GOT: Reborn as a Martell

"A well-constructed alliance." Doran looked thoughtful. "But what would've happened if I still refused to name you my heir?"

"Then I would have played a patient game." Quentyn replied. "The situation in the Seven Kingdoms was rapidly deteriorating. I only needed to wait for a spark that would've lit a fire, to stop any outside intervention.

...

I wouldn't have opposed Arianne ruling Dorne a few years ago, but my arrival at Sunspear confirmed what I feared about her, and therefore I had to cast her aside. Convincing my allies that she was a poor choice of an heir would've been a formality with my plans and my achievements. 

It would've been easy to then distribute resources towards my allies, and give nothing to my potential enemies.

One misstep from my sister – which was bound to happen at some point - and I would've asked for you to rescind her claim. You would've refused, and I would've protested, showing everyone the letter stating you intended for me to become the next prince of Dorne.

Things would've escalated, and mayhaps Lord Yronwood would've grown concerned for his blood's security in Sunspear. It would also have been quite easy to escape with one of the fast ships I had constructed. You may note that I didn't have any Toland shipyards produce any until you confirmed me as heir."

"You would've gone to war, then?"

"War would've been the last option. I long held the belief that sufficient pressure from many noble houses would've been enough. But if you didn't break to their will, then I would've gone to war. And the numbers would've been stacked in my favor."

"You would have let hundreds of your own people die?" Doran asked, as calm as ever.

"Hundreds dead, to save thousands later." Quentyn nodded.

"You still have much to learn." Doran shook his head. "I'm disappointed. I thought that as someone as concerned for the wellbeing of your people as you, that would've considered the consequences of such an action. 

War is no trivial thing. Men, women and children die. The blood of the innocent spills, and the faces that cried in laughter at the Water Gardens would soon be crying in pain or in grief."

"If that was the only available option, I would have taken it."

"There are other options."

"Like what?"

"Sometimes the death of one man can save hundreds, or thousands." Doran mused. "There then is no need for further bloodshed. The death of one, to save thousands."

"I would've never hurt Arianne. Never."

"I wasn't talking about Arianne, you still care about your family." Doran laughed. "I'm surprised you still haven't figured it out."

"Figured out what?"

"You were right." Doran nodded. "I knew about Viserys' potential madness for some time, but I never had the courage to rescind the betrothal. Perhaps a part of me believed that these were just rumors or exaggerations. 

In any case, this meant that Arianne would've been heir, and I realized that with your achievements, as you call them, this would've been a waste of your talents. I needed a reason to cast Arianne aside, without causing too much trouble."

Doran then kept silent.

Areo could feel the tension in the air, as the little prince seemed deep in thought for a moment. Then his face went completely pale.

"No. You wouldn't…" Quentyn muttered.

"I would and I did." Doran nodded. "I never meant to kill the boy, but he was unimportant enough that if he did, then I could cover it up. As it turns out, he got sick just enough for you to be curious. Thankfully though, I never had to use it against your sister to cast her aside."

"You nearly killed my friend!"

"And if your friend died in one of the battles of a war you started, would his blood be on your hands, then?" Doran cut back. 

"One death to save thousands. Enough to cast Arianne aside without having to resort to war or to harming any of my blood. Remember, Quentyn. I made you heir. I can unmake you just as easily."

"Is that a threat?"

"A statement of fact."

"I'd like to see you try. Arianne has been eliminated from the succession, and you cannot evince me of that same succession without good reason." Quentyn frowned. 

"It took my sister a probable assassination attempt on my person, or in your little scheme, on my friend, to cast her aside. If I were to bet, Arianne could've put a princess of the blood's life in danger, mutilated her, and still be called the heir. 

I fail to see how you can simply unmake me as your heir, especially since you know of my little alliance."

"An alliance that you are trying to dismantle yourself as of now, as it has grown beyond your control." Doran frowned. "And every man has their secrets, Quentyn. The walls of the Water Gardens are quite thin, and much can be heard. Conversations or otherwise. You are no different than anyone else, my son. You have dark secrets that could cast you aside forever."

"Mayhaps I do." Quentyn growled, his eyes cold as ice, fixated on his father's. "I know not of the secrets you speak of. And if they did exist, who would believe you? You would have no proof. Just your word, which isn't much to go on.

A nice gamble, father, but one that doesn't work on me. Is that what you've told Jon Arryn when he came here? I must admit, it was quite the trick. You managed to get the hand to keep our privileges and even expand them from a position of weakness. Quite a feat."

"Jon Arryn wanted the same thing as I. Peace. However, the old falcon wanted it more than I, and I used the edge I had to the fullest extent. Many in Dorne think I was weak to accept his terms."

"You are many things, father, but a weak man, you are not. You bought us precious time to recover from our wounds, and you managed to get the best out of a seriously doomed situation. 

However, I do not follow where your plan leads now. Viserys Targaryen is gone, and it seems like you are inching towards a match between Willas and Arianne. Where does that put our House? And most importantly, where does that put me?"

"You ask a lot of questions you surely have the answer to."

"No answers. Just guesses." Quentyn frowned. "You have played both your children as pawns in your great game. If I am to be a pawn, I deserve to know where it leads me."

"Your sister will be betrothed to Willas Tyrell. It is the best match I could come up with considering the present circumstances. As for you…well there is a dragon left."

"Daenerys Targaryen is with the Dothraki, and soon enough, her name will fade into obscurity. She has no army, no allies, no fleet. 

How do you expect an alliance to occur, and how do you expect the Tyrells to just accept that their daughter will not be Queen? Because that is their heart's desire, father. That and nothing else."

"The Tyrells are ambitious, but not stupid. If the odds are stacked against them, then we can leverage our position with Willas. I still have agents in Essos willing to free the Targaryen girl from the Dothraki shackles that bind her."

"You don't know then…this changes things." Areo heard the little prince whisper, low enough that his father would not hear. "Sure. And then what? We bring her to Dorne, and we declare war? That sounds like a terrible idea."

"Indeed, it is. Dorne is still fragile from the recent events, and I cannot risk a war right now. Which is why you will be going north to find some friends."

"North? Where to?"

"Highgarden, for starters." Doran smiled. "It seems that the Tyrells have put their faith in Renly Baratheon. This would bring them in conflict with the Throne, and Stannis Baratheon. We need for them to continue treading down this path, as it will buy us time."

"Is that why you seek to send me to Highgarden? To buy time?"

"We need to play every side possible until the right moment for us to strike. We cannot take sides right now, not when we are still divided. 

Your uncle will quell these dissensions while you make sure that the Tyrells and Baratheons do not grow too powerful. Arianne should leave to Highgarden as well, and you will see what the young Baratheon is made of."

"I am to negotiate with Renly, then?"

"There is no wrong in trying. Perhaps he shall even be amenable to us. But try your utmost to make sure that they continue killing each other while we replenish our strength before striking. Dorne cannot win an offensive war unless the enemy it faces is divided, tired and broken."

"You are banking everything on the dragon returning to our shores…" Quentyn muttered under his breath.

"Not everything. There are…other options."

Areo thought he heard Quentyn curse under his breath, but paid it no mind as Prince Doran continued on.

"The current dynasty is fragile and doomed to fall. It is only a matter of who will take advantage of this. And I very much intend to avenge our House by having our blood sit the Iron Throne. We shall lie in wait for the right moment, and then we shall strike."

"Is that what you wish, then?" Quentyn asked. "For our blood on the throne and to see our enemies defeated? But where does that leave me? I came here to claim Dorne, not to lose it."

"There may be circumstances in which you may not need to waive your claim to Dorne. But there are other circumstances where you will need to stand aside and do your duty for our house." Doran sighed. 

"I am confused. It seems that you have ambition but the throne isn't something you wish to take. What is your heart's desire then?"

"To rule Dorne and its people. To better their lives, and mine. To stand with the people I know, love and cherish. Not in some far away city, surrounded by enemies. I seek Dorne. No more, no less."

"You say that you wish to better the lives of the Dornish, yet you wish to go to war against these same subjects. You confuse me, Quentyn."

"Perhaps I do now, but in time, you will understand my reasons, father." Quentyn shook his head. "Or maybe you won't. Truthfully, it doesn't matter. For now, I shall do my duty."

"You have become quite an interesting person. But there is still much that you can offer our house, son. Things that go beyond our own borders. In time, you shall understand. 

Today, I need you to head to the Reach. Tomorrow, I may need you to break bread with the Starks or the Lannisters. Are you ready to do your duty for our house?"

"When am I to leave?" Quentyn asked without any hesitation.

"In five days. You will go to Ghost Hill, where one of your ships will then take you to Stonehelm, the seat of the neutral House Swann. You will then make your way to Summerhall, then Longtable. Reports differ as to where Renly will try to march first."

"Am I to have any guard or escort?"

"Your usual companions, and two hundred men."

"It's better than nothing, I suppose." The little prince sighed. "And what of Sunspear?"

"Ser Manfrey will rule in your absence, unless you wish to name a regent yourself. Your sister will soon depart for Highgarden as well, and your uncle shall put down the last fires down in Hellholt."

"I see you have it all planned out." Quentyn groaned as he lifted himself from his seat. "Let us just hope that everything goes according to your plan…"

"Trust me, Quentyn. It will."

"I have a hard time believing that, father. You can be sure of one thing. Life loves to throw dirt in each of our plans. Like it did with mine…"