ol-11: Yeah, hopefully this sets some truths straight
Star: If Daenerys cannot father children, either Aegon can take a second wife or you go for Jon's children. As for Edmure, he gets a bad rep because of the show but in canon he's a great guy and a great wartime commander.
dabra: Probably, yes. I'm a believer that Lyanna went willingly but did not get pregnant willingly.
osterreicher: It's very possible indeed.
Philip: Looks mean nothing. Aerys and Maegor were terrible kings, while Rhaenys TQWNW and Baelor Breakspear were great in their own right. Your second point does make some sense, though. But Aegon would rather be happy to have found a brother.
All the others: Thanks!
The Lady of Godsgrace
From the balcony of the palace of Godsgrace, the coming and going of boats along the Greenblood never seemed to end.
They formed large, snake-like formations, coming from the sea hundreds of leagues away, docking at Godsgrace to replenish, before heading up the Scourge towards Highwater, their final destination. From there, it would only be a day's ride to reach the coast, under the shade of the trees, and another day or two to reach Yronwood.
Yronwood…that was a name which brought back memories to the lady of Godsgrace, but it did not let it distract her from her task ahead.
"How many men did we see pass today?" she asked, looking at the parchments in front of her.
"A thousand, my lady." The ever-faithful Donnel Sharp replied with a small bow and a sharp smile. No doubt he was thinking of bettering his position quite quickly, the old man. Ambitious, yes, but effective. And that's what mattered.
"A thousand?" the lady of Godsgrace asked again with a frown. "That is twice the usual number!"
"Indeed, my lady," Garin Strongwind, her young treasurer, answered with a strenuous air. "With the arrival of the King and Queen in Godsgrace a day ago, and the arrival of the Prince today, Godsgrace has seen the arrival of too many visitors."
"Three hundred of the Golden Company, two hundred Dornish spears, one hundred Unsullied, and their entire baggage counting for the rest," Donnel Sharp acquiesced, "we should have enough to lodge half, but the rest will have to camp outside the city, I am afraid."
"I shall ask the royal couple which ones they would prefer, but have the Unsullied camp outside for now, along with the sellswords," was her staunch reply, "except the officers, of course, which will be lodged in the city, should they wish."
"I'll see to it, my lady." Donnel Sharp quickly nodded.
Another messenger then entered her solar, bowing.
Another raven asking for instructions on where to be lodged, no doubt.
"My lady, the Prince wishes to see you when you are available," the messenger curtly told her.
She smiled slyly.
"Tell him that I will be at his disposal in an hour, time for me to dress properly," she replied, sending the messenger out with a flick of her hand. "Sers, unless there is anything else?"
Donnel Sharp and Garin Strongwind rose, each shaking their head and thanking her for their time.
Once they were gone, Ynys Allyrion could finally breathe a sigh of relief, and pour herself a cup of Dornish Red.
It had all happened so fast, she had barely registered the sudden changes in her life.
One day she was unwed, happy in Yronwood, and the next, she was told that she was to wed Ryon Allyrion, a man almost twice her age, and with a few bastards to boot! She would have loved to rant and rage at her father, but she was dutiful above all.
She let the storm pass, telling herself that she would only need to father him an heir and a spare, and then be able to take a paramour for herself.
After all, it was not her place to discuss her father's decisions, however stupid they may be.
No, if she had it her way, she would have just waited till Quentyn was of age and wed him instead. It wouldn't be hard, Ynys knew how he looked at her, the way he blushed around her, stammered when she talked to him…and her father hadn't!
How great of an opportunity did he squander then. Poor little Gwyneth would never be able to capture Quentyn's heart the way she did. And like that, they had missed their opportunity, perhaps for generations, to have Yronwood blood on the Sun throne.
A shame, Ynys thought, downing her cup. She and Quentyn could have made that marriage work. She would have made him a man, not that little Jordayne girl, or, gods forbid, that Snake.
Well, no time to dwell on it anymore.
Hastily married, hastily wed, she had to deal with her husband.
Ryon wasn't a bad husband, no. In fact, he was a little too clingy.
Ynys knew she was beautiful, with her long, blonde, hair reaching her waist, her thin build and blue eyes. But she never expected that she'd capture her husband so easily, nor was it her intention to.
Well, at least, it had the merit of confirming the inheritance of her sons. That and Daemon Sand's foolishness in Sunspear which had him sent to the Wall. Not like Ryon cared much for it, though, so deep were her claws in him. Once again, without really trying.
Then, Ryon left for Volantis with many other lords. Ynys wished him luck, and prepared to spend time alone with her children.
But then, fate struck.
Lady Delonne, until then healthy, contracted an illness and passed away two moons later.
Suddenly, Ynys had been raised to acting ruler of Godsgrace.
She had immediately sent a message to her husband, in Volantis, to tell him the news. Unfortunately, it seemed like Ryon would not hear it from her, and would instead meet his mother in the heavens.
A fight in Volantis against the Windblown claimed his life, and now Ynys Allyrion found herself as the Lady of Godsgrace, ruler of the Confluence until her son Josmon was of age to rule. That was, in more than five-and-ten years. This place feels more like a prison when I look at it like that.
No, she needed some change. Either Yronwood, or…Sunspear? She smiled a little at the thought. It would need some convincing, but it was doable.
Ynys finished her cup, and headed towards her rooms, sparing one last look at the scene of ships unloading their goods on the port of Godsgrace.
Thanks to her good relations both with Yronwood and Quentyn, she had managed to leverage a considerable amount from both Yronwood's coin and Quentyn's innovations: new docks to unload more goods, renovation of the road leading to Yronwood and Sunspear, medicine deliveries and new plantations of fruit and Yi-Tish spices and teas…no, really, the past five years have been good for Godsgrace and House Allyrion, if not for her.
Well, good enough, anyways. Her father still deluded himself into thinking they were loyal to him, and got a sharp reminder at the Great Dornish Council, when Lady Delonne voted against him and Quentyn, on the Prince's orders, of course.
What a blow to his pride, and one that Ynys had seen coming. Her father was never a subtle man, and he had blundered enough already. Openly trying to go behind Quentyn's back, especially by sneaking that marriage between Cletus and Delilah Fowler, had cost him dearly, and she was lucky to not pay for the consequences.
No, as long as her father kept quiet, Ynys could reap the benefits of Quentyn's work, and that was well enough for her. She played the long game, and preferred to keep it this way.
But there was no real room for games now. War had finally come to Dorne, and it was her duty to help. Godsgrace had always been a key location in Dorne, controlling the confluence of the Greenblood, the Scourge and the Vaith, and it was all the more now.
Armies passed through to reach Yronwood, where the great Dornish host was being amassed. The full force of the banners of Dorne, minus those sent to the Prince's Pass, along with the Golden Company, the Unsullied, and, of course, the three dragons of King Aegon and Queen Daenerys.
Ynys had been lucky enough to spot one, flying in the distance, above the small hills rising along the Scourge. Magnificent but deadly creatures, which had not been seen in Dorne in almost three hundred years.
She could only hope that it would end better than back then. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken indeed, but at what cost? The thought terrified her.
Ynys smiled and chose a simple dress. Black, of course, to represent mourning, but also a dash of red and yellow. And no need to choose a more conservative one, either, her days of mourning had long been over, and only the symbol mattered now. Black would be enough.
A necklace and a few earrings would do the trick, no need to be like the Jordaynes, Gargalens or other Ullers and overdo everything. Simple was the trick.
A quick look in the mirror made her smile. She was ready.
Quentyn for his part was waiting in the gardens of the palace.
These were not as large or intricate as the Water Gardens: a few alleys dotted with palm and orange trees, a few fountains, and a pool where flamingos happily danced around instead of children.
The atmosphere was calm, and Ynys often went for a stroll in them to find some peace in between managing the affairs of the Confluence, or her personal affairs, be it her husband or her sons.
Quentyn sat on a bench, legs crossed, alone.
He certainly had grown and matured since the last time she saw him. His hair was cut shorter, his build leaner, and, of course, that scar of his which cut the right part of his face was on display.
She had expected worse: a kind of deep wound which would have disfigured him for life.
Instead, the cut was shallow, and only really imprinted slightly, digging a small ditch through half of his face, which made him appear more dangerous.
He wore a short-sleeved golden dress, with a sword at his side. Was it the Valyrian steel sword? Ynys admitted she didn't know, the art of war was something she left to more wilful than herself.
Quentyn immediately rose to his feet as he saw her approach.
"My prince." Ynys bowed with a smile on her lips.
"Ynys." Quentyn kissed her cheek. "Let's not get wrapped up in protocol, shall we?"
"Sorry, Quentyn." Ynys smiled as she kissed him in return.
"I'm sorry…" Quentyn looked down, "for your husband."
Ynys shook her head.
"He knew the risks of going to war, I don't blame you for it." She put a hand on his shoulder, "I wasn't particularly close to him, and you rid me of Daemon Sand. You already have done enough for me, I wager. No need for you to come and beg forgiveness. Ryon was loyal to me, and loyal to you. He followed the orders of his Prince and he died for Dorne."
Quentyn nodded simply, and Ynys extended her arm.
"Walk with me?" she asked. "Unless your paramour wishes to join?"
Quentyn's answer was swift, "No, she's busy elsewhere."
"Oh, with your daughter?" Ynys asked with a smile.
Quentyn's eyes lit up at the mention of his daughter, but he shook his head.
"No, we had to leave her at the Gardens with Ellaria, again," Quentyn replied. "A week with her was too little, I wished I could extend my visit, but…well, duty called. You know that, I've heard you've fathered two boys."
Ynys nodded.
"Josmon and Qyle," she said with a small smile, "now with only a mother. I can only hope to be strong enough to play the role of both parents."
"Better than none." Quentyn's voice cracked a little.
Ynys looked at him with a sad eye, but nodded.
"How far you've come since Yronwood," she changed the subject, "you're now the Prince of Dorne, with an army at your command, having brought back three dragons and going to bring Dorne to new heights."
Quentyn smiled at her.
"And you? Lady of Godsgrace and ruler of the Confluence, that is not bad either, although it is not what you wished."
"And what did I wish?" Ynys asked with a smirk.
"Yronwood, perhaps." Quentyn shook his head. "Dorne, if you had the chance."
"I can't say I perished the thought of both." Ynys scoffed a little. "Had I been born in almost any other Dornish house, Yronwood would've been mine."
Her voice then turned to sweet once more.
"And had I had my way, Dorne might've been mine too."
Quentyn laughed.
"Yes, what a thought," he smiled, "there was once a time where I wished to see you by my side. If not ruling Dorne, at least with me. I can't say I was insensitive to your beauty, your kindness and your intelligence. But I eventually learned to let that dream go. You were going to be betrothed to another, and I would eventually marry another too."
"I always knew you preferred blondes." Ynys looked at him squarely. "Which is why I was surprised when you chose the Red Viper's daughter, and not the blonde one."
Quentyn shrugged.
"I also grew out of that, I suppose."
"We both did." Ynys nodded. "And your wedding, have you thought of anyone?"
"Too many to count," Quentyn sighed, "I know that a name will be expected from me, and I have said that I would do my utmost to find a bride that was willing to adhere to my rules before my return from the war that is coming."
"And if you don't?" Ynys asked.
"I'll marry Nymeria."
Ynys frowned.
"That will not go over well with anyone." Ynys shook her head. "Not my father, and not a lot of Dornish houses. Your father married a Norvoshi, your uncle a bastard, and your aunt a Targaryen. Your sister was betrothed to a Reacher and your brother married a bastard as well. If you do not marry a leal house, or at the very least someone more powerful, it will not be well received."
"Who do you think would oppose this?" Quentyn asked.
"Yronwood, of course," Ynys answered, "Blackmont, Toland, Uller and perhaps Vaith and Dayne, depending on your relationship with the young lord."
"And yourself?" Quentyn asked.
"I would be tempted to say that I do not care, but I would rather oppose it." Ynys shrugged. "After all, the girl's father murdered my grandfather, and an Yronwood does not forget slights easily."
"All the more need to find a candidate."
"Don't you have those in droves?" Ynys chuckled.
"I do not wish for my future wife to only exist to bear my children, and that is my greatest annoyance with all this," Quentyn said as he frowned. "I do not wish for her to be slighted by it, and thus, finding a girl that will accept that I will never love her and only be with her to bear my children and raise them, to hold little power in Dorne and to just be a pretty face for guests…no, that is not a fate I would wish on anyone."
"Then, Jennelyn Fowler would be a perfect match." Ynys suggested.
"I've thought of it, but I would never touch her." Quentyn vigorously shook his head. "She does not wish to lay with men and I respect her wish. I would pass Nym's children as ours, but considering Aliandra's hair colouring, this would not be believable."
"Have you thought of me?" Ynys smiled mischievously.
"Five years ago, I'd have said yes without a second thought," Quentyn laughed, "but now, I know you, Ynys, you won't be satisfied with being second to someone, and especially not Nym."
"That is true," Ynys agreed, "I was only jesting, though if my father wasn't an idiot, we could've married a lot earlier. As for your bride, surely a Fowler or a Jordayne would do?"
"Jeyne Fowler was the closest I could ever get to someone being my wife, but Lord Franklyn would never accept it." Quentyn sighed. "Because if she does accept, she would need to renounce her rights to Skyreach…"
"…and that would make Jennelyn heir, I follow your reasoning." Ynys nodded in turn. "And the Jordaynes?"
"Neither of the two would accept being second, once again." Quentyn bit his lip. "Which would also not solve the political problems, with grandfather being a Jordayne himself. No, the closest I ever got were the Fowler twins, but neither are an option, for different reasons."
"Not to mention my father's reaction. He was already angry after you broke the Delilah betrothal, then the Ghost Hill medicine production, and now a Fowler consort…" Ynys chuckled.
"He is also expecting much from the War and the Wyl issue, with the death of both Wyland and Rowan." Quentyn sighed. "I'm afraid he will be disappointed on both."
"Don't be sorry, father has always had only himself to blame, being late to every play on the board and reacting when it is already too late," Ynys waved him off, "but you must be careful father did not rub off on you."
"What do you mean?"
"Well," Ynys stopped for a moment, looking in the empty bushes in front of her, "what if you never come back from the war?"
"Trystane is my heir, then." Quentyn frowned. "Gods, I do hope I won't be stupid enough to put myself in danger, but I do hope to come back alive from all of this."
"Yes, that's what Ryon told me too…" Ynys sighed. "But the Stranger always takes and never gives, remember that, Quentyn. When you die, most of your changes will be undone, and Dorne will sink back to the days of your father. Some will support your brother, others your daughter, and others still would support your sister. Your reforms won't work without you and the weight you put in the fight for our expansion and modernization will stop too. In short, if you fall, Dorne falls with it."
Quentyn stared at her with a blank expression, and then smiled nervously.
"Well, that makes it simple, then. I just need to not die."
"We all hope so," Ynys said with a sigh."Will Archibald and Cletus be coming with you too?"
"Yes, they will. They're also both eager to meet you." Quentyn smiled. "Although…"
"Yes?" Ynys asked, concerned.
"Cletus has been…withdrawn these past few moons."
"What happened to him?"
"You know Cletus," Quentyn explained, "his temper and his weaknesses."
"Indeed, I do." Ynys nodded grimly. Cletus being a stubborn fool obsessed with women was not new.
"Well, it seems his stubborn attitude has gotten worse. In the capital, he was seduced by a Tyrell girl…"
Ynys snorted.
"…who manipulated him for information, though she might've cared for him." Quentyn stopped to shake his head. "He tried to bring himself back on his feet, only to plunge back into relative silence again. At this point, I do not know what is happening to him, and I fear that I may no longer trust him as a friend anymore."
"And you want me to fix him?" Ynys asked.
"Talk to him," Quentyn replied simply. "You're his sister, I think he might trust you more than anyone. I don't expect you to fix him, but knowing what is wrong might help. I just want the old Cletus back, even if all he talked about was women and drink."
Ynys chuckled.
"I'll speak to him."
"Thank you." Quentyn kissed her cheek.
Ynys turned to him with a sly smile.
"Is that it, then?" she asked.
"I fear such, unless you have more to discuss with me?" Quentyn asked.
Ynys approached him, looked around, and finally sighed.
"If anything, I wish to leave Godsgrace," she almost murmured, "I do not particularly like this city, and Ryon's brothers are observing my regency with an interested eye. If I am still here, it is because of my sons, and nothing else."
"What do you want?" Quentyn asked.
"A place somewhere, where the position may both confirm my son's inheritance and make me have influence on Godsgrace without being there myself."
"I'll not wed you, Ynys," Quentyn replied.
Ynys smiled.
"A shame, but that's not what I wished. Perhaps a place in your household, though? You took Jennelyn Fowler…"
Quentyn stayed thoughtful for a few moments, then grinned from ear to ear.
"How about a spot in the Small Council?"
Ynys reciprocated the grin. Yes, that would be perfect.
