then, if we sail right away?" she asked.
"I bring you legitimacy, Your Grace. With a Great House of the Kingdoms on your side, and an army made of Westerosi, who could claim that you are foreign? I bring you Dorne and its roads and resources. No need to land on foreign shores, I can bring you my fleet, to transport you, your men and your animals, to a safe port, from which you may then launch your invasion to reclaim the kingdoms," Quentyn stated, "you will have everything you could ask for, which you would have had to fight for if not. Logistics, men, supplies, boats…all of this if you move right away."
"And, I assume you have a price for this?" Daenerys brought a cup of wine to her lips.
"Benefits for Dorne, of course." Quentyn nodded. "As reparation for our losses when we supported your father as well as a reward for our loyalty. This, and an alliance sealed by your marriage to Aegon."
"What benefits?" Daenerys asked, curious.
"That, we can negotiate later, but some of them may be territorial."
Both Connington and Seaworth visibly reacted to this, both scowling before calming their features, although neither said anything.
"As you say, these may be discussed later," Daenerys waved that issue off, "you make good points, I will concede, but what if I choose to wait for spring?"
"The next spring may not be until a few years, your grace, the maesters have said that this winter will be the longest in living memory." Quentyn sighed. "And by then, you may only be Queen of Five Kingdoms."
"Five?" Daenerys asked, shocked.
"I…your brother, Rhaegar, sired another son, from Lyanna Stark, your nephew, Daeron Targaryen," Quentyn spoke slowly, so that Daenerys understood every word.
"Do not jest with me, prince Quentyn, I am not in the mood." Daenerys narrowed her eyes.
"What the prince says is true, your grace," Monford Velaryon intervened, "we have received word of his exploits and his dragon."
"Dragon?" Daenerys asked, confused and dumbfounded.
"You are not the only one to have hatched dragons, your grace," Prince Aegon finally intervened for the first time. "Prince Daeron, my brother, hatched a dragon and defeated the Tyrells with it. He is using it to preserve the independence of the North."
"The longer we wait, the larger it grows…" Quentyn trailed.
"If what you say is true, we can easily sway my other nephew to bend the knee." Daenerys' dismissal of the issue obvious in her tone and her words.
"You could, if the boy didn't consider himself a Stark through and through," Quentyn continued, "the more you wait, the more the resolve of your nephew to protect the North will grow, and who is to say he might not include the Riverlands and Vale in that kingdom? Or worse, will he show ambition and seize the throne for himself? Every day spent outside of Westeros from now on is a day where your chances of claiming the throne get slimmer."
Daenerys stayed silent for a moment, then finally put both hands on her table, showing a slight smile.
"Your loyalty and honesty are appreciated and welcome, Prince Quentyn. Once we have agreed on a set of conditions, and Volantis has been liberated, we shall sail to Dorne." She then turned towards Aegon, "as for my nephew, I shall be glad to marry him, on one condition."
Aegon looked surprised, but nevertheless acquiesced.
"Anything in my power, dear aunt, I will do so."
"You are the blood of the dragon?" she asked with a smirk, leaning back into her chair. "Then claim one. That is my condition. After all, if Prince Daeron did, it should be easy for you."
Edric had never seen Quentyn's face go whiter. However, this was the least of Edric's concerns, as while everyone had their gaze fixed on Aegon, the Daenerys' indigo eyes were fixed on him. And that satisfied smirk…was clearly directed for him too.
Oh, what had Edric gotten himself into?