Fifth Moon, 103 AD (2 AC)
The Gardener
Mern could not help but smile at the sight before him. With a few words and a kiss, his eldest grandson and namesake had secured the keys to Storm's End for the Reach forevermore. He almost envied him. Argella Durrandon was quite the beauty, and the kingdom she was heir to even more so. Mern ruled the Reach as the Ninth of His Name, but when his grandson ascended his throne, he would rule both the Reach and the Stormlands and perhaps even more as Mern the Tenth.
"What are you smiling about so much Father? Scheming to marry off another one of my sons already?" his eldest son and heir Edmund jested.
"Indeed, perhaps Gyles could marry Princess Deria of Dorne," Mern said.
His son roared with laughter but Mern was only half jesting. He had indeed proposed as such to the Yellow Toad by raven, though unofficially. The offer had been rejected, with all the faux politeness and dry wit the Dornish were known for.
Still, it had been worth a try at the very least in Mern's eyes. He'd already made an alliance with one enemy, what was one more?
His eyes turned to his counterpart standing on the other side of the Starry Sept. The Storm King, Argilac Durrandon, whom many whispered behind his back as 'the Arrogant.' Mern knew him differently, however. As the man who had killed his father.
It had been almost twenty years since the Battle of Summerfield, since Argilac had killed his father, Garse VII in single combat. Time had passed but Mern had never forgotten, and he had never forgiven.
Which was why he had been immensely surprised when a raven had come not even six moons past from Storm's End with an offer from the arrogant stag himself, offering him the hand of his only daughter and presumed heir. For all of the hatred that he bore him, not even Mern would reject being offered another kingdom on a silver platter.
Oh Argilac might still insist to anyone that would listen that he would have a son that would succeed him; perhaps he even believed it with how there had been no requirements for the maintenance of the Durrandon name and kingdom for a second son of Argella in the marriage contract to prevent their wholesale annexation into the Reach upon his death. Truly the man was arrogant indeed. The rest of them knew that son was never coming though. Both Argilac and his wife were old and even if that son by some miracle came, a child would never hold the throne of the Stormlands against a far more established older sister with the might of the Reach backing her claim.
It had long been the ambition of his house to incorporate the Stormlands into the Green Realm. Gyles III had come closest but it had ultimately been an ambition left unfulfilled. Until now. There was no stopping their union now.
Standing together, the Reach and the Stormlands could be only stronger and more capable of defending themselves against their enemies. If Dorne refused to join their alliance and dared to continue their old feuds and raids, they would face a united Dornish Marches for the first time in history. Mern's title as the Defender of the Marches had more meaning than ever.
Mern could only wish that their enemy was just Dorne however. Dorne was a familiar and old foe, one that stood no chance of victory against a united Reach and Stormlands. Far more dangerous threats dwelt in Westeros these days, threats dangerous enough to make even bitter enemies like Argilac and him brothers in arms.
Later that night, after the ceremony in the Starry Sept and the feast in the Hightower's great hall had concluded and the bride and groom had been bedded, Mern allowed himself to be led to a private room by the Hightower guards alongside his son Edmund. When they reached the room, he saw his bannerman and the lord of the castle, Lord Manfred Hightower sitting at a round table. His Holiness, the High Septon was present, as was a member of the Most Devout he recognized, Septon Luceon, the Grand Captain of the Warrior's Sons, Ser Edric Cuy, and none other than Argilac the Arrogant.
There was no head at a round table, which perhaps had been Manfred's intent to avoid slighting any of the esteemed attendees. Nonetheless Mern took the seat that he deemed the most prestigious and commanding based on the room's layout and his son took the seat to his right. With their arrival, their meeting could begin in earnest.
"My brothers in the Light of the Seven, let us dispense with the courtesies and niceties for once and speak frankly," the High Septon began. "We are all here gathered for a common purpose, united by a common enemy. The Targaryens."
With little more than the simple mention of their name, the mood in the room had gone dark. None needed any reminder who the Targaryens were but the High Septon pressed on nonetheless.
"Their heathen ways are known to all of us, their blasphemies and heresies, their sinful incest and bigamy, and their pretentious laws that challenge the strictures of the Faith and the traditions of our people! Affronts to the Seven! All of it! But the worst part is that they are not merely content to subject the Riverlands to them as we had initially feared. No, they seek to spread it to every corner of the continent no matter how much blood must be spilt!"
Grimaces could be seen on every face. They all knew what had happened to the Westerlands. Mern still remembered the day word had come to Higharden of the Sack of Lannisport and the Fall of Casterly Rock. The sheer brutality and cruelty Aegon Targaryen had shown in his butchering of the Lannisport faithful and the twisted mind games he had played on the defenders of Casterly Rock to make them submit had outraged the entire court and many more in the rest of Westeros.
Yet as much as it had outraged them, it had terrified them even more. For it had shown them just how little Aegon Targaryen cared for their religion and traditions, how little he respected the sanctity of innocent lives or the storied prestige of ancient houses. There had been no mercy in his soul when he had massacred the families of soldiers in front of them before the gates of Casterly Rock. No chivalry when he had banished King Loren and his kin to the Wall. Nothing seemed capable of stopping him, for even the mount of Casterly Rock itself had been torn open by the might of a single dragon.
The High Septon turned to his colleague. "Septon Luceon can testify further."
The Most Devout Septon nodded before speaking. "His Holiness speaks true. I had the misfortune of meeting Aegon Targaryen in person six years ago, shortly after he had conquered the Riverlands. His obstinance and stubbornness to repent for his sins shocked me and more than that, it horrified me just how willing he was to continue relishing in them. We have all heard of how Aegon and his whore sisters have betrothed their dragonspawn to each other. There will be no end to this madness. The abominations will only continue to breed and further their line if nothing is done.
"The Targaryens are drunk on their own power. Their arrogance knows no bounds. They think they can make the world bend to their whims. And after what they did to the Riverlands, to the Iron Islands and Westerlands, I have no doubt that they will not stop until they have conquered each and every kingdom on this continent, bringing ruin and death everywhere they go!"
"They are playing on the bitter old feuds between the kingdoms to keep us divided, so that they can conquer us piecemeal one by one. Divided we fall, but if we stand united, we might just stand a chance," Lord Manfred said.
Argilac spoke with more humility and grace than Mern thought possible for him. "What would you have us do Your Holiness?" he asked, addressing the High Septon.
"You have already made the Seven proud with your ability to put aside your pride and ally with your rival for the common good King Argilac," the High Septon said sagely. "And you as well King Mern, I know forgiving the killer of your father could not have been easy -" Mern clenched his fist "- but the fact that you have joined together is a portent that can only bode well."
"Continue to strengthen your alliance, build up your armies. And when the time comes, heed the Faith's call," the High Septon said.
"It is highly likely that the Targaryens' next target will be the Vale. It is unlikely that they will target the barren wastelands of the North for now and with the Reach and Stormlands united by marriage in a strong alliance, we predict that the Targaryens will seek to remove the threat of the Vale on their flanks before moving against us," Septon Luceon explained.
"We do not intend to let this happen of course. Not a single inch more of Andaldom can be allowed to fall to the heathens. His Holiness and I have already communicated with Queen Regent Sharra our fears and we have sent much in the way of donations and reinforcements to strengthen the faithful in the Vale. The Faith Militant has tripled its presence in the kingdom and offered their services to the Valemen wherever they might be of use in their preparations," the Grand Captain continued.
"Your parts in all of this Your Graces, will be to come to the aid of the Faith and the Vale when the Targaryens attack the Vale. The Most Devout and I will issue out a call to Holy War and we anticipate that many will answer the summons. With the two of you lending your armies and your words to this campaign, our chance of victory grows immensely," the High Septon concluded.
"Of course. The Faith will never want for anything so long as I live. The might of the Reach is at the command of the Seven," Mern said.
"As is that of the Stormlands," Argilac said as well, unwilling to be outdone.
The High Septon smiled. "Thank you for your generosity Your Graces. May the Warrior grant you victory, the Mother grant you peace, and the Father paradise in the seven heavens for this boon."
The two kings nodded graciously at his words.
Mern's mind was already hard at work wondering how he might strengthen this alliance with the Vale. As much as he respected the Faith, it was not the most binding way to forge an alliance. No that was by blood, by marriage. Unfortunately, he had never been blessed with any daughters or granddaughters but he did have nieces and grandnieces aplenty from his brothers, even if many had already married into various houses across the Reach. The eldest and most senior had married Lord Florent some years back but if he recalled correctly, the youngest daughter of his youngest brother was of age with the young Ronnel Arryn.
Normally such a bride was hardly worthy of a king but these were desperate times and he was certain that Sharra Arryn would not spurn the offer if she had any wits about her. Gardener blood would sit the Weirwood Throne yet.
The conversation soon turned to war plans and details. "Scorpions will be essential," Argilac said. "We will need to make as many of them as we can and position them on every keep possible. Longbows and crossbows as well, and the men will need to be trained how to use such weapons."
Mern hated to admit it but Argilac was a famed warrior and general and he agreed with his judgement here. He was about to expound on Argilac's idea when his son Edmund made a proposal.
"Should we even face the Targaryens on the field? Their dragons are fearsome foes. It would be wiser to try and assassinate them."
Septon Luceon and the High Septon exchanged a glance. "Normally the Seven would not condone such actions, but in this case, to rid the world of heathens and abominations, I think they would not just grant an exception but look upon it in favor," the High Septon said.
"Unfortunately, it would be much easier said than done. It is becoming increasingly difficult to even get septons into the Riverlands to preach, let alone spies and assassins into the heart of Summerhall," Septon Luceon said, disappointed.
"Surely the Faceless Men or some other guild in Essos could dispose of them for us then?" Edmund suggested.
Argilac looked discontent at the idea of assassinating their foes instead of facing them in battle.
Mern had his own misgivings. "Do we even have the funds to afford the Faceless Men or other guilds? And even if we did, would they accept and take the risk while the wars are ongoing in Essos?" he asked.
"It's worth a try at least," Edmund countered and Mern conceded.
"True enough. We will have to dispatch an emissary to these assassin guilds on our behalf."
"Any allies we can get will be welcome in these trying times. Already we have the Faith, the Reach, the Stormlands, and the Vale in our coalition. We should send emissaries to Sunspear and Winterfell. If the Dornish and the Northern barbarians deign to join us, our alliance will grow even stronger," Lord Manfred said.
"More allies will never be turned away but we will make do without them if we have to," Argilac said.
The rest of them nodded their assent at his words before the Grand Captain spoke again. "We should not forget the Westerlands. They chafe under Targaryen rule and there are many exiles from those lands, lesser Lannisters and the like. They and the Poor Fellows will serve well helping to liberate the Westerlands and stir the locals to fight for freedom."
Mern remembered the men in question. None were closer in relation to Loren Lannister than a second cousin and yet they sought to claim the Golden Throne of House Lannister and restore the Kingdom of the Rock. He had promised them his help but he had never promised Casterly Rock or the Westerlands would be theirs when the dust settled. Such prizes he would keep for himself and the Reach would grow strong indeed with two of its oldest and greatest rivals under its control.
Perhaps it could grow even stronger still. Under Targaryen rule the Riverlands had thought themselves a new rival for the Reach, exploiting to the fullest the preferential treatment the fearful Essosi gave the Targaryens, their strategic position, and their conquests. Much of what the Westerlands had once traded with the Reach for was now sourced exclusively from the Riverlands. Those rich lands would be in need of a new king should the Targaryens be defeated utterly, and who else could it be but him?
The future looked bright indeed for House Gardener and Mern could not wait to see it all unfold. He would do whatever it took to make sure that when the dust settled, it would be House Gardener that proved the masters of Westeros. Not the Durrandons, not the Lannisters, and especially not the Targaryens.
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The Mother Falcon
"Another of the mountain clans has been found and destroyed," the Warrior's Sons Captain, Ser Jason Melcolm, reported to her.
"That makes the fifth, doesn't it?" Sharra asked.
The knight nodded.
"Good. I want all the clans destroyed by year's end."
The knight hesitated. "That may not be accomplishable Your Grace. We outmatch them in every way but the clans are tricky and they know the mountains better than we do."
"It must be," Sharra insisted. "Lives are depending on it. We need those mountains cleared so that we can establish our own refuges in them. You've already cleared five clans in as many moons ser. I trust the rest will soon follow."
"Very well Your Grace. May I request that we have more reinforcements from the Knights of the Vale though? More supplies and far-eyes are also crucial for our expeditions to continue making progress into the mountains," the captain asked her.
"Granted Ser Jason. If you want for anything else, you need but ask," Sharra promised him. This was no time to be parsimonious.
Nodding reluctantly, the knight bowed before turning to carry out her orders.
As he left Sharra finally let the mask of strength drop. Ruling was difficult at the best of times. There were so many hard decisions that had to be made, decisions made even harder by the threat that lurked on her southern border. Dragonspawn and demons, abominations and heathens, the last of the accursed Forty Families of Valyria had followed them to Westeros and it seemed that it would be the Andals' last stand against their evil.
"Joffrey, what would you do?" she wondered, but her late husband had not been able to answer her for many years now. She still missed him. She had a feeling she always would, no matter how hard she tried to move on. She wished she still had his strength and wisdom to guide the Vale in these dark times.
The Faith had warned her that they suspected the Vale would be the next target of the Targaryens' voracious appetite after the Iron Islands and Westerlands had fallen. The thought of her kingdom being subjected to the same brutality as Lannisport and Casterly Rock had faced, of being compelled to sin like the Riverlands had been, it made her shudder. She would do anything she could to protect the Vale and her family.
She looked out the window to see her boys sparring in the yard below. She had chosen this room as her solar precisely because it overlooked the training yard with a perfect view. Her two boys were the spitting image of their father, sky-blue eyes, blond hair, and perhaps as they grew into their maturity, their boyish round faces would sharpen into his.
As she let herself rest from the ceaseless rigors of ruling for just a little while, she watched her two boys train carefree under the watchful gaze of the Eyrie's master-at-arms. Jonos, though younger, was easily his elder brother Ronnel's match with a sword and the two traded blows and parries eagerly, jesting and taunting. Their boyish laughter seemed to echo off the hauntingly silent towers and into the valley below, bringing to life a castle that had felt lost in grief since her husband's death.
But the work never ceased. Before long Sharra's mind drew her back to her duties and her gaze was drawn to the letter on the table with the broken seal of the Gardener hand. Mern Gardener thought to offer his niece as Ronnel's bride. Not a match she would have accepted under normal circumstances but these were far from normal circumstances. If she wanted the alliance with the Reach to be as strong as possible, it would be best to accept Mern's proposal.
That would mean that the Grafton match she had been considering would have to go to Jonos instead to make sure that Gulltown, its strengthened Faith Militant chapter, and the fleet they were expanding there were still tied to House Arryn by blood. More ports and Faith Militant chapterhouses were being built and expanded across the Vale of course, but Gulltown would always be the largest and most important. Especially given the surprising rapprochement between the Graftons and Manderlys in recent years due to trade ties, something they would have to watch carefully given the old rivalry with the North.
There were so many preparations, so many things that had to be done, it was almost hard to keep track sometimes. The mountain clans were being exterminated at long last after millennia, the difficulties and high costs having made it unfeasible until now when desperation and religious fervor drove them like never before. With their extinction, a potential catspaw for the Targaryens was removed while freeing up the mountains to build shelters and move weapons and supplies into for the inevitable invasion.
Other work was being done reinforcing and upgrading the Bloody Gate and their other fortifications and building scorpions, crossbows, longbows, and training men in their use. When the Targaryens came, they would be ready to muster and defend their kingdom until the end.
Sharra sent a quick prayer the Seven's way, praying that they would protect her family and kingdom and lead them to victory, for the safety of the people of the Westerlands suffering under the Targaryen yoke, and for the punishment and defeat of the Targaryen abominations and the Riverlander traitors and heretics that served them. She did not doubt that many highborn and low were praying the same across Westeros and she could only hope that the strength of their combined prayers would see the Seven grant their pleas.
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The Warg
The strong scent of deer caught the attention of his powerful nose. He ran through the woods on his strong legs and paws. He was power, he was strength, and he was danger. He was the wolf and the wolf was him.
And then something somewhere reminded him that he was others as well. Soon he soared in the skies above, flying over the vast lands and seeing all the world below. The temptation was strong to let go of the ground, to forget about all earthly troubles and worries and just fly to the ends of the world.
But his will, his love for the things he held dear on the ground was too strong and when he next opened his eyes, Brandon found himself in in his true skin in the godswood of Winterfell. He attempted to get to his feet before stumbling, unused to his strange two legs. He laid himself back against the heart tree and rested against the weirwood for some time, his mind adjusting to not being able to fly like a raven or run on all fours like a direwolf.
It was not long before his favored raven returned and perched herself on the heart tree he was resting beneath.
"Hello there Ebony," he called out to his raven affectionately and she chirped in response. "How long do you think it'll be before Shadow succeeds in his hunt?" he wondered aloud and his answer came shortly enough as he heard a direwolf howling in the nearby forest.
Chuckling Brandon rose to his feet. It was a shame that Torrhen did not allow him to bring Shadow into Winterfell, but he could always spend time with him whenever he stayed at his cabin in the Wolfswood. And this way at least Shadow was able to roam free and wild in the Wolfswood and run and hunt to his heart's content. Just the way it should be. No wolf should be caged or chained.
He looked up and saw that the sun was nearing its later summer noontide and realized that he had best get going soon or he'd be late for his meeting with his brother. Torrhen forgave him many things but he hated to have his time wasted for anything and it would not do to have him in a bad mood.
Ebony followed him faithfully as he made his way up to his brother's solar. The guards at the door greeted him with a nod but not a bow, acknowledging him as the brother of their lord but giving him no respect that a trueborn would be given. But that was fine for Brandon Snow. Being a bastard gave him a different set of advantages and perspectives that allowed him to serve his brother and his house far more effectively that he could if he had been trueborn or even legitimized.
His brother was seated behind his desk overlooking the granary lists. It was still summer but it was never too early to begin winter preparations. Winter was always coming, and they were already predicting that autumn would start by the next year based on how long summer had been already though that was not a truly reliable method in all honesty. More a feeling, an instinct, born from millennia of surviving in the cold harsh lands they called home.
"Have a seat Brandon," Torrhen instructed him and he obliged, taking the chair in front of his brother's desk.
"You asked to speak with me?" he asked.
"Yes," Torrhen replied, putting aside the winter preparations for a time to give him his full attention. "I find myself in need of your counsel again little brother."
"Of course," Brandon said eagerly.
"This came from Highgarden by raven this morning," Torrhen said, passing him a letter over the table. The broken hand on the seal told him all he needed to know about the letter's origins.
"And what does Mern Gardener have to say to us?" Brandon was amused.
"Precisely the reason I have called you in to give me counsel," Torrhen replied as Brandon read over the letter.
"He proposes an alliance against the Targaryens," Brandon said simply. The letter had not stated it outright in case it was intercepted but it was clear from the wording who the 'common enemy' Mern spoke of was.
"And offers one of his nieces as my son's bride and a whole host of other trade concessions, privileges and the like and rather unsubtle references to the strength of his existing alliances with the Stormlands, the Vale, and the Faith," Torrhen continued. "The question now is, can we take Mern at his word and is it worth forging an alliance with the Reach?"
Brandon shook his head. "To an extent. But the lords will never accept a Gardener niece of all women as the next queen and allying with the Faith of the Seven openly would be unpopular to say the least. However, I cannot deny that his proposal for a grand coalition against the Targaryens the next time they attempt to conquer a kingdom is a fine one, one that I very much think that we should take advantage of. It would be good to have allies when we fight the Targaryens, even if we can only be co-belligerents at most officially."
Torrhen looked pensive. Brandon sighed. "I have been telling you for months that we should prepare for war with the Targaryens."
"And I told you that if there was even the slightest inkling that the Targaryens intended to invade the North I would call the banners and march into the Riverlands to teach them a lesson they shan't soon forget," Torrhen bit back. "But this? This is the kind of proposal that can lead us into a war that is not ours to fight. Is it truly wise to make an enemy where there could be none?"
"And do you truly think that Aegon Targaryen is content with the kingdoms he has? Everything about his campaigns signify a calculated and methodical approach that will continue until every corner of the continent is under his rule. And we know already what our place is in that rule. Do you perhaps want to join Loren Lannister on the Wall alongside your sons brother?" Brandon challenged.
"Be careful how you speak to me Brandon, I give you much leeway but I am still your liege," Torrhen warned.
Brandon relented and bowed his head. "My apologies my king."
It was Torrhen's turn to sigh now. "Everywhere I look there is danger and death. If I do nothing, I risk the Targaryens attacking us when they have conquered all the south, yet if I ally with this Coalition, I risk antagonizing the Targaryens should they have not intended to attack us at all. Either choice is fraught with peril."
"It does not have to be," Brandon said. Torrhen looked at him in surprise as a plan quickly began to form in his head. "Write back to King Mern, inform him that you appreciate his offer and that you wish to discuss the trade deals further but that you unfortunately cannot accept the betrothal of his niece to your son as of yet, nor confirm your answer in regards to this alliance he is building. That will give us plausible deniability and a flexibility to decide how we want to respond when the Targaryens and the Coalition make their next moves.
"That does not mean that we should remain idle in the meantime, however. We must strengthen our defenses, fortify and expand our ports and coastal castles, build more scorpions and train more archers and crossbowmen. Moat Cailin has to be repaired and garrisoned to full strength and the crannogmen of the Neck given all the resources they need to build and prepare traps and ambushes. The Manderlys and other houses on both coasts will also be crucial to rebuild the fleets that the Burner destroyed; we will need strength at sea again to defend ourselves from invasion and to secure our trade lanes," Brandon proposed.
Torrhen looked aghast. "Your proposals have merit… but how are we to even begin paying for all of this? Our lands are no Casterly Rock and most of our money has always been held in reserve as winter funds."
"There are strengthening trade ties between White Harbor and Gullton no? We were watching the Manderlys closely due to the old rivalry with the Vale but those ties could prove to be a lucrative and profitable boon now, one that knits us ever so closer to the Coalition without forcing us to commit to their cause. These trade deals that Mern Gardener proposes will aid in that too and I am sure that Braavos and the other Free Cities are in need of certain resources like wood due to their ongoing war with Volantis, resources that we can provide.
"And more than that brother, our reserves are deeper than you think they are. We are not the richest of houses in Westeros no but we are still royalty. The coffers of Winterfell are deep and our wealth more subtle than others but it is there. What is the use of silver pendants and fine clothing when the safety of the North is at stake? And at least some of these expenditures will pay for themselves in time, the fleet certainly will if we use it for fishing in peacetime."
Torrhen still looked hesitant but he was more thoughtful now. "If we are to dip into our reserves, should we not try and hire Faceless Men or some other assassins to remove the Targaryens and rid ourselves of their threat?"
Brandon shook his head. "Now that we certainly cannot afford. I do not want to even imagine what kind of price the Faceless Men would set for the head of a dragonrider, let alone three or more. And they would be unlikely to agree to our request anyway given the war in Essos. No, it would just be a waste of money and effort to even try, especially when you don't need Faceless Men brother. You have me."
His older brother looked at him in surprise.
"There are ways for a skinchanger to kill their enemies. Many ways. I could slip into the skin of a wild beast and attack the Targaryens, take over the minds of their horses and throw them off to their deaths, and so much more. And there are spells, secrets, and poisons that the crannogmen of the Neck still remember. Weirwood bows and arrows of greater quality and range that could be enchanted and granted the Old Gods' blessing for truer aim and let us strike down the Targaryens themselves if not maybe even their dragons."
It struck him then. Could it… perhaps be possible to skinchange into a dragon and turn them against their rider, securing dragons for House Stark? He would have to consider this more. The idea intrigued him greatly though and he concluded his proposal with eagerness.
"Grant me leave brother, and I will travel throughout the North, to the Neck and to all the lands that bend the knee to our house, and I will recruit every skinchanger I can find and mold them into an elite force at your service. We will be your hands in the darkness, your hidden blades to dispose of your enemies, your eyes and ears across the land. No one, not the Targaryens, not the Faith or the Arryns, and certainly not the Boltons or anyone else, will be a threat to House Stark again."
Torrhen looked almost disturbed by the vision he proposed, however.
"We agreed that you would keep your sorcery secret Brandon. It was out of love for you I left you in peace and allowed you to continue practicing such things on the agreement that you keep it discreet. What happens if the lords find out about it? What then? How am I to explain this to our vassals?"
"Stand your ground. You are their king Torrhen and you do what must be done to protect the North. It is not their place to question you and once my skinchangers are trained and ready, none will be able to betray you without us knowing about it. There is no risk," Brandon said firmly.
"And I'm supposed to simply believe that your methods will even work? You are not a greenseer Brandon, the ancient magics are gone forever and they will never return."
"Perhaps," Brandon admitted. "But what we have is enough to give us a sorely needed advantage."
Torrhen was still hesitant. "The North fears and hunts your kind. Few are the skinchangers who had the love of their kind and communities like you did Brandon. If your unit will truly be as powerful as you say it will be, how can I accept that risk? Am I to believe that this unit of skinchanger spies and assassins, bereaved and resentful, will truly serve House Stark faithfully and not turn upon us like a mad dog bites its owner at the soonest opportunity?"
"Many of them will be crannogmen I imagine and their loyalty can be counted upon. As for the others… do you trust me Torrhen?" Brandon asked.
"…I do."
"Then trust me to keep them in line, and trust in me to fulfill this mission for you."
There was an immutable pause for a few moments as the brothers stared at each other before one finally relented.
"Very well then Brandon. You have my leave. Do not make me regret this."
_____________________________________
The Yellow Toad
Meria Martell was past her prime and she was not afraid to admit that. She was well over eighty years old but the time had not yet come for her to die and she sensed that time would not be coming for several years yet.
Many of her enemies liked to mock her. The Storm King called her the Yellow Toad. Even the courtiers in her own court whispered behind her back. Fat they called her, balding, blind. Well, she was all of those things, but that did not mean that she was not dangerous.
Old, fat, and bald she might have been, but Dorne still obeyed her commands without question. And blind she might have been, but that did not mean that she could not see.
Dorne was at a crossroads. Of the realms in Westeros, they had long been the most involved in Essosi affairs due to their proximity to the continent and those affairs were complex and worrying indeed these days. Volantis had continued to subjugate Lys under its control, the entirety of the Disputed Lands were now under their sway, and their armies were laying siege to Myr at this very moment. Meanwhile, banished from the mainland, Tyrosh had seized control of the Stepstones with the aid of Braavos and Pentos, intent on defying Volantis until the very end even as Lorath, Qohor, and Norvos did their best to hold back the Tiger in the north as well.
Such affairs were intimately important to Dorne due to how close they were to the Stepstones and Essos and how reliant they were on the trade from those cities. There were many in her court clamoring for Dorne to involve itself in the wars against Volantis or to even build a new fleet and try to secure some of the Stepstones for themselves.
Then there were more pious folks. The Faith of the Seven might not be held to as strictly in Dorne but it was still the dominant religion and many had taken umbrage to how the Targaryens were treating it and had proven receptive to the whispers of the Faith to join with the Reach, Stormlands, and Vale in a coalition against the Targaryens. Many others opposed this as well however, finding the thought of allying with their ancient rivals unthinkable and preferring instead to take advantage of their distraction when they went to war with the Targaryens to raid their lands to their hearts' content.
Should they ally with the Targaryens or the Faith and its Coalition or stay out of Westerosi affairs entirely and focus on matters in Essos? Those were questions that could tear Dorne apart. But only if she let them. Because what was stopping them from doing all three at the same time?
When the time came, those who were more pious and wished to fight for the Faith would have their leave to go and do so, without any support or favor from House Martell. They would fight and they would die, weakening their houses and the Faith's hold on Dorne and strengthening House Martell's own.
Those that wished to raid and pillage into the Reach and Stormlands would also have their leave to do so, weakening their ancient rivals as much as possible before they united into a stronger whole. Of course, officially, they would conduct such raids while masquerading as bandits that would be publicly disavowed by House Martell. They would not want to openly involve themselves in the war between the Coalition and the Targaryens after all and find Dorne split down the middle because of it.
Meanwhile those that wished to pay more attention to Essosi affairs would have free reign to do so, knowing that their rivals both within and without Dorne were preoccupied with affairs north of the Red Mountains. Dorne would be enriched and empowered from the raids into the Reach and the Stormlands and their involvement in Essos, while House Martell itself barely had to lift a finger.
It was a scheme that made her want to cackle at times. Truly a devious plan to be proud of. Oh the northern kingdoms liked to call them treacherous and dishonorable, but they were simply unwilling to admit that they did the same. Treachery and dishonor were just accusations they hurled at Dorne to cloak their own weakness.
Ideally the Faith's Coalition and the Targaryens would come to a stalemate, and with Dornish spears on both sides of that conflict, Meria was sure there could be a way to make that outcome a reality, even if it would take some finesse on her part to make both her pious and greedy raider vassals do her bidding without their realizing it.
But even if that ideal outcome did not come to pass, she was not that worried. If the Faith prevailed and the Reach and Stormlands united and possibly even annexed the Westerlands and Riverlands, it would be a little concerning but such a massive empire would fall apart as soon as it was made and it would never stand a chance at truly conquering Dorne. Should the Targaryens prevail and the Faith's insistence that they wished to conquer all of Westeros prove correct, the same would hold true.
This was their land, and their kingdom. None knew it better than them. They knew the mountains and the deserts, they knew the rivers and the oases. Let the invaders come if they dared. Be they the Reachmen and the Stormlanders whose ilk they had known and fought for millennia or the Targaryens and their dragons that their ancestors had learned how to deal with, it mattered not. The invaders would thirst, starve, and die in the hot desert sands and all the while Dorne would remain unbowed, unbent, and unbroken.
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Author's Note: Back at last! Thank you all for staying patient this past month and I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and the look into the thoughts and opinions of the rest of Westeros! Please let me know your thoughts, suggestions, and any questions in the comments below or over on Discord! https://discord.com/invite/NSEwuzpcWm