moonlight10
patreon
GOT : Chapter 161
🕑 Added 2024-11-29 09:25:00 +0000 UTC"Your Grace, they are prisoners, they cannot be executed!" Lord Fowler protested.
Aegon immediately whispered a few words in her ear, and Daenerys nodded.
"My apologies. Not executed…yet. But another punishment may yet be found."
...
There were murmurs around the table, but the matter was dropped quite quickly, and a few other matters were discussed, when Jon Connington made another suggestion.
"Your Grace, it would be wise…to replace your Master of Coin."
Edric's eyes suddenly shot up from the table, towards the Old Griffin.
"A sensible proposal, Your Grace, and I think we should resolve the matter of succession now, so as it does not impede the success of our campaign," Anders Yronwood puffed his chest.
If looks could kill, Yronwood would have dropped dead this instant.
"We must immediately send a raven to Sunspear, so that preparations can be made to install Trystane Martell as Prince of Dorne, and install a regency. The first motion of that regency should of course be to break the marriage pact with Myrcella Waters. As a senior and respected lord, I…"
"Shut up!" Edric found himself speaking.
The room turned silent and all eyes turned to him.
"What did you say, Lord Dayne?" Yronwood fixed him with his blue eyes.
"I said, shut up, Yronwood," Edric growled. "You think I don't see through your game? You think you're so discreet, do you? Thinking we would not notice the timing of your daughter Gwyneth arriving in Sunspear? That you wouldn't thrust her into Prince Trystane's arms like you did Quentyn's or mine?"
"These are baseless accusations!" Yronwood turned to face him fully, ready to duel.
"Careful, Yronwood, this is the man who defeated Randyll Tarly," Connington said with a serious tone.
"Dayne has the right of it, why suggest yourself as regent, Yronwood?" Fowler grinned. "You have no ties to Prince Trystane, and Prince Quentyn himself sidelined you for myself. Besides, Prince Quentyn has a daughter, does he not?"
"A bastard!" Yronwood spat out. "Prince Trystane is the rightful heir."
"I think the heir suits the person you have a candidate to get a marriage, Yronwood," Lord Jordayne snickered, "Aliandra Sand can just as well be legitimized by a royal decree and made heir."
"Or you can all shut up and ensure I'm actually dead before squabbling over my corpse before it's even cold."
The room went completely silent, everyone turning around to look for the all too familiar voice that had spoken.
There stood Prince Quentyn, his body covered in bandages, helped up by Nymeria Sand, with fire in her eyes, and Archibald Yronwood, who almost had to kneel to be able to support him. At least, they had given him a vest, which hid most of his horrendous state to his audience.
Coming behind the three of them was an old maester, almost out of breath, tools in hand, who was surprised while looking at the assembly, but kept his composure, instead just shaking his head and berating the prince for having left so quickly after waking up.
With difficulty, Quentyn managed to drag himself to a chair, where he slumped back in, still helped by both Nymeria and Archibald, the maester taking a seat beside him, looking for signs of gods knew what.
Edric could not stop smiling. Quentyn was not dead, and was…well if not in good health, at least alive and sane of mind.
"Prince Quentyn, we feared the worst!" King Aegon looked relieved. "But…your injuries…you must rest!"
"I'll not rest when I hear a war council is on the way, and where I hear such slander." Quentyn frowned, clutching his sides in pain.
"First of all, Prince Trystane is my heir until I take a wife and she bears me a son or daughter. That was my word on it a year ago, and it is still as such now."
Lord Jordayne and Lord Fowler acquiesced.
"Secondly, it is nice to see myself so greatly supported, Lord Yronwood. How kind of you to propose yourself for the regency. Notwithstanding the fact that you have of course tried to go behind my back at every turn, and proved yourself incapable of holding my trust, you would be an obvious choice." Quentyn spat. "Unfortunately, I do not see why I should trust you, and I shall tell you now. As long as I live, you will not step into Sunspear, nor will you get a whiff of power from me."
Yronwood made to speak, but Quentyn raised his bandaged hand in the air.
"Not a word. You also proved incapable of holding a flank without pursuing personal glory, in a blatant disregard of your orders, which were just to feint an attack and come back to your starting positions, baiting Tarly's left forward. Therefore, as commander of the Dornish forces, I revoke your command, and trust it to Lord Daeron Vaith."
The Lord of the Red Dunes grinned from ear to ear.
"You cannot!" Yronwood protested.
"I can, and I shall," Quentyn replied with fury in his eyes.
"Your Grace, I appeal to you!" Anders Yronwood turned to King Aegon, who seemed to be enjoying the spectacle.
"I approve of Prince Quentyn's choice." Aegon nodded, "Lady Allyrion, what should be done with Lord Anders?"
A light of hope appeared in Yronwood's eyes, only to be snuffed out.
"Lord Yronwood disobeyed a direct command of both his King and his army commander, appointed by His Grace, Your Grace." Ynys smirked. "It could be treason."
Edric had never seen Yronwood so distraught. Everywhere he looked, everyone had turned against him.
"What punishment should be appropriate for Lord Yronwood?" Aegon asked Daenerys, who remained thoughtful for a moment.
"The penalty for treason is death…" she remained silent for a moment, "but Lord Anders did seem to mean well. However, I cannot allow him to keep fighting at our side."
"I agree." Aegon nodded. "Lord Anders Yronwood, you are removed from your duties, and, to spare your life, we will agree on you abdicating in favor of your son and heir, Cletus Yronwood. Does this sound amenable, my Queen?"
"It does. Of course, Lord Anders will be given the choice between exile and the Night's Watch. The blunder he made for personal glory almost cost us the battle, after all." Daenerys nodded.
"Of course, this is all acceptable," Aegon agreed. "Lord Connington, do make sure Lord Yronwood's ship is ready to sail from Sunspot in three days. For Essos or Eastwatch, the choice will be up to him, but it must be done before sunset today."
"It will be done, Your Grace." Connington bowed, trying hard to repress a smirk.
Everyone was trying hard to do the same, but Edric noticed clear smiles on the faces of Lord Fowler and Jordayne, at the very least.
"This is outrageous!" Yronwood tried to protest.
"You should have thought about it before going against me, my family, your orders, your King and your Queen." Quentyn's voice was like venom being spit from a viper. "We lost many good men today. My uncle, my friend, Ser Gerris. But many others, knights and footmen, noble and low-born, who will never see their wives, siblings, parents or loved ones again, because you decided to put your pride above all else. If it were up to me, you would be on the block to answer for their deaths."
"I think we've had enough." Daenerys finally sighed, exasperated. "Ser Rolly, Grey Worm, seize him, and keep him under close watch."
Yronwood tried to wrestle himself from his gaolers, but it was no use. He was forcefully dragged out, but dug in his heels while crossing Quentyn, Nymeria immediately drawing a dagger from her person.
"I made you," Anders Yronwood growled as he passed him, still escorted by Ser Rolly and the Unsullied, while Edric could have sworn Connington crack a smile.
"I made myself." Quentyn looked at him with contempt, his bandages still obscuring half of his face and right eye. "I considered you as a father once. It seems like I was wrong to do you such an honor. Get out of my sight."
Anders Yronwood did not have time to respond. He was forcefully dragged out of the room, while Quentyn slumped back in his chair, and uttered words that had everyone gritting their teeth.
"Now, let's talk about Daeron Targaryen."
