GOT: Reborn as a Martell

( Anders POV )

Thunder echoed through the halls of Yronwood, the rain beating the stained glass windows. A storm was brewing along the Marches.

Two storms in fact. One in the skies, but also one on the earth, where the echoes of marching men could be heard between Wyl and Godsgrace.

Yronwood had seen armies before, Anders knew that better than anyone. He was there when the great Dornish host left for the Trident, almost twenty years ago. And today, another army was gathering beneath these walls, his walls. And, if all went well, his army.

Twenty years ago, they were only ten thousand, sent to reinforce an army that was under royal control, with the Dornish just being a part of a broader coalition.

But today, things were different. Today, Dorne supplied twenty thousand soldiers, with ten thousand more in the Prince's Pass, ready to pounce on the remains of the Reach at a moment's notice.

Added to that, the Golden Company, ten thousand strong, including cavalry and elephants. Unsullied, various Essosi sellsword companies still in the pay of the Dragon Queen and the remnants of King Stannis' army made up the remaining five thousand.

All in all, five-and-twenty thousand men were gathering around Yronwood, all of this supported by a strong fleet and three grown dragons.

No, this wouldn't be the disaster that had befallen the Dornish army all these years ago. This would be Anders' revenge, his masterpiece, the victory that would solidify his name in the annals of history, but also give him the upper hand in the game being played in Dornish politics.

With Dorne absorbing much of Stormlander territory, there would no doubt be many new lordships to be acquired, and Anders intended to make a lot of gains.

Starting with Dorne itself, and the Wyls. Good riddance, they will not be missed. But their strategic location was another matter, and who better to rule the Boneway than Anders himself, of faithful House Yronwood, who fostered the prodigious prince?

No, really, things were looking up. All he had to do now was find a suitable betrothal for Cletus, push Gwyneth into Quentyn's arms, and he would have gotten everything he wanted.

But he needed to tread carefully now. Prince Quentyn had warned him once that if he overstepped his authority and played the game without him being aware, the punishment would be swift in coming.

"My lord!" a messenger's voice echoed through the dimly lit hall. "A raven from Greenstone!"

Anders thanked the boy who swiftly bowed and left, leaving him with an unopened scroll. He slowly unrolled it and smiled slightly.

The parchment was wet, and the ink barely legible. The dates on it indicated that it had taken place six days ago. No doubt that the storm had caused delays in communication.

Greenstone had been taken without a fight by a combined fleet led by his younger brother Harrold and the young Velaryon bastard, Aurane Waters. The sun and spear banners were floating on top of Greenstone castle, and Dorne had won their first great victory.

But Anders could not help but repress a frown. That Aurane Waters was of growing popularity, and it was said Prince Quentyn was fond of him, and would perhaps offer him a lordship…

Anders growled.

Surely my brother would be better suited than a bastard who has never commanded more than a large carrack? Of course, Velaryons were born sailors, it was said, but he'd be damned if Harrold wasn't among the best Dornish sailors, Jordayne, Gupps, Anson and Rowe be damned!

Anders looked into the distance, off into the grey clouds overshadowing the Red Mountains. Right there, beyond these mountains, was Blackhaven. A fortress that Dorne had fought over many times, but rarely taken.

Anders would have to siege it swiftly, lest the dragons come in as saviors, or Dorne rule the ashes. He needed a plan, draft siege equipment…yes, he would end this thorn in Dorne's side, and then…well it's off to Highgarden or King's Landing! Franklyn Fowler can very well take his host and go pillage Horn Hill or Ashford if he wishes, he'll never have the men to take Highgarden or Oldtown.

Well, he'd think of something while walking to the war council.

But while walking within Yronwood's walls, he could not help notice a young blonde woman standing still in a corridor, far forward. He recognized her, but…where from?

As he got closer, Anders' eyes went wide.

"Ynys!" he cried out.

While the blonde woman's blue eyes turned to face him, a smile formed on his face, which wasn't reciprocated.

"Father." Ynys bowed.

"What are you doing here? Aren't you at Godsgrace with your children?" he asked.

"Their Graces wished to have me here," Ynys replied with a small smile.

"Their Graces? You mean…"

"King Aegon and Queen Daenerys."

"Whatever for?"

"Well, it would be better for their new Master of Laws to be with their ruler, don't you agree?"

Anders felt like he was struck by lightning.

"What?" he shook his head confused. "Master of Laws?"

"By decree, King Aegon and Queen Daenerys have named me as such, yes." Ynys nodded. "Now if you'll excuse me, Father, I have a war council to go to, and I would hate to be late."

Ynys left him there, not even bothering to ask him to accompany her.

Anders stood there, baffled for a few moments, finally following after gathering his wits.

The war council was taking place in Yronwood's main hall, in an eerie atmosphere, with the storm outside.

Usually, the hall would be packed for a feast in due form, but this time, there were much less guests, but all of which were of importance.

King Aegon and Queen Daenerys sat at the forefront of the table, with Prince Quentyn and Prince Oberyn at their side. Also in prominent positions were Lady Shireen Baratheon, Ser Jon Connington, whom everyone thought was as dead as Aegon, but Essos seemed to manage to resuscitate them, Lord Edric Dayne, Lord Monford Velaryon, and Ser Harry Strickland of the Golden Company.

Anders slowly walked forwards and took a seat between the sellsword and Ser Jon Connington, huffing as he did so. His seating was just opposite of Lord Franklyn Fowler, who, for his part, was smiling from ear to ear.

"Ser Jon, I thought you were dead," Anders allowed himself a jape.

"I got better," the redhaired man replied with a smirk.

Anders chuckled.

"Are you ready to take our revenge?" Anders asked.

"Aye." Jon nodded. "If Tarly or Tyrell want to hide in a city again, I'll burn it to the ground this time."

"Still on that sordid affair of the Stoney Sept?" Anders shook his head. "You did what needed to be done. Burning the city would've ridden us of Robert, aye, but it would have given the Rebellion another martyr, Ned Stark would've still bludgeoned you, and you would have thrown many other houses into the Rebellion's arms."

"It is what Tywin would've done."

"And look at where he is now. His family doesn't even control anything, the flowers are all-powerful, and everyone hates him, from the Wall to Sunspear. He was killed by a boy, his sword taken from him, and his corpse likely pissed on. No, really, Connington, you did much better."

Jon grumbled, but slowly sank back into his chair, nodding. Anders, for his part, could resume his staring contest with Franklyn Fowler.

That bastard, he probably hopes to take Nightsong for himself. And had a good chance of succeeding at that! He knew the rumors and the appointments Quentyn had made to his household. It was no coincidence that the snake's favorite 'companion' was named Lady Treasurer of Sunspear.

Speaking of the snake, it seemed she was in great conversation with Ynys in the corner of his eye. Something to note for later…

As well as the names of the other lords. Almost all the Dornish houses were here: Jynessa Blackmont, Trebor Jodayne, Lina Uller, Quentyn Qorgyle, Nymella Toland, Daeron Vaith, Tremond Gargalen and Dagos Manwoody. But there were also some lesser lords, whose presence was more surprising.

Namely, Allyria Dayne, at her nephew's side, but also Gerris Drinkwater and Gulian Qorgyle, whose presence could have been attributed to Quentyn, but Anders noted that Cletus was not here, as well as the usual Mountain knights: Drummond, Defly, Adder, Bloodstool, Ewan, Dove, Quarry, and Faucett.

As for the other knights and lords, Anders shamefully had to admit he did not know who they were.

The one closest to Lady Shireen wore a sigil of an onion painted on a black sail, one Anders definitely had never seen before. One knight bore the more recognizable sigil of House Celtigar, and another was certainly a Bar Emmon.

As for the Golden Company, Anders knew even less of them, with their colorful attires, hairs and beards.

The knight he did recognize, though, was Ser Barristan the Bold. Old, but still imposing in his shining white armor, the veteran of the War of the Ninepenny Kings stood behind his Queen, longsword at his side, watching over the audience through his helm like a hawk looks over his domain.

The knight on his left, though, Anders did not recognize. Of similar posture, he was younger, to be sure, with orange hair and a beard that could be seen through his helm. He, unlike Ser Barristan, stood firmly behind the King, in the same shining white armor.

A tap resonated through the hall.

Anders thought nothing of it. The storm could have been gaining in intensity, and the rain was likely hammering against the windows.

However, with the voices slowly becoming silent, he saw that it was actually Ser Barristan tapping the ground with his longsword, still kept in its scabbard.

The room fell silent, and the Queen was the first to break it.

"Shall we begin?" she asked.

There was a rumble of approval.

Aegon took the floor first.

"Before we begin, we would like to clarify some new appointments within our new Small Council," the King smiled, "Lady Ynys Allyrion is named Master of Laws, and Lord Daeron Vaith is named Master of Whisperers. Lord Monford Velaryon will become Master of Ships. For now, no Master of Coin or Hand has been named, but the Crown thanks Prince Quentyn and Lady Shireen for their proposals of Lord Anders Yronwood, Lord Trebor Jordayne and Ser Jon Connington."

Anders seemed awestruck. The Prince had considered him for Hand? Or was it for Master of Coin? In any case, he had considered him for a position amidst the Small Council. This boded well for what was to come.

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