GOT: House Redwyne

The scent of salt and wine clung to the air in Paxter's study as he rolled the Meereenese coin between his fingers. The golden mark was unlike anything in Westeros—heavier, thicker, and engraved with an unmistakable sigil.

A woman's face, crowned, with three dragons coiling around her head.

It was not the harpy of Ghis, nor the sigils of the Free Cities. This was something new.

A queen had risen in the east.

Mina sat across from him, watching intently. Beside her stood a Myrish sellsword, a man with gold teeth and a smirk that never quite faded.

His name was Lorath Sandveil, a man who had fought in half the Free Cities and sold his sword to the highest bidder. He had served Volantis, raided the Summer Isles, and now? He was here, bringing whispers of fire.

Paxter set the coin down. "Tell me what you know."

Lorath grinned, leaning forward, hands resting on the fine oak of Paxter's war table.

"She has three dragons, my lord," he said. "Real ones. Not myths, not stories. Flesh and fire, bigger than warhorses and growing larger every year."

Paxter kept his face impassive, but Mina inhaled sharply.

"And the girl?" Paxter asked.

Lorath chuckled. "Not a girl. A queen. They call her the Breaker of Chains, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea—but more importantly, they call her the Mother of Dragons."

He leaned back, stretching his arms as if this knowledge was no more important than the wind and waves.

"She sits on the throne of Meereen now," he continued. "She took it with Unsullied spears and dragon fire. She freed thousands of slaves, crushed the Yunkai, and holds the largest army in Essos."

Paxter's fingers tapped against the wood. This was not mere rumor.

Too many signs pointed to the same thing:

A Targaryen had returned.

And she was not hiding.

Mina turned to Paxter, her expression filled with concern. "If she truly has dragons, then it changes everything."

Paxter nodded slowly. "Yes. But how soon will she move?"

Lorath grinned again. "That's the question, isn't it? The girl has ships now, and she has warriors. Some say she's already looking west, toward Westeros."

A silence fell over the room.

Paxter had spent months preparing for the war in the Reach, positioning House Redwyne to survive the Lannister-Tarly alliance.

But this?

This was something greater.

Paxter turned to Alistair, who had been standing quietly until now. "Have our trade routes to Braavos remained open?"

Alistair nodded. "For now. But the Iron Bank watches closely. They've been funding the Lannisters, but if they believe another Targaryen could sit the Iron Throne…"

Paxter exhaled. "Then they'll hedge their bets. And so shall we? 

It was how the Iron Bank worked. Gold had no loyalty. It only flowed where power was strongest.

Mina crossed her arms. "And if she lands in Westeros?"

Lorath chuckled. "Then the game changes, my lady."

For the first time in weeks, Paxter's mind shifted away from the war in the Reach.

For months, he had been fighting off the Lannisters, holding back the Tarlys, and outmaneuvering the Florents.

But what if none of that mattered?

What if, in a year's time, Daenerys Targaryen marched on King's Landing and set the Red Keep aflame?

What if, in the end, the real battle wasn't for the Reach, but for the future of Westeros itself?

Mina spoke carefully. "You're considering… an alliance?"

Paxter didn't answer at first.

He stared at the Meereenese coin, its weight heavier than gold alone should allow.

Then, he finally spoke.

"If a Targaryen truly returns… then we must be prepared to choose a side. If Cersi has named the Tarly's Lord of the Reach, then might the Targaryen queen name another? 

Lorath's grin widened. "Wise words, my lord."

Far away, in the ruined halls of Highgarden, Randyll Tarly stood in council with Jaime Lannister.

Smoke from the Florent attack still hung in the air, and the news of Brightwater Keep's destruction had reached them.

Tarly was not pleased.

"Redwyne did this," he growled, slamming a fist onto the table. "And we let him slip away."

Jaime remained calm, twirling a goblet of Arbor Red between his fingers.

"We will deal with Redwyne in time," Jaime said smoothly. "But for now we must focus on transporting the gold to King's Landing."

Tarly's face darkened. "But…"

Jaime set the goblet down, his golden hand glinting in the candlelight. "No buts, this must be done first. Fear not, a Lannister always repays their debts."

Then he turned to the map of the Reach, his finger tracing along the coast. "Prepare the fleet."

"And what if Redwyne intervenes?" Tarly asked.

"Then we'll crush his fleet," Jamie said slamming his gold fist onto the table. "And once the gold is delivered, the Reach will be yours."