GOT: Reborn as a Martell

( Archibald POV )

Archibald washed his hands in the bowl placed at his disposal. He quickly ran most of it over his head, waking him up from his half-torpor.

Looking around in the small tent, he noticed Cletus wasn't there. His cousin had been sulking most of the time, and as it was he barely said two words to him a day, now.

Bah, Cletus would end up back in shape, as he usually does.

However, Archibald did himself feel a little annoyed. How long had they been in Volantis? A moon, at most, surely? But it had been one or two months since they left Dorne, and to do what?

Archibald understood the mission, but not why it was taking so much time. Surely Queen Daenerys could walk into the city with her dragons and they'd all be on their way.

But the big men making decisions apparently thought it was better to negotiate, and the Queen didn't want to harm the folk in the city.

Little did she know, siege warfare never really ends well for the folk inside the city, especially with the army of savages she has…

Well, Archibald is glad he's not the one making the decisions! No, he was never much of a thinker. But what he lacks in brains, he makes up for it in muscle.

Still, the affair was beginning to get tiresome. He'd been brought to the ends of the earth and he's barely had a fight in moons! Gods, what was the world coming to?

At least, if not for a fight, he could just enjoy Yronwood's calm and comfortable rooms. But here he was, in the middle of a war camp, sleeping on a mattress too small, eating food too bland, drinking water too warm and under a sun much too hot!

No, truly, it was about time they went back to Dorne because he was beginning to contemplate the idea of swimming back.

Archibald put on some clothes and grabbed his hammer. If not for a fight, at least let him face off against some opponents in a friendly spar! Well, Dornishmen, anyways.

Last time, he'd been asked to spar with those Dothraki, those who only live for their horses and to inflict all kinds of nasty things on the world. Well, they were disappointing!

Not only do they duel to the death but they can't hold a weapon properly! Poor Dothraki fool got a hammer to the ribs before he was even able to cut Archibald. Now, go figure, the Queen herself was not very happy of losing one of her men and he was respectfully asked to stay clear of the Queen's camp.

It wasn't even a fight! And the fool asked for it!

Whatever, Archibald mumbled to himself, he would go out, train a little, eat, train a few squires old enough to be his sons and then train again, eat, bathe, go to sleep, and repeat.

Fuck this city, fuck this place and fuck everything!

However, when he stepped out of the tent, he found that there was an unusual amount of activity. At least, more than the usual.

"Hey, Ser Ryon, what's all this about?" he cried out to the heir to Godsgrace.

"Apparently, the Queen's finally decided she's had enough waiting! They're preparing to assault the walls of Volantis!"

"Today?"

"I'm not sure! But we all want to see this!"

Archibald finally let himself smile. If the Queen was finally deciding to move, it was good for them! And to pass the time, might as well go watch what those dragons are capable of.

However, before he even could move, he was stopped by an all-too familiar figure.

"Arch!"

Quentyn was dressed differently than usual. Instead of his rich clothes he was wearing a simple robe overtop of armor. He wore an eyepatch and had a dark cape and hood which did a good job hiding his features. But after knowing each other for so many years it hadn't fooled Archibald.

"Hey, Quentyn!"

Archibald never used the title 'prince' in private. Not only Quentyn heavily disliked it but Archibald also had trouble with such a change.

"I'm guessing you heard the news?" Quentyn asked, his voice hoarse.

"Splendid ones, indeed!" Archibald almost laughed, "we can finally go home!"

"Not that splendid, I'm afraid," Quentyn's tone was dark, "come with me."

Archibald didn't argue. He was past the point, and what would be the matter? The prince's will was like iron, almost nothing would bend it. Besides, he had his fair share of Quentyn running off doing gods knew what behind everyone's back.

Quentyn led Archibald to a small corner along the river, strewn with palm trees. There, the waters of one of the thousand branches of the Rhoyne flowed with a serene calm, far from the chaos of the battle-ready camps.

No one was there, save for another, also too familiar, figure.

"Quentyn, what in the seven hells is happening?" Arch finally let out.

"Queen Daenerys will attack the city when the sun goes down the Orange Shore." Quentyn sighed.

"What's wrong with attacking in the later hours?"

"We need to get Nym's mother out of the city by then."

Archibald stayed mute for long moments, his mind slowly processing what he had heard.

"You want to get a member of the Old Blood of Volantis out of the city? Have you gone mad?" Archibald almost choked out. "We can't even get into the city. Then, we certainly won't be able to reach the Black Walls, let alone be let in, approach your beloved's mother, just let her come with us and get out by the time the sun's over the river!"

"We can, actually."

That wasn't Quentyn's voice.

"Getting into the city is easy, Queen Daenerys hasn't even bothered to fully encircle it, hoping that slaves can still escape. The northern path is still open. All we need to do is get in through there, they won't question three people getting in, especially not a daughter of the Old Blood. Then, getting to the Black Walls will be just as easy."

"We convince her to come with us and we leave. If people try to stop us…" Quentyn left the last word hanging.

"And you want me to agree to this?" Archibald's voice grew tense. "For what? A slaver?"

The snake sighed.

"It's no use, Quentyn," she shook her head, "I can't endanger you or your friend. I'll try, and I'll be back by the hour of the hen, with or without my mother, I swear on my life."

"And I told you that I'm not letting you go alone." Quentyn waved Arch away, "You can go, Arch."

"This is a great foolishness you want to get into." Archibald shook his head. "But Lord Anders asked me, long ago, to protect you. I swore an oath that goes beyond our mere friendship, Quentyn. I'm coming with you, not because I think what you are doing is sensible, but because I'm not going to let harm come to you."

Quentyn let escape a half smile.

"Then we mustn't waste a moment more."

Quentyn nodded and turned to him.

"Arch, we're going to pose as her guards. The guards at the northern end of the city won't ask any questions: they've been bribed by our contact in the city."

"You have friends inside the city?" Arch asked, shocked.

"Contact, not friend. Now let's move."

The snake took place on top of a pale white horse which had been waiting along a tree further on.

"The Volantenes believe that any person of good standing should not travel afoot, for fouling the ground trampled by slaves and poor folk is seen as impure," Quentyn discreetly told Arch. "Usually, the Volantenes would travel on palanquins or hathays, pulled by an ox, elephant or other imposing beast. But we have neither, so a richly decorated steed will have to do."

"Queer folk," Archibald scoffed.

"Well, we need to be as convincing as possible when we head to the Black Walls."

Arch grunted, but moved on.

As they circled the walls of the city, he couldn't help but sigh and nudge Quentyn.

"What?"

"Listen, Quentyn. I didn't say anything about your tastes in women, gods forbid I have no issue with these. But going to such lengths to risk your life for her, for a mother who could be a slaver…"

Quentyn's eyes looked at the ground. "You probably think I'm foolish, no?"

"Hard to think otherwise."

"I think I'm a fool, too." Quentyn chuckled nervously, "It turns out I share more with my uncle than I like to admit. Love leads us to do stupid things."

"If you know it's stupid, then why do this?"

"She'd do the same for me."

"But you wouldn't ask her to do this. You wouldn't even consider it."

"I'm not going to ask her to change who she is. Her impulsiveness is part of why I like her in the first place."

Archibald sighed. "Women. They'll truly be the death of you lot. If you truly wish for your rescue mission to work, let me handle it. Go back to the camp, I can take care of it alone."

Quentyn shook his head."I made a vow. I lost a father and a mother; I'm not losing her too."

"You're a fool. A fool in love, but a fool."

"I know. I hope Dorne can forgive me if I die here today."

"You know they won't."

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