( Gulian )
Gulian marched at a slow pace through the large halls of Storm's End. His footsteps echoed through the large halls, while the faint sound of rain pouring outside the thick walls of the Baratheon fortress could be heard.
Never did he think that he'd lay eyes on such a sight. Never did he think that he'd stay inside the walls of the castle itself. Yet, here he was, walking through a nearly deserted wing of the castle, waiting out a storm.
It had been almost two moons since Stannis' host had been crushed under the walls of Storm's End. The would-be king Stannis was dead and buried beneath the crypts of Storm's End alongside his ancestors.
A far better fate than he deserved, but the Stormlanders had argued that one of Renly's last wishes was to have him not suffer any harm once dead, and despite the Reachers' protests, he was interred without any great ceremony. The bodies of the dead Reachers and Stormlanders, including those of five of the seven of Renly's Rainbow Guard, had been sent home.
Needless to say, many in Highgarden would be weeping at the loss of their Knight of Flowers.
Two moons since he'd thought that they would have left this wretched place and hurried back to the warmth of the Dornish deserts. But it wasn't to be.
Lady Stark hurried home almost immediately after the battle, feeling that she had seen enough, and made her way back to Bitterbridge. They, on the other hand, had stayed in Storm's End, waiting for the rest of Renly's foot to arrive. He had advised Quentyn to just return to Dorne, but the prince had wanted to wait and see where the situation could develop.
However, Gulian could tell that the prince was unnerved, just like he was prior to discussing with Renly. There was something amiss there, and he would find out what. Quentyn asking for him to come to his rooms as soon as he was able to was the perfect opportunity to do so.
It wasn't long till he found the prince's chambers: a small room, but well-lit – at least better than his own – and well-furbished. Quentyn's healer was at his side, but his…paramour, for lack of a better word, wasn't. Odd.
Quentyn and his healer were talking silently, but both noticed him entering the room, with Quentyn beckoning him forward.
"My prince, they haven't even let me touch him." The grey-haired man was seemingly angered by some event.
"Do you mean that they rejected your help, even after you helped save his life?" Quentyn looked at him in disbelief.
It wasn't hard to know what they were talking about. Quentyn's healer had managed to save King Renly's life, but he was still bedridden and in a bad condition. The shadow magic likely had adverse effects on his body.
"Yes, my prince. Exactly that." The healer nodded. "I need more time to stabilise him and soothe his pain, and if I cannot work, then he will die in pain. He already has lost a lot of strength since that fat lord told him of the death of Ser Loras Tyrell. You can't just tell a man battling for his life that one of his closest companions is dead so abruptly."
Quentyn looked thoughtful for a moment and nodded.
"Well, you have done your duty to the best of your ability. If they do not wish for you to help him anymore, it is their choice. You shall no longer treat King Renly."
"But, my prince, if I don't…he will die within a moon, and the circumstances will not be pleasant, to say the least. He will have wished this shadow blade had cut his throat."
"Let him. The Reachers have promised to gut you when they found out about your past at the Citadel anyways. I'd rather we get out of this castle before their king dies." The prince sighed. "In the meantime, have you managed to complete what I have asked?"
"I have, but I will need some…volunteers to try it on."
"We will likely find some bandits on the way when we leave on the morrow. Prepare your things, we ride at dawn. That will be all."
The grey-haired man nodded and slipped away into the shadows of the fortress' halls, leaving him alone with Quentyn.
The prince gestured for him to sit, and brought him a glass of wine.
"We're leaving, then?" he finally asked, not touching the wine just yet.
"Yes." Quentyn nodded back. "About time we get out of here. It feels like we have done nothing since Stannis has been buried, and we've finally found his red priestess. There is nothing much for us to be done here."
"They found her?" Gulian looked shocked. If they hadn't found her in two moons, it meant that she had probably escaped with a handful of Stannis' men who had escaped the battlefield.
"Dead. Washed up on the shores of Shipbreaker Bay this morning. Stabbed in the heart."
"Good riddance."
"You'll never know the most mysterious part though. When they took her necklace off, her body turned from young and lively, to old and wrinkled." Quentyn shuddered. "Needless to say, that necklace was immediately destroyed by half-a-hundred men, and the pieces scattered across Shipbreaker Bay. Her body was weighed down with a stone and thrown at sea. What was left of it, anyway."
"Nasty business, but at least I am glad that we are leaving. Are we to go back to Dorne?"
"Not just yet." Quentyn shook his head. "We've got something to finish here first."
Quentyn tapped his fingers on a little raven scroll to his right. Gulian couldn't make out what was read, but it must have been important.
"Once it is done, we will reconvene with the men left at Bitterbridge, and I shall send half of them with you and Gerris back to Sunspear."
Gulian raised an eyebrow.
"You're sending Gerris and I back to Sunspear?" he asked, confused. "Why?"
"Because I've realised that my dear father has sent me here to fail. It was obvious that we wouldn't be able to break their alliance, and he instead intends to take back control of Sunspear." The prince looked at him with a sad glance.
"Him and his little games. It was always about that to him. Power, always power. Well, I intend to play at his little game for once, and I have nominated you as my regent in Sunspear while I am gone. Gerris will act as your muscle and advisor."
"Why me?" Gulian looked surprised. "Why not Cletus?"
"Because you're smarter than him, and I trust you just as much. Besides, you and Gerris can go see your wives again. Elinor is close to giving birth, and I wouldn't want Gerris to miss it. As for you…well you have your duties to attend to as well."
Gulian gulped. Did he know? It wasn't possible.
"And what am I to do there?" he asked.
"Make sure that Ser Manfrey hasn't done anything hampering the efforts we've been working towards. If he has replaced any men I've appointed, make sure to re-assign them and bring in people loyal to us. I won't have my father undo all of my hard work." Quentyn counted on his fingers.
"Then make sure the efforts to distribute and streamline medicine production are going as planned, make sure the hospitals are running, and make sure that our trade agreements have been upheld."
Gulian nodded. If he was this concerned about things going on in Sunspear, then it warranted someone loyal be put in charge. And seeing Dorne again while dealing with the machinations of Prince Doran was a gift from the heavens compared to what they were doing here.
"And you?" he asked. "What will you do?"
"With Renly likely to die soon, the seat of power will change from Storm's End to Highgarden." Quentyn rose his voice slightly. "My sister should be there or should be arriving soon. And I need to know where they will turn their efforts, especially with their Queen being with child."
Gulian nearly choked on his wine.
"What? H-How?"
"Queen Margaery is with child, according to reports from Bitterbridge, and don't ask me how, I don't know myself." He shook his head. "She wanted to come here, but Renly's health forbids it. And since Renly will die soon…I wish to know what the Tyrells intend to do."
"This is risky," Gulian warned. "With what Renly tried to do to us…who knows how far the Reachers will go this time, especially with as much uncertainty weighing around us now."
"You can also add that my father has decided to confirm the betrothal of princess Myrcella to my little brother Trystane." Quentyn sighed. "This isn't official yet, but it will soon be. My father has called the banners."
"Do you think that he will march into the Stormlands? With both you and your sister as potential hostages?" Gulian's eyes widened. "And what good is a betrothal to a bastard?"
"No." The prince shook his head. "But my father is certainly foolish enough to forget that we are here or the consequences that could befall us. As for Myrcella, it is a smart move, and it gives us leverage against the throne should we need it."
"What then? Do you intend to go to Highgarden to just find out what the Tyrells intend to do? What if they decide to keep you there?"
Quentyn stayed silent for a little moment and then nodded back.
"You may just be right." He sighed. "The situation has grown far out of my control and I've been looking for ways to bring it back. I've lost a round in this game, and I hate losing with a passion. However, the situation is unstable as of now. Best to rally Summerhall and wait to see what happens, then rally Highgarden if the situation has stabilised. Especially with the war going on in the Riverlands."
"Losing? Losing what? You've been acting strangely ever since that morning at Storm's End with Renly. What is happening with you?"
"If I told you, you'd think I was going mad."
"I already think that."
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