The Lady of Godsgrace
From the balcony of the palace of Godsgrace, the coming and going of boats along the Greenblood never seemed to end.
They formed large, snake-like formations, coming from the sea hundreds of leagues away, docking at Godsgrace to replenish, before heading up the Scourge towards Highwater, their final destination. From there, it would only be a day's ride to reach the coast, under the shade of the trees, and another day or two to reach Yronwood.
Yronwood…that was a name which brought back memories to the lady of Godsgrace, but it did not let it distract her from her task ahead.
"How many men did we see pass today?" she asked, looking at the parchments in front of her.
"A thousand, my lady." The ever-faithful Donnel Sharp replied with a small bow and a sharp smile. No doubt he was thinking of bettering his position quite quickly, the old man. Ambitious, yes, but effective. And that's what mattered.
"A thousand?" the lady of Godsgrace asked again with a frown. "That is twice the usual number!"
"Indeed, my lady," Garin Strongwind, her young treasurer, answered with a strenuous air. "With the arrival of the King and Queen in Godsgrace a day ago, and the arrival of the Prince today, Godsgrace has seen the arrival of too many visitors."
"Three hundred of the Golden Company, two hundred Dornish spears, one hundred Unsullied, and their entire baggage counting for the rest," Donnel Sharp acquiesced, "we should have enough to lodge half, but the rest will have to camp outside the city, I am afraid."
"I shall ask the royal couple which ones they would prefer, but have the Unsullied camp outside for now, along with the sellswords," was her staunch reply, "except the officers, of course, which will be lodged in the city, should they wish."
"I'll see to it, my lady." Donnel Sharp quickly nodded.
Another messenger then entered her solar, bowing.
Another raven asking for instructions on where to be lodged, no doubt.
"My lady, the Prince wishes to see you when you are available," the messenger curtly told her.
She smiled slyly.
"Tell him that I will be at his disposal in an hour, time for me to dress properly," she replied, sending the messenger out with a flick of her hand. "Sers, unless there is anything else?"
Donnel Sharp and Garin Strongwind rose, each shaking their head and thanking her for their time.
Once they were gone, Ynys Allyrion could finally breathe a sigh of relief, and pour herself a cup of Dornish Red.
It had all happened so fast, she had barely registered the sudden changes in her life.
One day she was unwed, happy in Yronwood, and the next, she was told that she was to wed Ryon Allyrion, a man almost twice her age, and with a few bastards to boot! She would have loved to rant and rage at her father, but she was dutiful above all.
She let the storm pass, telling herself that she would only need to father him an heir and a spare, and then be able to take a paramour for herself.
After all, it was not her place to discuss her father's decisions, however stupid they may be.
No, if she had it her way, she would have just waited till Quentyn was of age and wed him instead. It wouldn't be hard, Ynys knew how he looked at her, the way he blushed around her, stammered when she talked to him…and her father hadn't!
How great of an opportunity did he squander then. Poor little Gwyneth would never be able to capture Quentyn's heart the way she did. And like that, they had missed their opportunity, perhaps for generations, to have Yronwood blood on the Sun throne.
A shame, Ynys thought, downing her cup. She and Quentyn could have made that marriage work. She would have made him a man, not that little Jordayne girl, or, gods forbid, that Snake.
Well, no time to dwell on it anymore.
Hastily married, hastily wed, she had to deal with her husband.
Ryon wasn't a bad husband, no. In fact, he was a little too clingy.
Ynys knew she was beautiful, with her long, blonde, hair reaching her waist, her thin build and blue eyes. But she never expected that she'd capture her husband so easily, nor was it her intention to.
Well, at least, it had the merit of confirming the inheritance of her sons. That and Daemon Sand's foolishness in Sunspear which had him sent to the Wall. Not like Ryon cared much for it, though, so deep were her claws in him. Once again, without really trying.
Then, Ryon left for Volantis with many other lords. Ynys wished him luck, and prepared to spend time alone with her children.
But then, fate struck.
Lady Delonne, until then healthy, contracted an illness and passed away two moons later.
Suddenly, Ynys had been raised to acting ruler of Godsgrace.
She had immediately sent a message to her husband, in Volantis, to tell him the news. Unfortunately, it seemed like Ryon would not hear it from her, and would instead meet his mother in the heavens.
A fight in Volantis against the Windblown claimed his life, and now Ynys Allyrion found herself as the Lady of Godsgrace, ruler of the Confluence until her son Josmon was of age to rule. That was, in more than five-and-ten years. This place feels more like a prison when I look at it like that.
No, she needed some change. Either Yronwood, or…Sunspear? She smiled a little at the thought. It would need some convincing, but it was doable.
Ynys finished her cup, and headed towards her rooms, sparing one last look at the scene of ships unloading their goods on the port of Godsgrace.
Thanks to her good relations both with Yronwood and Quentyn, she had managed to leverage a considerable amount from both Yronwood's coin and Quentyn's innovations: new docks to unload more goods, renovation of the road leading to Yronwood and Sunspear, medicine deliveries and new plantations of fruit and Yi-Tish spices and teas…no, really, the past five years have been good for Godsgrace and House Allyrion, if not for her.
Well, good enough, anyways. Her father still deluded himself into thinking they were loyal to him, and got a sharp reminder at the Great Dornish Council, when Lady Delonne voted against him and Quentyn, on the Prince's orders, of course.
What a blow to his pride, and one that Ynys had seen coming. Her father was never a subtle man, and he had blundered enough already. Openly trying to go behind Quentyn's back, especially by sneaking that marriage between Cletus and Delilah Fowler, had cost him dearly, and she was lucky to not pay for the consequences.
No, as long as her father kept quiet, Ynys could reap the benefits of Quentyn's work, and that was well enough for her. She played the long game, and preferred to keep it this way.
But there was no real room for games now. War had finally come to Dorne, and it was her duty to help. Godsgrace had always been a key location in Dorne, controlling the confluence of the Greenblood, the Scourge and the Vaith, and it was all the more now.
Armies passed through to reach Yronwood, where the great Dornish host was being amassed. The full force of the banners of Dorne, minus those sent to the Prince's Pass, along with the Golden Company, the Unsullied, and, of course, the three dragons of King Aegon and Queen Daenerys.
Ynys had been lucky enough to spot one, flying in the distance, above the small hills rising along the Scourge. Magnificent but deadly creatures, which had not been seen in Dorne in almost three hundred years.
She could only hope that it would end better than back then. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken indeed, but at what cost? The thought terrified her.
Ynys smiled and chose a simple dress. Black, of course, to represent mourning, but also a dash of red and yellow. And no need to choose a more conservative one, either, her days of mourning had long been over, and only the symbol mattered now. Black would be enough.
A necklace and a few earrings would do the trick, no need to be like the Jordaynes, Gargalens or other Ullers and overdo everything. Simple was the trick.
A quick look in the mirror made her smile. She was ready.
Quentyn for his part was waiting in the gardens of the palace.
These were not as large or intricate as the Water Gardens: a few alleys dotted with palm and orange trees, a few fountains, and a pool where flamingos happily danced around instead of children.
The atmosphere was calm, and Ynys often went for a stroll in them to find some peace in between managing the affairs of the Confluence, or her personal affairs, be it her husband or her sons.
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