GOT: Reborn as a Martell

( Daenerys. POV )

Daenerys stared at the map laid in front of her, standing as she was under the large, golden tent.

Everyone was frenzied, be it Connington, the Dornish lords, or the Valemen, who now found themselves in the war room.

All the little flags gave her some sort of headache, but she wasn't worried, since the black flags vastly outnumbered the blue ones, and some blue ones were now hastily repainted in black.

Aegon leaned in. "I wouldn't put the Arryn forces in a crucial position, Dany."

"Why is that? They're the freshest troops we have, other than the Dornish reinforcements, of course," Daenerys answered.

"A man who turns his cloak so easily can turn it again just as easily. Who is to say they will not turn in the battle?" Aegon whispered.

Daenerys stared at him for a moment, but had to agree.

"Where would you place them, then?" she asked.

"In the center, where they'd be between the Golden Company and the Dornish troops. I'd wager they would not have any thoughts of betrayal if they were stuck so." Aegon pushed some flags. "And warn the men that if the Valemen turn their swords, to not hesitate to cut them down immediately."

Daenerys nodded along, looking at the Dornishmen, in particular.

Most of them had not placed their flags, nor gotten completely ready for battle, and this unnerved her. Are they waiting for Prince Quentyn? He is late to the meeting.

Just as she had spun those thoughts, a familiar figure entered the room, and all the Dornishmen's face lit up.

"Well, are we done throwing tantrums?" Prince Quentyn asked, angrily, still shadowed by the Sand Snake. "Can we get back to negotiating like adults?"

"Prince Quentyn, the negotiations are over." Lord Connington frowned. "They have failed, now it is time to lay our plans for battle."

"I have come to an agreement with Prince Daeron."

Prince Quentyn's words caused the whole room to go silent, hanging by his lips.

"He will bend the knee, then?" Daenerys asked.

"Yes, he will, at a cost," Prince Quentyn answered. "In exchange for pledging allegiance, the North will be treated as a Princely Kingdom, equal in rank to Dorne. Major financial compensation is to be expected, along with the naming of Prince Daeron as Prince of Summerhall, and your heir, until a child is born to you. Lord Edmure Tully will be recognized as Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, with dominion over Deep Den, the Golden Tooth and Hornvale, and Lord Edmure, in addition for the promise of a royal match, will be named Hand of the King."

"This is preposterous!" Lord Connington sputtered angrily.

"These terms seem reasonable enough to me." Aegon stepped in, cutting the Old Griffin short. "If this is the price for peace, it is one that I am willing to pay."

Daenerys felt her head spin. Peace, but at what cost? The North would essentially be independent, and she had already given so much to Dorne, what would be the next kingdom to ask for concessions? The Vale? The Iron Islands?

And what of her nephew's ambition? He will marry Arianne Martell, that means…

Daenerys suddenly felt a jolt.

"No," she said, her amethyst-colored eyes staring straight into the prince's soul. "These terms are unreasonable."

"What?" Prince Quentyn openly defied her. "These terms are perfectly acceptable! No one loses face, and the Northmen will be content with what they could spin as independence."

"And it is precisely why this isn't acceptable. Stark or Tully, they will bend the knee or be destroyed." Daenerys frowned. "If they do not? Good, let them, for I care not. We will sweep them today, let the others run North and beg on their knees for our help when they starve."

"Dany." Aegon put a hand on her arm. "It is quite reasonable. Daeron will fight with the Starks, you know it. If all we need to concede is a few privileges, a Handship and some keeps, so be it."

Daenerys felt his smooth touch soothe her skin, but he hadn't extinguished her fire. She turned to Prince Quentyn, then.

"On whose authority did you take leave to discuss these terms?" She asked.

"Mine own."

"You are sworn to us, Prince Quentyn." She seethed. "Do not forget it."

"I forget not, Your Grace." Prince Quentyn's demeanor never changed.

"Good, then I suppose you will see no opposition to these terms being rejected?" She smiled.

"I would very much oppose this decision." Prince Quentyn frowned. "And I advise you to be very careful, Your Grace."

Daenerys snapped.

"Is that a threat, Prince Quentyn?" she leaned in, Ser Barristan immediately moving forwards. "I can see why you wish to have Prince Daeron close to you. He will wed your sister, who is already pregnant with his child…would you plan to have us name him heir and then use it to usurp us?"

Prince Quentyn's eyes went wide.

"What?" he asked, fists clenched. "Have you gone mad?"

At these words, Daenerys almost wished to walk up to him and slap him across the face.

Instead, she restrained herself, whilst the Prince made to roll up his sleeves, showing his arms covered in white bandages.

"I have shed my blood for you. I have led my men to their deaths for you. I have lost kin for you. I almost died for you. And you think I would betray you, now? When the fate of the World is on the line?" Prince Quentyn laughed, with a single tear rolling down his cheek. "I have made my bed with you, I can see that, and may regret it, but, please, I will not betray you now."

"You regret siding with the rightful claimants to the Iron Throne?" Daenerys raged.

"Not with my cousin, King Aegon," Prince Quentyn scoffed. "For you, Your Grace, I must say that by the hour, I think that you could count yourself lucky that you have dragons."

Barristan started to draw his sword.

"Oh please, Ser Bystander!" Prince Quentyn laughed as half the lord in the room brought a hand to their own swords. "Please, do come here and cut me down. Perhaps that will wipe away the shame of having done nothing as Queen Rhaella suffered in her chambers with you outside of them. Mayhaps if you'd done your duty as a knight then, I wouldn't have to stand here talking to a petulant child."

"Watch your words, Martell," Ser Barristan warned. "And I'll show you how deep Marcher steel cuts."

"Child?" Daenerys asked, for her part. "I would also advise you to watch your words, Prince Quentyn, because although I am merciful, you are talking to your Queen, not some lowborn!"

Tension was mounting in the tent, which she suddenly realized was at least half-Dornish…a little like her forces. Damn that Prince!

"Dany," Aegon spoke softly. "Please, calm down."

"No, I will not!" Daenerys turned to Aegon, anger in her voice. "All my life, I have been put down and shamed, and I will not let others take away my birthright!"

"No one is contesting your birthright," Aegon replied calmly. "Naming Daeron our heir would go a long way to mend relations with the Starks."

"As long as Daeron isn't within our grasp, he will always be a threat to our rule," Dany retorted. "They will conspire and they will want to see his head crowned and ours on a spike. No, Aegon! I love you, and I will not see you fall for something I would've been able to prevent! Naming him heir…it is unthinkable. Giving Summerhall, a Dornish holding, is even more so. I do not trust Prince Quentyn to turn his back on us the moment we show weakness."

"The World is hanging in the balance, Your Grace," Prince Quentyn replied in a softer voice, with a simple bow of his head. "Prince Daeron is as much a threat to me, as he is to you."

Daenerys made to answer, but she could see that his gaze had shifted to Aegon, who was now the center of attention of the room.

"I…" Aegon muttered. "It is not an easy decision. I would not be opposed to restarting negotiations, but…"

Aegon drew a deep breath.

"I must agree with my Queen, Summerhall…it is too far…out of our grasp."

"Your Grace, he would be between Dorne and the Crownlands, how much further deep into loyalist territory would you want him to be?" Prince Quentyn asked.

"If we are to negotiate again, surely they would come to us?" Aegon asked. "Coming back to them would make us look very weak."

Aegon's gaze shifted slightly to the Valemen, and Daenerys got where he was going with this.

If they easily turned their cloaks once…

"Be the one that wishes to mend bridges, Your Grace, I beg of you," Prince Quentyn pleaded. "The world is at stake…"

"Why do you doubt so much, Prince Quentyn?" Daenerys asked, confused. "We outnumber them three to one. We have more dragons, more men, more horses, more elephants."

Rather than answer, the Prince quickly and firmly spoke out, "I will resign my position of Master of Coin if you do not go back and negotiate."

Daenerys nodded. Back as she was into the corner there was only one thing for her to say, "Done. You are free of your position; another person will be named soon."

The Prince's shock was clear on his face, he had clearly not been expecting that. He thinks himself more important than he is.

"Fine," Prince Quentyn said after a moment to compose himself."Then, it is to be battle, then?"

"I fear that unless our nephew comes to us and bends the knee, there will be no other outcome. As a matter of fact, these people you kindly negotiated with have just forded the river, downstream," Daenerys replied.

"Then, I warn you, not a single of my men will move unless that dragon is taken down." Prince Quentyn stood with determination.

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