anakin: Quentyn literally killed Lorch and Tywin, I don't think you can accuse him of inaction. Not to mention, you know, Quentyn doesn't have a dragon.
the original: The last time a man had two wives it ripped the kingdoms apart.
Star: Remember canon Tyrion is a rapist and his best action was not to deflower Sansa at her wedding. Otherwise he's an overall terrible human being, who covers for the incest stuff, kills Shae in cold blood for having tried to survive, then Tywin (not gonna fault him for it), and then did a lot of horrible shit in Essos. Catelyn also took Tyrion because Tyrion recognized her at the Crossroads inn, and it would have been disaster if anyone knew of Catelyn's journey south (not to mention Catelyn thinks at this point that Tyrion did send men to murder Bran!). Edmure meanwhile hasn't done anything in canon. He cares about his people, beat Tywin in the field, and ended up paying for Robb's mistake with Jeyne, not his own (and yes, the Green Fork counts too, Robb was an idiot for not counting on the fact Edmure couldn't read his mind). The next POVs will be mostly focused on the war, but the later chapters will likely have another "common" POV.
Shortmike: *you're. ^
Guest: Well, Dorne's force is untouched, while the North has been repeatedly blunted (Harrenhal, Riverrun, Moat Cailin, Riverlands again), same with the Riverlands (literally a battleground for 3 years) and only the Vale has a mostly untouched force, most of which is at home anyways. That plus three dragons...not to mention North, Riverlands and Vale are a coalition of common interests, Jon just has a dragon so he's the leader. But if Edmure wants out, he can do it whenever.
Anders
Thunder echoed through the halls of Yronwood, the rain beating the stained glass windows. A storm was brewing along the Marches.
Two storms in fact. One in the skies, but also one on the earth, where the echoes of marching men could be heard between Wyl and Godsgrace.
Yronwood had seen armies before, Anders knew that better than anyone. He was there when the great Dornish host left for the Trident, almost twenty years ago. And today, another army was gathering beneath these walls, his walls. And, if all went well, his army.
Twenty years ago, they were only ten thousand, sent to reinforce an army that was under royal control, with the Dornish just being a part of a broader coalition.
But today, things were different. Today, Dorne supplied twenty thousand soldiers, with ten thousand more in the Prince's Pass, ready to pounce on the remains of the Reach at a moment's notice.
Added to that, the Golden Company, ten thousand strong, including cavalry and elephants. Unsullied, various Essosi sellsword companies still in the pay of the Dragon Queen and the remnants of King Stannis' army made up the remaining five thousand.
All in all, five-and-twenty thousand men were gathering around Yronwood, all of this supported by a strong fleet and three grown dragons.
No, this wouldn't be the disaster that had befallen the Dornish army all these years ago. This would be Anders' revenge, his masterpiece, the victory that would solidify his name in the annals of history, but also give him the upper hand in the game being played in Dornish politics.
With Dorne absorbing much of Stormlander territory, there would no doubt be many new lordships to be acquired, and Anders intended to make a lot of gains.
Starting with Dorne itself, and the Wyls. Good riddance, they will not be missed. But their strategic location was another matter, and who better to rule the Boneway than Anders himself, of faithful House Yronwood, who fostered the prodigious prince?
No, really, things were looking up. All he had to do now was find a suitable betrothal for Cletus, push Gwyneth into Quentyn's arms, and he would have gotten everything he wanted.
But he needed to tread carefully now. Prince Quentyn had warned him once that if he overstepped his authority and played the game without him being aware, the punishment would be swift in coming.
"My lord!" a messenger's voice echoed through the dimly lit hall. "A raven from Greenstone!"
Anders thanked the boy who swiftly bowed and left, leaving him with an unopened scroll. He slowly unrolled it and smiled slightly.
The parchment was wet, and the ink barely legible. The dates on it indicated that it had taken place six days ago. No doubt that the storm had caused delays in communication.
Greenstone had been taken without a fight by a combined fleet led by his younger brother Harrold and the young Velaryon bastard, Aurane Waters. The sun and spear banners were floating on top of Greenstone castle, and Dorne had won their first great victory.
But Anders could not help but repress a frown. That Aurane Waters was of growing popularity, and it was said Prince Quentyn was fond of him, and would perhaps offer him a lordship…
Anders growled.
Surely my brother would be better suited than a bastard who has never commanded more than a large carrack? Of course, Velaryons were born sailors, it was said, but he'd be damned if Harrold wasn't among the best Dornish sailors, Jordayne, Gupps, Anson and Rowe be damned!
Anders looked into the distance, off into the grey clouds overshadowing the Red Mountains. Right there, beyond these mountains, was Blackhaven. A fortress that Dorne had fought over many times, but rarely taken.
Anders would have to siege it swiftly, lest the dragons come in as saviors, or Dorne rule the ashes. He needed a plan, draft siege equipment…yes, he would end this thorn in Dorne's side, and then…well it's off to Highgarden or King's Landing! Franklyn Fowler can very well take his host and go pillage Horn Hill or Ashford if he wishes, he'll never have the men to take Highgarden or Oldtown.
Well, he'd think of something while walking to the war council.
But while walking within Yronwood's walls, he could not help notice a young blonde woman standing still in a corridor, far forward. He recognized her, but…where from?
As he got closer, Anders' eyes went wide.
"Ynys!" he cried out.
While the blonde woman's blue eyes turned to face him, a smile formed on his face, which wasn't reciprocated.
"Father." Ynys bowed.
"What are you doing here? Aren't you at Godsgrace with your children?" he asked.
"Their Graces wished to have me here," Ynys replied with a small smile.
"Their Graces? You mean…"
"King Aegon and Queen Daenerys."
"Whatever for?"
"Well, it would be better for their new Master of Laws to be with their ruler, don't you agree?"
Anders felt like he was struck by lightning.
"What?" he shook his head confused. "Master of Laws?"
"By decree, King Aegon and Queen Daenerys have named me as such, yes." Ynys nodded. "Now if you'll excuse me, Father, I have a war council to go to, and I would hate to be late."
Ynys left him there, not even bothering to ask him to accompany her.
Anders stood there, baffled for a few moments, finally following after gathering his wits.
The war council was taking place in Yronwood's main hall, in an eerie atmosphere, with the storm outside.
Usually, the hall would be packed for a feast in due form, but this time, there were much less guests, but all of which were of importance.
King Aegon and Queen Daenerys sat at the forefront of the table, with Prince Quentyn and Prince Oberyn at their side. Also in prominent positions were Lady Shireen Baratheon, Ser Jon Connington, whom everyone thought was as dead as Aegon, but Essos seemed to manage to resuscitate them, Lord Edric Dayne, Lord Monford Velaryon, and Ser Harry Strickland of the Golden Company.
Anders slowly walked forwards and took a seat between the sellsword and Ser Jon Connington, huffing as he did so. His seating was just opposite of Lord Franklyn Fowler, who, for his part, was smiling from ear to ear.
"Ser Jon, I thought you were dead," Anders allowed himself a jape.
"I got better," the redhaired man replied with a smirk.
Anders chuckled.
"Are you ready to take our revenge?" Anders asked.
"Aye." Jon nodded. "If Tarly or Tyrell want to hide in a city again, I'll burn it to the ground this time."
"Still on that sordid affair of the Stoney Sept?" Anders shook his head. "You did what needed to be done. Burning the city would've ridden us of Robert, aye, but it would have given the Rebellion another martyr, Ned Stark would've still bludgeoned you, and you would have thrown many other houses into the Rebellion's arms."
"It is what Tywin would've done."
"And look at where he is now. His family doesn't even control anything, the flowers are all-powerful, and everyone hates him, from the Wall to Sunspear. He was killed by a boy, his sword taken from him, and his corpse likely pissed on. No, really, Connington, you did much better."
Jon grumbled, but slowly sank back into his chair, nodding. Anders, for his part, could resume his staring contest with Franklyn Fowler.
That bastard, he probably hopes to take Nightsong for himself. And had a good chance of succeeding at that! He knew the rumors and the appointments Quentyn had made to his household. It was no coincidence that the snake's favorite 'companion' was named Lady Treasurer of Sunspear.
Speaking of the snake, it seemed she was in great conversation with Ynys in the corner of his eye. Something to note for later…
As well as the names of the other lords. Almost all the Dornish houses were here: Jynessa Blackmont, Trebor Jodayne, Lina Uller, Quentyn Qorgyle, Nymella Toland, Daeron Vaith, Tremond Gargalen and Dagos Manwoody. But there were also some lesser lords, whose presence was more surprising.
Namely, Allyria Dayne, at her nephew's side, but also Gerris Drinkwater and Gulian Qorgyle, whose presence could have been attributed to Quentyn, but Anders noted that Cletus was not here, as well as the usual Mountain knights: Drummond, Defly, Adder, Bloodstool, Ewan, Dove, Quarry, and Faucett.
As for the other knights and lords, Anders shamefully had to admit he did not know who they were.
The one closest to Lady Shireen wore a sigil of an onion painted on a black sail, one Anders definitely had never seen before. One knight bore the more recognizable sigil of House Celtigar, and another was certainly a Bar Emmon.
As for the Golden Company, Anders knew even less of them, with their colorful attires, hairs and beards.
The knight he did recognize, though, was Ser Barristan the Bold. Old, but still imposing in his shining white armor, the veteran of the War of the Ninepenny Kings stood behind his Queen, longsword at his side, watching over the audience through his helm like a hawk looks over his domain.
The knight on his left, though, Anders did not recognize. Of similar posture, he was younger, to be sure, with orange hair and a beard that could be seen through his helm. He, unlike Ser Barristan, stood firmly behind the King, in the same shining white armor.
A tap resonated through the hall.
Anders thought nothing of it. The storm could have been gaining in intensity, and the rain was likely hammering against the windows.
However, with the voices slowly becoming silent, he saw that it was actually Ser Barristan tapping the ground with his longsword, still kept in its scabbard.
The room fell silent, and the Queen was the first to break it.
"Shall we begin?" she asked.
There was a rumble of approval.
Aegon took the floor first.
"Before we begin, we would like to clarify some new appointments within our new Small Council," the King smiled, "Lady Ynys Allyrion is named Master of Laws, and Lord Daeron Vaith is named Master of Whisperers. Lord Monford Velaryon will become Master of Ships. For now, no Master of Coin or Hand has been named, but the Crown thanks Prince Quentyn and Lady Shireen for their proposals of Lord Anders Yronwood, Lord Trebor Jordayne and Ser Jon Connington."
Anders seemed awestruck. The Prince had considered him for Hand? Or was it for Master of Coin? In any case, he had considered him for a position amidst the Small Council. This boded well for what was to come.
The Queen was the next to talk.
"The appointment of Ser Barristan Selmy as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard has been confirmed. Ser Rolly Duckfield and Ser Strong Belwas will also don the White Cloak." There was a rumble in the hall. A commoner and an Essosi? Surely there were better candidates suited for this task. But the Queen continued unperturbed, "After careful consideration on the issue of Wyl, I believe Prince Quentyn has come to a verdict as to whom will inherit the seat?"
"I do, Your Grace."
"Well, then, go ahead."
"Selina Drummond, step forward."
Anders Yronwood felt a punch in the gut as the lady of six-and-thirty smiled and accepted the missive in Prince Quentyn's hands. After a few formalities, she was confirmed as Warden of the Boneway.
Well, Anders did not hope for Wyl to come directly to him, but he did hope to get the Wardenship, or for Wyl lands to be incorporated into the Wardenship of the Dornish Gates.
Once this small ceremony was done with, and Anders had slumped slightly into his chair under the amused gaze of Franklyn Fowler, things resumed.
"Now," King Aegon said as he deployed a large map of Westeros on the table, "let us get to the main issue. Where to strike? We have five-and-twenty thousand men here, in Yronwood, with three dragons. Another host is waiting in the Prince's Pass with ten thousand more men, and Greenstone has been taken a few days ago."
Lord Monford Velaryon was smiling. The victory at Greenstone likely meant his bastard brother would be legitimized and hold his own lands somewhere. Dorne, if the rumors were to be believed…
Prince Quentyn took the floor, "Indeed, Your Grace. Our goal here is to take Blackhaven, of course, but from there our options are open. We could ride to King's Landing directly, cutting through Summerhall, then the Kingswood, or we could strike and isolate the Reach, through Harvest Hall and Ashford, then onto Highgarden. Our forces in the Prince's Pass could then converge onto Highgarden in a giant pincer."
Anders Yronwood looked at the map. Both plans were sensible, but he saw that Prince Quentyn clearly argued for the Reacher option. The fact that his sister was likely still there, and reports of Daeron Targaryen's force being somewhere in the Northern Reach likely led him to this conclusion.
"I would like to have the advice of experienced commanders on this matter," Queen Daenerys said, lookinged at the map, then at the crowd. "Lord Franklyn, Lord Anders, Ser Jon, Prince Oberyn, please speak your minds."
"King's Landing would be a strong political objective," Connington started, "we must head there and finally end all pretences of false Kings and Queens. Highgarden's force is spent, we do not need to go there."
"I agree with Connington," Anders added. "If we strike and take King's Landing, then we will gain valuable hostages to end the war. We might not even need to shed a drop of blood in the Reach or Westerlands, the dragon banners floating on the capital, the Tyrells and Lannisters will sue for peace or risk annihilation."
"It is still a month to King's Landing from Summerhall alone, and nine days to Blackhaven from Wyl," Franklyn Fowler opinionated, "we must hurry to take the Marcher fortress."
Prince Oberyn nodded vigorously. "Indeed, not to mention Lord Tarly's host, for may I remind you, my lords, but this is not a victory march, we will have battle. Randyll Tarly has a large force of Stormlanders, Reachers and a few Westerlanders and Crownlanders south of King's Landing. If we take too long to take Blackhaven, he will be upon us and our surprise will be negated."
"The Reach is a spent force, only Tarly's host is the true one that can oppose us, so going directly to King's Landing would be risky," Franklyn Fowler cautioned.
"We have dragons!" Anders Yronwood boomed. "They would descend from the sky and torch Tarly's force the moment it comes out of his woods!"
A roar of agreement thundered across the room as Anders puffed his chest in victory.
"Blackhaven and Summerhall are areas with many hills and forests, not to mention the storms in this season," Connington pointed out with a frown "If Tarly is a good commander, he will not risk his army until he knows the dragons cannot fly. These are not the wide plains of the Reach or the Riverlands, giving battle here is as perilous as it is difficult. There is a reason it is called the Stormlands, not Dorne."
Anders understood the venom in his voice, but persisted."If Tarly does not want to give battle, all the better for us!"
"We will have to give battle anyways," Prince Quentyn finally cut in, "but I'd rather it be on our terms, in the valley, beyond Summerhall. Somewhere where our forces and cavalry will be able to make a difference. Not one of the numerous defiles between Blackhaven and Summerhall."
"I agree with Prince Quentyn," Connington continued, "we cannot give battle here, Tarly would manage to negate any advantage of numbers we could have."
"This means taking Blackhaven immediately, but bringing in siege equipment would be difficult…unless we use the dragons?" Daeron Vaith asked.
Queen Daenerys frowned. "We are not using the dragons unless it is in battle."
"What the Queen means is that it would be improper for us to immediately use dragons, especially against a fortified city," King Aegon explained, "if we come in and kill smallfolk, the Lannisters and Tyrells would vilify us. I do not wish to face hordes of smallfolk chanting 'death to the dragons' or 'remember Blackhaven'."
That calmed everyone down, but Anders recognized that he had a point. Burning down cities as your first act coming to Westeros was probably not the best option.
"Then we need to take Blackhaven as soon as possible, but how?" Jynessa Blackmont asked.
"I believe I have an idea." Prince Quentyn smiled. "Lord Anders, do you remember those maps of the Red Mountains I commissioned almost five years ago?"
Anders Yronwood nodded.
"Yes, my Prince, I gave them to you, on the day you arrived."
"Just so, Lord Anders, just so," Prince Quentyn grinned as he unfolded another map on the table, "this is a comprehensive map of the passes between Blackmont and the Sea of Dorne. As you can see, some of them are impractical, however…some are wide enough to let infantry pass."
Prince Quentyn's gaze turned to Lord Dayne.
"Ned, I believe it is your turn."
Lord Dayne nodded and rose.
"This pass," he pointed right on the map at a small winding road that passed through the mountains just northwest of Wyl and on the left bank of the Adder river, "is a goat path. It is large enough for people to take it, but not large enough for cavalry. A landslide filled the pass about eight years ago, but it has been cleared since then. However, not many remember it being cleared, since it is virtually useless, the pass does not lead to pastures, only the high mountains."
"So, we could sneak our infantry to Blackhaven without being seen?" King Aegon asked.
"Indeed, Your Grace." Prince Quentyn nodded. "I sent scouts to check if the road was cleared or guarded. They came back with great news on both counts."
"Our cavalry could stay at Wyl, in retreat, and our infantry would be able to reach Blackhaven undetected after nine days of march…" Anders Yronwood contemplated, "but that doesn't solve the problem of siege equipment."
"There will be no need for it," a feminine voice erupted.
All eyes fell on Allyria Dayne. A young girl of nine-and-ten namedays, with dark brown hair and purple eyes.
"I went to Blackhaven, and I know the city well. My betrothed of the time…" Lady Allyria shook her head, "took time to show me around the city. There is a small door, at the western entrance, facing the mountains, that the city uses to send out their horses and men to drink at the river."
"Such an entrance will be sealed and likely defended," Ser Connington objected.
"No, although it is known to many, it is quite a weak door, and goes through the ramparts. Of course, if a siege were to be engaged, the door would quickly be sealed and a wall collapsed, but if you managed to sneak in, the door is made of wood, it is quite fragile," Allyria noted. "Then, all one would have to do is rush in, get to the Western Gate, to the North, open it, and everything would be over in a few moments."
"Blackhaven's garrison should be weak," Prince Oberyn said. "With Renly, Stannis, Joffrey and Tommen's wars, it is likely depleted and short of men. Any men remaining were likely rounded up by Tarly and placed into his host."
"So, we can take Blackhaven by surprise, then?" Queen Daenerys asked.
"That is the plan," Prince Quentyn nodded, "but surprise is the key word. It takes nine days to get to Blackhaven from Wyl, and a moon from Yronwood. We will have to be as discreet as a cat roaming the streets of Sunspear at night."
"Not an easy task, then," King Aegon noted, "who will lead this force?"
"Lord Dayne will, Your Grace," Prince Quentyn replied. "I may say that Lord Dayne is young, but he is also one of the only ones here who knows the pass well and will be able to guide the force into Blackhaven. I have full trust in him."
King Aegon nodded, muttered something to Queen Daenerys, and voiced his approval in turn.
"And once we've taken Blackhaven?" Queen Daenerys asked.
"We rush to Summerhall, there should be no castles in the way. We must take the ruins before Tarly does," Connington voiced.
Fowler agreed, quickly followed by Anders himself.
The plan was set: the Dornish forces bolstered by the Golden Company would stay behind in Wyl, leaving the infantry force led by Lord Dayne to rush through the passes. It would then start to rush forward through the Adder river valley. With Blackhaven fallen, the forces would regroup and march at full speed towards Summerhall, where they would finally regroup into one large force, ready to engage Tarly's host in the valley and King's Landing. Within one to two months, the affront of the Trident would be wiped, and Targaryen banners would fly above King's Landing. In the meantime, Ser Jon Blackmont's force in the Prince's Pass would rush to take Nightsong, and create a diversion, threatening Highgarden.
"As for the commander of the entire force, we will need to settle on one. King Aegon and I cannot well command from the sky," Queen Daenerys spoke up.
All eyes fell on Prince Quentyn now. As the person of highest rank following the King and Queen, it was to him that the responsibility fell, but…
"I am thankful, Your Grace, but I cannot bear such a responsibility. I have seen battle only once, and I say that there are a multitude of commanders here that deserve the honor of leading the force."
"Do you have anyone in mind?" King Aegon asked.
Anders got ready. This was his moment, his time in the sun.
"Franklyn Fowler."
The two words came down crashing on his head.
"What?"
It took a few moments for Anders to realize he had spoken these words aloud.
"I mean…why?" Anders tried to correct himself.
"Lord Franklyn is the one with the most experience here bar perhaps Ser Jon Connington, I'm sure you will agree?" Prince Quentyn asked, without waiting for an answer, "then it is to him that command falls."
That old, cautious fool! He planned it all, the scheming son of a whore, by sending his daughters into the Prince's bed…damn him! Oh, I would gladly take his guts and hang him with them!
"And to whom will the honor of leading the van go to?" Ser Jon Connington asked.
The van. Something salvageable from this. Surely it would be him.
"Ser Harry Strickland and the Golden Company will have the van," Prince Quentyn replied, causing shock in the room. "They were loyal to Aegon for years, it is only proper that they carry his banner in battle first."
"It would be an honor!" Ser Harry stood up, gleaming.
Bastard! The humiliation! Sellswords before an Yronwood!
"Lord Anders will command our left and Ser Jon our right, I believe that is it?" Prince Quentyn turned to the Targaryens who confirmed his decision.
Reduced to commanding the flank…from considered for Hand of the King to commander of the flank…
While the council was adjourned and everyone left, Anders slumped in his chair. Seeing that…that Fowler bastard cunt thanking the Prince was too much. Such humiliation, in his own hall!
He didn't even notice everyone had left when Prince Quentyn approached him.
"Lord Anders."
"My Prince," Anders spat, not even deigning to look at him.
"I know how you feel, Lord Anders, I think I owe you some explanations."
"And how do I feel?" Anders sarcastically asked.
"Insulted."
"Aye."
"Well, know this, if it were any other circumstance, I would have named you commander of the van."
"Other circumstance?" Anders scoffed. "What other circumstances required you to give that honor to a sellsword?"
"As everyone said, Tarly is a smart man, a capable commander," Prince Quentyn answered.
"Aye, everyone knows that. That is why sending sellswords into his center will be…" Anders suddenly stopped himself, immediately looking sharply at Prince Quentyn.
"You planned this?" Anders asked.
"The Queen wished to get rid of most of these sellswords, and I could only agree with her. The Golden Company are hardly reliable, and while their motto may indicate otherwise, we must not forget most of them are just looking for gold, lands and riches." Prince Quentyn continued, "this is why I do not wish them anywhere near King's Landing, or as a major part of our forces."
"You're sending them to the slaughter." Anders looked at him dead in the eyes.
"Yes."
"And why Fowler as overall commander, I may ask?" Anders asked.
"Because you are capable commander, Lord Anders, but Lord Fowler has the precedence of seniority. I do not shirk your military capacities, not at all. In fact, the flank will be yours because of them."
"You think Tarly will look to attack us there?"
"If we need to pour reinforcements into our center because our sellswords are too stupid to do much, where will Tarly turn?"
Anders nodded.
"I see your reasoning."
"See that you keep these thoughts to yourself, Lord Anders," Prince Quentyn warned, "the Queen may not have rewarded you with anything yet, but it remains to you to prove how well you can serve her…"
Anders looked at the Prince one last time before he left. He was smiling from ear to ear now.
Indeed, Prince Quentyn was right. There was a golden opportunity to be made in the upcoming battle. Well, perhaps several.
Anders leaned back into his chair and thought for a few moments. Perhaps…he could send Gwyneth to Sunspear. Away from the chaos, and for her to see the city? Yes, that would be a start.
