Firstly, I want to say a massive thank you to all the readers. The 500 reviews mark is special to me, and after this one we still have 15 chapters left in this story. Special thanks to BioHazard82 for that magic review to take it to 500.
I'll just get right into the chapter now then. As always, I own nothing but Durran and any other OC's.
The Royal Fleet had been at sea for over a year, and finally the white flags had been raised over Sunspear. Davos looked out from his ship and smiled for the first time in a while, before bringing Gendry and a few Baratheon men onto his longboat and rowing towards the former Dornish Capital.
They were met in the city by some of the more notable Dornish Lords, led by the Valyrian looking Lord Edric Dayne, who had already received Doran Martell. The Martell patriarch looked like his spirit had been beaten as he slumped in his wheeled chair, his huge bodyguard stood behind him, axeless.
"The onion knight! Glad you could join us." One of the Dornish Lords grinned. His clothing was adorned with black adders, so Davos assumed it was Lord Wyl. "We were just talking with our traitorous former Liege."
"As I recall, you all declared for Viserys." Doran told them sharply.
"They followed you, Doran." Edric Dayne said, not unkindly. "They've seen the error of their ways now."
"A hostage and a raise of taxes later." Another Dornish Lord scoffed. Lord Uller.
"Indeed, your King was extremely merciful." Doran rolled his eyes. "Not to mention slaughtering your nieces, Lord Harmen."
The Uller Lord shifted slightly, and Davos could see that resentment was in his eyes, so he stepped in. "The price of treason, while unfortunate, was set. Your Nieces committed treason, Prince Doran. As have you."
"I know, that is what the histories will write." Doran said calmly. "Very well, we can sit here and chatter nonsensically until Dorne freezes, I presume you have come to take me to King's Landing." He said to Davos.
The former smuggler nodded. "Doran, of House Martell." He began formally. "In the name of Durran, of House Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdom's and Protector of the Realm. I, Ser Davos of House Seaworth, Master of Ships, do accept your surrender. Gendry, help him onto the boats."
The squire nodded, and together with Areo Hotah they led him towards the longboat for transference to King's Landing, leaving Davos alone with the Dornish Lords.
"I thank you for your assistance, Lord Dayne." Davos said. "We've been blockading for a long time, it will be good to go home once more."
"Yes, home does sound sweet after everything that's happened." Edric smiled, before his face turned stoic. "You best return to your ships Ser Davos. I expect the sight will be best viewed from where you are docked."
"Pardon, My Lord?" Davos was confused.
Lord Anders Yronwood, Davos guessed, began grinning. "You don't want to be caught in the explosions, Ser Davos. Finally, I'll be able to piss on the ashes of the home of the man that murdered my Grandfather through trickery." He said, spitting on the floor.
"Now now, Anders." Lord Wyl said. "You know what the saying is, piss on wildfire and your cock burns."
"Wildfire?" Davos asked, horrified.
Edric Dayne nodded, reaching into his purple surcoat and pulling out a slightly battered royal decree. "His Grace ordered Sunspear to be destroyed, so the symbol of House Martell dies with them."
Davos shook his head. "My Lords, Wildfire… it's too dangerous."
"Northern flowers." Lord Uller laughed. "You should visit my castle, Onion Knight. If Wildfire scares you, the bones of Meraxes the fearsome will shake your bones so fiercely they'll turn to dust."
"This story again." Wyl rolled his eyes. "Your ancestors gave the bones back, you have nothing."
"We gave back the beast, but we still have dragon bones." Uller grinned. "Tell me Ser Davos, would you like to see the bones of Rhaenys the beautiful? Although, by the state of them she wasn't beautiful by the end." He roared with laughter.
"That's enough talk about the Targaryen's, My Lords." Dayne spoke commandingly, waving away a soldier that had just ran towards him, and the Dornishmen obeyed the request for quiet, surprising Davos at how quickly Dayne had commanded their respect. "You supposedly have Rhaenys, I'm sure Lord Wyl will spin a story about how they have the skeletal hand of Orys Baratheon in his dungeons. You can compare cock sizes later; the people have evacuated and we're ready. Let's move out of Sunspear."
The Dornish Lords began to depart, as Wyl and Uller were still talking about their ancestor's trophies, but Davos stopped Edric. "My Lord, I've seen what Wildfire can do, I beg you to reconsider."
Edric looked solemn. "These are the King's orders, Ser Davos. I like it about as much as you do, but I owe King Durran everything. His will, my hands." He said.
"It's extreme! These people…" Davos cried, but Edric Dayne interrupted him.
"Have been relocated. I will not see my people homeless, Ser Davos, trust me on this." Davos still didn't like it, but the Lord Paramount of Dorne had given his commands. The Dayne Lord walked to his white stallion and mounted up. "Sometimes we must do horrible things to ensure the coming of a new era of peace, and this will send a message to all who would oppose House Dayne and Baratheon."
With that he rode off, leaving a perplexed Davos internally screaming at the unnecessary action that was about to take place. He quickly made his way back to the boat however, and remained silent as the Baratheon soldiers rowed them all back to Davos' ship.
Around an hour later, Davos watched on from behind the wheel as a flaming arrow was fired from far outside the city, and almost as soon as the flame fell behind the curtain wall the city erupted. The bright green flames caused Davos to wince and hide behind his arm, as the shockwave rocked the ship excessively. Steadying himself, Davos looked beyond his arm to see the hundred-foot tower that gave Sunspear its name crumble from its foundations and topple over back into the city. Sighing at the sight, he collected his emotions and called out to his crew. "Hoist anchor! Let's get ourselves home boys!"
The snow had turned heavy, and Sansa stared out of the window of her room watching the snowflakes race towards the ground. She felt at peace, her hands happily stitching a new dress for when she finally married Willas Tyrell. It felt strange to her, sewing a Southern dress while also watching a heavy snowstorm, but her future lay in the warmer climates of the Reach, and the soft, silk dress of greens and greys to pay tribute to both her future Houses would be welcomed there.
Focusing back on the dress, she added the fine details of the Direwolf of House Stark into the left shoulder before a faint scream came from down the hallways, and a whine came from the corner of Sansa's room.
"I know, Lady." She sighed to her Direwolf, the well-behaved beast sitting perfectly in the corner. "Lady Roslin will soon have her child though and the screaming will end." She placed her dress daintily on her bed and walked over to scratch the Direwolf behind her ears. She heard the door open, and saw Arya standing there.
"She's gotten big." Arya noted.
Sansa nodded, feeling slightly guilty. "I'm sure Nymeria is bigger, off somewhere in the Kingswood or the Riverlands causing trouble."
Arya breathed out a laugh, before walking into the room. "It's been going on for hours, when will it stop." She groaned, lounging down on the bed. Sansa stood up quickly and took the dress away, folding it neatly and putting it into a drawer.
"Not long." Sansa shook her head, sitting down next to Arya.
"She woke me up this morning while it was still dark." Arya complained again. Sansa smirked.
"I'm sure you will forgive her when you see the baby." Sansa responded, silently hoping both Mother and baby turned out healthy.
Arya shrugged, sitting herself up. "Does Robb know?"
Sansa shook her head, and told Arya the plan that had been made when they heard that Robb was on his way to King's Landing. "After the birth we shall send a raven to King's Landing, and the King will let him know when Robb arrives. He'll be back soon enough I'm sure."
"He should have come home." Arya said, annoyed. "Why would he go there?"
"Robb has his reasons, we need to trust him." Sansa said calmly, she held her arm out and Arya moved herself, so she was resting against Sansa's chest as the elder girl cuddled her close.
They stayed like that for a little while, until their Mother appeared in the doorway, dressed as improperly as they had ever seen her with light blood stains on her arms. Arya bolted upright, and Sansa looked alarmed as well.
"Is Roslin alright? Is the baby ok?" Arya fired off questions quickly.
Cat had tearstained eyes, but nodded. "Lady Roslin is well, the birth was a success. The blood is normal girls, I assure you."
Sansa let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding. Arya just turned to her with a grin. "This is your dream? Ha!" She laughed, not unkindly as Sansa was reminded of her speech for wanting to give Joffrey her babies. Shuddering slightly, she lightly hit her sister on the arm before turning to Catelyn. "Can we see her?"
Cat nodded, and stepped backwards so that the girls could race towards the Lords Chamber. The door was slightly ajar, and Roslin was holding her baby, her hair a mess and sweat on her brow. She smiled even more when she noticed the girls in the doorway. Maester Luwin was in the corner, a small amount of blood on his robes too.
"Come in, My Ladies." Luwin said softly. Sansa walked up to the bed, and placed a hand on Roslin's shoulder.
"You're alright, My Lady?" She asked formally.
"None of that, sister." Roslin replied. "Come, meet your nephew."
"A boy?" Arya asked happily.
Roslin shifted the baby so that they could see his face, and Sansa melted as she saw the light tufts of brown hair, and the grey eyes staring up at her. "He's beautiful." She whispered.
"He sort of looks like Father." Arya noted, holding a finger out to lightly stroke the baby's cheek.
Sansa agreed, and so did Cat from behind her. "It's the eyes." She said happily. "She has Ned's eyes."
"Robb and I decided on a name before he left." Roslin smiled, staring down at the baby. "Sansa, Arya, Lady Catelyn. Please meet Brandon Stark, the heir to Winterfell."
Sansa couldn't stop the tears then. "You named him after Bran?"
Roslin smiled, and looked towards Catelyn. "Robb knew it was a Stark name, and after what happened to Winterfell we felt we needed to honour his sacrifice."
Cat couldn't speak, as tears filled her eyes too. Arya stood and held her hand, as Sansa just turned to Roslin. "Thank you." She whispered emotionally.
Roslin shifted herself upright and went to hand baby Brandon to Sansa. "Here, hold him. He should know his Aunt." Sansa accepted the baby, and with a bit of help from Roslin she held her nephew correctly, staring down at him in complete awe.
The news from the North was met with mixed reactions in the Small Council chamber. Some were happy that the Northerners had an heir, but Durran was sat thinking that someday in the future his daughter would travel Northwards and marry this baby Brandon Stark. He could sense that next to him, Dany was feeling the same.
"Write to Lady Roslin wishing her congratulations on the healthy birth." Stannis told Pycelle. "We shall have to let Lord Stark know as soon as he arrives."
"Lord Hand." Pycelle nodded, accepting the task. "Lord Dayne has sent a raven." He told the King, reaching into his robes and handing it to Durran, who read the small note and had half a grimace on his face.
"It is done, Sunspear burns." He told the council. Dany had a smile on her face, but most of the others looked uncomfortable.
"We did what had to be done, Your Grace." Tarly said. "Dorne will feel this for a dozen generations and will know not to tussle with the Stag."
Durran nodded. "That's enough wildfire though, I want it all destroyed safely and the pyromancers gone. I will not liken myself to Aerys any more than I already have done."
"I shall see to it." Ser Morton Waynwood nodded, the Valeman having been appointed the new Master of Laws now that Daven was preparing to head back to Casterly Rock with Tommen.
"There is also news from Braavos, Your Grace." Mace Tyrell told him, thankfully changing the subject. "The Iron Bank has called one tenth of the crown's debts."
"How much is that?" Durran asked.
"Around 300,000 stags, Your Grace." Tyrell replied, reading from his papers.
Durran breathed out in annoyance. "Damn my Father…" He whispered.
"What can we afford to pay back, Lord Tyrell?" Stannis asked.
"With Winter well on its way and the rebuilding of the section of the fleet that burnt in the Blackwater as well as the ongoing war efforts in Dorne, I'd say around two thirds of the outstanding sum." Mace Tyrell replied.
Durran shook his head. "We need to pay them back in its entirety, the Iron Bank is not an enemy I would like to make."
"How can we do that?" Dany asked.
"House Tyrell could front the remainder." Tyrell responded.
"We are already over 500,000 gold coins in debt to your House, Lord Tyrell." Stannis reminded him. "No, that is not something we can do."
"Can we negotiate new terms?" Dany asked.
Stannis thought for a moment. "It's not impossible… we would have to go there personally however, give them the reasons why we cannot pay in full, but show them that we shall soon be able too."
Durran nodded. "I would go but I'm the one Lord Stark is coming to see, I cannot be gone for a month or so."
"I'll go with Lord Tyrell." Dany replied. Durran looked at her questioningly, and she turned to him. "Lord Tyrell is Master of Coin, he has to go, but as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms it will show the Iron Bank that we are taking this extremely seriously."
"And use the threat of the Dragons to ensure they see clearly." Lord Tarly replied gruffly. "I like it."
Durran shook his head. "We won't threaten the Iron Bank, but take Rhaellar and have her fly around the bank, we don't need to say anything if they see her for themselves."
The rest of the room agreed. "I'll have a ship prepared for you at once, Your Grace. We should depart as soon as possible."
"Give me a couple of days, Lord Hand." Dany told him. "Is that agreeable to you, Lord Tyrell?"
Mace Tyrell nodded ferociously. "It would be my honour to accompany Her Grace to Braavos."
Durran stood. "Then make your preparations My Lord. We can reconvene again tomorrow." The rest of the council bowed and left too, leaving Dany alone with her husband. "Are you sure about this?" He asked.
"Yes, you're far too busy here in the Capital and I'm more diplomatic than Stannis would be, anyone else would likely be seen as an insult." Dany shrugged. "I'll be fine."
Durran nodded, and brought her in for a hug. "Take Ser Perwyn and Ser Podrick with you, so I know you'll be safe."
Dany chuckled. "You worry too much, I'll be fine Durran."
The King wasn't deterred however, and kissed her softly before saying. "Your safety is of paramount importance My Queen, I will not risk it in the city of assassins."
Dany just shook her head with a smile and began walking back into the Throne Room. "I'm the Mother of Dragons, Durran." She called out, not looking at him. "If anything, the Braavosi should be worried about me."
Jon was sat at his desk with a map of the North in front of him. Lord Umber was the other side of the desk, not happy at the conversation they were having about the relocation of the Wildlings.
"Lord Umber, please understand." Jon was pleading. "The Gift is the only place big enough and with enough resources to house the Free Folk in their entirety."
"They've raided my lands for centuries!" The Umber Lord bellowed. "Now you want to house the fuckers 100,000 strong just a few miles away from my borders?"
Maester Aemon was also sat in with them. "The acceptance of boundary and law is the single main requirement of moving South, Lord Umber."
"They won't fucking listen!" Umber bellowed. "My own cousin was carried off in a raid, the fuckers will live as they always have and it will be the people of the North that suffer!"
"Have some respect for Maester Aemon, My Lord." Jon said sternly. "And listen to the proposal. Those furthest South in the New Gift will only be the elders, women and children that won't be able to fight against the coming storm aided by a few warriors, not enough for a raiding party. The Warriors will be housed in the abandoned castles along the Wall, and then in the villages that make up the Northern half of the Gift. You won't find a true fighting force until you get 25 leagues North of Umber land."
The Greatjon wasn't happy. "None of you know… when those fuckers want something they'll rape and pillage until they get it. When we win this bastard war what then? It will be our people that suffer, mark my words." At that he threw his chair back and stormed out of Jon's chambers.
"He is an angry man." Maester Aemon noted, as Jon went to correct the chair. "But a loyal one. He is unhappy because he can't do anything to change it, and he is too loyal to your family to be willing to try."
Jon just sighed, and fell back into his seat. "It's not just him, every decision I make to try and save people's lives will be met with ridicule and disgust."
Maester Aemon had a knowing smile. "Command is a role that only the few find themselves natural to from the start. My own brother, dear Egg, he wasn't a willing commander when he came to the Iron Throne. He was 33 and still a child at heart. I told him before I came to Castle Black the same words I shall tell you now, Jon Snow. Kill the boy inside of you. Winter is almost upon us and he is no longer needed. Kill the boy, and let the man be born. You and you alone know what needs to be done, so do it."
Jon took in those words. "King Aegon… what did he do when he heard those words?"
Maester Aemon leant back in nostalgia, his face stoic. "He sentenced the Hand of the King to the Wall for the murder of his own enemy."
Jon nodded, his thoughts clearing on his own predicament. "I can't appease anyone, can I? I have to do what needs to be done no matter what the men will think."
Maester Aemon shook his head. "Appeasement is only to delay a problem, one that will come at you harder and with greater consequence. It is not a stance to take lightly."
Jon nodded. "Thank you, Maester."
"I am here to serve you, Lord Commander." Aemon bowed his head.
Jon was grateful, and helped the man back to his chambers. He made sure the Maester was comfortable and sleeping before heading North of the Wall to Mance Rayder's camp, not realising that the old Maester would never wake up.
The atmosphere in the King's chambers was tense. Durran was against the wall, as Myrcella used her trebuchet to take Durran's dragon out of the Cyvasse game. The Princess grinned wildly as she took the piece off the board.
"I hate this game." Durran sulked jovially.
Myrcella smiled overly sweetly at him. "You're just not very good is all, your board is set up perfectly for me."
Durran shook his head anyway as he moved another piece. "This is nonsense, I'm the King of Westeros I should just win automatically." He sighed.
Tommen was sat down on the bed reading a book on Lann the Clever, but he poked his head over the tome and exclaimed. "Any man that says, 'I am the King' is no true King! That's what Ser Daven said."
Durran nodded. "That's what our Grandfather would have said."
Myrcella just smiled, as she moved to take the king piece and end the game. "You're a decent King Durran, you're allowed to have some flaws though, and Cyvasse is one of them."
Durran stared in disbelief at the board. "How… what? You're far too smart for your own good."
Myrcella just grinned, and got to her feet and curtseyed, before heading over to Tommen. "Tommen you've read that book three times already, you're leaving tomorrow come and play with us!"
The Lannister Lord groaned, before being dragged over to the table and being placed in Durran's seat. "I don't like this game." He moaned. "Can't I go and spar instead?"
Durran laughed. "We could talk about the many Westerland Ladies that you could marry…" He threatened, causing the 13-year-old to shiver in dread. "Just enjoy tonight, you're leaving tomorrow and this may be one of the last times we can all relax like this, soon you'll take up the mantle of Warden of the West and Myrcella will be the Lady of Dorne."
Tommen nodded, looking sad. "We'll all be so far away."
Durran nodded, and gathered both of his younger siblings in a hug. "No matter what happens now, both of you know that I'm only a raven away. If either of you need me, I'll be there."
Myrcella shook her head, but cuddled deeper into Durran's torso. "You're the King, you can't always just leave your duties."
Durran kissed them both on the top of the head. "For you two, I would do just that."
Some important bits in there, but that last scene was just a nice bit of family bonding before they all go their separate ways. The Cyvasse 'rules' all came from the page on AWOIAF, considering George RR Martin hasn't actually written the rules out.
The final brutality of Dorne is completed then, as Sunspear is destroyed by wildfire. I know a few people were shocked at how brutal Durran is being towards the Dornish, but remember his Grandfather was Tywin Lannister and his Mother Cersei, I don't think this is shockingly out of character. I also want to make it clear that Durran didn't murder innocents in the shadow city beneath it, he just blew up the castle, and evacuated everybody in its vicinity.
Robb has a son too! I wanted to call him Edwyle originally but I've used that name in a story already, and with Bran still being thought of as dead I thought Brandon fit. We also have a variation of the 'Kill the Boy' speech from Maester Aemon, may the Seven grant him peace.
I don't know when I'll update again due to an exam resit, but I'll try to do so within the month I promise.
Let me know what you think, and until next time I'll leave you with this brief hint of the next chapter: Robb, Sam and Mance all arrive in King's Landing.
Reviews:
Many Faced Mage: The Ironborn are beaten back now too, but the Sparrows will be a problem for a little while longer!
Guest (Arya): Robb knows, but giving Durran the name of the person that killed his Grandfather won't help in any way, so I reckon they'd keep it as secret as they could between them.
trollzor69: Because she's not a devout R'hllor follower, she just admires the powers and is entranced by Melisandre. She still worships the Seven.
Hail King Cerion: I guess it all depends on whether his rage at Viserys is greater than his moral compass, but rest assured if he does kill the child then Dany will be furious.
Guest (Greyjoy OC): We'll see about a Greyjoy one, but again it will come much later considering I've got No Mercy and Black Wolf Rises/The other Northern story to finish, then perhaps the sequel to As High as Honour, with brief plans for a Tully story and an idea of a character and when to start it for a Tyrell story.