GOT: Reborn as a Martell

"Come with me." Edmure motioned.

All the guards stood at attention as the lord of Riverrun asked to be let in. One of the guards fumbled with the key, but eventually managed to open it for the two of them.

...

As soon as they closed the door, Jon was met with screeches.

Familiar screeches, added to the scent of death.

His eyes went wide as Edmure ushered him forward.

There, in the corner of a room, was a cage, large enough to contain a person, with enough bars for it to be impossible to escape. And thank the gods.

Because Jon knew exactly what was in that cage.

"How…" Jon gasped as he saw the figure inside the cage. It used to be a man, at least Jon thought so. His face was naught but a skull, with bright blue eyes, clad in a cloak of wool, from which half-decomposed black hands desperately tried to reach him.

"My sister sent one to the Vale as well," Edmure pointed out, calmly. "I must admit that I did not believe what my eyes laid upon the first time I saw this…thing. I thought about a Myrish contraption. If it were not my sister that sent this, I might have named the sender mad."

"Where did they find this wight?"

Jon felt a chill down his spine. If they found it south of the Wall, it means the undead found a weak spot around it, or through it. Then…the south did not have any time left.

"Outside of the Wall," Edmure replied. "The King of the Wildlings, can't remember his name…"

"Mance Rayder."

"Yes, that is the one." Edmure nodded. "He has apparently sent patrols to capture some, to hope to sway the lords of the realm."

Jon released a breath he did not know he had been holding. The Wall still stood and the wights were not released onto the North, that was good news. But if Mance managed to capture a wight so easily, it meant that they were getting bolder…and closer too.

"I showed this to every lord that came to Riverrun. Alysanne too." Edmure continued. "You should show this to your Princess, as well as her companions."

Jon winced. He wanted to, but subjecting Arianne to such a sight could be dangerous, make her faint or worse. Already she had complained about the cold weather making her head spin…

But her party was something else. Ser Joss Hood in particular was a knight of good standing and quite respected, perhaps his word would be enough to sway the rest, including Arianne.

"Aye, I'll tell them to come."

"With this, I agree with you, Lord Regent," Edmure continued, walking away from the wight, Jon following closely behind. "This war we have been waging is secondary. If they have been gathering corpses from the Lands Beyond The Wall, then we will need our armies and your dragon to defeat them, and the conflict must be ended soon."

"Aye, we must end, or at least freeze the conflict, but how?" Jon asked.

"Taking the mountain fortresses and ensuring the safety of our borders is a step…" Edmure thought for a moment, closing the door behind him, "and perhaps offering a cessation of hostilities for the duration of the War in the North?"

"Aye, that would be preferable," Jon agreed, "I doubt the Tyrells or Lannisters can oppose us, their forces are just as depleted as ours."

"And we have your dragon," Edmure concluded, sighing. "It remains to take these castles on the border, though."

"I see what you are asking, Lord Tully, but I made a vow," Jon replied.

Edmure stroked his beard for a few moments.

"Mhm, but you must also think about the war. Consolidating our position in the West would be invaluable."

Jon took a measure of his words and grit his teeth. He had him there, but the campaign to the West would last two to three months, and he'd promised he'd take Arianne to Dorne in no later than one.

"I shall consider it, Lord Tully. Such an action cannot be decided on a whim," he finally decided to reply.

Edmure nodded in turn, when a man came running towards them two.

Jon instinctively put his hand on Longclaw's pommel, but, to his relief, did not have to unsheathe it. It was only a messenger.

"A message from the Marches, my lords," the messenger panted, "it was said I should've given this to you in priority."

Edmure thanked the messenger, eyes circumspect, and started reading, when his eyes went wide.

"Bad news, Lord Tully?" Jon asked, unnerved.

"The Dornish have taken Nightsong and Blackhaven," Edmure said, crumpling the piece of paper in his hand, "their host in the Stormlands, led by Prince Quentyn Martell and the Red Viper, Prince Oberyn, counts Golden Company banners amidst them, but more importantly…"

"More importantly, what?" Jon asked impatiently.

"Your kin have come too. Three dragons have been seen turning above the Marches and the Kingswood."

"My kin? Dragons?" Jon asked.

"Aye," Lord Edmure replied, "the letter came with another. One that simply reads: 'King Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name, and Queen Daenerys Targaryen, First of Her Name, have returned to Westeros. Our terms our simple: bend the knee, and be spared, or fight, and be destroyed.'"

"Aegon…it can't be!" Jon exclaimed. "He died during the Sack!"

"Aye, well if he did, the mummer playing his part must've put on quite a show if he convinced his aunt and all of Dorne to follow him." Edmure gruffly gave him the crumpled letters, which Jon quickly read.

"Three dragons to one…" Jon sighed. "The balance of power has suddenly shifted, if what your spies say is true."

"Aye, it also means we cannot continue the preparation of our campaign west, nor can we send the Dornish back."

"The Dornish are under my protection, they stay with me, Lord Tully," Jon warned.

"I meant no offense, just that they must be closely watched," Edmure countered.

Jon had no problem with that. War was war.

"Send a raven to Lord Arryn. We must not wait; their objective is clear: take the capital. If we get there before them, we might still be able to catch them after they have faced against the Tyrell's host, thus catching them at their weakest. And…well, I would rather it all end amicably anyways. We need those dragons for what is to come."

Edmure nodded. "I agree, but we need to summon a war council, and at once."

"Then, there is not a moment to lose. Summon everyone at first light tomorrow."

Jon and Edmure shook hands and parted ways, Edmure heading towards the courtyard, likely to have ravens sent, while Jon headed to his rooms.

They were exactly as he had left them several months ago, except for the fact that a Dornish beauty was lying in his bed.

"Really, you Northerners have terrible taste," she turned to him with a sly smile, "nothing fancy, everything basic, grey, dull. Where are the colours? The flights of yellow, blue, purple or green? Where are the vases and artworks, the glasses and linens, the colourful cushions and embroidered bedsheets?"

"I was raised a bastard; I am afraid I did not have such luxury. I therefore ordered Lord Tully to keep things simple for me."

"Simple," Arianne scoffed. "You are Lord Regent, they should give you rooms better suited for you rather than this place."

Jon raised an eyebrow. He quite liked his Riverrun rooms. They were spacious, with anything you could need, and true, it lacked a little colour, but he did not need this. The Watch rooms certainly were not brightly coloured, and his rooms at Winterfell, although quite comfortable, were never as beautiful as his uncle's or Robb's.

"I like it." Jon shrugged.

"Well, I already ordered some colors to be put around here," Arianne countered.

"I'm glad to know you're feeling better." Jon chuckled.

"Yes, the migraines have gone away, but my stomach pains me somewhat." She shrugged. "It'll go away, it must be the anxiousness of being far away from Dorne."

"If it's any relief, we might set out earlier than expected." Jon bit his lip.

"Really?" Arianne stood up. "Did you convince someone to take your affairs in hand?"

"Not exactly." Jon pulled a chair in front of her and sat down. "Your brother, Prince Quentyn, has crossed the Boneway with an army, and taken Blackhaven. He has three dragons with him, and gave his allegiance to King Aegon, Sixth of His Name."

"Aegon died in the Sack," Arianne said, her face stuck in a stunned expression.

"Well, he certainly looked real enough to your family and his aunt, who was crowned Queen Daenerys, First of Her Name."

Arianne slumped back on the bed, holding her head in her arms.

"Does that mean I'm a prisoner again?" she said, raising her head back to him, tears in her eyes.

"Gods, Ari, no!" He took her hands in his own. "You are under my protection, and I promised to get you to Dorne, so that I could get my cousin back. You and all your party. But this means that your brother is my enemy, and that of Lord Tully's. It also means Dorne is the enemy."

"So, we're not to be prisoners, but guests?" Arianne scoffed.

"I'd say your movements will be much more restricted than before, yes." Jon nodded, "But you must understand…"

"I understand." Arianne said, her tone resigned.

"If it is any solace, you shall come with us towards the capital as soon as we set off," Jon continued, "I do not want more bloodshed, and if I can persuade your brother and my own to not fight, I would like that opportunity."

"Please." Arianne threw himself into his arms. "I don't want to choose between my brother and you."

"And I pray you won't ever have to make that choice, Ari," Jon tried to comfort her. "But likewise, I do not want to make a choice between kin, and I might have to."

He looked into her eyes, but only found sadness and despair.

"I'll bring you home, I promised that much," Jon said solemnly, "and I'll see it through."

"Thank you." Arianne nodded. "Is there anything I can do for you, then?"

"I'd like to send me Ser Joss Hood, actually," Jon replied, "I would wish to show him something."

"Show him what?" Arianne asked.

"Something that I cannot show you," Jon said, "for your own health."

"What is it, Jon? I am not a little girl anymore." Arianne's expression had gone from sadness to annoyance in a few moments.

"Something bad, something terrible. Something that comes from the depths of legend."

"In Riverrun?" Arianne raised an eyebrow.

"Aye," Jon replied. "A wight, brought from the North."

"A wight? Like the ones you talked about in your stories of beyond the wall?" Arianne looked at him with a surprised air. "I must admit that if you told me about them, why refuse to show me what I laughed about for so long?"

"Because they smell like death, and look like death, Arianne, it is not something that you forget, and it is certainly not something that you should see with your own eyes if you can avoid it."

Arianne stood up, towering over him.

"I am a Princess of Dorne, Jon." She put her hands behind her back, putting on her most serious air. "If someone can persuade the Dornish to help our cause, it is I."

"Our cause?" Jon raised an eyebrow, though he smiled inwardly. Arianne did not lack for passion or conviction.

"You talk in your sleep, when deep in your dreams, Jon." Arianne smiled. "About hordes of undead on the Wall, and the need to prepare for Winter and defeat the evil. To unite the kingdoms to fight them off. I did not need much reflection to put the pieces together."

"And you truly wish to see it? It is not a pretty sight, and I would not risk your health."

"It is not Joss Hood that will convince Dorne, I shall say that much." Arianne pointed to the door. "Lead the way."

Jon stood up and hesitated.

"Lead the way, Stark," Arianne leaned behind him and whispered into his ear, "or I'll make you."

Jon smiled. "You never cease to amaze me, Ari."

"I love it when you compliment me, but we'll have time for it later. For now, it is time to see what your creatures of the night look like."

"Well then, I'll be at your side," Jon said, holding her hand firmly. "And do not, for one second, try to repress a scream or try not to look away. I will not judge you for it."

"Do not fret, Jon." Arianne winked as she leaned towards the door, opening it, while staring into his grey eyes. "I love being weak with you."

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