GOT: Reborn as a Martell

( Daenerys POV )

"The Stormlands, whatever their faults, are loyal to the Baratheons, but they are also loyal to the strongest. Many of them followed Renly, then went over to Stannis, and then finally to the Tyrells, who hold the true heir to Storm's End, in their mind, Floris Baratheon."

Prince Quentyn said with a slightly confident air. "Therefore, Lord Connington wouldn't last in that position. However, the Baratheons…aren't they the most disloyal of all houses?"

...

Daenerys stayed silent for several moments, before speaking,"You mean to speak of the Usurper?"

"Not only, Your Grace." Prince Quentyn leaned forward in his chair, matching her gaze. "The Baratheons have been given Storm's End and the title of Lord Paramount of the Stormlands by the mercy of your house, is that right?"

"Orys Baratheon was granted the seat and title by my ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, yes."

"Well, how did they repay this? With eternal gratitude? No." Prince Quentyn shook his head, "Rogar Baratheon, Hand of the King as he was, decided to go against King Jaehaerys in a bid to secure his own power. He nearly rose in rebellion against the Crown had the Kingsguard not interposed themselves, then the Dragons not stopped him from this folly."

Daenerys laid back in her chair, intrigued.

"Then, Rogar Baratheon multiplied the attempts to undermine King Jaehaerys' efforts: he even plotted to steal Rhaella Targaryen from the faith, pass her off as Aerea Targaryen, name her Queen and marry her to his son! Only King Jaehaerys' mercy allowed him to keep his life. And how did they repay that mercy? His grandson Borros sided with the pretender-king Aegon II! Against Rhaenyra, the rightful heir!"

Daenerys was listening more carefully now, hanging to the words leaving the Prince's lips.

"What followed was a period of peace, thank the gods. However, just a hundred years ago, Lyonel Baratheon declared himself Storm King, once again rising in rebellion, over a broken betrothal. He was brought to heel, yes, and once again, King Aegon showed mercy, even promising his daughter's hand for Aegon's heir. And just fifty years later, another rebellion, Robert Baratheon's one, which drove you to hide in Essos and suffer for so many years. Surely, Your Grace, you would agree that no other house has rebelled against you more than House Baratheon, except perhaps the bastard Blackfyres."

Daenerys nodded slowly.

"I agree, House Baratheon has lived upon House Targaryen's mercy, and has proven itself disloyal. But Lady Shireen has bent the knee and I shall not go back on my word."

"You promised to spare her, not more." Prince Quentyn smiled. "In any case, I would not ask Lady Shireen to be put to death. However, we can arrange something else."

The Prince then dipped his quill in ink again and drew new lines on the map. This time, the line started near Maidenpool, making its way south of the God's eye, then along the mountains of the Westerlands, before finally settling along the Dornish line near the Blueburn.

Daenerys frowned, looking at the names on the map: Silverhill, Tumbleton, Bitterbridge…then it struck her.

"Are these…"

"For too long your house could only directly count on a small amount of soldiery, needing each lord to join you and call their own time should be over. The Lannisters need to be dispossessed of their riches, take Silverhill from them. The Reachers should be handing over grain, take Bitterbridge, Starpike, Tumbleton and Grassy Vale away from them. And the Stormlands, ever eager to prove their disloyalty to your House, end it all, integrate them into the Crownlands. After all, does House Baratheon not stem from House Targaryen?"

Daenerys could barely contain her smile. The new Crownlands would see her house absorb vast new lands, allowing her to control arable lands and even some gold mines of the Westerlands. Truly, she liked how the Prince was thinking.

"I like your idea, Prince Quentyn. But how will the Stormlords react?"

"The Stormlords follow the strongest, Your Grace. They will flock to kiss your feet should you prove to them that you can crush your enemies."

"The ones I've seen are loyal to Lady Shireen."

"Are they? Lord Velaryon is more loyal to you, that much is obvious. The others are irrelevant: Bar Emmon, Massey, a small flock of pirates. And even if Lady Shireen would prove a hindrance, you can always turn your eyes elsewhere and give the Stormlands to another Baratheon."

"Who would that be?"

"My men got their hands on him in Lys, along with a few of his companions. His name is Edric Storm, son of Robert Baratheon and Delenna Florent. A bastard, yes, but a man. And not only that, but a son of Robert Baratheon, Usurper but still fondly looked upon in the Stormlands, which is not the case of Stannis the Kinslayer. Should Lady Shireen make too much noise, legitimize Edric Storm, and you will have proven your mercy, your generosity, and established your power."

Daenerys smiled widely. The idea was very pleasing to her, although she could feel the discomfort of Ser Barristan from the corner of her eye.

With a nod, she agreed.

"These terms seem reasonable for the moment…unless there is something else."

"One last thing, actually, Your Grace," the prince awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, "your wedding with Prince Aegon…"

Daenerys' smile fell."What about it?"

"It would do good if it happened soon…to unite both of your causes as quickly as possible."

"Not here, not in Volantis." Daenerys shook her head. "When I've taken the throne."

"May I suggest another location?"

"Go ahead."

"Celebrations in Dorne will be prepared for your arrival, which will also coincide with my nineteenth nameday. Perhaps we should take advantage of the occasion to have you wed, as a first step towards reconquering the throne?"

Daenerys pondered the offer for a moment. A wedding in Dorne certainly sounded auspicious, right before a campaign…and she'd need to wed Aegon anyways.

"We could do so," she finally nodded.

"Your Grace, one more thing, you will need to wed under the protection of the Seven."

"I am aware."

"I know that your education here was lacking, especially in religious matters." The Prince coughed a little,. "I…erm…solicited Septa Lemore, Prince Aegon's teacher in that regard. She is quite the woman…and quite the teacher. She could teach you what you need to know, for form and appearance."

"I shall think about it." Daenerys nodded with a slight huff.

Religious education was not at the forefront of what she was taught. Not at all.

And didn't the Valyrians worship their own pantheon? Well, the Seven Kingdoms were different, after all. And King's Landing is worth a ceremony.

Prince Quentyn looked at her intently, his eyes following her gaze, while he drank another sip of water.

"Is that it, Prince Quentyn?"

"I believe it is, Your Grace. Thank you for your precious time."

"It was a pleasure to receive you. I believe we must meet again on the morrow?"

"Yes, Your Grace, but I shall be there with my…cousin. The matter we wish to discuss is more personal. But I have taken enough of your time already. I will take my leave. Rest well, Your Grace."

With that, Prince Quentyn took a deep bow and left, having gotten his weapon under the heavy gaze of Ser Barristan.

"Your Grace…" the old knight's voice sounded tired.

"Yes, Ser Barristan?"

"You are not going to give Harvest Hall to the Dornish, are you?"

Daenerys looked at him, his face was still serious, but there were features that betrayed him. The warrior that saw a hundred battles was…scared?

"Well, Ser Barristan, I suppose that it depends entirely on your family's behavior when we set foot in my kingdoms." She sighed, raising herself from her chair after finishing her wine. "If they bend the knee, I may show mercy. If not…"

She left the threat hanging. But Ser Barristan did not protest any further.

"Send in the other Dornishman, then leave us" she ordered.

"Your Grace, I am…"

"I know what you are," Daenerys snapped. "I therefore gave you an order. Send him in, then leave us."

Ser Barristan bowed respectfully, then went outside, disappearing while another man came in.

He was closer to her age, and quite different from Prince Quentyn. Taller, more handsome, lighter skin, blue eyes and silver hair.

Daenerys smirked. She had her eyes on him for a while.

The boy came up to her and knelt."Your Grace, House Dayne is your faithful servant."

"I am pleased to hear it." Daenerys smiled. "Rise, Lord Dayne."

Daenerys observed his features. He was strikingly beautiful, with a curved smile that would make any maiden blush. A little more and she would have thought him to be a Targaryen.

With a slight smile, she gestured him up, and offered him a cup of wine, which he gladly took.

"Have you ever been to Volantis, Edric, may I call you so?"

The boy seemed surprised by this, but let it pass, answering as best he could."Erm, if you wish to call me by name, then call me Ned, Your Grace."

"Ned, very well. Have you ever been to Volantis?"

"Never, Your Grace," he said with a shake of his head. He took a seat on one of the cushions strewn about, not a surprise given they were much more comfortable than the dull chairs.

Daenerys smiled and brought him a cup of wine, closing the distance."Call me Daenerys when we are alone." She followed her pronouncement with a wink.

Ned Dayne blushed, but did his best to regain his composure.

"If you are a Dayne, then you must know Starfall. I have only heard tales of its beauty, do they do it justice?"

Ned smiled.

"Yes, Your Gr…Daenerys." He put down his cup on a small footstool. "The gorges of the Torentine form like a cradle between which Starfall is nested, on an island, atop a large cliff. One wonders how they managed to build this castle, and yet…it stands majestically above Starlake. On the top of the highest towers, you can see for leagues around, from the mouth of the river to the high snowy peaks. The air sometimes carries the smell of lavender, which is grown along the banks of the river."

"It sounds beautiful." Daenerys stopped, transported by the boy's words.

"I am no bard, I can y not do it justice. Perhaps atop your dragon, you can come and see for yourself. You may even have a better view than I ever could."

Daenerys chuckled. "Perhaps you should come with me on Drogon to find out."

"Well, at least I am not scared of heights, but riding a dragon is something I must say I have never done nor I planned on doing.""It takes some practice, but don't worry. Drogon won't harm you."

"I'm glad to know that."

Daenerys chuckled and put her glass on the floor, while Ned finished his.

"And you, your…Daenerys. You've ridden dragons, conquered cities, laid waste to the slavers…how do you find the time to do what you like?"

"Flying is what I like." Daenerys sighed deeply. "You are free from whatever shackles the ground ties you to. It's like a dream, floating above everything else. Whenever I am not busy, I fly."

"Do you not go riding, explore the world?"

"I fear that many would wish me harm if I tried. If I decide to even go for a bath in the Rhoyne, I must be accompanied by a dozen men armed to the teeth."

"You should come to Starfall, then." Ned smiled again. "We are loyal to you, not a soul would dare harm a dragon. And then you could explore the nature around it. Walk the peaks and go down the small trails along the small rivers in the mountains. That is also another taste of freedom."

"I would love to. Perhaps you should be my guide."

"I would be honored." Ned's smile widened at these words.

"In Starfall, are there places that are isolated?" she asked. "Where you can see the stars, lie down without having to worry about anyone bothering you?"

"My aunt Allyria took me to a place once, to the north of Starfall, in one of the Torentine's affluents," Ned spoke softly, "it was a beautiful place, a small lake with sandy beaches and turquoise waters, one would think we were on the Sea of Dorne. It was accessible by horse on a small mountain path, with a large clearing. Large enough to accommodate your dragon. At night, my aunt used to teach me where each constellation was located. "

Ned laughed slightly.

"Anywhom, my aunt told me it was a secret path, one that her mother had shown her and that she came there whenever she needed solitude. Almost no one knows about this small clearing, just because of how isolated it is. Not a soul, perfectly silent, it's only you and the chirps of the birds or the distant howling of the wolves."

"I am not scared of wolves," Daenerys laughed.

"You are a dragon, I doubt you are scared of anything."

"No, but you, Ser Dayne, what does a descendant of the Swords of the Morning fear?" she asked.

Ned stayed silent, and shook his head.

"I'm not sure. Failure, perhaps? Not living to what you expected yourself to do?"

"And what do you want to be, then?"

"I want…to be a good Lord. To make my house proud."

"If you want to make your house proud, how about conquering a dragon?"

Ned's face whitened.

"You can't mean…"

"Viserion? No." Daenerys pushed Ned slightly on the small cushion-filled bed, "I was talking about me."

Her lips touched his, and she closed her eyes.

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