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HOGWARTS: REGULUS LORD OF THE STARS
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American Horror: Grind Edition
Viserys turned immediately to the second, thornier issue.
An ancient triarch had once said gold was the lifeblood of war. Another had claimed coin had no smell.
Whatever method brought in gold, he had to seize it with both hands.
"Your uncle found the perfect excuse for visiting Volantis. In wartime, grain supplies are vital—no one can object. Menekos will sign the agreement with Lord Manwoody. Volantis will indeed send grain to Plankytown. The only difference is our price will be a little higher."
"Why?" Nymeria asked at once.
"We just drove back an invasion from the eastern savages. They burned vast fields and vineyards before we stopped them." Viserys spread his hands. "Now that autumn has come, the people are especially cautious about selling grain. This deal must turn a profit, or Renigar's decision will never win public support. Besides, the extra coin will help fund our shared cause. In the end, Nymeria, shouldn't a loyal vassal provide financial support to the rightful king?"
"That may be true, but we still have to pretend loyalty to the Iron Throne," the lead sister tried to counter. "We have no choice but to play the obedient subject before the usurper."
"I believe that from the moment Renly crowned himself and Highgarden swore to him, Prince Doran stopped sending any tribute to the Iron Throne." The triarch smiled, leaving no room for argument. "Gold cannot reach King's Landing by land. The Stepstones are burning. Stannis's royal fleet holds the mouth of the Blackwater. Even if he wanted to pay, how could he? I can already picture the eloquent letter Doran will write to Jaime Lannister, explaining the chaos and why he cannot send taxes right now. The prince's move is wise beyond measure. And I will remember that Dorne is the first kingdom in the Seven Kingdoms to pay tribute to the rightful king and help him reclaim his ancestors' throne."
"If the grain supply is guaranteed, the lords and ladies might accept the higher price," Nymeria finally conceded. "For those we trust most, we can even explain the truth. It's only a temporary measure. They should understand."
"Additionally, I hope for personal help from your honored father."
"They will never allow him to come see you…" Obara said at once.
"I never expected him to visit in person, Obara." The triarch cut her off calmly. "Your father served in the Second Sons and traveled through many of the Free Cities. He must have built quite a network of contacts…"
"What do you want him to do?"
"I want him to write to every person he knows. To every sellsword captain who has not yet thrown in with the Triarchy. Tell them to take contracts in Qohor, Norvos, or Pentos—but never sell their swords to the Triarchy. The fewer sellswords those three whore-cities have, the faster we end this war. And the sooner the war ends, the sooner I can turn my attention back to Westeros."
Viserys did not share his deeper doubts with the Dornish women.
Even if he conquered the Triarchy, Volantis's strength would still fall far short of the Seven Kingdoms.
The lords across the Narrow Sea had probably already forgotten him. They fought their own little wars and bent the knee only to whichever crowned fool served their interests best.
Dorne might bow to him for revenge. But what about the other kingdoms—stronger, more dangerous?
Aegon the Conqueror's army had been less than a tenth the size of his own, yet Aegon's dragons had been full-grown monsters, fierce beyond belief.
His own dragons, even once hatched, would need years to grow large enough to ride…
But those doubts were not for their ears.
"Your Grace, every word you speak is reasonable and just. I agree from the bottom of my heart," Tyene said in her deceptively gentle voice. "But a king must also give something back to his vassals. If the obligations are not mutual, they cease to exist."
"No one denies that, Tyene. Any agreement must benefit both sides. I am prepared to offer Prince Doran new terms." The Dornish women tensed at once. They had listened to a long list of demands and now wanted to know what they would receive in return. "First, I promise you, your father, and your uncle that vengeance for Elia Martell and my brother's children will be carried out. Tywin Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Amory Lorch, and Gregor Clegane will pay for the crimes they committed against both our houses—before gods and men. I swear it in the name of House Targaryen."
"As long as they don't die in the chaos first," Tyene added softly.
"We are glad the years have not weakened your resolve," Nymeria said, and for the first time her voice held genuine approval. "Dorne remembers its hatreds and is glad it is no longer fighting alone."
"But the old lion, Casterly Rock, the viper… they are deep in this war. Men die on battlefields. The gods may not give us the chance to make them pay with our own hands. We want to know, Your Grace—how do you intend to deal with those Lannister bastards wearing stag skins?" Tyene asked in her soft, musical voice. "The sins of the father fall upon the children. They inherit both the glory and the shame."
"You want those children dead, Tyene?" Viserys had expected the conversation to reach this point, yet he still wanted to hear her say it aloud.
"Rhaenys and Aegon were not yet ten when they were raped and butchered without mercy. I am not asking for an eye for an eye… though that kind of punishment would be a powerful warning and deeply satisfying." A vicious little smile curved her innocent lips. "Still, as a merciful king, you could let them die peacefully in their sleep. After all, justice is the king's right, not the subjects'. The most important thing… is that justice must be done."
Viserys stared hard at Tyene. The bloodthirsty girl did not flinch. She kept the same sweet, innocent expression.
In that moment the triarch clearly remembered another woman—face like the Mother herself, heart black as coal. She too had been a bastard… Viserys made a silent vow: if someone removed this little viper before she grew into her full danger, he would not mourn her.
"The matter of the children will be decided later," he said, waving a hand, unwilling to make such a dark and bloody promise. "What I promise Dorne goes far beyond revenge. In truth, revenge often tastes hollow once it is done."
"What exactly are you promising us?" Nymeria asked. Unlike her sister, she found no peace in the thought of slaughtering children.
"I confirm every ancient privilege Dorne has ever held within the realm." Viserys nodded. "Your kingdom will keep its own customs and laws. You will be exempt from all taxes for five years after victory. Your rulers may keep their old titles. A representative from Plankytown will hold a permanent seat on the Small Council. I know Prince Doran's health is poor, so I will accept any man he trusts."
An alliance built on shared hatred was unreliable at best.
He could promise them the blood of their enemies, but he also had to tempt them with real benefits… Even though he hated depending on such allies, right now there was no better choice than the Dornish.
If he ever reclaimed his ancestors' throne, he could not afford to forget a single possible friend.
Besides, some promises never had to be kept…
"These terms are very tempting," Nymeria admitted frankly. "I believe many lords and ladies in the realm will accept them gladly. You have promised us revenge, and more importantly, respect, friendship, and prosperity…"
"But no marriage," Obara said bluntly. "That's what my sister Arianne wants."
"My sister is blunt, but… she's right. Our uncle hoped for a marriage alliance with House Targaryen. Now you and Princess Daenerys are already wed. Neither Arianne nor Quentyn has any chance to join their blood with dragon blood…"
"This dragon blood has no interest in sharing a bed with southern vipers," Viserys thought, but did not say.
"I remember the original proposal," Viserys admitted reluctantly. "But on this matter you came too late. Daenerys and I are married in the Temple of Meraxes, witnessed by both gods and men. I will never abandon her. Only death can part us."
After that blunt declaration the Sand sisters fell silent, thinking fast.
They did not want to retreat on this principle, yet for a moment they had no good reply.
His near-brutal firmness had completely broken their momentum…
Finally Tyene broke the silence.
"Your Grace, who says you must abandon your wife or that the gods forbid you from separating from her?" Her voice was softer and more coaxing than ever. "Please think—has there not been precedent in our history for a king taking two wives?"
"There has. Maegor the Cruel. He took six, and the disasters and troubles he reaped were many times that number."
"What about Aegon the Conqueror?" the golden-haired girl flashed her most charming smile. "Your Grace, how your family views your marriage is entirely your decision. You are a descendant of the Dragonlords, a conqueror whose deeds surpass all others—generous to friends, ruthless to enemies… I believe the world will compare you to the founder of House Targaryen, not to that usurper's son."
'The same Aegon whose second wife you Dornish killed, prompting him to burn Dorne to ash?'
Viserys bit the words back.
"This is a bold idea, Tyene," Viserys acknowledged the obvious. "But agreeing to it cannot be decided lightly."
In answer, Tyene placed a small gilded box on the table and gently pushed it toward him.
"I understand you need time to consider," she said softly, her eyes pleading for him to open it. "To give you something to think about… my sister Arianne asked me to deliver this to you herself. She is waiting for you, Your Grace—just as your entire kingdom waits for you…"
"More desperately than the whole kingdom," Obara added. "She calls your name almost every night."
Viserys loved his wife with all his heart.
But he was still a man, and he had to admit the face in the portrait inside the box was breathtaking—stunning beyond words.
The artist had perfectly captured her thick black hair, lively brown eyes, and the elegant grace of her olive skin… For a moment he understood the ancient kings who had chased after the women of Lys.
"You mean this twenty-year-old beauty is still pure and untouched, fit to become a second queen?" the Targaryen asked with a final note of sarcasm.
"We did not say that," Nymeria answered quickly. "But Arianne is clever, beautiful, capable, and beloved in Dorne. She is worthy. With her at your side, Your Grace, you will be happy. We promise you…"
Viserys did not answer. He rose slowly, the gilded box gripped tight in his right hand.
The meeting was over. Gonerys was probably waiting… but first he had to sum up everything that had happened today.
"Tell Lord Manwoody we have reached an understanding on friendship and alliance," Viserys declared in a steady voice. "I, Viserys the Third, welcome Prince Doran of Dorne into the ranks of my vassals, with no ill will toward his loyal and honorable house."
The Dornish women listened intently, not missing a single word.
"I expect Dorne to give whatever help it can in my war against the Triarchy—Dornish privateers, Dornish gold, and your father's contacts in the Free Cities. In return, I promise vengeance against the Lannisters, a permanent seat on the Small Council for Dorne, and five years of tax exemption after victory." Viserys continued. "As for Princess Arianne… I cannot make any promises at this time. It is still too early to think about returning to Westeros. I must first defeat the Triarchy and let the Seven Kingdoms weaken themselves through their own civil war."
"We understand…"
"I am not finished. When you leave the city, Lord Manwoody returns alone. The three of you stay in Volantis. You will be Doran Martell's eyes and ears, a symbol of my trust in him, and Dorne's voice. My steward will arrange suitable lodgings for you in New Volantis. As for money, from what I hear you are not short of coin. I had thought to invite you to stay in the palace as honored guests… but I fear the Old Blood nobles would never understand. They have never tolerated Lyseni women unless those women wear slave collars."
"Your Grace," Nymeria spoke for the three of them, a smile returning to her face. "We are deeply honored by the trust you place in us and gladly accept your arrangements."
"I would rather go with you to Lys," Obara, the eldest, blurted out. "See for myself whether you are as formidable as the rumors say."
"Obara, if something happened to you because of me, how would I explain it to your father and uncle?" Viserys shook his head. "I have no desire to stain our new alliance with that kind of tragedy."
"Listen to His Grace, sister," Tyene said in a conciliatory tone. "Everything will work out."
The Dornish women quickly bowed and took their leave. They still had to speak with Manwoody.
After they were gone, Viserys sat alone in the room for a long moment, turning everything over in his mind.
From now on, he would be sailing in the same boat with a nest of vipers.