GOT: Reborn as a Martell

( Daeron POV )

Jon rested his hands on the large oak table, in front of the gaze of the Tyrells.

Their castle was as petty as the others in the face of dragonfire, and Winter could keep him safe. If anything happened, she'd sense it and come to his rescue. That is, if the Tyrells dared to do anything stupid.

He'd enjoyed the confused and terrified expression of Willas Tyrell when the heir to Highgarden confused him and Harrold Arryn. After all, the new lord of the Eyrie looked more like a Targaryen than he, with his blonde hair and blue eyes.

But now, the initial shock had subsided and the current master of Highgarden had calmed down. Not letting himself be intimidated, he showed a calmness that slightly unnerved Jon. More unsettling to Jon were the looks he was receiving from the beauty at Wylis' side. His wife? Betrothed? Hostage? In any case, he was surprised to learn that she was Princess Arianne Martell…

Jon did his numbers in his head. Princess Arianne could be useful to trade Sansa, since all the echoes he had had pointed to her presence somewhere in Dorne.

He'd considered a rescue mission, like the one he'd attempted to the Eyrie, but this would not work. As Daemon said, there could be a hundred thousand places where she was kept, and Dorne was large, he would need to fly almost a week to reach Sunspear if she indeed was kept there.

Such a journey would be hard, especially not knowing the country. At least the trip to the Eyrie was only a day's flight from his men.

No, it was better to be safe in this regard. And surely, the princess could be an asset. But Jon wasn't a cruel man. If she was the heir to Highgarden's wife or betrothed, he would not press the issue. If she was here against her will or as a hostage was another matter entirely.

But back to the situation at hand, Jon felt uneasy as Willas Tyrell calmly offered generous terms: he would give anything Jon needed, from grain to the means of transport! Of course, Jon could take the grain himself, but, at Goldengrove, the Rowans had the good sense to burn the carriages, forcing his men to bring a whole caravan from the Riverlands…

If Willas Tyrell did indeed give him all the necessary means to bring back North, this did change things…but this only reinforced his suspicion. Why give him all this? Mercy? Jon would've given it to him anyways. Goldengrove did not burn, and surely this would be known here.

No, this hid a favor somewhere, and Jon did not like it.

Thus, after hearing Willas, Jon finally stepped in,"That is all very generous, Ser Willas, but, if I may say so, this I can already take for myself, what do I win in this exchange?"

"You may be right, Lord Regent," Willas cleared his throat, his figure leaning on the table while trying to compose himself.

"We have nothing capable of stopping you from plundering the area, our crops, our land. However, you are far from your home, and your logistics must be strained. I can offer my full cooperation so that this grain reaches the safety of the Riverlands."

"That's very generous of you," Ser Brynden Tully intervened, "but this does not answer Lord Regent Stark's question. What do you stand to gain from this?"

Willas Tyrell straightened up, not letting his face show any emotion.

"I wish a favor from Lord Regent Stark for our cooperation," he finally let out. "Perhaps two."

"A favor?" Harrold Arryn scoffed. "You do know of the massive dragon beyond those walls?"

"I see it indeed, and it is most impressive," Willas conceded.

"Let us hear it, Lord Arryn," Jon quickly cut in, intrigued.

The blond-haired boy looked annoyed at having been so quickly put down, but nodded nonetheless, slumping back slowly into his seat.

"I know that your cousin, Lord Robb Stark, gods rest his soul, was killed in a way most foul by the Ironborn." Willas' words stung Jon to the core.

Immediately, the old memories came back. The day the Northmen came to the watch, Winter, Theon's screams as the direwolves lacerated his flesh…

"I am sorry if I have caused offense," Willas quickly defended himself, having sensed Jon's uneasy expression, "I only wished to state that the Ironborn are your enemy. It just so happens they are mine too."

"We have heard about the sack of Oldtown," Ser Brynden said whiling nodding.

"I wish…" Lord Willas bit his lip. "I wish for us to be…partners, against the Ironborn."

"The Ironborn? At Highgarden?" Harrold Arryn laughed.

"I fear it is true," Lady Alerie cut in for the first time, "Lord Regent, the Ironborn are led by a madman, Balon's brother, Euron. He used dark magic to throw the Hightower into the sea, and used blood magic to summon creatures from the depths to summon a victory at Oldtown. The madman has cut a bloody path to Highgarden, killing anything that stands on his path…"

"My lady mother speaks true," Willas resumed, without breaking stride, "as much as it pains me to say, I am afraid that such a man, whether the rumors are true or exaggerated, cannot be taken lightly.

If he does have magic capable of toppling walls, what protection can I give my people? I'd need an army to oppose him on the open field and well. . ."

Willas didn't need to say what had happened to the forces of the Reach. Jon pondered the situation for a moment, thinking slightly.

Then, he leaned in."I understand your concern, Lord Willas, however, what is stopping me from taking all that I want and leaving you at the mercy of the squids?"

"Nothing," Willas admitted. "But I also know that you wish to not burden yourself with more logistical nightmares. The granaries of Highgarden are large, and I am willing to give them to you. But you do not have the means to transport them.

I can give you this, and call on more from my vassals if we do not have enough. This will save you much time and effort. Time which, forgive me for saying, I think you may be running out of. 'Winter is Coming' as the Starks say, after all."

Then, the heir to Highgarden added another layer, never breaking his confidence.

"And then, there is the Ironborn. If we fail to stop them here, and without your help I think that is very likely, they will continue to sow death and destruction.

You know as well as I what their character is. They have no honor, no shame and no limits to what they will inflict. I call for your help to stop them, and save many people from death or suffering.

And if you do not care for the suffering of the men, women, and children of the Reach, you must know the Ironborn won't stop at us. They will turn their gazes northward after a time."

Jon pondered these words carefully. Having all of the Reach's means of transport at his fingertips would make sense, and the Ironborn would be made quick work of thanks to Winter. Surely, they could not be that many.

Just as well, it was an interesting proposition.

"And the second favor?" Ser Brynden asked.

Willas sighed and looked Jon in the eyes.

"I wish that, after Highgarden, you leave the Reach alone. You will go no further than this."

"That's not for you to decide!" Lord Arryn growled, to which Ser Brynden also looked uneasy, frowning.

Jon couldn't blame them. After all, what could the Tyrells do? Jon could march all the way to Oldtown without being stopped…but that was never the objective. He could march to Horn Hill, though, and give Sam his inheritance…

A few thoughts crossed his mind, but he shook his head.

"I'm afraid I cannot give you an answer right away, Lord Willas."

"That is quite alright," the Heir to Highgarden said, looking at the three women flanking him, "we will leave you to your decision. We can have rooms prepared for you if you wish, or you may return to your camp."

Jon looked at Ser Brynden and Lord Arryn. It's true they have been on the warpath for a while, a warm bed and a shower would do them some good. After all, this was as much his castle as Willas Tyrell's, if not more.

"We are thankful for your hospitality. Ser Brynden? Maybe send a runner with a sealed letter, you've certainly earned some rest."

"I thank you, Lord Regent, but I'd rather sleep with my men. But I'd be happy to relay your message to the camp if Lord Arryn wishes to stay."

Harrold Arryn thought for a few moments, then nodded.

"I'd like to stay the night, if the Lord Regent accepts."

"Granted, Lord Arryn." Jon nodded, before adding. "Of course, Lord Willas, I need not to remind you what happens if you try to harm either Lord Arryn or myself. I shall light a fire from Oldtown to Bitterbridge if so much as a hair is taken from me or him."

"I have not forgotten, Lord Regent. You are esteemed guests here," Lord Willas said while rising, leaning on his cane, "and it has been a long time since Highgarden has hosted a dragonrider."

With that, the room was emptied as people left, leaving Jon free to wander the halls of Highgarden.

It was truly a wonder of Westeros. A marvel in all aspects. Large, decorated rooms at every turn, all covered in roots and flowers of various colors. Truly, a magnificent sight.

The gardens gave great views of green and gold as far as the eye could see, there being a small fountain or some sculptures evoking the knights of old at every turn in these small havens of green that dotted the outside of every hall.

It was in one of these small gardens that he surprised Lord Willas, comforting his mother, it seemed. Lady Alerie was clearly distressed, all clad in black, while the heir to Highgarden was wiping her tears with a white cloth.

They didn't know he was watching, and thus allowed himself to walk up to them unnoticed.

A slight turn of Lady Alerie Tyrell's head and she immediately straightened up, as if she needed to stay strong in Jon's face.

"I'm sorry for interrupting…" Jon coughed.

"It's alright," Alerie Tyrell spoke in a soft voice, "I just need to spend time with my…my last son."

"Your last son?" Jon asked.

"Both my brothers are dead," Lord Willas clarified, supporting his mother who tried her best not to break down. "Loras was killed at Storm's End and Garlan was the one leading the host…"

"…the host you destroyed," Alerie Tyrell choked out, before shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I must go."

Lady Alerie quickly rose up and ran off, without sparing a single look at Jon.

"Please excuse my mother, it has been a rough year for her." Willas looked down at the pavement.

"I understand her grief. I too lost two brothers…cousins…but who were my brothers."

Willas nodded, rising up on his cane, while looking around him. Jon looked at the man, then sighed.

"If it is of any worth to you, I do offer my condolences for your brother."

"Garlan…" Willas sighed with a heavy voice, "Garlan was a knight. He knew there was a chance he'd fall in battle, and he did. I can only hope it was quick."

Jon swallowed. He wasn't sure whether dragonfire instantly killed or if the victims writhed in pain for hours on end. He just hoped it had been quick too. Despite him loving Winter as an asset, he surely did not like to reap death and destruction with her.

"Tell me, Lord Regent, why attack Highgarden?" Willas finally asked.

"For your grain, Lord Willas," Jon replied simply.

"Yes, you expect a long winter, the maesters have said it might be the longest in living memory…but surely emptying the granaries of Goldengrove would have given you that." Willas continued, intrigued.

Jon felt a knot in his stomach, then sighed.

"If I told you, you would call me a madman."

"I doubt I could call a man who rides a dragon a madman." Willas unveiled a small smile.

Jon took a deep breath.

"It has to do with beings you would call legends," Jon warned again.

"And a few months ago, we thought the dragons dead for a hundred and fifty years," Willas replied, touching a small rose blooming in the garden. "And here you are…"

"The North is facing a return of the Others."When Jon said the words it felt like an entire weight had been pulled off his chest."The Others are real, Lord Willas. I have seen them and I have fought them. They raise the dead and corrupt the living.

Not much can stop them. The North is preparing for war. It will not be a war for the North, but a war between the living and the dead. And I intend to win it."

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