GOT: Reborn as a Martell

( Gulian I/II )

Well, the Yronwood air was refreshing to say the least. Sandstone was in an oasis, but temperatures were always high, and breaths of fresh air were rare.

Yronwood on the other hand was located right next to the sea, and although the hot dornish sun blazed on the keep more often than not, the ocean breeze would sometimes bring a bit of freshness to the city, making it much more bearable in the afternoon.

His father had accepted the offer Cletus made for him to stay at Yronwood for a couple of months as a part of trade and alliance negotiations between Houses Yronwood and Qorgyle. It was a nice change in setting, and could see why the heir to Yronwood was nearing heatstroke at Sandstone. Life was much easier here after all.

However, despite this, he was growing some concern for prince Quentyn. Ever since they'd arrived in Yronwood, he was growing restless, staying awake in his rooms at late hours of the night and waking up early, at the crack of dawn. His friends were growing concerned, and so was he.

This morning, he decided to visit him, and found the prince in his rooms, atop a messy pile of papers, glassware and cups.

"Hello, Gulian. How are you faring?" the prince asked as he entered the room.

"Better than you. You look tired." Gulian pointed at the mess in the room "What's with all this."

Quentyn rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"Can't say I've been getting much sleep recently."

"Quent, you haven't stepped out of your rooms safe to exercise, eat and spar. Arch, Cletus and Gerris are all worried you'll work yourself to death."

"If it is what it takes to save lives…"

"Quentyn, listen to me." Gulian sat down beside him. "You won't save anyone if you work yourself to an early grave. You need to relax, enjoy the weather, your friends…"

"Ah yes, I'd love to hear Cletus' fifth retelling of how he took Allyria Dayne's maidenhood."

"Cletus can be an arse, but he also worries for you. Besides, we don't really need to talk about that." Gulian looked around the room. "How much extract did you manage to get?"

"Not enough." Quentyn sighed. "Most of them have become contaminated, some of them haven't been drained properly, not even talking about the containers that were unsealed…"

"How much?"

"Enough to save five."

"That's five more than none."

"It should be more. It can be more."

"Then ask merchants to start producing it." Gulian crossed his arms. "I've seen you work. I've seen how it saved old Ser Bernardo when he got his leg injured against these bandits. Everyone has. You don't have to do this on your own."

"Maybe you're right." Quentyn sighed. "Maybe it's time I let some others share this burden. But what if they fail to reproduce it?"

"The process is complicated, but for them? Quite simple. Just because Maester Morgan is sceptic about it doesn't mean I don't believe healers won't be able to reproduce it." Gulian added. "Words travel fast, and you'll soon find out that the lives you saved will spread through the land like wildfire."

Quentyn sighed and nodded.

"I'll have a word with the guilds this week. But since you're here, can you help me with something?"

"What would that be?"

"Have you seen this flower?" the prince asked as he gave him a piece of paper with a roughly drawn flower on it.

It was a simple flower, six petals, all Dayne violet, with a long, green-ish, stem and large pistils.

He took a moment to think before finally answering.

"This looks like a naked lady."

"Quit jesting, Gulian, I'm asking for a serious answer."

"This is the name given to the flower, Quent." Gulian laughed. "I'm serious. They are called naked ladies, and can be found in meadows. The Reachers call them meadow saffron."

"Do you think we can find some here?"

"There's a meadow around the Yronwood woods, we can try and go find them."

"Saddle your horse, Gulian." The prince leapt from his seat. "We're going flower picking."

Gulian barely had time to register what was happening, as he found himself galloping towards the meadows around the Yronwood wooded areas, close to the mouth of the Greatwater Rush, the second-largest rivermouth in Dorne after the Greenblood rivermouth.

Soon enough, he and the prince managed to found some meadow saffron, which the prince delicately picked. When he had a basket full, Gulian finally asked:

"What do you plan on doing with these?"

"Plant some in the gardens. Use the rest for experiments."

"Do you think they'll be as useful as the mould ones?"

"I've heard a tale from far away Volantis." Quentyn explained, placing the basket back on his horse's saddle. "Tales that they used this flower to treat gout in the old blood's ruling class, with some success. However, many got addicted to this flower, and died as a result, hence why the Volantene healers don't want to use it as a widespread form of treatment."

"You mean this flower can cure gout?"

"It can certainly reduce the pain greatly." Quentyn nodded. "Cure it? I have to say I am not sure."

"I see where this is going." Gulian smirked as he saddled his own horse.

"Thank you for your help, Gulian. I owe you one."

"Well, Quentyn, I can say that you can help me by doing something else." Gulian turned to him as they made their way back to the keep.

"I'm listening."

"Stop working all day and all night. Delegate some of your work as I'm sure a lot of people will be happy to help with it. And most of all, spend more time with us. Your friends miss you, Quentyn."

"I'll try my best." Quentyn suddenly turned towards him. "Tell me, I asked Cletus something, and I wanted your opinion on it…"

"The battle issue?" Gulian asked. "Cletus talked about it. I think you said it yourself, my prince. Sometimes if lives can be saved, even if it is a small amount, it might just be worth it to make sure."

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

"Exactly."

Quentyn sighed and brought out a scroll from his pocket, and quickly threw it down a nearby well. On it, Gulian swore he could have recognized the sigil of House Tarly.

"So much for that one." Quentyn shook his head. "One down, one to go."

"What's in the other one?" Gulian asked, intrigued.

"The most important letter of my life." Quentyn answered. "One that could get me killed or could very well bring me what I wish. I call it plan B."

"What is this plan you talk about?"

"In due time, friend." Quentyn replied. "I'll tell you in due time."

Gulian nodded, but still wondered what this famous plan Quentyn had in mind was, since he often talked about it. A plan to make the sun rise, he'd muse.

"One more thing, Quentyn." Gulian finally talked, as they'd arrived at Yronwood.

"Yes?"

"I've found you very stressed out recently, you ought to relieve it."

"Tell me about it. I've done a lot in sparring sessions."

"I wasn't talking about sparring." Gulian looked away for a second before eyeing Quentyn again. "I was talking about sex."

"Oh."

"If you aren't comfortable with it that's completely fine, I was merely suggesting…from personal experience…you know…"

"Don't." Quentyn clasped his shoulder. "I don't intend to play celibate hero, I'm a damn dornishman, but I swear Cletus won't stop talking about it if I do."

"Better that than him talking about his exploits."

"You got me. I just haven't gotten the chance."

"Well, tonight is the celebration of Lord Anders' five and forty namedays. A lot of people will be here. Jordaynes, Fowlers, Wyls…"

"Qorgyles."

"Off limits." Gulian's expression turned from smiling to sour as Quentyn laughed.

"Don't worry. I won't. But I can't promise anything will happen. I oft fumble at the end."

"I need some rest after this ride." Gulian shook his head. "See you at the feast, Quentyn."

The prince nodded and walked away, leaving Gulian on his own.

Well, that ought to keep the prince's mind busy on something else.

...

The feast was indeed a grand affair, with all large neighbouring houses attending the event. Gulian wasn't placed next to the prince, instead getting a table next to Arch, who pressed him into a drinking competition. Big mistake.

It seemed the big man could hold his wine much better than him, and Gulian soon found himself throwing up in a corner of the keep somewhere.

Damn him, why did he start drinking in the first place? Now his chances of finishing the night alone had been drastically increased.

He ran to pour some water over his face, and while he was slowly making his way back towards the feast, heard some steps and some talking.

Taking cover behind a pole, he recognized the prince…with a lady?

The girl was about his age, with the same tone of skin. He had trouble noticing the color of her eyes, whether green or brown, but he could distinguish her long, brown hair flowing down her back. Samira Jordayne, he finally recognized the woman, Myria's younger sister.

Mayhaps they were just talking. That would happen quite often, after all, as the prince liked conversation more than action.

Suddenly, he saw Quentyn move in to kiss her, with the Jordayne girl suddenly moving her legs around his waist.

Oh. A bit more than kissing, then. Right.

Quentyn opened the doors to his room and disappeared.

Gulian blinked twice and made his way towards the room doors, and listened.

Well.

He quickly escaped down the halls, trying to contain his laughter all the way. Seven damn him if he wouldn't find someone to spend the night with while everyone else enjoyed themselves. Sandy dornishmen had a reputation to protect after all.