"The Dornish are the greatest and worst subjects in the Seven Kingdoms. They're great when they're loyal to you and fight for you. They'll fight to the death for you. They're horrible when you have to invade them. And our ancestors know what happens when you invade them. So marry them, love them, and they are the greatest friends. Do the opposite and they are your greatest enemies."
-Attributed to King Daeron the Good
THE LAST CARON
Lord Bryce Caron sat in his solar, looking at the tapestries that documented his family history. The eldest of the marcher lords, my father claimed. For almost eight thousand years the Carons had held Nightsong for Storm's End, from the Storm Kings to the Baratheons against the Reachmen and the Dornish. A thousand times the nightingale of House Caron had been seen in battle, for there was no song as sweet as swords clashing, men dying, horses braying.
His father, Bryen Caron, had fought on the Trident, leading the Caron foot and holding back the forces of the crownlands, capturing two Rosbys and slaying a Rykker. His father used to tell stories about the bloodiness of the battle and he would sit there, before the fire and just listen. The halls used to be filled with laughter and love, but now it was filled with nothing but silence.
For ten years he had been Lord of this castle, with no wife, no children, and no siblings. His father, mother, sisters, and only legitimate brother had all fallen to a sickness that had spread throughout Nightsong, striking them down one by one. Only he and his bastard brother, Rolland Storm, had survived, though not without scarring his brother's face.
Now his brother served as his unofficial heir and the sworn shield of the Black Prince. The only trueborn son of Robert Baratheon to look like Robert Baratheon. The prince had taken the title of Lord of the Marches from House Caron which would have angered him. It did anger him. The Carons had been Lord of the Marches since the Age of Heroes and now this boy had taken it from him?
That was until the boy had proven to be an able overlord. Renly Baratheon was too often in court, jesting with the small council, before donning his pretty armor and getting knocked over by men better than him at tournies. Edward was well involved with his subjects, visiting castle after castle, listening to the problems of smallfolk and lords alike.
Did it mean he did something about it? Often times, he could not, considering that most of the Back Prince's income went into rebuilding his castle, but at least he listened. Bryce could not remember the last time Renly Baratheon had even visited Nightsong, but he could remember the last time the Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands had visited Highgarden. Damn roses.
"My lord...Lord Fowler and his daughters have arrived," his maester informed him and he ripped his eyes from the tapestries. One day I will add to them. The last part of the tapestries had been the sickness, documenting the death of his family. One day it will be more than death.
Lord Fowler was someone he did not want to see right now. The Fowlers and the Carons did not have a good history together. During the First Dornish War, when Aegon and the might of kingdoms he had conquered descended upon Dorne, Nightsong had been burned in a night raid. You can still see some of the scorch marks on the wall.
The Dornish were gaining influence in the marches. Edward was betrothed Lady Myria Jordayne, while Lord Beric Dondarrion, another marcher lord, had been promised to Lady Allyria Dayne. Powerful stormlander houses making marriage alliances with powerful Dornish houses. Starfall, the Tor, Blackhaven, Summerhall, all of them are interconnected.
It reminded Bryce of Daeron the Second, the man who had married a Martell princess and brought Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms. And sparked a civil war with how much Dornish influence was in his court. Aegon the Unworthy, of course, had a hand to play in the First Blackfyre Rebellion, but Daeron had a hand in how it spreaded across Westeros.
Summerhall was the symbol of Dorne and the rest of Westeros reuniting. And it is a symbol of the Iron Throne trying to tie Dorne closer when it sent Edward there and arranged his marriage to one of the most powerful houses in Dorne.
Lord Fowler was a tall man, with greying brown hair, and a mismatched pair of blue and green eyes. He was called the Old Hawk for a reason, his eyes watching Bryce with a mistrust that was honed by thousands of years of warring and death. Your ancestor burnt my castle, Bryce accused in his mind. Yes he did, the Old Hawk mocked back.
His daughters were pretty, though each were identifiable through their own pairs of eyes. Jeyne Fowler, he learned, had blue eyes that were deep shining pools of beauty. Jennelyn wore her green eyes with pride, looking more like forests than emeralds, and those eyes were filled with the same mistrust Lord Franklyn Fowler gave him.
"Lord Franklyn, Lady Jeyne, and Lady Jennelyn, welcome to Nightsong," he greeted. "I would offer you a place to sit, but my solar only has one chair."
"It's fine," Franklyn Fowler said, though his daughters frowned. "We're not here to discuss trifle matters. So let us get down to business."
"Trade if I recall right. You want increased trading rights into my domain," Bryce remembered. "Why? Carons and Fowlers have never been close, so why now?"
"King Robert has been trying to get Dorne into closer with the Iron Throne," Lord Fowler reminded Bryce. "He's betrothed Lady Myria Jordayne to his second son, Lord Beric Dondarrion is betrothed to Lady Allyria Dayne, and they represent two powerful houses in the marches. Our families have never been close, but maybe it is time to change that."
Time to change? "What do you mean, Lord Franklyn?"
A glint appeared in Franklyn's eyes. And his daughters shifted uncomfortably. "A betrothal between my eldest daughter, Jeyne, and yourself. My ancestor burnt your castle and our respective houses have warred against each other since the dawn of the Age of Heroes. The Dornish Marches must be united in blood and marriage."
Bryce raised an eyebrow. I knew it. "United in blood and marriage? The Dornish and the storm lords have been enemies for as long as we can remember. My father fought against the Dornish at the Trident. One of my ancestors probably fought against one of yours in the Blackfyre Rebellions. Why should I marry my ancestral enemy?"
"Are you afraid?" Lady Jennelyn bristled, anger coming into her voice. "Are you afraid of marrying me?"
"I would be afraid of marrying you if you were Lady Jeyne," Bryce said, noting the shock coming from her eyes. "But no, I'm not afraid. I'm just asking why I should tie my house to yours with the thousands of years of war and hate between us."
Jeyne Fowler smirked. He had heard things about this woman. She was close with Nymeria Sand, one of Prince Oberyn's many daughters, and was rumored to have lost her virtue to the same man who had took her sister's. She was the heir to Skyhaven and the Old Hawk's progeny. He would have to step lightly.
"You're an observant one, Lord Bryce," Jeyne Fowler said, her eyes twinkling. "Still, I don't think you deserve the honor of marrying me."
"The honor my lady?" Bryce asked, eyebrow raised. "Why should I be honored to marry a woman who has already lost her virtue?"
Lord Franklyn's eyes darkened though he held his tongue. Lady Jeyne didn't do anything but smile, but that made her even more dangerous. "Why should I marry a man who's already lost his virtue?"
She's a tricky one. "There is no honor, I suppose, in marrying me. After all, I am the last of my house, I have a bastard brother who serves as the sworn shield of the Black Prince when that honor should be for a knight of the Kingsguard. I did lose my virtue, to a servant girl five years ago. She was pretty, black hair, blue eyes. Might have been one of King Robert's bastards for all I know, but we were off a similar age, so I doubt it. It was the day that my parents, siblings, and cousins had all died. I was piss-drunk off of Arbor Gold, while my brother was running the castle."
Bryce then got up. Marrying a Dornish woman? What has the world come to? But he could see the merits. Marriage alliances with Dorne would bring it closer into the Iron Throne's grasp, while also serving as a backup of a sorts against the Reach. The Reach, the Stormlands, and Dorne have no love for each other, but nobody likes the Reachmen. Especially after they defeated Robert at Ashford and starved Lord Stannis and Lord Renly at Storm's End for an entire year.
My father would disapprove. But then again, he disapproved of me knighting Rolland. But he's dead now, isn't he? Dead fathers always had that ability to make you think.
"She brought me to my rooms as I was yammering on about one of my siblings -I believe it was my legitimate brother- when I kissed her," Bryce said. I was drunk. "I was not myself. But then she threw herself at me and I lost my virtue, if the word pleases my lady Jeyne, and she ended up pregnant with another Storm."
He looked towards the tapestries, where his ancestor had taken back Nightsong from the Fowlers. "She died in childbirth, bringing in a stillborn daughter. My fault, I told myself, and I ended up almost drinking myself into an early grave. The only reason I stopped was because of intervention."
"Divine intervention?" Jeyne asked mockingly.
"A king's intervention, one can say. Though the boy isn't a king. Edward helped me, though to be fair, it was Rolland who reminded me of my lordly duty to my people and my lands before he departed. Nightsong have need of a lord who takes care of its people and I was not fulfilling that."
"A dutiful man," Jeyne dryly observed.
"Aye. And I have a duty to my house to marry and carry on my line," Bryce said. "I'll marry your daughter, Lord Fowler, if she would be so honored to marry me."
"So honored?" Jeyne rolled her eyes. "I would say no, but you're a handsome man. Nymeria would like you."
Oh by the Seven. Bryce internally shuddered. What had he gotten himself into?
AN: A shorter chapter and the worst. Will probably come back and redo this one, but I needed to put this one out before the school year starts.
celticcank: Thank you for your kind words.
spectre4hire: That's going to be addressed soon, but next chapter is going to be from a perspective I've never thought I would be doing. Thank you for your kind words!
Michael: Usually I have a no response policy when it comes to guest reviews, but thank you! As I've said in previous chapters, I've wanted to bring a different take on this trope. Hopefully I will do it justice.