The Three Houses of Westeros: Chapter 11 (Patreon)

Chapter 11:

Edelgard:

The journey to Vaes Dothrakk would be a long one;

And with their current company- it was likely to feel like an eternity.

Three months at minimum at making sure her brother did not turn their Dornish friends against them.

Already she'd assigned Jeritza to 'guard' Viserys at all times. And was doing her level best to keep Oberyn, his Paramour and the sandsnakes occupied to keep contact with Viserys to an absolute minimum.

For now it was working.

Then she remembered they were only on the third day even though it felt like the third year.

… She wasn't sure how she would manage three whole months.

And that was the best case scenario. Where they arrived at Vaes Dothrak, satisfied their curiosity and left.

Somehow she doubted that would happen.

As for the Dornish themselves; she had no particular complaints about them. Oberyn was a shrewd man as far as she could tell who hid expertly behind a veneer of relative irreverence. Shielding himself in audacity.

His daughters, despite their bastardry, were well educated, and fairly good conversationalists. 

Edelgard's personal interest lay in the more familiar daughter; Hapi. But the one she needed to engage with for the needs of the Targaryen family; her family- was Oberyn himself. 

Luckily; he hadn't yet seemed to catch onto her running interference to keep him from Viserys and vice versa.

So for now, her job was easy.

Made easier by the organization of the march itself. Khal Drogo rode at the head, and of course the brother of his bride should ride by his side- and though the Targaryen's of course held the Martells as honored guests, the Dothraki would not let complete strangers ride beside their Khal.

So unfortunately they could not join her brother and brother in law;

But the youngest princess will ride beside you as a consolation.

Luckily, this went over fairly easily; and Oberyn seemed to delight in engaging any and all Dothraki in conversation; he was already discussing the benefits of the Dothraki Arkh blade and its advantages and disadvantages over the westerosi longsword or Lance.

Riding 'with' Edelgard, was Petra, who as Edelgard had hoped, had taken a liking to her, and she could now call the two of them friends.; behind them, Constance's carriage with her manservant. She'd invited them to ride in the carriage To be honest; Edelgard would certainly appreciate the comfort of a carriage over a saddle for the long journey; even a small one like Constance's particular carriage. It was almost claustrophobic, especially with the heavy drapes the Reyne insisted to have to block out the sunlight. 

But Edelgard had surrendered her seat to Elaria, and Nymeria, neither of which enjoyed riding. And four people, even relatively svelt women like herself and Nymeria would make things far far too claustrophobic for her tastes.

"Princess?"

"Hmm?" The voice made her turn, finding Nymeria peeking her head out of the small window of the carriage to speak. "Yes Miss Sand?"

The girl smiled, all sweetness and charm. 

"Would you tell us about yourself?" She asked.

"Rather forward; but I don't see why not."

"Forgive me." The sand snake laughed lightly. "But we've heard for so long about the Targaryen's in exile; that we  can't help but be curious."

Edelgard shrugged, not to be 'rude' but simply because she didn't quite understand the fascination. The history was clear. And her family members were nothing overly special… barring her own circumstances.

"What would you like to know?' She asked.

"Prince Viserys." She answered immediately and Edelgard fought the urge to react. "I understand if you have a bias, but what Targaryen ancestor would you describe him as?" She giggled. "Perhaps the Dragon Knight? Or the Conciliator?"

The Cruel, the Unworthy, the Mad. If we had a Stupid he'd take that title too. 

That of course, she didn't say. 

"My brother is unique." She smiled, all guile and false confidence. "I cannot say what Targaryen king or ancestor he resembles. I just know that should he ascend the throne it will certainly be an unforgettable reign."

Whether Nymeria liked that answer, or not; her mother, or… well. Elaria –Truthfully she had no idea if the woman was Nymeria's mother come to think of it – spoke. "And what about this deal with the Dothraki? I can't imagine this was a simple bargain to make. Few would even dare to bargain with the Dothraki in the first place."

Edelgard shrugged. "True enough-" She conceded. The Dothraki were a brutal people. Regarded as little more than bandits and marauding raiders; who never even made deals that weren't just tribute agreements with the people they terrorized. "But needs decide the order of the day. The Dothraki had what we needed, and alliances have been built on far less than a marriage to a princess-"

"My brother will take us across the poison water-" Petra boastfully declared, her smile all bravado and confidence. "When new sister gives Brother children- riches from Westeros are next for the great horde."

"Riches?" Elaria's laugh was a smidge too high. Just a little bit… afraid. "That's what matters to you in this alliance?"

Petra shrugged. "What other reason would Dothrakki fight? Metal chair?"

"To restore the Targaryens?"

Petra's honest confusion was almost endearing if only because of the frank truthfulness of it. "Targaryen's restored, pay riches."

She almost snorted in amusement.

She wasn't wrong. Just blunt.

Even the Martells wanted 'riches.'

Granted, their riches could be less 'material' a marriage, titles, land. 

But riches all the same.

"Who negotiated the deal?" Hapi asked.

"My brother/Princess spoke with Khals."

This time, Petra's blunt honesty drew a twitch of; not quite irritation.

Constance's high laugh from inside her darkened carriage certainly didn't help.

Petra blinked. "You spoke to Khal's not Brother Viserys."

Edelgard tried to think of how to thread this particularly awkward needle; when something caught her eye up ahead.

A dust trail.

Standing up on her saddle, she tried to squint into the distance, and her action made Petra catch sight of the commotion too, doing the same… She was taller…

Annoying.

"What's going on there?" She asked the Dothraki woman. 

Petra grinned; a grin that was all Dothraki. Feral and Savage and hungry.. "Outriders. Outriders on the hunt!"

 The woman kicked at her horse, and rode off, and with a start of near pure reflex, Edelgard chased after her

—

She brought her horse to a stop beside Daenaerys' Jeritza and Viserys; hearing more than seeing Oberyn and Hapi gallop up beside her as Petra kept on going, joining the billowing dust cloud of riders rushing ahead. 

"What happened?" She asked her siblings; hoping they would have a clearer picture of things. 

"Caravan of slavers." Viserys scoffed.

Her features scrunched up. "Slavers? Here?" Her incredulity was well warranted, scanning the vast landscape there was nothing but grass as far as the eye could see in almost every direction. 

Danny explained. "From what I understand they thought to cut their travel time through here, hearing the Dothrakki were far away."

"Not far enough apparently." Oberyn chuckled, leaning forward on his saddle. "My, but they ride like lightning don't they?"

They certainly did. Even though the slavers had at least a quarter mile head start, even though they'd ditched their caravan full of slaves to ride even faster at full gallop, the Dothrakki were going to catch up, and in not much time at all. 

She saw some of the horde break off, rushing towards the convoy of 'goods'.

"The slaves;" Danny spoke. "What's to happen to them?"

"I imagine the Dothraki will keep those they wish, princess." Oberyn answered, straightening where he sat. "The others will be sold. They are not slaver's bay, but they certainly have no qualms of trading bodies."

"Could we not release them?" Dany asked. "Slavery is…"

"Why bother?" Viserys rolled his eyes. "The fate of a few miserly slaves is hardly our concern."

Edelgard gripped the reins tight in her fist, feeling her gloves creaking as she cast a careful, sidelong eye towards Oberyn to gauge his reaction.

But the Dornishman's smile barely twitched, and the narrowing of his eyes could mean almost anything.  

"It is a vile trade, my princess, yes." The Dornishman grinned. "But no, their fate will be decided by the Khal. I imagine if there are one or two you feel should be rescued; he will have first pickings and so, you will as his Khalessi."

Danny suddenly looked ill. "I have to choose."

"As Viserys said" She spoke up, trying to… mediate the situation. "They're not necessarily our problem. They might be criminals, or foreign soldiers, or worse." 

"And they might be simple peasants caught in a raid." Oberyn smiled and by the glint of his eye, the man knew exactly what he was doing. 

Edelgard felt her knuckles cracking inside her gloves. 

The Dornishman kicked at his horse, moving the beast in front of Dany's 

"Should we go see, my Princess?" He asked with a smile "If there are any worth saving it'd be best to get to them before the worst of the Dothrakki do!" 

The smile was all charm and Edelgard warred with indecision on how to act for the first time in a long time.

But then, the decision was taken out of her hands; with Dany kicking at her horse, moving it into a canter to ride beside Oberyn; leaving the rest of them to follow behind her. 

—

Unfortunately; they were not, in fact, criminals. 

They were filthy, bedraggled, and terrified. But she doubted a caravan filled with mostly women and children were a band of rampaging marauders. 

There were some men; but not many. Just by a quick headcount, five men to around twenty five or thirty women with about a half dozen children. 

The Dothrakki laughed and jeered as they corralled the men and the women into separate groups. They made no distinction by age though. Just boys and girls. All in all, seven males, thirty two females. 

When Drogo and Petra returned, with the heads of the offending slavers, new rings, jewelry and horses; it didn't take long for the Khal to size up the 'spoils' rumbling out a command.

It was Petra who translated; grinning from ear to ear as she did. 

"My brother bids you pick your favorite Khalessi!" There was no guile, or even malice there; this Petra for all her similarities, was not her Petra. She was Dothraki first and Petra of memory second. 

Dany looked stricken and she knew her sister was about to blurt out the request; the plea, to release them all.

"Don't ask them to let them go." She whispered as quietly as she could in her sister's ear; almost feeling Danny stiffen at her side as she sucked down her plea mid sentence. "They won't." She pressed. "It will undermine you amongst your people before you've even started. They will not accept it, and they will not accept you."

This time, she saw Dany's fingers tighten over the reins, and could feel Oberyn and Hapi's eyes boring into the back of her skull. She ignored them both; sitting cold and aloof atop her saddle as she passed her eyes over the offered slaves. Pointedly looking at the children. 

"One of them." She said, "The youngest- Save the youngest if you'll save any.

Dany's eyes trailed over the children, each terrified and trembling. "Just one?"

The question was born of helplessness; a desire to save all of them. 

Someone translated for the Khal and Drogo chuckled. 

"My Khalessi is greedy." The men laughed with him but he held up a single finger. The meaning clear.

Just one. 

Suddenly, breaking the silence; Someone lunged forward, startling the horses as the men drew blades and Jeritza rushed to interpose himself between them and the threat.

A slave threw himself on the floor, face pressed to the dirt.

It was a man, and his hair may have at one point been a shade of blonde, but it was very hard to tell given all the grime and filth.

But when he spoke, his accent-

"Princess, please, I beg you, take my sister into your care, do not leave her to the mercies of these savages!!" 

"You're westerosi!" Danny gasped. 

The man pulled himself up, and though Edelgard at once knew this face; it was Oberyn who leaned forward in his saddle.

"Hold on…" The Dornishman squinted before offering a wry laugh. "Well; Randolph Tarth!"

"Tarth!" Viserys sneered. "That's a Baratheon house! Best kill him now. Even if he weren't a traitor; to our house- we shouldn't risk word of our wearabouts getting back to the usurper.

"I swear, Prince Viserys, on all of the old gods and the new, even the bloody drowned God; take my sister into your protection and I will swear fealty to house Targaryen for the rest of my days!

Randolph…

Then; his sister was-

"Who is your sister?" Danny asked, but Edelgard had already turned her gaze towards the gaggle of children.

There. Smaller than the others. Mousy brown hair-

"Her!" Randolph pointed straight at the girl.

"Fleche." The terrified girl didn't hear Edelgard's utterance, and luckily for her, no one else did either.

Danny, with little hesitation, pointed. "That one!"

Randolph began to cry but Edelgard's eyes immediately rushed over the crowd of slaves again; searching wondering if there were any others that she would… remember.

And there was

Just one. 

Khal Drogo ordered Fleche to be taken to Danny's side

Then he called for his Khalassar to take their picks of the spoils.

"I would claim two."

It took a split second for the words to register in accented Dothraki.

Then, all eyes turned to her, sitting atop her saddle. 

Edelgard hid the brief flash of internal panic, dismounting from her horse, and ignoring Dany's confused call of her name, as she drew closer to the huddled mass of terrified slaves.

The one she marched towards glared; no recognition in her eyes.

She stood directly in front of the woman, filthy and bedraggled.

"You're Westerosi as well." It wasn't a question.

The woman spat on the floor. "Mormont." She answered. "Ladislava Mormont."

—

"What in Gods name do you think you're doing!"

Viserys' voice was a hiss

"Arming myself. What does it look like?"

The Dothrakki had a rule it seems. Those who fought, took the spoils. 

The Khal had given his reward to Danny.

She had not fought.

So she deserved no spoils. 

The man, Randolph, would fetch a handsome price with the slavers. Or so she heard. So one of the Khallisar wanted him.

The woman though; Ladislava… Ladislava Mormont.

Another Khalasar wanted her for himself.

Jeritza would fight one.

She would deal with the other. 

"Have you lost your mind!?"

"No." She answered her sibling as calmly as she could, testing the weight of the blade in her hands. 

It was no greataxe.

But it would do.

She turned, ready to march out into the dueling space before Viserys grabbed her by the arm. 

"Why?!" Her brother demanded, his eyes were wide, and dare she say it, he looked afraid. "Why on earth would you do this for some slave woman? A Mormont!? That's a northern house! One of our enemies!"

A Targaryen enemy… perhaps.

But she knew Ladislava. 

There were few more loyal than she.

She eyed her sibling's hand on her arm. "I'll only ask once brother. Release me or you might lose that hand."

His features closed off like a gate slamming shut; and let her go with a disgusted scoff, turning away and back towards his horse. 

Edelgard turned away, marching towards her opponent.

The dueling area was just a loose circle of Dothraki waiting with jeering laughs and anticipation. It wasn't to first blood, but rather to the party that surrendered. 

If that is; the other party accepted the surrender.

They were Dothraki after all. 

Edelgard laid eyes on her opponent, a thin Khalasar, bells dangling from his long braid. 

He was taller than her.

Likely stronger too. 

But in his hand- was the weapon she expected.

The Arkh. 

Heavy. Curved. A blade made for swinging from horseback. Made for slicing and cutting. 

The weapon in her own hand- was no broadsword or thick westerosi blade.

Rather- a thinner blade.

From Bravos.

It was light, light enough for her comparatively thin frame.

But it was long.

Longer than his curved blade.

Long enough to give her the reach she needed. 

While part of her hated how reckless her behavior had been, foolishly putting herself at risk and jeopardizing their family's plans for reclaiming the Iron Throne, another part of her simply couldn't let matters lie.

Now that she knew that her dreams were not because of flights of fancy or Targaryen Madness but memories,... 

Ladislava had followed her loyally and fought alongside her in another life, and she could not abandon her.

Because Ladislava had been her soldier. Her responsibility.

And a dragon does not give up what's hers.

She chanced a look to her right, towards the edge of the circle of onlookers surrounding them.. The Khal wore an expression of detached indifference as befitted a leader, the complete contrast to Dany, whose face was ashen as she locked pleading lavender eyes with her younger sister. 

Oberyn looked beyond excited, and Hapi beside him was staring transfixed. No doubt they'd tell stories about this. Either with her emerging as a 'legend' or an imbecile. Another victim of Targaryen madness.

Her opponent spat out a laughing taunt in Dothraki- one she vaguely understood as a mockery of her 'toothpick' of a blade. 

Toothpick or not. It was about to cut him.

Her enemy did not wait. In fact, he underestimated her, pulling free his Arkh with a casual lazy air about him; much to the delighted laugher of his fellows.

When he came at her; his swing was wide a chop to the face;

But it was a swing made with a weapon, by a man who was used to putting his whole body into his strikes. That's what you did when swinging from horseback.

In other words.

It was slow.

Her blade wasn't.

She leaned back, her hand rising up, and then swinging with a whistle of the blade tip cutting through air.

She felt the slice through her hand; and as her opponent went to take another step to press his attack, he suddenly stumbled, his body realizing before his brain did that he was hurt.

The man looked down, a thin slice of his shin had peeled off a layer of skin and muscle. Blood gushing out of his leg.

Dothraki, don't use armor. Not even shin guards.

It was, in their minds, for cowards.

Lucky her. 

"I suggest you yield." She drawled, her blade tip rising to point at his face. "Dying for a bed warmer is rather stupid."

The man probably didn't understand her, but his face darkened in fury regardless, howling with a cry of rage before he rushed her.

The blade came faster this time, but still just as telegraphed. He wanted to overpower her, brute force his way to a win.

She ducked, keeping away, long steps hurriedly carried her back and away from him her sword being battered aside every time she brought it up.

Her blade was light. His was not.

She lost count of how many swings he tried to hit her with; but after a few short seconds, he began to slow, tiring.

Slow was good.

When his blade missed her one more time she took the extra second she had, lunging forward, nearly skewering herself on the returning weapon before she grabbed his wrist, slipping into his guard- and holding his arm down pure surprise doing most of the work before he could overpower her.

She cracked her elbow into his nose, not quite strong enough to break it but enough to stun, her armored shin cracking into the already wounded leg as the man went down with a howling screech of pain.

Her sword whipped out, lightning quick, she couldn't afford to let him get up again; if he did- he would overpower her.

The slice cut through the meat of his arm at the bicep first, hearing the wet shlick of a severed tendon getting sucked through the body like a rubber band, a second slice onto the meat of his stomach, not enough to disembowel, but enough to limit his movement in the torso-

A third, a third right across the leg again. She doubted he would get up, but if he did- he would be even slower.

Ladislava was a calculated risk. Letting him get up again was a stupid one.

And she was not, stupid.

The blood rider was panting and bleeding all over the ground; he sounded like a winded hound; a stunned silence fell across most of the Dothrakki but a few cheers were still heard by several of the Khalasar who hadn't cared one way or the other for their fellow; and the surprise of her victory must've seemed delightfully serendipitous.

Khal Drogo laughed.

'My new Sister has teeth like my old one."

His men laughed.

The great Khal stood, marching over with knife in hand. She wondered if her good brother was about to kill his subordinate for her.

But he merely leaned down, whispered something at the man- and cut his braid.

Then, he presented it to her.

She didn't want it.

Regardless, her hand reached out, and took a firm hold of the severed length of hair. 

Her trophy.

She turned, moving to march away and caught sight of Hapi and Oberyn.

The Martell prince smiled. "To the Princess go the spoils!"

—

Illyrio Mopatis

The magister of Pentos found himself chuckling heartilly as he registered the request from his  precocious daughter. "You wish for what, sweetling?"

"More books." His daughter repeated. "About Magic. We don't have much that I haven't read already in the library."

He chuckled. Ahh to be a child again, and dream to wield the long dead powers. "Magic is a thing of the past love. It died with Valyria. And the Dragons.

"Maybe-" His daughter conceded with a shrug. "But I'd like to read on the subject." 

He shook his head wistfully. "Alright- I'll see what tomes I can order from far lands." If she could not have the throne beside her brother, he'd see to her whims at least. 

"And father." She called, staring him dead in the eye as she spoke her next words. "Can you tell me everything you might know about the Red Church?"

That made his eyebrows rise up. 

The red church… from the shadowlands beyond Ashaii…

"Why would you ask about them? Was there a missionary? A convert in one of the new hirelings? He did not need them filling his precious girl's heads with the ramblings of fanatics and queer dogma.

But Lysithea just shrugged. "I know they exist, but I don't know much about them." 

"Hmmm." He grumbled, rubbing at his beard. 

'The Red church of Seiros…" He rumbled. "I'll tell you, but promise me you'll stay away from their kind Lysithea."

She nodded easily enough, smiling brightly. "Of course father."