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GOT : Chapter 150
🕑 Added 2024-10-27 09:00:12 +0000 UTCThe Lady of Godsgrace
These were not as large or intricate as the Water Gardens: a few alleys dotted with palm and orange trees, a few fountains, and a pool where flamingos happily danced around instead of children.
The atmosphere was calm, and Ynys often went for a stroll in them to find some peace in between managing the affairs of the Confluence, or her personal affairs, be it her husband or her sons.
...
Quentyn sat on a bench, legs crossed, alone.
He certainly had grown and matured since the last time she saw him. His hair was cut shorter, his build leaner, and, of course, that scar of his which cut the right part of his face was on display.
She had expected worse: a kind of deep wound which would have disfigured him for life.
Instead, the cut was shallow, and only really imprinted slightly, digging a small ditch through half of his face, which made him appear more dangerous.
He wore a short-sleeved golden dress, with a sword at his side. Was it the Valyrian steel sword? Ynys admitted she didn't know, the art of war was something she left to more wilful than herself.
Quentyn immediately rose to his feet as he saw her approach.
"My prince." Ynys bowed with a smile on her lips.
"Ynys." Quentyn kissed her cheek. "Let's not get wrapped up in protocol, shall we?"
"Sorry, Quentyn." Ynys smiled as she kissed him in return.
"I'm sorry…" Quentyn looked down, "for your husband."
Ynys shook her head.
"He knew the risks of going to war, I don't blame you for it." She put a hand on his shoulder, "I wasn't particularly close to him, and you rid me of Daemon Sand. You already have done enough for me, I wager. No need for you to come and beg forgiveness. Ryon was loyal to me, and loyal to you. He followed the orders of his Prince and he died for Dorne."
Quentyn nodded simply, and Ynys extended her arm.
"Walk with me?" she asked. "Unless your paramour wishes to join?"
Quentyn's answer was swift, "No, she's busy elsewhere."
"Oh, with your daughter?" Ynys asked with a smile.
Quentyn's eyes lit up at the mention of his daughter, but he shook his head.
"No, we had to leave her at the Gardens with Ellaria, again," Quentyn replied. "A week with her was too little, I wished I could extend my visit, but…well, duty called. You know that, I've heard you've fathered two boys."
Ynys nodded.
"Josmon and Qyle," she said with a small smile, "now with only a mother. I can only hope to be strong enough to play the role of both parents."
"Better than none." Quentyn's voice cracked a little.
Ynys looked at him with a sad eye, but nodded.
"How far you've come since Yronwood," she changed the subject, "you're now the Prince of Dorne, with an army at your command, having brought back three dragons and going to bring Dorne to new heights."
Quentyn smiled at her.
"And you? Lady of Godsgrace and ruler of the Confluence, that is not bad either, although it is not what you wished."
"And what did I wish?" Ynys asked with a smirk.
"Yronwood, perhaps." Quentyn shook his head. "Dorne, if you had the chance."
"I can't say I perished the thought of both." Ynys scoffed a little. "Had I been born in almost any other Dornish house, Yronwood would've been mine."
Her voice then turned to sweet once more.
"And had I had my way, Dorne might've been mine too."
Quentyn laughed.
"Yes, what a thought," he smiled, "there was once a time where I wished to see you by my side. If not ruling Dorne, at least with me. I can't say I was insensitive to your beauty, your kindness and your intelligence. But I eventually learned to let that dream go. You were going to be betrothed to another, and I would eventually marry another too."
"I always knew you preferred blondes." Ynys looked at him squarely. "Which is why I was surprised when you chose the Red Viper's daughter, and not the blonde one."
Quentyn shrugged.
"I also grew out of that, I suppose."
"We both did." Ynys nodded. "And your wedding, have you thought of anyone?"
"Too many to count," Quentyn sighed, "I know that a name will be expected from me, and I have said that I would do my utmost to find a bride that was willing to adhere to my rules before my return from the war that is coming."
"And if you don't?" Ynys asked.
"I'll marry Nymeria."
Ynys frowned.
"That will not go over well with anyone." Ynys shook her head. "Not my father, and not a lot of Dornish houses. Your father married a Norvoshi, your uncle a bastard, and your aunt a Targaryen. Your sister was betrothed to a Reacher and your brother married a bastard as well. If you do not marry a leal house, or at the very least someone more powerful, it will not be well received."
"Who do you think would oppose this?" Quentyn asked.
"Yronwood, of course," Ynys answered, "Blackmont, Toland, Uller and perhaps Vaith and Dayne, depending on your relationship with the young lord."
"And yourself?" Quentyn asked.
"I would be tempted to say that I do not care, but I would rather oppose it." Ynys shrugged. "After all, the girl's father murdered my grandfather, and an Yronwood does not forget slights easily."
"All the more need to find a candidate."
"Don't you have those in droves?" Ynys chuckled.
"I do not wish for my future wife to only exist to bear my children, and that is my greatest annoyance with all this," Quentyn said as he frowned. "I do not wish for her to be slighted by it, and thus, finding a girl that will accept that I will never love her and only be with her to bear my children and raise them, to hold little power in Dorne and to just be a pretty face for guests…no, that is not a fate I would wish on anyone."
"Then, Jennelyn Fowler would be a perfect match." Ynys suggested.
"I've thought of it, but I would never touch her." Quentyn vigorously shook his head. "She does not wish to lay with men and I respect her wish. I would pass Nym's children as ours, but considering Aliandra's hair colouring, this would not be believable."
"Have you thought of me?" Ynys smiled mischievously.
"Five years ago, I'd have said yes without a second thought," Quentyn laughed, "but now, I know you, Ynys, you won't be satisfied with being second to someone, and especially not Nym."
"That is true," Ynys agreed, "I was only jesting, though if my father wasn't an idiot, we could've married a lot earlier. As for your bride, surely a Fowler or a Jordayne would do?"
"Jeyne Fowler was the closest I could ever get to someone being my wife, but Lord Franklyn would never accept it." Quentyn sighed. "Because if she does accept, she would need to renounce her rights to Skyreach…"
"…and that would make Jennelyn heir, I follow your reasoning." Ynys nodded in turn. "And the Jordaynes?"
"Neither of the two would accept being second, once again." Quentyn bit his lip. "Which would also not solve the political problems, with grandfather being a Jordayne himself. No, the closest I ever got were the Fowler twins, but neither are an option, for different reasons."
"Not to mention my father's reaction. He was already angry after you broke the Delilah betrothal, then the Ghost Hill medicine production, and now a Fowler consort…" Ynys chuckled.
"He is also expecting much from the War and the Wyl issue, with the death of both Wyland and Rowan." Quentyn sighed. "I'm afraid he will be disappointed on both."
"Don't be sorry, father has always had only himself to blame, being late to every play on the board and reacting when it is already too late," Ynys waved him off, "but you must be careful father did not rub off on you."
"What do you mean?"
"Well," Ynys stopped for a moment, looking in the empty bushes in front of her, "what if you never come back from the war?"
"Trystane is my heir, then." Quentyn frowned. "Gods, I do hope I won't be stupid enough to put myself in danger, but I do hope to come back alive from all of this."
"Yes, that's what Ryon told me too…" Ynys sighed. "But the Stranger always takes and never gives, remember that, Quentyn. When you die, most of your changes will be undone, and Dorne will sink back to the days of your father. Some will support your brother, others your daughter, and others still would support your sister. Your reforms won't work without you and the weight you put in the fight for our expansion and modernization will stop too. In short, if you fall, Dorne falls with it."
Quentyn stared at her with a blank expression, and then smiled nervously.
"Well, that makes it simple, then. I just need to not die."
"We all hope so," Ynys said with a sigh."Will Archibald and Cletus be coming with you too?"
"Yes, they will. They're also both eager to meet you." Quentyn smiled. "Although…"
"Yes?" Ynys asked, concerned.
"Cletus has been…withdrawn these past few moons."
"What happened to him?"
"You know Cletus," Quentyn explained, "his temper and his weaknesses."
"Indeed, I do." Ynys nodded grimly. Cletus being a stubborn fool obsessed with women was not new.
"Well, it seems his stubborn attitude has gotten worse. In the capital, he was seduced by a Tyrell girl…"
Ynys snorted.
"…who manipulated him for information, though she might've cared for him." Quentyn stopped to shake his head. "He tried to bring himself back on his feet, only to plunge back into relative silence again. At this point, I do not know what is happening to him, and I fear that I may no longer trust him as a friend anymore."
"And you want me to fix him?" Ynys asked.
"Talk to him," Quentyn replied simply. "You're his sister, I think he might trust you more than anyone. I don't expect you to fix him, but knowing what is wrong might help. I just want the old Cletus back, even if all he talked about was women and drink."
Ynys chuckled.
"I'll speak to him."
"Thank you." Quentyn kissed her cheek.
Ynys turned to him with a sly smile.
"Is that it, then?" she asked.
"I fear such, unless you have more to discuss with me?" Quentyn asked.
Ynys approached him, looked around, and finally sighed.
"If anything, I wish to leave Godsgrace," she almost murmured, "I do not particularly like this city, and Ryon's brothers are observing my regency with an interested eye. If I am still here, it is because of my sons, and nothing else."
"What do you want?" Quentyn asked.
"A place somewhere, where the position may both confirm my son's inheritance and make me have influence on Godsgrace without being there myself."
"I'll not wed you, Ynys," Quentyn replied.
Ynys smiled.
"A shame, but that's not what I wished. Perhaps a place in your household, though? You took Jennelyn Fowler…"
Quentyn stayed thoughtful for a few moments, then grinned from ear to ear.
"How about a spot in the Small Council?"
Ynys reciprocated the grin. Yes, that would be perfect.
