GOT: Reborn as a Martell

The city of Lys silhouetted itself on the horizon, along with a dozen other ships flying various Dornish flags, from Martell to Dayne to Yronwood. This would mark the end of the first part of the journey of the large Dornish party heading to Volantis.

As their Prince had told them, they would need to spend a few days in Lys to resupply, and most of all, to coordinate with the Golden Company, who had more manpower, here to help start the mercenaries' journey west.

Rowan Wyl, though, didn't care too much about that. As the first and only son of his aging father, Rowan was the heir and the next Wyl of Wyl. A great Dornish house, though recently forgotten by everyone.

Rowan had to repress a frown. Ever since the integration of Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms, the Wyls had to stop their raids into the Stormlands and settle as merchants, linking Dorne with the Free Cities, most notably Tyrosh and Myr.

But that wasn't the legacy of house Wyl! House Wyl was a house of fighters and conquerors, not pesky copper-counters and merchants!

Thus, like many other Dornishmen, Rowan sought his fortune in Essos, joining various mercenary companies before returning to Dorne. A great experience that was! Fighting in the deserts, putting down slave rebellions or overconfident Dothraki, all the while enjoying the best each region had to offer.

Every time, though, Rowan hoped he would be in Westeros, plundering the Marches and humiliating those northerners who thought themselves better than them. Hah! He dreamt of storming the great castles of the Marches, like his ancestors did before him, sneaking at night into the walls and slaughtering all the men while taking the women for his personal reward.

But patience, as his father taught him, was a virtue. And it paid dividends.

Now, Dorne was ready for war again, and soon, the Stormlands would feel the wrath of the Dornish!

What a great adventure! Rowan licked his lips in anticipation. Surely, as a proud member of house Wyl, he would complete an exploit worthy of his great ancestors.

He had many ideas, of course, none of which he would bring to the attention of the Prince. No, the Martells would be better off not knowing, and presented with, how do they say it in Lys, again? Ah, yes, a fait accompli.

For the Martells were usually quite distasteful in that regard. Pillage, rape, plunder and murder were completely fine, but a dose of originality in doing so was not! Hah, well, Rowan would do well to bring back the Wyl touch that had severely been lacking for a hundred years.

He also had to start seriously looking for a wife.

His father had been adamant: he was his only son, he needed to marry and have legitimate children. Of course, like a good Wyl, Rowan had bastards lying around, in Essos or in Dorne, it didn't matter. But to inherit Wyl, he needed a legitimate child.

His father did propose matches to him, but none were to Rowan's liking. All old, Dornish, women, No!

He needed a bride from Essos, of good Valyrian stock if possible, and young, of course. A proper wife for a proper lord! None of these Dornish whores would suit him.

And perhaps he could find one here, in Lys. After all, the city had many manses lying around, perhaps he could convince a rich heiress with his charms?

Rowan smiled slightly, he had another prize in mind.

His father kept repeating to him about Wyl and its legacy, and true, it was great. But why not aim higher? For generations, the Wyls had been content with little, not even achieving a consort position in more than five hundred years.

But now, there was a golden opportunity.

The Dornish were sailing to bring Daenerys Targaryen to Westeros, and bring back glory? Good for them.

The Prince didn't want to marry her? Even better.

Thus, Rowan now had a plan. That little Targaryen girl could very well be interested in the charms of a proper Dornishman like him. Oh, there was that plan of marrying her to Aegon Targaryen, but he could easily be disposed of.

Rowan would slowly bring himself closer to the Targaryen girl, flirting and seducing her, perhaps even becoming her lover.

An accident would happen with Aegon whilst in the midst of a battle, or a hunt, these happened all the time. Then, as a good friend of the Queen, he would help her during her grief, and when the time comes to choose a new husband, who better than the devoted heir to Wyl, who had stood by her side and gave her all the affection she needed?

Of course, he would likely have to battle against others to gain her affection, but such things were easy for Rowan. A girl almost ten years younger could easily be bound to him if he reached her first. Timing was essential in that sense.

And then, he would become King of Westeros, and his children would inherit not Wyl, but all Seven Kingdoms! Their second son or daughter would inherit Wyl, or he could legitimize one of his most deserving bastards.

No, really, things were really looking up for Rowan.

Lost in his daydream, he didn't notice that the ship had finally arrived on the docks of the island-city.

Tapping on the wooden rail, he took a step forward and slowly disembarked, looking for a familiar face.

Finally, amidst the crowd, he found someone of similar mind. Rushing behind the man, he tapped him on the shoulder.

"If it isn't Ser Ulwyck Uller!" he almost shouted.

The man turned around, showing his dark complexion and neatly-kept beard, a surprised expression on his young face.

Because, of course, as if it were not already complicated enough, there were two Ulwyck Ullers running about. The older, the late Harmen's brother, and the younger, Harmen's son, and, technically, Rowan's cousin through Wylla Wyl, his father's younger sister and Harmen's wife.

"Cousin." Ser Ulwyck nodded, "How do you fare on this fine day?"

"Oh, just wonderful, Ulwyck," Rowan replied with a grin, "I've never been better."

"That's good to hear." Ulwyck awkwardly replied as they passed through a few Lysene streets which were abnormally crowded.

"How have you been taking the news?" Rowan asked.

"Of my father, do you mean?" Ulwyck sighed, "As well as you'd expect."

"And I suppose Lina and you have hatched a plan?" Rowan asked bluntly.

Ulwyck looked surprised and shook his head. "No."

"No?" Rowan seemed taken aback. "You do not wish to avenge your father?"

"My father hatched a stupid plan to have the heir to Dorne killed because he didn't like his face or something like that," Ulwyck scoffed, "if I have someone to blame, it's my father's stupidity. Lina likes to act tough because she partly blames the Prince, but what was he to do? Just die?"

The heir to Wyl nodded sympathetically.

"There's no point to wishing something horrid to happen to Prince Quentyn," Ulwyck shrugged, "the man has proven he's more of an asset than the princess ever would, and although father dreamed of me becoming a consort of hers, it would likely never have happened regardless."

Ulwyck turned to Rowan, and showed him the view of the Lysene waterfront.

"Now, the only path I can trace for myself is here," he commented, "the gods have given house Uller a chance to prove themselves faithful in their alliance, and I shall not waste it. There is redemption to be had here, cousin, whether it is glory, wealth or marriage.

By standing at the side of the Martells, or the dragons, for that matter, it will be possible to give a fresh start to house Uller and forget about our previous…misunderstandings."

So,Rowan thought…Ser Ulwyck also had views on the Dragon Queen. He would have to make sure that they would not come to fruition. Rowan had a feeling that his cousin only sought to cover himself in glory in battle, something Rowan himself would do his best to prevent.

"A new path?" Rowan smiled, "Cousin, I think I'll drink to that. A new Dorne awaits us both."

"Aye, I could use a drink right now," Ulwyck laughed, "the sun is bearing down hard."

"I think I have an even better idea," Rowan grinned from ear to ear, "I know a place where we can drink and relieve ourselves."

"I know what you are thinking about," Ulwyck laughed, "but Lys is expensive, and our houses do not have much coin. You are also not in a good position to ask to just come along with the Prince, even if the man was to offer anything anyways!"

"Do not fret, anything can be found in Lys, if you ask the right people," Rowan tapped his cousin's shoulder.

Ulwyck looked at him intrigued. Rowan didn't have to be told twice and brought him down a couple streets, finding the establishment he was looking for, at last!

"Is it here?" Ulwyck asked, seeing the large inn in front of them.

"Yes!" Rowan laughed. "Here you can enjoy a girl and a drink, or both at the same time! They have girls which can do wonders without hurting your purse too much."

"That's reassuring, cousin," Ulwyck chuckled, "although, don't start a fight with the locals, I've hard one too many Dornishmen ended with their throat slit after having too much wine."

"Do not worry about me, I have experience here!" Rowan laughed as they entered the establishment.

Quickly, Rowan found the person he was looking for, and quickly placed a gold dragon in his pocket, whispering a few things.

He'd come a few times, and soon, a lovely woman came for his cousin. Rowan just winked at him and said: "She'll lead you to take your pick. It's on my dime, as a present, cousin."

Ulwyck uttered some surprised thanks and was led away. Meanwhile, Rowan started a conversation with the innkeeper, who he hadn't seen in a couple years.

Business was flourishing, and the arrival of the Dornish was apparently seen as godsend. Everyone knew that Daenerys Targaryen was on a quest to liberate all of Essos, and that her next target was Volantis.

With the old city conquered, Lys was surely in her sights, but with the Dornish coming to take her to Westeros… now Lys would be spared a few dozen years at the least! Once stuck in Westeros, it would be unlikely for the Dragon Queen to come back, she had already Mantarys and the Slaver's Bay cities to worry about, if she cared at all about them!

No, really, the Lysene were grateful for the Dornish to save them from being annihilated in dragonfire. That is, if they could convince the "Dragon bitch" to stop her crusade.

"Any novelties?" Rowan asked.

"As a matter of fact," the man thought for a moment, "we've had a few girls come in a few days ago. One of them is quite your type. The fair-hair one, I mean."

"Oh?" Rowan was caught surprised.

"Yes, a Stormlander. Young, just flowered, golden hair, brown eyes, taken from a pirate raid on Tarth, I believe."

"Perfect!" Rowan exulted.

"I knew you would like this." The man grinned, "Second room on the right, upstairs. Wine has already been served."

"Enjoy your evening, Lord Wyl." The man nodded.

Rowan gave his thanks and made his way up the stairs, then opened the door.

Indeed, the innkeeper was not lying. There laid on the bed a young girl, barely flowered, probably not older than three-and-ten, with pale skin and blonde hair.

She seemed scared by his presence, and Rowan showed an evil smile.

Oh, the things he would do to that girl! Feeling like a Wyl again, after having slaughtered a village of Stormlanders, taking what is rightfully his.

"Hello, darling," Rowan took a step forward, closing the door. "We're going to have a lot of fun tonight."

Suddenly, the scared expression of the girl turned to a grin, and she replied:

"Oh yes, but you're certainly not going to enjoy it."

Those were the last words he heard before his vision went black.

When he woke up, Rowan Wyl felt like he had a tremendous headache and his body hurt all over. Opening his eyes, he noticed he was in a dimly lit room, on a small bed, naked, hands and feet securely attached by solid rope.

"Our dear guest has woken up," came a feminine voice.

Rowan tried to speak, but quickly realized he had been gagged with some type of cloth.

Was this some kind of poor joke.

"We're sorry to have woken you up so late, but we had to deal with your dear friend over here."

The hazy figure pointed to the right, but Rowan could not make out anything.

Annoyed, the feminine voice asked Rowan to be drenched with a bucket of water.

The cold water rushing on his skin had the merit of waking him out of his daze, and he could finally make out the feminine voice in front of him. It was the girl he had intended to r…bed the day before.

Alongside her stood another woman, older, puffier but with strong arms capable of knocking out a mule.

The young one then pointed to the right, where a body lay. It had been horrifically mutilated, but Rowan widened his eyes in shock as he recognized his cousin, Ulwyck Uller, his face untouched.

"Remove his gag." The younger girl ordered.

The stronger one moved forward and tore out the cloth from Rowan's mouth.

"Who are you?" Rowan asked, perplexed.

The young woman laughed.

"I guess I can reveal that before you die, you Dornish pathetic waste of life. My name is Jenna Oakheart. Does the name mean anything to you?"

"What in the seven hells is an Oakheart doing in Lys?" Rowan scoffed. "Don't you have sheep to fuck somewhere?"

The strong woman hit him on the face, but Rowan didn't budge. They wouldn't dare hurt him. There would likely be people searching for him all over the city after he failed to return to the ships.

"You truly don't understand, do you?" the young woman approached, "I am an Oakheart, but I was never addressed as such. Indeed, your ancestors sold my ancestor into slavery after brutally murdering her husband-to-be."

Rowan slowly made the connection.

"You…" Rowan asked. "It can't... surely..."

"And yet it is. A descendant. My ancestor was sold into a pleasure house, where she bore a child from an unknown father.

When she was finally ransomed, the child had already been taken away from her to be sold to a pleasure house in turn, and the ransom did not include many of the serving girls, who took time to be brought back."

Jenna "Oakheart" took another step forward.

"So, the little girl was raised with the hatred of the Dornish in her heart, and the knowledge that her name would always be Oakheart. The girl passed on this knowledge to her child, and so on for generations." The girl then brought out a knife from her robe.

"We have killed dozens of Dornishmen.

Dozens of your kind, a people that the gods ought to have wiped off the face of the earth long ago. And now…you are the last Wyl. And I have never been gladder to end the line of those who caused so many families untold suffering."

Rowan listened wide-eyed to the girl's speech.

"I'll enjoy hearing you scream, Wyl, and I'll take my time with you," she grinned, "When I'm done with you, I'll go for your precious prince in turn, and any Dornish scum I can get my hands on, until the waters of Lys run red with your impure blood."

Jenna "Oakheart" turned to the other girl and asked.

"Tell me, Helaena, what did they do to the Cafferen man before forcing him to watch his bride get gang-raped?"

"They castrated him, Jenna," was the girl's answer.

"It seems to me as good a place as any to start," the girl stepped forward with her knife in hand, "after all, you won't be needing these anymore."

Rowan screamed and screamed, hoping someone would hear him. Surely someone would, someone…

But help never came, and Rowan Wyl took three days to die.

And thus, the line of Wyl came to an end.

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