At the Red Keep…
King Daveth I stood in his chambers looking over numerous documents in his hands, each of them contained battlefield reports from his generals and other noble Houses loyal to him; according to Ser Lucius's report, Randyll Tarly's attempt to root out dissention among the traitorous Renly Baratheon's ranks at the Grassy Vale were thwarted.
Ser Lucius and Ser Barristan were able to use the familiarity of the terrain and have their troops divide portions of the much larger rebel host and pick them off one-by-one after luring them deep into the Rainwood forest where they weren't able to maneuver upon being packed against each other too tightly. As a result, a number Storm Lords were brought into the fold and a few Reachmen had defected. Casualties were small, but due to Lucius and Barristan's combat experience, the rebel losses were much higher and the mission was ultimately successful.
His uncle Ser Jaime had taken half of the main bulk of the Lannister armies and deployed several tactics like hit-and-run and feigned retreat against the Reachmen, overrunning Goldengrove and currently laying siege to Highgarden. Word soon arrived that the Tyrell forces led by Ser Loras were planning to launch a vicious counterattack. Losses were light, but they weren't allowed a moment's respite. Word arrived from Lord Tywin Lannister that he'll be moving his forces south towards Bitterbridge and from there he'll push the rebels east towards Ashford to set up their trebuchets.
The naval night raid at Arbor, however, ended in a stalemate. The surprise attack was partially successful, but some of the Redwyne Fleet under the command of Lord Paxter Redwyne managed to set sail and sink 20 Royal Fleet vessels. The scouts' reports indicate the Redywne Fleet were last seen sailing through the Summer Sea, and plan to head up the Narrow Sea to gather the 40,000 rebel troops stationed at Tarth and advance on King's Landing through Blackwater Bay.
'How clever… Utilizing a diversionary force to draw our attention away from the capital and strike from behind with superior numbers,' thought Daveth as he started to put the pieces of the puzzle together.
Luckily for the royalist forces Daveth had already been preparing for such a likely scenario. Beneath that lurked a response letter he was about to read; but before Daveth could read it his thoughts were interrupted when a knock on the door was heard.
"Come in," Daveth spoke up as he put the papers down.
When the door opened, Myrcella stepped into the room. Her golden curls had grown to waist length and had grown into a beautiful 16-year-old young woman, having already developed a delicate figure. Myrcella had looked almost identical to their mother in terms of beauty; thankfully Myrcella had none of her mother's nature and was still a sweet girl.
She smiled warmly at her eldest brother, yet somehow felt somewhat nervous at the same time. Myrcella was informed by Eddard Stark that Daveth had summoned her. She couldn't help but wonder why her brother asked for her personally. Did she do something wrong? Is Daveth feeling all right?
"Your Grace," Myrcella curtseyed politely.
Daveth slightly shook his head in amusement. "You don't have to call me that whenever we're in private, 'Cella."
Myrcella giggled, but soon ceased when she noticed Daveth's posture.
"You wanted to see me, Brother?" she asked, fidgeting her fingers.
"I did, yes," he nodded.
Daveth motioned his hand in the direction of the empty seat in front of his desk. Myrcella looked and moved to sit down, with Daveth following suit – still standing as he looked out the open window towards the Blackwater Rush.
"Am I in trouble for something?" Myrcella asked.
"What? No, no you're not!" Daveth said surprised as he shook his head vigorously. "You know me better than that. I wouldn't send for you unless it was something of utmost importance."
Daveth placed a hand on the windowsill.
"You're 16 now, Myrcella. Do you understand what that means?"
"I…" she started to speak but was cut off.
"In times like this, I sometimes forget that you're not a little girl anymore; much to my dismay, to be sure. Our Mother brought us into this world, and for many years I've done everything in my power as an older brother to ensure your safety and happiness as a paramount importance in our family. But now that I'm King…" he paused hesitatingly before resuming. "But now that I'm King, I have other responsibilities. This matter involves you."
Now Myrcella was getting nervous.
"What are you getting at?" she asked. "Is it because of the war?"
"Partially because of the war, yes," Daveth sighed. "But the other half is why I asked you here."
Myrcella inhaled and prepared herself. She continued looking at the man who always looked after her and Tommen and kept them safe from Joffrey tormenting them or their father King Robert not spending enough time with the four of them. To Myrcella, Daveth was her eldest brother and a surrogate father figure for her. He played with her, helped their mother raise her. She adored her brother, idolized him. But something about the way he spoke troubled her. He was fighting a war against their traitorous uncle Renly, and Myrcella wondered if there was anything she could possibly to try and help Daveth as best as she could to take some of the burden off of him.
Daveth turned to see Myrcella looking innocently at him; her green eyes sparkled in the sunlight. This was actually a lot harder than he thought. Daveth finally stepped away from the window and sat at his desk in front of Myrcella, reaching his hand over to take his sister's hand in his own.
"You are my cherished little sister, Myrcella. As your older brother, I need you to do something for me, something that I've never asked you before. It's… rather complicated, but it's for the sake of our family that you secure an alliance for us."
Myrcella gently squeezed Daveth's hand. "Of course, Brother. Anything. What can I do to help?"
Daveth slowly inhaled through his nostrils. "Here," he forwarded Myrcella a latter.
The Princess took the unsealed letter and read it:
"To His Grace and the Oathkeeper, King Daveth of the House Baratheon,
the First of His Name,
After much thought and careful consideration, it is my esteemed pleasure
that I inform you the arrangement between our two Houses is hereby
accepted. Your sister, Princess Myrcella of House Baratheon, is to be wed
to my son and heir Prince Trystane of House Martell when they both come
of age. One of our ships will soon depart from Sunspear en route to the
capital of King's Landing to retrieve her.
As a sign of good faith, you have my solemn pledge that once your sister
arrives in Dorne, she will be protected by my guards. Unlike the Lannisters,
we do not harm little girls in Dorne. Not while I rule.
I also understand that it took a lot from you to reach out to us directly –
given the circumstances. But I've seen what the horrors of war does to
people and the scars it leaves behind.
I've seen bodies pile up on the battlefields, orphans starving in the cities.
My sister, Elia, was raped and murdered along with her two children, my
niece Rhaenys and my nephew Aegon during the War of the Usurper. I
don't want to see my people like that, and I'm sure you don't as well.
I will send word once we know when the marriage ceremony will
commence.
Signed,
Doran Martell · Lord of Sunspear and Prince of Dorne"
Myrcella took a moment to take in what she had just read. Her brother was… sending her away? To Dorne?
"You're sending me away?" Myrcella said as her voice started to crack.
Daveth shook his head. He somehow knew this was coming, but he had to do it. He didn't like the idea or even want to use his little sister as a pawn, but Daveth had to put the pieces back together again.
"I am not sending you away on a whim, Myrcella. Try to understand that proposal is for the good of the realm as a whole in the long run," Daveth explained.
"We are not Seven Kingdoms until Dorne returns to the fold. The Dornishmen have been living as isolationists for almost twenty years, and whatever events that took place during our Father's war against the Targaryen dynasty are still felt there. Jon Arryn tried to make peace with the Martells, but even then it only went so far. I had to go to great lengths to ensure that whatever attempts at reconciliation can be reached with House Martell is met. It's not much, but it's a start."
Daveth sighed wearily as he stood up, bringing Myrcella along with him to overlook the bay below them.
"There's also this," he told her. "In the event should the fighting ever reach the capital and the rebels end up emerge victorious… then it's imperative that you make it out of King's Landing alive. Should all of us end up being put to the sword, me, Mother, Joffrey, Tommen, then it'll be up to you to lead our House as Queen Regnant, Myrcella. I know none of this seems fair, but I wouldn't ask you to do this if I wasn't certain you could pull it off."
Myrcella tried not to be upset; the thought of being away from her family brought down her sunny disposition. But she understood her duty and listened to what her older brother told her.
"I'll do it," Myrcella sniffled. "If that's what you want… I'll do it."
Daveth felt his heart ache. "…Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"You don't even know the boy you'll be married off to, this Trystane lad, and yet you give your consent to this match?"
Myrcella wiped her eyes and nodded.
"I don't want to leave, but you're my older brother and the King," she replied. "I'm sure you believe this is for the best."
Daveth shook his head. "Believe me, I've asked myself that countless times and still I'm not sure what I'm doing."
He cupped Myrcella's chin and lifted her head up.
"Besides, you know I wouldn't let anyone treat my little sister badly, right?" Daveth tried to reassure Myrcella with a warm smile. "Because the moment I hear differently, I'll pull the Martell boy aside and give him the talk. 'Be good to little 'Cella or I'll make you regret the day you were born'."
Myrcella laughed a bit after hearing Daveth tried to tell a joke to cheer her up whenever she was upset, something she always appreciated.
"Are you sure you consent to this match?" he asked.
"I consent," she affirmed.
Myrcella pulled Daveth into a long, warm hug. "You… you promise to visit me in Dorne?"
Daveth nodded and held her tight. "I promise, 'Cella. I'll even write you letters. You have my word."
With that, Myrcella felt a little bit better – believing that everything was going to be alright despite the rebellion going on right now. Her brother placed a great deal of faith in her and asked her for the first time to do something for him in return. Myrcella swore she wouldn't let Daveth down, no matter what.
"I love you, Big Brother," Myrcella said.
"I know," Daveth responded quietly.
But unbeknownst to them, as brother and sister hugged for what seemed like eternity, someone was watching them before taking off.
######
Elsewhere…
"How dare you!"
Those were the words Cersei greeted Daveth when she confronted him; judging by her stance and hostility in the tone of her voice, Cersei caught wind of what her eldest son was doing.
"How could you have done such a thing?! Myrcella is my only daughter, your own sister! Do you really think I'll let you sell her like a common whore?!"
"And what would you have me do instead, keep her confined here when the Redwyne Fleet arrives?!" Daveth shouted back. "Myrcella is a Princess, and she's always done her duty!"
"I will not let you ship Myrcella off to Dorne like I was shipped off to your wretched father!" Cersei retorted in anger.
Daveth felt his anger beginning to increasingly boil, but forced it down. He'll have time to find out who it was that told Cersei of his plans later. Originally both mother and son were so close in the beginning, but ever since Daveth's maturity they've grown rather distant. And with Daveth ascending the Iron Throne as King of the Seven Kingdoms, they don't see eye-to-eye on anything. With the plot to marry Myrcella off to the Martells… the mother-son relationship quickly deteriorated.
"You know damned well what'll happen otherwise! Based on the reports our men send us from the battlefield, if the war does come here then Myrcella will not be safe! And I for one refuse to allow those rebels anywhere near her!"
"So you send her off to Dorne? Are you mad?! You'd never let any harm come to your little sister! The Martells loathe us, they hate the Lannisters!"
"And whatever mistakes are made on my part, then that's on me! But don't forget that we'll need their support in the long run should Daenerys Targaryen somehow cross the Narrow Sea."
"Your sister will be a hostage."
"A guest."
"It's not enough for you, is it?" Cersei growled with venom and a hint of desperation in her voice. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You Baratheons love war."
"I'M not the one who started this war! I'm ending it," Daveth shot back at the accusations. "You, on the other hand, have done nothing but try to undermine me and whisper such poison into my ears since my coronation! What's done is done. It's over."
"No."
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes, it is! And you simply cannot choose to end it regardless because Myrcella has already agreed to this match!"
Cersei stared at Daveth in shock. Her daughter agreed to this match? If so, why was Cersei misinformed by her informant?
"And if they do harm her," he continued, "then all the might of Westeros will be brought to bear. 'Ours is the Fury', remember? Even the Dornish know this fact all too well. They know their limits. They know they cannot stand against the entire realm."
Cersei didn't answer right away as she sank into a chair and brought her hands to her distraught face.
"…Just get out. Please…"
Daveth said nothing, but noticed a hint of sadness behind his mother's words. He turned around and left his mother's room. After closing the door behind him, Daveth began to plot his next move and root out internal strife before it spirals out of control before the war reaches the capital.
"Your Grace," one of his contacts approached.
Daveth turns. "What is it?"
"We've picked up a scent. I believe we found out the perpetrators responsible for the death of Lord Jon Arryn, but also those who seek to conspire against you."
Chapter End
######
Author's Note: Chapter 21 done, though this one is rather short since I'm kind of sick. But it shows one of the toughest decisions Daveth's ever had to make. He's trying to do his duty as an older brother and keep his baby sister safe from the fighting. But do you think this plan will work with the Oathkeeper in charge? Will the Martells respect his wishes and not dare provoke his wrath? Let me know.
Hail King Cerion: Hmm this was good, the Battle of the Arbor seemed an important fight so a little disappointed we didn't see it. But it's still good anyways, I do wonder what battle will come next.
―I'm sure I'll think of something.
DullReign82: Myrcella Baratheon is the only child of Cersei and Jaime that I like, please don't kill her.
―No one would even dare harm Myrcella lest they risk inciting the Oathkeeper's wrath.
The Raven15: Good story but you need to work on your time frame. As someone else asked in the last chapter, it takes Tyrion a year to get from the Vale to the Westerlands? And he doesn't know about Roberts death and Daveth becoming king? Also you have Daveth tell his Hand to ask for Myrcella to come see him and in that time several major battles happen and word has already gotten back to Daveth?
―I'll make a note of the time frame in the near future.
Vulcran Stormblade: I think Cersie took the news quite well.
―Or at least I think she did; the relationship between the two has become so distant they see each other as mere strangers.
kira444: Don't write yourself sick now. Take care of yourself. You're on a roll, but it won't do to have you pass out halfway through writing the next chapter.
―I'll try, but I can't make any promises.
Moshi: It's the best move, Myrcella was always going to be married off, a Prince of Dorne is a good match. Plus, it goes in the right direction to heal old wounds, I think even Ned would see the worth ( and truly there is no definitive proof that Joff, Cella, and Tommen are bastards, especially with a Baratheon as King who is in fact their elder brother. Ned hid Jon, he can let this secret lie.)
I can't wait to see Daveth bring down LF & Lysa.
―The decision to send Myrcella off to Dorne was perhaps without a doubt the toughest, heart-wrenching choice Daveth's ever had to make. He just loves his little sister and prays that he never has to do something like that again. Joffrey, on the other hand, Daveth doesn't care. For all he cares the Illborn can burn in the deepest corners of the Seven hells.
―As for LF & Lysa, Daveth never trusted Littlefinger one bit and still remains suspicious of Lysa since her behavior immediately changes when the two are together. She didn't even attend her husband Jon Arryn's funeral and immediately took off without so much as a single thought. That alone ought to raise at lease a few eyebrows. Something's going on, and Daveth's gonna find out what it is... but he's gotta be real subtle about how he handles it.
The Three Stoogies: a great chapter but if the mountain has been striped of title and land after the war y not send him as a wedding gift.
―You'll see soon enough.
mpowers045: I hope they truly found the ones that caused Jon Arryn's death
―Maybe. Daveth still has fond memories of the old man.