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Game of Thrones: Archer's Ordinary Life
Game of Thrones: Dragon Knight of Harrenhal
Game of Thrones: Archer's Ordinary Life
Game of Thrones: BLOODTHIRSTY BASTARD
Game of Thrones: House of Black Dragon
Arthur's party left Starfall and boarded the Dayne family's ship bound for Oldtown—the Starfire.
The name alone might give the people of Oldtown a serious case of PTSD. After all, it was "Starfire" Samwell Dayne who once led ten thousand men to storm their city.
The captain and crew treated Arthur with deep respect, and not just because of his rank. They remembered the Sword of the Morning and Ser Oswell's white cloak. Lord Alan and his sister Lady Allyria had taken a real shine to him too. If Harrenhal and Starfall ever joined houses through marriage, it would be two old losers leaning on each other for support.
To be honest, Arthur had already met more than a few beauties on this journey—the little rose, Lynesse Hightower, Allyria Dayne. And there were still the girls Lord Bracken had quietly recommended from his own house. House Tyrell wouldn't even glance at the modest steel in Arthur's purse; they were hell-bent on marrying their daughter straight into the royal line. As for Lynesse, stunning as she was, she'd be better off with the "Great Bear." Old Leyton Hightower barely paid attention to his younger kids anyway, and the family resources sure as hell weren't going their way.
Distance-wise, Lord Jenos Bracken's lands were closer, but the Bracken house was complicated—Jenos had a nephew and a bastard son to worry about. No need to rush the marriage game. In Westeros, highborns usually wed later, and heirs were extra careful. Most girls married around twenty; smallfolk even later. Look at Edmure, Arianne, or Willas—great-house heirs still single at twenty-five or twenty-six while they hunted the perfect match. The only times kids got married at thirteen or even in the cradle were pure power plays, like Joffrey and the little rose.
Arthur called his upgraded crew into the captain's cabin for a fresh round of assignments.
Arthur himself, his sword master, the maester, and his squires.
His hired knights: "Apple-Eater" Lothor Brune, "Flying Pig Knight" Clarence Crabb, and young Tristimont—son of the old Dragonstone naval guard commander.
His yellow-cloaked squire team looked sharp, every one of them a battle-ready warrior.
They'd already sketched out the roles earlier; now it was official.
"Ser Lucas—my sword instructor and right-hand man. Maester Qyburn—my company maester, expert in medicine, ravenry, and astronomy."
"Wylis, young Lucas, Rolly—my squires. Wylis Wode handles intelligence and negotiation. Young Lucas manages the books. Rolly oversees weapons and gear."
Arthur laid out the inner circle's duties first. It was a clean, professional fit.
House Whent had almost no side branches or distant kin, nothing like the Tyrells, Lannisters, or Freys who could stuff every post with cousins. Right now the only people he could truly rely on were the ones he'd personally raised.
"Understood."
"Understood."
"And you three," Arthur said, turning to his hired knights—professional muscle. "Once we're back at Harrenhal, I'm promoting you to commanders. Lothor, you'll train the cavalry. Clarence, you'll drill the longbowmen. Tristimont, you'll take the longship fleet."
Lothor, Clarence, and young Tristimont straightened, faces solemn. "We will be your loyal knights until our last breath."
What choice did they have? Arthur had given them everything. Without him they'd still be eating dirt in Flea Bottom. No lord or landed knight had ever treated them with this kind of respect. They ate Whent food, wore Whent steel—naturally they'd fight for Arthur until they dropped.
It was a win-win. House Whent had lost a lot of solid knights at the Trident, and with the family line so thin, they desperately needed mid-level officers.
Arthur studied his growing force. If King Balon's dog brain stuck to the old plan, his main target would still be the Westerlands and only the Riverlands as a sideshow. With the elite troops Arthur had forged, they could handle any raid. And when the call for aid went out, Lord Mallister and Lord Bracken would be more than happy to shout it from the rooftops.
"I smell war coming," Maester Qyburn thought to himself.
He watched Arthur's Dark Knight Company and the young lord at its center—the brightest rising star in the Seven Kingdoms. These wolves weren't just bodyguards. One day they would bring fire and steel. The only question was where the flames would fall.
But Qyburn didn't dwell on it. He was only a maester. His job was obedience and a decent laboratory. Besides, with Robert sitting so strong, the realm wasn't about to explode into war anytime soon.
0000
Dorne – Water Gardens
The Water Gardens were Dorne's most beautiful summer palace and Prince Doran's favorite refuge.
Doran and his brother the Red Viper stood together on the balcony, gazing at the blood-orange trees in the courtyard.
Doran was thin and frail; Oberyn was the strongest warrior Dorne had.
The blood oranges gave off a sweet, heavy perfume.
"The oranges smell wonderful," Doran said.
"Blood smells better," the Red Viper replied, brow furrowed. "The blood of vengeance."
"I crave that taste too, but the time isn't right. Only here can I speak freely with you—Sunspear is crawling with spiders and fleas these days." Doran sighed. "Dorne has the smallest population in the Seven Kingdoms. The Young Dragon exaggerated our army sizes in his book to brag about his victories. But the truth is we have too few men. Courage can't replace numbers."
"I know," Oberyn sighed.
He was a man of fire and blood, yet even he could only wait.
"Enough. Let me share a secret," Doran said with a mysterious smile. "You know that green-haired girl here in the Water Gardens? She's the daughter of the Archon of Tyrosh. In his latest letter the Archon mentioned something interesting: the raiding longships in the Disputed Lands and the Stepstones have quietly vanished."
Dorne and the Three Daughters had always been close. The Water Gardens often hosted the children of Tyroshi archons and other Free City magisters. Not to mention Doran himself had married a noblewoman from Norvos across the Narrow Sea.
"That is rare. But those ironborn bastards don't change their ways," Oberyn said, eyes narrowing. "You're saying…?"
"Exactly." Doran nodded. "King Balon is planning something big. And we will have the best seats in the house to watch it unfold."
Oberyn drew a slow breath. The ironborn hated Dorne's barren coasts anyway; they'd hit the same old targets they always did.
"He can't be that insane, can he? Robert already has an heir and a huge army," Oberyn said, half-disbelieving.
"No one can understand a madman's moves," Doran replied, shaking his head. "So we wait and see how many waves Balon stirs up."
"Fine." Oberyn shrugged. Much as he hated Robert and the Lannisters, even he didn't think the moment had come.
"Do you have news for me?" Doran asked.
Oberyn was his most trusted right hand; the two brothers worked in perfect sync. Doran had placed the Red Viper above every official in Sunspear, while his own heir Arianne still held little real power.
"A young guest arrived at Starfall—Arthur Whent, heir to Harrenhal. He beat Darkstar in a duel," Oberyn said.
"Arthur Whent—the Bat Knight, the Dark Knight," Doran said, suddenly interested. "The one who dominated the Dragonstone squires' tourney. Robert and Jon Arryn both praised him. Even Darkstar couldn't beat him? That boy is the vicious swordsman you yourself once called promising."
"Darkstar's men wouldn't lie, and the boy's too proud to make excuses," Oberyn said, rubbing his palms together with interest. "I never expected a prodigy like that to come out of the Riverlands. More importantly, his grandfather was one of Rhaegar's staunchest supporters, Doran. Those men were all humiliated and punished by Jon Arryn."
"No," Doran said, shaking his head firmly. "Harrenhal sits too close to King's Landing. We cannot risk anything on old friendships."
"Understood." Oberyn sighed. "So we have no allies, while Robert has them everywhere."
"Waiting is painful, but we can only wait for the enemy to show a crack—for the great alliance to fracture. Oh, and something else happened on Dragonstone you should know about: Robert bedded Florent's girl in his brother Stannis's marriage bed, and she's pregnant."
Oberyn gave a bitter little laugh. "Let's just hope my day of vengeance doesn't take forever."