( Daeron POV )
"Careful with your words, Prince Quentyn." Jon looked back at him with just as much determination. "You wish for your sister back, but you hold mine."
"At least I haven't put a babe in yours," Prince Quentyn angrily replied.
...
Jon felt his fist clench, but kept himself from overreacting. He couldn't do so. Not here, not now. Not with the stakes being so high.
"I am willing to discuss handing Princess Sansa over to you…"
"Princess?" Jon asked, shocked. "Has she wed your own brother, or yourself, then? Did you force her like…like…"
"Nothing of the sort," Prince Quentyn quickly said with a raise of his hand. "Her brother, Rickon, is King in the North, is he not? Then by all accounts, Sansa's title is 'Princess', it is a common courtesy."
Jon felt uneasy. He had gone through a whole range of emotions in just a few moments. All he could do was mumble an apology, and quickly scurry off, not even bothering to talk and humiliate himself even further.
He'd let Edmure do the talking, he was much better with it. And as long as Harrold Arryn didn't insult any of them by accident, they had a chance of getting a few concessions out of this.
So, he took his seat next to Arianne, whilst Edmure sat next to him, with Harrold Arryn at his right side.
Aegon Targaryen took a seat opposite Jon, with Queen Daenerys facing Edmure, Prince Quentyn facing his sister, and Harrold facing Jon Connington.
The Old Griffin was much more imposing than the blonde boy, that was for sure. His red hair reminded him a little of Robb, though Connington's stature was more akin to someone like Mance Rayder.
"Very well, let us begin," Lord Edmure began by tapping his fist on the table. "Here are our terms…"
"I am sorry, there must be a misunderstanding," Daenerys immediately interrupted, smiling all the while. "Lord Tully, this is a meeting to discuss you peacefully rejoining the fold, and bending the knee to us."
"Well, then, I am sorry if it came out this way." Edmure frowned. "But my people will not bend the knee to the Mad King's daughter, or to Rhaegar's son, whichever son it may be."
Jon shared an awkward glance with the Lord of Riverrun.
Daenerys made to speak, but it was Aegon who managed to get a word in first."Lord Tully." He brought his hands together, also glancing at Jon and Harry as he spoke. "Lord Stark. Lord Arryn. Our families did not have the best of relations, that is true, but we are willing to let it all go behind us."
"Easy to say when your family burned my grandfather alive, and strangled my uncle," Jon swiftly cut in. "Of course it is easier for you to put the past behind. The North remembers, Your Grace."
"What happened to your kin was a terrible crime," Daenerys leaned forward, "and it is something that we can only apologize for. We agree that my…father…had no right to dispense justice as he did, and we are willing to discuss compensation to House Stark, within reason."
Lord Connington then spoke up, in a booming voice, "Our terms are simple. You all bend the knee, tonight. Swear fealty to King Aegon, Sixth of His Name, and Queen Daenerys, First of Her Name. You will keep all your lands, paramountcies and titles. House Targaryen will recognize House Tully's claim on the Golden Tooth, no more. As for House Stark, as compensation for King Aerys the Mad's decisions, you will receive financial compensation in the form of lower tariffs-"
"I am sorry, is this a jest?" Jon interrupted, angered by the audacity of the man. "You come to us, and offer these terms? To settle decades of strife and humiliation with a few pieces of gold? To insult us with your terms whilst we have bled for years on end? This must be a farce, Ser."
"We have more men than you, Tully," Aegon warned, his face now much sullener. "We have three dragons, ready to pounce on you."
"And we have a dragon of our own!" Rickard Karstark, down the table, made himself heard. "He's larger than your three little dragons, and Northmen do not fear your little insects! We will crush you like we have the Ironborn, the Lannisters and the Tyrells!"
There were a few hearty cheers at that, and Jon felt himself losing control. Nerves and tempers were flaring, this was time to defuse the situation.
But before he even could, Prince Quentyn's voice was heard through the halls.
"Well, you certainly came here expecting to deliver your own terms, then, speak. What are they?"
Jon took a deep breath, and proudly announced. "The recognition of the Kingdom of the North as a kingdom independent of the Iron Throne."
There were many scoffs in the room, and a large grumble began to rise on the other side of the table.
"The recognition of Silverhill, Deep Den, Ashemark and Hornvale as part of the Kingdom of the Trident, the new Eighth Kingdom of the Iron Throne. Two spots on the Small Council, and a quarter of the gold in Casterly Rock as war reparations."
Connington spat out his wine, whilst both Targaryens were silent, struck in complete shock. Prince Quentyn, for his part, had his head in between his hands, only the back of his head rising from the table.
Swiftly, the Prince of Dorne's head darted up, though.
"You cannot be serious!" he blubbered out. "This is completely unreasonable!"
"As unreasonable as your demands?" Jon asked.
"Yes!" Prince Quentyn vigorously shook his head. "This is complete madness! We have more troops than you, more dragons, and we hold the wealthiest kingdoms in our grasp, your position is weaker, especially with what's coming!"
Jon froze. He knew too. And as much as he wanted to scream it out loud, he knew that this was not a good idea. If he knew, it also meant that he knew the North was not in as favorable a position as it claimed to be.
"Here is another offer," Aegon proposed. "We offer free trade for Northern ships, we recognize Tully overlordship of the Golden Tooth and…let's say Hornvale, as well as a betrothal for both houses Tully and Arryn in the future. In response, though, we will demand that Prince Daeron – or Lord Regent Stark, whatever he wishes to be called – take residence on Dragonstone."
"Dragonstone?" Jon didn't even register the fact that this offer was not much better than the first, "What would I do on that desolate rock?"
"We would have you close, nephew." Daenerys frowned. "That is not something we would concede on. Your claim, fickle as it is, is too much to ignore. Whatever the settlement here, you must take up residence at Dragonstone, or mayhaps Harrenhal, if we decide to incorporate it in the Crownlands."
"A gloomy castle and a cursed one, what a wonderful choice!" Jon scoffed.
"Not to mention trading away my lands." Edmure Tully frowned. "You trade away lands you do not have, Your Grace, be mindful of this."
"Be that as it may, Lord Regent Stark will have to live close to the capital." Jon Connington rose in his chair. "The presence of a potential pretender cannot be ignored and…"
"And I'd be your hostage?" Jon scoffed. "The answer is no. I shall not be forced to live in one of your ruined fortresses. Not for all the gold in Casterly Rock!"
"Then we are at a standstill." Prince Quentyn sighed. "But mayhaps we could discuss the status of the North in another way? By making them a Princely House?"
Jon's eyes lit up slightly at that.
That was something he could still try to sell to the Northmen. A status similar to Dorne…could very well work. However, the mood in his camp was foul. Karstark was clearly unimpressed, whilst both Ryswell and Manderly just frowned.
"No." Daenerys immediately shook her head. "Their privileges will be limited in time. We will not have a second Dorne in the kingdoms."
"Your Grace, with all due respect, you do not need the North," Jon tried one last sally. "We have not interfered in the kingdom's affairs except for the Dance almost two hundred years ago. We are not the richest kingdom. We do not follow the Seven. We do not care for Southern politics. You barely notice we are there. So why not let us break off? After all, your father broke the feudal contract binding houses Stark and Targaryen."
"The North is as much a part of the Seven Kingdoms as the Stormlands, the Reach, or those godforsaken Iron Islands," Connington boomed. "There will be no breaking off of any kind."
"Then, there will be no peace," Lord Karstark's voice answered Connington's tone. "We have stood free for thousands of years, it will not change today. You are not the only ones with a dragon!"
A few hearty cheers came from the other Northmen.
"If we do not stand together, there will be no issue…" Jon muttered under his breath.
"My lords, I think that now that we have a clear idea of each position, we might want to take a short break?" Edmure proposed.
There were nods of agreement around the table.
"Then let us take an hour and then reconvene, hopefully with better proposals." Edmure finished his cup of wine, and left, Jon quickly following.
Once they were outside, in another, smaller tent, he immediately turned to Jon with a large frown.
"This is going nowhere," he declared. "and we need them…"
"We do." Jon nodded. "You know what is coming. If the kingdoms do not stand together, we are lost."
Edmure made a face.
"If we do bend to their demands, our lords will have our heads, Others or not." The Lord of Riverrun clearly was as lost as Jon. "We could try to negotiate a truce, long enough for them to wipe out the remnants of the Tyrells and Lannisters, but…"
"But it wouldn't last long enough for us to still be at peace when the Others eventually strike, which could as well be tomorrow." Jon gulped. "What do you have in mind?"
"There is one more solution, but you will not like it." Edmure turned to him with a frown.
"What is it?" Jon asked, intrigued.
"I have received a message from Ser Kevan Lannister." Edmure said in a carefully neutral tone. "He offers to bend the knee to you, as King Daeron the Third, so that we may kick out the foreign invaders from our lands. Ser Kevan thinks he can hand us the capital on a golden platter, so to speak, and would give us recompense for our losses, be they blood or material, with gold from Casterly Rock."
Jon froze for a moment, but then just laughed."Breaking bread with the Lannisters? The Northmen will have my head."
"And it would undermine my own projects with the Westerlander lands and castles," Edmure acquiesced. "But it would mean that we could form a front against the Targaryens."
"They are still kin, Lord Tully." Jon narrowed his eyes. "Kin that I have never shared anything with, but kin all the same. I cannot become a kinslayer."
"Better to be a kinslayer while saving your people than staying true to one's honor and letting your people burn."
Jon bit his lip. Edmure was right, but this was an impossible choice.
"Prince Quentyn knows about the Others," Jon suddenly spoke up. "If we are to gain something out of this, it must be through him."
"How so?" Edmure asked.
"He said 'to face what is coming', in the meeting, did you notice?"
"Aye, I did, but that could just be the winter ahead."
"He also sent large shipments of dragonglass to the Wall, over four or five years ago, when even I was not aware of the threat."
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