GOT: Reborn as a Martell

( Edric )

The new Lord Dayne smiled as he managed to push his adversary to the ground. It was a gruelling fight, to be sure, but one he had come out on top of. As he moved to put the blunted steel down, finishing his opponent, he felt a tremendous pain in his groin, then felt like a carpet was pulled from under him.

He didn't have time to think twice about what was happening, that he slammed down on the ground, his face covered in dust.

Despite this, Edric turned around and moved his blade to parry the oncoming strike.

Too late.

Edric blinked twice as cold, blunted steel met his throat. His purple eyes lifted upwards, and met the pair of brown eyes staring at him.

"Do you yield?" the voice belonging to the figure with brown eyes asked.

Edric nodded, as a hand came to help him up.

Bringing himself back on his feet, he stared at his opponent. Of course, the scar on the prince's face was what attracted him the most, but he still couldn't help but look at prince Quentyn's amused expression instead.

"That wasn't fair!" Edric protested.

"We're dornishmen, Edric." The prince chuckled, "We don't fight fair."

"The Daynes do." Edric straightened up.

"The Daynes might want to be careful then." The prince continued. "This is how you get stabbed by a knife in the back of the throat. In war, it only matters if you are living or dead. I'm surprised Ser Beric didn't teach you that."

Edric's gaze shifted to the large, bald man who had watched their spar, but he just laughed.

"I agree with the prince." The bulky man smiled. "You fight well. You could fight better if you stopped being so uptight. But that is typical of the Daynes. Nymeria's War taught us that honor means nothing in wartime. The hard way."

"The Daynes are honorable." Edric snarled. "Not like you lot."

"The Daynes claim to be honorable, there lies the point." Prince Quentyn smiled, as his pet frog came up to rest on his shoulder, croaking as if in agreement. "The Daynes pride themselves in being some of the oldest inhabitants of Dorne, just like the Yronwoods. The proud kings of the Torrentine, and pride of the Stony Dornish. Add that to the fact that they claim their knights are the best and most honorable in Dorne…"

"Which they are." Edric scoffed.

"Not exactly." The prince swiftly reacted.

His frog croaked once.

"No, Achilles, that is rude." He frowned at the reptile before continuing as if nothing happened. 

"The Daynes are some of the best fighters in Westeros, yes. However, they are just as ruthless as any other House here. It was the Daynes that burnt Highgarden to the ground, leaving nothing, not even women and children, during the Wars against the Reach. 

It was the Daynes that sacked Oldtown countless times. It was the Daynes who betrayed the Yronwoods during Nymeria's War. It was the Daynes who masterminded the assassination of Daeron the young dragon, after seeing that giving battle was fruitless. How is that for honor?"

"My uncle, Arthur, was a kingsguard…" Edric tried to counter.

"Arthur Dayne?" the prince scoffed. "Arch, how many times do you think the mad king raped his wife while Ser Arthur stood by? How many people did the mad king burn while he stood and watched?"

"Dozens." The Yronwood giant nodded.

Prince Quentyn nodded.

"Uncle Lewyn aside and did nothing. Your uncle stood aside and did nothing, Edric." The prince lashed out. "Your uncle decided to protect the prince while he escaped and probably raped that poor Stark girl. Your uncle decided to leave his childhood friend behind to be brutally murdered and raped. How's that for honor?"

"He didn't have a choice…" Edric tried to protest.

"Everyone has a choice." The prince stroked the frog's back. "We need to do what we must to survive. The Daynes aren't more or less honorable than any house here. We're just all more of the same. Some generations are just more honorable than others."

Edric sighed. The words of the prince cut deep, as he tried to make sense of what just happened.

"If it's any comfort, Edric." The prince rested his hand on his shoulder. "You fight a lot better than I did at your age."

"That's not hard." Archibald Yronwood cut in.

The prince frowned and was about to cut in, but his frog just bounced on one of the windows surrounding the courtyard and croaked several times.

"Alright, Achilles, I wasn't that bad." The prince scoffed.

"You were." A voice behind them cut in.

Edric turned around to see a man with blonde hair and blue-green eyes, walking down the hall with an intriguing grace. Gerris Drinkwater.

"Cletus was just worse, so you didn't feel that bad." The Drinkwater boy continued. "But you improved."

"I thought you were knighted?" Edric asked, confused.

Gerris and Arch shared a look, while the prince sighed.

"I was." The prince sighed, quickly took a cup of water and downed it, and continued. "Just not for my combat abilities. My uncle Oberyn just thought it would be better that the current regent of Sunspear should be knighted. Arch over here did the whole thing."

"I'd say it's not totally undeserved." Archibald cut in. "You just have to improve your skills with a spear, a hammer, a shield…"

"Alright, alright."

The two men before Edric started laughing while the prince just crossed his arms and waited.

"I suppose you've met Gerris?" the prince turned to Edric.

"We have been acquainted." Edric replied.

Which was true. He had been introduced to Gerris when the man was puking his guts out after drinking too much wine at dinner, and he'd asked prince Quentyn if he was a member of the household.

"He's to be your future, what?" Prince Quentyn asked, "Goodcousin? Is there even a word for this?"

"Please, don't talk about it." Gerris quickly snapped out of his fit of laughter. "I don't want to marry so soon."

"I can hardly think why you're complaining." Prince Quentyn snapped back. "She's a maiden, and a Valyrian beauty, with silver hair and eyes like amethysts if the rumors are to be believed."

"She is quite beautiful." Edric acquiesced.

"She's also Darkstar's sister." Gerris replied, uneasy. "I could drown in her purple eyes, but I also would like to stay alive for as long as possible."

"Ah, yes, there is that slight issue." Archibald cut in.

Prince Quentyn's frog croaked again.

"Don't get me started on him." The prince sighed. "He's been quiet during the whole succession affair, and that is worrying me."

"Why is that?" Edric asked. "I mean. Cousin Gerold is a prick, if you'll pardon me, my prince, but what has he done to you?"

"To me? Nothing, yet." He pointed out. "But that fucker has a very close relationship with my sister, that borderlines on complete obsession. He would do anything for her, and her hand, and believe me when I say that I am not comfortable right now."

"You can't possibly believe that he would try something against you?" Archibald asked.

"You can't be that naive, Arch." Gerris poked his fist against his friends' bald head. "Is there a brain in there?"

"I don't think that, I know that he would love to see my head removed from my body." Prince Quentyn frowned. "If I sense the slightest treason from that man, I will make sure he finishes at the bottom of the Sea of Dorne, with an anchor attached to his feet. Not to mention, he hates your guts, Edric."

"Me?" Edric looked at them in shock. "Gerold would never…"

"Elinor told me that he styled himself "Lord Dayne" and called you a mere squire." Gerris cut in. "She also told me that she'd rule High Hermitage and when I asked how, she said Gerold was persuaded he'd get Starfall and would leave her the other castle. How he gets Starfall, though…"

"Which is why I'm keeping informants around that Nightstar all the time." Prince Quentyn cut in. "Second-most idiotic lord in Dorne after the man behind you."

Edric turned around slowly to see a short man with dark, black hair, and light skin.

"Rowan Wyl." Edric growled. "Fucking Wyls."

The prince's frog croaked again.

"You can say that again." Arch snorted.

"Everyone hates the fucking Wyls." Prince Quentyn continued. "They style themselves as the vanguard of Dornish supremacy and independence, but they've been causing headaches for every house for generations."

"Fuckers have been the most active in the Marches. They used to be loyal to the Bloodroyals before turning their cloaks on us as Nymeria promised them to raid the Marches at their leisure." Archibald spat.

"Not to mention their whole tryst with the Oakhearts during the Dornish War." Gerris cut in. "Now the whole kingdoms think we're bloodthirsty slavers."

"The raids, the rapes, the killings, the Wyls are at the forefront of everything nasty in war." Prince Quentyn seethed. 

"Not to mention the headaches they caused during the Second Dornish War when they decided to treat the Dragonknight and the new Targaryen king with the utmost kindness. 

House Martell has spent years mopping up the Wyls' mistakes, only for them to make an even bigger one just when our reputations had been recovering."

"Why not just replace them?" Edric asked.

"Strategic importance." Archibald replied.

"So, there is a brain in there after all!" Gerris cried out, slightly punching the large man in the belly.

Prince Quentyn sighed.

"Archibald has the right of it. The Wyls control the Boneway and know the defences to the entry of the kingdom better than anyone. They were useful to us as a way of launching raids into the Stormlands and properly defending Dorne from any counter-incursions." The prince pointed out. 

"Added to the fact that the Wyls had the largest navy in Dorne for a long time, that they were fanatically loyal, and that they had great relations with Essos, this made them indispensable to us. Until the attachment of Dorne to the Seven Kingdoms anyways.

Then their influence fell, but the Wyls knew it and laid low, never committing the mistakes of the past and sending their hot-blooded elements to the other side of the Narrow Sea to cool off.

They're down to two Wyls now. Wyland Wyl is a clever man. He lost two of his three brothers at the Trident, though, and the third got himself killed in Essos. However, he continued his predecessor's way of being humble traders.

His son Rowan, though, has spent years with the Golden Company in Essos. He is said to be extremely cruel and extremely deadly with a sword.

In other words, he will also be a huge pain in the ass and I do hope that he chokes on his own blood before he can make an heir or cause me more headaches in the future…"

"That man will throw away decades of peace for a piece of glory and pride." Archibald scoffed.

"A piece of Stormlander girl, you mean?" Gerris countered. "Fucking Wyls…"

"It angers me even thinking about them." The prince growled.

He turned to his tree frog, who had been silent, just enjoying the shade by the windows, and picked it up, slightly stroking its back.

"Well, I suppose we have to get ready for the ride to Lemonwood." He sighed. "Disputes on the Greenblood are my favourite thing to deal with right now. Edric, could you join Elia and prepare the horses?"

"I will, my prince." Edric nodded, picking up his helmet as he walked towards the corner of the courtyard, trying to remember where exactly the stables were.

The horses should be an easy task. Dealing with Elia Sand, though, would be a whole other matter.

...

( Archibald )

"Well, that ought to keep the boy occupied." Gerris said as Edric Dayne slowly made his way towards the stables.

"You think the Sand girl will try and make a move?" Arch asked with a chuckle. The Sand girl was indeed deadly with a lance, and had a very loose tongue…

"Of course, she will." Quentyn scoffed. "I doubt Edric will take the bait, though. The boy is a Dayne, and is three-and-ten besides."

"Remind me why he's here, again?" Gerris turned towards his friend, who had just finished taking the tree frog in his hands once more. "I'm guessing it has nothing to do with meeting my future family."

"Because he's now, on paper, the second-most powerful man in Dorne and I didn't want him running about the Stormlands with no idea on his whereabouts." Quentyn answered simply. "Especially with that cunt Gerold nearby."

"How did you manage to convince Ser Beric Dondarrion to let him go?" Gerris continued.

"I asked nicely." Quentyn smirked. "You'd be surprised with the number of things people do when Sunspear's regent asks nicely."

"Your father sent a letter?" Arch scoffed.

"My father sent a letter." Quentyn grumbled. "But now that he's here, I can get the measure of him, and keep him close. I can trust Ser Alfred to hold Starfall for another two years, but there's going to be a lot of work."

"The boy does fight well." Arch nodded.

"Unfortunately, that's not exactly what Quent is looking for…" Gerris saw Quentyn's frown appear as he pushed his frog into his pouch, leaving only its small eyes and mouth to the outside world.

"He may become a Sword of the Morning." Quentyn confirmed. "But it seems that neither Lord Alyn or Ser Beric have instilled in him what I'd have expected of a Dayne lord."

"You want a strong, Dornish, Lord Dayne and not a Northern puppet?" Gerris asked.

"That's rather harsh." Quentyn gave him a small nod. "But you've got mostly the right of it. And I don't want Gerold Dayne to become lord of Starfall lest I put even more problems on my back than I already have. 

I'd much rather have Edric here, properly taught and put amongst his Dornish brothers than galivanting wherever the Dondarrions had the bright idea to go to. The next thing you know, I have a succession crisis to deal with."

"That's rather understandable." Gerris chuckled. "Well, I'll leave you to it."

"Where are you going?" Quentyn raised an eyebrow.

"To the Shadow City!" Gerris waved. "I'm getting married in a moon and I'd rather enjoy the last moments of my freedom."

Quentyn rolled his eyes and shifted his focus to Archibald.

"And you?" he asked. "Are you accompanying Gerris or joining me on the wonderful journey to talk with the Lemonwoods about their tenth dispute on lands surrounding the Greenblood this month?"

Arch laughed.

"I don't think I have anything better to do than meet the Dalts this time."

"Thanks, big man." Quentyn bumped his shoulder with a smile. "I knew I could count on you. Try and get Cletus as well, will you?"

"If I can find him, I've not seen much of him lately."

"Oh, I wouldn't be worried, he's probably just pouting somewhere."

"He's had some trouble sleeping, I've heard."

"Well, getting some air outside of this wretched castle will do him some good." Quentyn smiled. "And besides, it'll introduce him to the politics on this side of Dorne."

"Well then." Arch nodded. "Let's go find him."