The Loyal Guard
Years had come and gone for Areo Hotah, and as they passed, he could feel that time had not been particularly kind to him.
With every passing year, the Norvoshi guard's axe had felt heavier and heavier, despite his duties becoming lighter and lighter.
Yet, he did not falter in his duties. The prince commanded, and Areo obeyed. And so, he did.
He had stayed by his prince's side, even dutiful. He had seen and felt the prince's pain as the gout took him and forced him to be tied to a chair.
He had seen dozens, if not hundred of faces come and go through the Water Gardens. He had seen every corner of Dorne represented, and every one of the Martells come and go.
He had seen the little princess grow into a beautiful woman. He had seen the little prince grow into a scarred warrior. He had seen the baby prince grow into a young man.
And most of all, he had seen the miracles that had come to Dorne with the little prince.
Areo paid no mind at first, but it was hard to ignore the changes that were coming to Dorne. New medicine, flowers, fruits and spices soon flooded the Dornish markets. The commonfolk were happier, the lords richer, and most of all, his prince began a remarkable recovery.
Ever since the little prince had first come to the Water Gardens, Areo's prince had taken the extract every day. And with every passing day, Areo could feel that his prince was regaining his strength and youthfulness.
He started with slow walks of an hour with a cane and his help, then transitioned to longer walks with the cane alone. Soon, there was no need for a cane at all.
Areo could sense that his prince had finally started to look lively again, and was planning to take a trip across Dorne, something he hadn't done in many years.
And all of that thanks to the little prince standing in front of him.
"Your squire has to stay here." He told Prince Quentyn.
"Of course." The little prince nodded back.
The Dayne boy quickly bowed and scurried off somewhere, while Areo and the little prince made their way towards one of the Water Gardens' inner pools.
On their way there, he couldn't help but look at the small frog in the prince's pouch. He had seen such frogs before, but he couldn't remember where.
"Tell me, little prince." Areo asked. "Where did you find this frog of yours?"
"A merchant from Volantis sold it to me at Yronwood." Quentyn answered.
"Volantis…" Areo took a second to think. "Yes…I think I have seen some of these before."
"Really?" Quentyn raised an eyebrow. "It wouldn't surprise me to find Rhoynish Tree Frogs in the Noyne as well, to be fair."
"Ah, there it was." Areo finally had put his finger on it. "Some Norvoshi priests keep the frogs for good luck."
"It's the same here." Quentyn answered simply.
Of course, it was a little more complicated than that. Rhoynish Tree Frogs were common along the Rhoyne before the destruction of the Rhoynar, and along with the turtles of the river, were worshipped by them. However, when the Valyrians conquered the area, they exterminated almost all of them because of the link they supposedly had with the Rhoynar.
Despite this, the frogs survived, and in cities along the Rhoyne and its affluents such as Norvos, Selhorys, Valysar, Volon Therys and even Volantis, these tree frogs were collected by wealthy merchants and nobles.
Not many of these were of Valyrian descent, though, as the frogs symbolized resistance to Valyrian rule. Instead, they were traded and sold to the Dornish, nostalgic of a Rhoynish era long gone, or to the Braavosi and their curiosity, or supersitition. The Norvoshi also collected them, as they managed to rid much of their expensive gardens of flies, hornets and even snakes, and little Norvoshi cared for the fact that the Rhoynar held them and the Rhoynish turtles as tokens of resistance against the Valyrians.
It wasn't that surprising that the little prince had managed to acquire one, although one such specimen would be quite expensive. Although judging by its size, it was quite young, and Rhoynish tree frogs were said to live as long as fifty years, mayhaps more.
Areo didn't dwell on it too much, though, as they entered the convened meeting place.
It was a small area, in the middle of palm trees, with small ponds scattered around the freshly watered gardens, which now hosted a variety of different flowers each more colourful than the other. There were no pools here, only a small table with two chairs opposite each other.
Areo would not sit. He would have plenty of time to sit later. Now was the time to watch over the princes.
"Father." Quentyn bowed as he saw prince Doran standing next to the chairs. "I see that your health has been improving. I'm glad."
"Sit, Quentyn." Doran answered. "We have much to discuss. Tea?"
Quentyn nodded as he was handed a cup of a small brewage.
"It was a good thought that you had, to plant several seeds of this Yitish plant in the forests." Doran continued as the sweet smell of the beverages dissipated into the air. "It's a wonder we didn't think of it before. This will save us a fortune in trading with far-away Yi-Ti. How did you get this idea?"
"Trial and error." Quentyn answered simply, moving the cup to his lips. "The seeds didn't grow at Yronwood, and they did here."
"I see." Doran answered. "Tell me, Quentyn. How did you manage to do all of what you did? The medicine, the perfumes, the new fruits and glassworks? I can hardly believe you learnt it from Yronwood."
"Does it matter?" Areo could feel the little prince's voice grow uneasy. "I read and I learnt. I experimented and I thought. What matters is the results."
Prince Doran set two fingers on his beard, thinking for a brief moment, before continuing.
"Very well." He nodded. "Then let us talk of something else. Something I wish to know. You have heard of Lord Fowler's coming to the Gardens."
"His daughters were hard to avoid." Quentyn shook his head as he finished his cup.
"Then you must know that he came for my approval of a match between his daughter Delilah and Yronwood's heir, Cletus."
Quentyn nodded.
"I trust that you waved him off."
"What makes you think that?" Doran smiled.
"Come, father." Quentyn sighed. "You wouldn't dare give the go-ahead for the marriage between houses capable of trapping us inside our own peninsula, or giving Dorne to our enemies."
"So, you disapprove? It was an alliance that for all intents and purposes, you helped create. I wonder…"
"Father." Quentyn said sternly. "I am not a lordling or a toy you may play with. I am your son. If you have something to say or ask, please do so plainly."
"Very well." Doran nodded. "When you came here, you came with the intention of getting me to officially recognize you as heir. If Arianne hadn't been reckless, what would you have done? I can see your plan, but there are still holes which I cannot fill."
"I suppose I can. This alliance that I had created was supposed to be loyal to me, not to each other. Hence my recent frustrations with Lord Anders." Quentyn shrugged. "Regardless, you of course know that houses Yronwood and Allyrion were already tied, so there were no issues on that end. But you were right, the Fowlers were key to my strategy. I thought about leveraging Lord Franklyn and Lord Anders' friendship and the promise of revenge. Something that would have taken time. However, Arianne decided that it would be much simpler to deliver the Fowlers straight into my lap…quite literally, if I may add.
Turning the Fowlers against my sister was then easy. Once I had Jen's friendship, I had her sister's, and then Delilah and Fiora, then Franklyn. All I needed to do was promises here and there, and the establishment of a few guilds in Skyreach."
"You would have had the two houses controlling the Marches. But how about the Wyls?"
"Irrelevant." Quentyn brushed him off. "The Wyls are raiders and Yronwood would have kept them at bay. The real prize was to the West."
"The Daynes?"
"Precisely. Once I had the Yronwood and the Fowlers, I had to move onto the Stony Dornish. The Qorgyles and the Yronwoods already had privileged ties, and rallying them to my side wasn't hard, especially considering the fact that Gulian Qorgyle is quite an intelligent man, and the heir to Sandstone being amongst my closest companions would have secured their support. And after the Qorgyles, I needed the Daynes.
The Daynes weren't hard to convince either. Lord Alyn was a dying old man, and he was all too eager to ensure that Edric's rule wouldn't be contested by any Dayne cousins or cadet branches, provided that I give him some…concessions, which I was more than happy to provide. With Edric recalled to my side, this now gave me the whole of Western Dorne, trapping the Blackmonts and Wyls, since the Manwoodys would've followed whichever path Fowler and Yronwood were taking."
"This does leave a lot of Dornish houses."
"It does. But most of them were irrelevant to me. The territories loyal to me would've consisted of the most strategic places in Dorne: the passes, the Boneway, the Greatwater, the Torentine and Godsgrace. With these, I could've halted trade on the Greenblood.
I doubt Vaith, Uller and Gargalen would've declared for me. I didn't put a lot of hopes in House Toland either. This left the Jordaynes."
"What would you have given them?" Doran asked, thoughtful. "The Jordayne succession is secure, and they are already a wealthy house."
"My hand." Quentyn answered simply. "The title of consort."
"I thought that you liked your freedom."
"Dorne is worth a marriage." Quentyn raised an eyebrow. "And I am not stupid enough to think I shall remain unwed for long."
"Your grandfather was a Jordayne, too." Doran pointed out. "Other houses would've grumbled."
"Houses on Arianne's side, perhaps. But not mine. I had my allies right where I wanted them. And to convince Jordayne, I needed both a show of force and a show of kindness. The show of force would've been the houses at my back, and the show of kindness would've been my hand. I would have pledged it to Myria or Samira, and therefore save the Allyrions from a deadly enemy."
"A well-constructed alliance." Doran looked thoughtful. "But what would've happened if I still refused to name you my heir?"
"Then I would have played a patient game." Quentyn replied. "The situation in the Seven Kingdoms was rapidly deteriorating. I only needed to wait for a spark that would've lit a fire, to stop any outside intervention.
I wouldn't have opposed Arianne ruling Dorne a few years ago, but my arrival at Sunspear confirmed what I feared about her, and therefore I had to cast her aside. Convincing my allies that she was a poor choice of an heir would've been a formality with my plans and my achievements. It would've been easy to then distribute resources towards my allies, and give nothing to my potential enemies.
One misstep from my sister – which was bound to happen at some point - and I would've asked for you to rescind her claim. You would've refused, and I would've protested, showing everyone the letter stating you intended for me to become the next prince of Dorne.
Things would've escalated, and mayhaps Lord Yronwood would've grown concerned for his blood's security in Sunspear. It would also have been quite easy to escape with one of the fast ships I had constructed. You may note that I didn't have any Toland shipyards produce any until you confirmed me as heir."
"You would've gone to war, then?"
"War would've been the last option. I long held the belief that sufficient pressure from many noble houses would've been enough. But if you didn't break to their will, then I would've gone to war. And the numbers would've been stacked in my favor."
"You would have let hundreds of your own people die?" Doran asked, as calm as ever.
"Hundreds dead, to save thousands later." Quentyn nodded.
"You still have much to learn." Doran shook his head. "I'm disappointed. I thought that as someone as concerned for the wellbeing of your people as you, that would've considered the consequences of such an action. War is no trivial thing. Men, women and children die. The blood of the innocent spills, and the faces that cried in laughter at the Water Gardens would soon be crying in pain or in grief."
"If that was the only available option, I would have taken it."
"There are other options."
"Like what?"
"Sometimes the death of one man can save hundreds, or thousands." Doran mused. "There then is no need for further bloodshed. The death of one, to save thousands."
"I would've never hurt Arianne. Never."
"I wasn't talking about Arianne, you still care about your family." Doran laughed. "I'm surprised you still haven't figured it out."
"Figured out what?"
"You were right." Doran nodded. "I knew about Viserys' potential madness for some time, but I never had the courage to rescind the betrothal. Perhaps a part of me believed that these were just rumors or exaggerations. In any case, this meant that Arianne would've been heir, and I realized that with your achievements, as you call them, this would've been a waste of your talents. I needed a reason to cast Arianne aside, without causing too much trouble."
Doran then kept silent.
Areo could feel the tension in the air, as the little prince seemed deep in thought for a moment. Then his face went completely pale.
"No. You wouldn't…" Quentyn muttered.
"I would and I did." Doran nodded. "I never meant to kill the boy, but he was unimportant enough that if he did, then I could cover it up. As it turns out, he got sick just enough for you to be curious. Thankfully though, I never had to use it against your sister to cast her aside."
"You nearly killed my friend!"
"And if your friend died in one of the battles of a war you started, would his blood be on your hands, then?" Doran cut back. "One death to save thousands. Enough to cast Arianne aside without having to resort to war or to harming any of my blood. Remember, Quentyn. I made you heir. I can unmake you just as easily."
"Is that a threat?"
"A statement of fact."
"I'd like to see you try. Arianne has been eliminated from the succession, and you cannot evince me of that same succession without good reason." Quentyn frowned. "It took my sister a probable assassination attempt on my person, or in your little scheme, on my friend, to cast her aside. If I were to bet, Arianne could've put a princess of the blood's life in danger, mutilated her, and still be called the heir. I fail to see how you can simply unmake me as your heir, especially since you know of my little alliance."
"An alliance that you are trying to dismantle yourself as of now, as it has grown beyond your control." Doran frowned. "And every man has their secrets, Quentyn. The walls of the Water Gardens are quite thin, and much can be heard. Conversations or otherwise. You are no different than anyone else, my son. You have dark secrets that could cast you aside forever."
"Mayhaps I do." Quentyn growled, his eyes cold as ice, fixated on his father's. "I know not of the secrets you speak of. And if they did exist, who would believe you? You would have no proof. Just your word, which isn't much to go on.
A nice gamble, father, but one that doesn't work on me. Is that what you've told Jon Arryn when he came here? I must admit, it was quite the trick. You managed to get the hand to keep our privileges and even expand them from a position of weakness. Quite a feat."
"Jon Arryn wanted the same thing as I. Peace. However, the old falcon wanted it more than I, and I used the edge I had to the fullest extent. Many in Dorne think I was weak to accept his terms."
"You are many things, father, but a weak man, you are not. You bought us precious time to recover from our wounds, and you managed to get the best out of a seriously doomed situation. However, I do not follow where your plan leads now. Viserys Targaryen is gone, and it seems like you are inching towards a match between Willas and Arianne. Where does that put our House? And most importantly, where does that put me?"
"You ask a lot of questions you surely have the answer to."
"No answers. Just guesses." Quentyn frowned. "You have played both your children as pawns in your great game. If I am to be a pawn, I deserve to know where it leads me."
"Your sister will be betrothed to Willas Tyrell. It is the best match I could come up with considering the present circumstances. As for you…well there is a dragon left."
"Daenerys Targaryen is with the Dothraki, and soon enough, her name will fade into obscurity. She has no army, no allies, no fleet. How do you expect an alliance to occur, and how do you expect the Tyrells to just accept that their daughter will not be Queen? Because that is their heart's desire, father. That and nothing else."
"The Tyrells are ambitious, but not stupid. If the odds are stacked against them, then we can leverage our position with Willas. I still have agents in Essos willing to free the Targaryen girl from the Dothraki shackles that bind her."
"You don't know then…this changes things." Areo heard the little prince whisper, low enough that his father would not hear. "Sure. And then what? We bring her to Dorne, and we declare war? That sounds like a terrible idea."
"Indeed, it is. Dorne is still fragile from the recent events, and I cannot risk a war right now. Which is why you will be going north to find some friends."
"North? Where to?"
"Highgarden, for starters." Doran smiled. "It seems that the Tyrells have put their faith in Renly Baratheon. This would bring them in conflict with the Throne, and Stannis Baratheon. We need for them to continue treading down this path, as it will buy us time."
"Is that why you seek to send me to Highgarden? To buy time?"
"We need to play every side possible until the right moment for us to strike. We cannot take sides right now, not when we are still divided. Your uncle will quell these dissensions while you make sure that the Tyrells and Baratheons do not grow too powerful. Arianne should leave to Highgarden as well, and you will see what the young Baratheon is made of."
"I am to negotiate with Renly, then?"
"There is no wrong in trying. Perhaps he shall even be amenable to us. But try your utmost to make sure that they continue killing each other while we replenish our strength before striking. Dorne cannot win an offensive war unless the enemy it faces is divided, tired and broken."
"You are banking everything on the dragon returning to our shores…" Quentyn muttered under his breath.
"Not everything. There are…other options."
Areo thought he heard Quentyn curse under his breath, but paid it no mind as Prince Doran continued on.
"The current dynasty is fragile and doomed to fall. It is only a matter of who will take advantage of this. And I very much intend to avenge our House by having our blood sit the Iron Throne. We shall lie in wait for the right moment, and then we shall strike."
"Is that what you wish, then?" Quentyn asked. "For our blood on the throne and to see our enemies defeated? But where does that leave me? I came here to claim Dorne, not to lose it."
"There may be circumstances in which you may not need to waive your claim to Dorne. But there are other circumstances where you will need to stand aside and do your duty for our house." Doran sighed. "I am confused. It seems that you have ambition but the throne isn't something you wish to take. What is your heart's desire then?"
"To rule Dorne and its people. To better their lives, and mine. To stand with the people I know, love and cherish. Not in some far away city, surrounded by enemies. I seek Dorne. No more, no less."
"You say that you wish to better the lives of the Dornish, yet you wish to go to war against these same subjects. You confuse me, Quentyn."
"Perhaps I do now, but in time, you will understand my reasons, father." Quentyn shook his head. "Or maybe you won't. Truthfully, it doesn't matter. For now, I shall do my duty."
"You have become quite an interesting person. But there is still much that you can offer our house, son. Things that go beyond our own borders. In time, you shall understand. Today, I need you to head to the Reach. Tomorrow, I may need you to break bread with the Starks or the Lannisters. Are you ready to do your duty for our house?"
"When am I to leave?" Quentyn asked without any hesitation.
"In five days. You will go to Ghost Hill, where one of your ships will then take you to Stonehelm, the seat of the neutral House Swann. You will then make your way to Summerhall, then Longtable. Reports differ as to where Renly will try to march first."
"Am I to have any guard or escort?"
"Your usual companions, and two hundred men."
"It's better than nothing, I suppose." The little prince sighed. "And what of Sunspear?"
"Ser Manfrey will rule in your absence, unless you wish to name a regent yourself. Your sister will soon depart for Highgarden as well, and your uncle shall put down the last fires down in Hellholt."
"I see you have it all planned out." Quentyn groaned as he lifted himself from his seat. "Let us just hope that everything goes according to your plan…"
"Trust me, Quentyn. It will."
"I have a hard time believing that, father. You can be sure of one thing. Life loves to throw dirt in each of our plans. Like it did with mine…"
[EDIT] Chapter updated because of spelling misstakes and a random wrench thrown in. Damn it.