GOT: Reborn as a Martell

"When will he wake up?"

"Days, moons, months, mayhaps never." Arch sighed. "The maester said that if he did not wake up after three days, then all hope might just be lost."

...

( Edric POV )

Edric restrained himself from crying."I'm sorry. I should've been there."

"I was, and it did not change much. They overwhelmed us, and only Connington's arrival saved mine life, else I'd have been struck down like Gerris and Prince Oberyn." Archibald gestured to the general direction of the two bodies.

"Cletus, Gulian…" Edric asked.

"Cletus, I have had no news. As for Gulian, he was wounded and is being treated in his own tent. He will live, but he will have difficulty walking for a few moons."

Edric nodded sombrely.

"I…I need some air." The lord of Starfall felt himself dizzy, to which Archibald just nodded.

He almost ran out of the tent, found a small wooded area, where no one was watching, and unsheathed Heartsbane.

Taking the legendary greatsword with both his hands, he roared out a cry, and began hacking at the tree in front of him, almost being crushed when the wood gave way and the tree fell in front of him,

"Did not have your fill of enemies today, Dayne, that you should try your luck against unarmed trees?"

The voice that came from behind startled him, and he froze. No. Not her. Not now.

He slowly turned around, hoping that he misheard.

He did not.

Nymeria Sand stood in front of him, in her silver armor, untarnished and unhurt.

"A nice prize you have there, Dayne, I did not expect to find you there, though."

"I needed…peace." Edric mumbled out.

"Well, I may need you to quit your foolery, lest you take a spliner that might tarnish your pretty face, Dayne, and lead me to Quentyn. I did not find him in his tent, and I have already scoured two tents for the injured, without success."

Edric cursed the Gods. Was this his punishment for having abandoned his friend? Was this the penance he had been instructed to fulfil?

"I know where to find him," Edric replied, sheathing Heartsbane. "Him and your father."

Nymeria's eyes lit up.

"Well, finally some good news, Dayne! Lead the way."

Edric tried to tell her then that her father was dead, and Quentyn was likely to be soon too, but the only words that left his mouth were just stupid. "How fared the battle, my lady?"

"Quite well, Dayne." Nymeria smiled. "Ser Barristan's skill with a blade certainly has not waned, and seeing a dragon spit its flame is certainly a terrifying sight. As for myself, I am happy that I bloodied mine own blade with our enemies' bodies once more."

Edric nodded, trying not to think about how close the large tent had now become. Did he hasten the pace just to be done quickly?

Yet, he entered it again, and this time, there were no words needed to disperse the small crowd in front of the two bodies.

And the Snake's smile fell in an instant.

She slowly walked towards the makeshift beds, and Edric swore he could see tears run down her face.

"No, no, no, no, no, father…" Nymeria was turning his back to him, but Edric knew she was crying, as she raised her father's head to her.

She stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, before snapping her head back to Edric, her eyes red. Wet streaks ran down her cheeks, but nothing came out of her eyes anymore.

"I'll kill them all." Nymeria growled in front of him, trying to shove him aside.

Edric blocked her way.

"Who?" he asked, gravely.

"Merryweather, Selmy, Oakheart, Cuy…"

"They're prisoners. It is war." Edric brought a hand towards his dagger, knowing raising Heartsbane in time was not going to be possible should the Snake try to force her way through.

"They killed him."

"Yes, and I killed Tarly, let's not have more blood spilled today, it's not what Quentyn would have wanted."

Something seemed to light up in her angry eyes, and she suddenly composed herself.

"Quentyn! Where is he?" she asked, her voice still raging.

Edric relaxed his hold on his dagger, and led her through the tent, towards Archibald.

Nymeria stood at roughly the same place Edric did, completely awestruck, tears once more welling in her eyes.

"Is…is he…" she almost sobbed out.

"No." Edric shook his head. "Not yet."

Nymeria approached Archibald, who made some space for her to kneel on Quentyn's bedside.

She fell down, and clutched his right hand with her own, bringing them to her lips.

"Please, don't leave me. Not now," she whispered, "I need you. Aliandra needs you. Dorne needs you."

Edric was about to approach too, when a man clad in his house's colors came up and called him out.

"My lord, your presence is required at the War Council."

Edric acknowledged him and sent him off. Before he made to turn away, Nymeria turned her eyes towards him and, with rage in her voice, addressed him."They'll want to divide the spoils before he has passed. But Quentyn is a fighter, and he will live, do you understand me, Dayne?" Her eyes pierced his heart like a thousand daggers, "Do not let them tear his legacy asunder, and do not let them pronounce him dead. Or I will find them and end their lives myself."

Edric nodded and made to leave, but not before instructing some guards to not let Nymeria even near any of the prisoner pens. It was better to be sure, especially if Quentyn were to pass away in the next hours.

His stomach turned a little at that, but it was for the best.

With a resigned look, he turned towards the central tent, flying the Targaryen banner, for a council that he did not look forward to, if only because of the bickering that would occur during it.

And his suspicions were proven right, as the instant he passed through the door, he could see Franklyn Fowler and Anders Yronwood, opposite each other, arguing under the disgruntled eye of King Aegon.

"You fool, you charged in too early, and in a swamp, no less! You disobeyed orders by continuing to charge even after we baited them in. You got soundly defeated, and you nearly caused our entire left flank to collapse!" Fowler raged.

"It is not my fault that that slimy bastard Vaith did not hold long enough for me to rally my troops! And try finding swamps in the dead of night!" Yronwood retorted.

"You sent outriders! We knew the battlefield, just as we knew the location of that swamp!" Edric Dayne saw Daeron Vaith, with a new eyepatch on, stand up, "We had orders to only feint, avoid contact, yet you ran into Merryweather head first and forced combat, thinking you could somehow pierce his line on your own. I made time for you to rally, but you just fled to the woods, and you dared to come back and muddy your hooves only at the last moment, when the battle was won!"

"My lords, please!" King Aegon finally had enough, and interrupted what would surely have turned out to be a complete brawl. "We have won, but we have bled. You are right, some people disobeyed orders, but it is not there that the matter lies.. What we need to do is heal our wounds, and then continue our march. Lord Fowler, how many men have we lost?"

The Old Hawk's answer was gruff and quick, "About eight thousand, dead or wounded, possibly more, Your Grace. About half of these losses affect the Golden Company."

"Our numbers have gone down by half." Edric turned to look at an officer in golden plating which he did not recognize. "Strickland, Byrne, Mandrake…we've lost many good men."

"Has the Golden Company selected a new leader?" Jon Connington asked.

"Aye, mine own brother, Ser William Cole," replied the sellsword, "he is being treated for a wound to the shoulder, but will live."

"What of the prisoners?" Edric Dayne found himself asking.

Daenerys Targaryen, until then silent, spoke while Edric tried his best to avoid looking in her eyes, "Tarly having fallen by your blade, Orton Merryweather and Arstan Selmy are the senior commanders of the army, they will be made public examples of our mercy, by being offered a chance to bend the knee. If they do so, they shall live. If they don't…they will be made examples in another way."

"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."

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