GOT: Reborn as a Martell

"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."

...

Edmure rested against the small pillar, stroking his auburn beard.

"If we inform them of the presence of the Others, we would lose all the edge we have." Edmure sighed. "If they do not call us madmen."

"The undead, at Riverrun, do you have more of them?" he asked.

"They travelled to the Stoney Sept, aye," Edmure replied, a spark in his eyes.

"It would do well to bring them here, or the capital, for that matter. If we strike a deal with the Targaryens, then it would be easy to convince them to join our cause, especially if both Princess Arianne and Prince Quentyn vouch for us," Jon surmised, his voice suddenly regaining in hope.

"I can arrange for them to be brought down," Edmure pointed out, "but what do we do about the terms?"

"If we are frank, Lord Edmure, we know that you would never be able to keep your independence," Jon said, gruffly.

Edmure nodded sullenly.

"Then, scale back your demands on the Westerlands, but ask for only one spot on the council."

"And what would that be?"

"Hand of the King."

Edmure froze for a moment, seeming to contemplate his options. Jon could see that something was still bothering him.

"And you, Stark, what would you wish?" he finally said.

"Independence for the North, I suppose. Failing that…well, a Dornish situation would be acceptable to me."

"The Northmen won't like that.""The Targaryens won't either. Unfortunately, neither will have much of a choice, I feel. Should I choose, I could fight another war, but the Others are coming, and I need these dragons and these armies."

"And if they do not agree?" Edmure asked.

"They'll have to. If not, then…well we both know what happens if they do not. That's why we came here with our armies, no? We will have no choice but to fight, for our honor, and hope that Winter is enough to dissuade them."

"Aye." Edmure's face closed, "And you, personally, what do you want?"

"Peace, and then a holdfast and lands for me and Arianne."

Jon's answer was swift, without a moment of hesitation.

"I think we have discussed Deep Den, did we not?"

Jon replied with a simple nod.

"I see no opposition to either. How do you think Arryn will take it?" Edmure asked in turn.

Jon drew a deep breath.

"Arryn, foolish as he is, hasn't been very interested in anything, even less so since the incident at the Stony Sept. As a matter of fact, he isn't even with us at this moment. I think he'll accept financial compensation and a promise of a royal match later on."

"Let us hope so," Edmure agreed. "So, then, we are in agreement? Handship, the recognition of the Riverlands' borders being pushed to the Western marches and financial gain for me, Independence and financial gain for you, and a marriage and some financial gain for Arryn? I could agree to these terms."

"Well, then, let us present them once more."

Jon and Edmure left the tent, quickly joined by members of their own guards, then their own lords, all huddling around to ask questions about the next steps.

Both he and Edmure tried to be reassuring. There were going to be terms presented, much more reasonable than before, and everyone will go their own way.

A short drink followed, and everyone regained their place across the table.

After another brief introduction, it was Prince Quentyn who took the floor, with a statement that silenced everyone.

"My lords and ladies, I think it is time we broached the subject of the Others."

Silence loomed over the table, as Jon and Edmure looked at each other in shock.

"I am sorry, the Others?" Connington almost laughed. "Prince Quentyn, have you drunk too much."

"The Others are real, and these men in front of us can confirm it." Prince Quentyn frowned, gesturing towards Jon and the Northmen. "Am I wrong, Lord Regent?"

Fuck, why did he have to put them on the spot like so! But then again, it was well played, they were desperate…

"The Others are real," Jon finally answered. "I have seen one with mine own eyes. My companion, Samwell Tarly, has slain one. They are real, and they bring the dead back to life."

"Apologies," Aegon interrupted. "But this seems like a bad jest to me. The Others are tales to tell children. Myths and legends."

"Just like dragons?" Prince Quentyn asked.

"Dragons have flown in the Westerosi skies just a hundred years ago. The Long Night occurred almost six thousand years ago, if it did at all," Aegon countered. "Why now?"

"I do not know," Jon replied simply. "This is why we have brought the wildlings south, and brokered a truth. This is why, if we do not fight them together, then we will all perish. I have seen them, and believe me, it is a horrid sight, a charge of dead men. The dead do not rest, sleep, eat, drink or tire. They cannot be reasoned with and they do not place any value on their lives."

"In conclusion," Edmure coughed, "they exist. I swear, on my honor."

"And mine." Lord Karstark nodded.

"And mine too." Lord Ryswell, Ser Wendel and Lord Royce all agreed.

"Aye, mine as well." Harrold Arryn conceded.

"And mine."

The feminine voice that essentially shattered the room was that of Princess Arianne.

"Princess?" One of the Dornish lords, completely dazed, questioned. "Are you sure?"

"I saw a dead man brought to life with mine own eyes, and I assure you, Lord Jordayne, it was no mummery," she shook her head. "And I swear, on my life and on Nymeria's grave in the Sandship, my lord, that everything these men say is true. The Others are coming."

This seemed to have completely shattered the Dornish delegation, all three lords and ladies turning to Prince Quentyn, whispering incomprehensible words.

"And of course, you have proof of this?" A lord with silver hair, close to the Targaryens, asked.

"I hold a dozen dead men at the Stony Sept. They can be brought in cages to the capital in a matter of days," Edmure Tully replied with confidence.

"Mummery and foolishness." Connington spat.

"Is it?" Jon asked. "Every lord present with us has seen them. Would you say that they have all spat on their honor while lying to you? I am Eddard Stark's son, and I believe that an oath is sacred. The oath I make to you right now, is that the Others are real, and that I swear on the Old Gods and the New."

"Some of your people also believe in it." Lord Karstark smiled, pointing to the Dornish.

"We would like to see those dead men, the sooner the better." Lord Jordayne nodded back.

"I did not know Lord Eddard Stark." Another voice rose up, in the Targaryen camp, but on the opposite of Lord Jordayne. It was a bearded man, next to a small girl, probably no older than Arya, who was covered in what looked like Greyscale. Probably Lady Shireen Baratheon, though Jon did not know who the bearded man was.

"However, King Stannis spoke many times that he was an honorable man. Too honorable, in fact, some would have said." He nodded. "Now, you may not be Lord Eddard Stark's son, but you do have his looks, and you were raised by him. The same lords who fought for him in the Rebellion now fight for you. Based on that…aye, I would believe it too, Your Graces. But I also agree with Lord Jordayne, we must see with our own eyes."

"I am sorry, my lords, I do not see the issue." Daenerys Targaryen smiled. "If what you say is true, then bend the knee right now, and save your people. We will march North, and I will pledge to use my dragons to lay waste to these Others. I have found that fire does stop men, whether dead or alive."

"Bend the knee, aye, but not at any cost, Your Grace," Edmure Tully spoke again. "The Others are coming, but this does not mean that we will grovel at your feet and beg for your help."

"May I propose a solution, Your Graces?" Harrold Arryn stood up, speaking for only the second time during this meeting.

"Please, Lord Arryn." Aegon Targaryen extended a hand, encouraging him to speak freely.

"I have heard much about the Riverlands and North, but not much about the Vale. I am afraid that we have only come quite late, and I am sorry for it." The new Lord of the Eyrie spoke, with confidence in his voice.

"You have made your terms known, indeed." Connington gruffly nodded. "They are reasonable enough."

Terms? Wait, when did he propose terms? During the recess, surely, but why discuss them then?

"A royal marriage, and a spot on the Council or the Kingsguard for a Valeman." Aegon Targaryen nodded. "As well as no ill will between our houses for your part in the Rebellion and our confirmation as your title of Lord of the Eyrie and Lord Protector of the Vale. You said you would think about it."

Harrold Arryn nodded.

"Aye. I can say that I agree with Lords Tully and Stark. The Others are coming, I have seen the dead men, we need every able-bodied man we can get, and we need your dragons too." Harrold Arryn smiled. "And as such, I would pledge myself, my sword and my men to your cause, right here, right now."

"WHAT?" Edmure Tully rose from his seat, ready to assault the boy.

"I have said my piece. If the Others are coming, might as well just go with who has the most dragons, no? And if your own allies believe a Dornish bastard over you, who are your real friends?" Harrold's gaze shifted away from Edmure to land straight on Jon.

"I'll burn you…" Jon muttered under his breath, his fists shaking.

"As I said, Your Graces." Harrold Arryn bowed, "I pledge myself and the Vale to your cause."

"Your terms are accepted, Lord Arryn." Aegon nodded back at him, inviting him over to their side of the table. "You are welcomed back into the fold, and we look forward to deepening the ties between House Arryn and House Targaryen in the future, as we have done many years in the past."

"Thank you for your generosity, Your Grace, and…" Harrold turned to Edmure with a grin, "thank you Lord Tully for your hospitality, but we've already started packing our tents. We won't bother you for much longer."

"Lord Royce, you cannot stand for this!" Jon protested.

"I am sorry, Lord Regent, but I pledged myself to Lord Arryn in the Eyrie. He is my liege lord, and I must somewhat agree with Lord Arryn. We must stand together if we wish to defeat the threat of the Others. I beg you to do the same. Save your people, like Torrhen Stark did so many years ago."

Yohn Royce's voice stung like a wasp. A slap to the face of everything Jon worked for. He had made Harrold Arryn, and Lord Royce, and how were they repaying him? By betraying him? Turning their backs on their alliance like so?

His fists were clenched, and he felt like crying, but nothing felt worse than what was just about to come.

"My lords, our conditions have not changed from our initial proposal," Daenerys said with a wide smile. "Accept our terms. Bend the knee, and keep your lands and titles. Though, I suggest you forget your dreams of an independent kingdom."

Jon stood there, his teeth and fists clenched, when he finally broke.

"Fuck you."

Dead silence over the room.

"What?" Daenerys stood there, in shock.

"Fuck you, aunt." Jon spat out. "Ever since your father burnt my uncle and grandfather alive, we owe nothing to you. The North will stand as an independent kingdom, or it will not stand at all. And if you have something to say about that, you can come talk to my dragon."

Aegon's eyes went wide, whilst Daenerys had a hard time keeping her composure.

"We will see you on the field, then." Edmure Tully rose up and shook his head, his fists clenched too. "I am sorry it has come to this, but I will not accept another humiliation either."

"Nor will I," Jon whispered to himself.

Jon looked at Prince Quentyn, visibly panicked, but there was no more discussion. The two Targaryens had left, and so had Edmure. Soon enough, the tent emptied, until it was only him and the two Martells.

"Jon." Prince Quentyn rose from his seat, his eyes wandering. "We need to stop this madness. You cannot mean to fight this battle."

Jon turned to Arianne, holding her hand as she stood up, then looking at her belly, and finally back at Prince Quentyn, who was shadowed by a woman of equal height, leaning on one of the pillars in the tent.

His rage subsided somewhat, and the bloodlust he'd garnered had slowly faded back, allowing him to finally get some coherent thoughts, which thankfully no longer involved doing something terrible to that Arryn cunt.

"Aye, we do." Jon agreed, finally looking into his interlocutor's brown eyes. "But I fear there is no stopping it now."

"Then follow me, we need to talk. About the Others, our sisters, and stopping this madness."

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