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“You are telling me that Daenerys Targaryen is alive?”
“Yes.”
“And you want me to sail with you to what? Drag her back here to the same people who would support her dying again?”
Henryk Martell had heard many things when he was dragged away from Dorne to deal with Kings Landing. Many had advised him not to go. That Dorne would not be bent by whatever feudal system the other Lords of Westeros wanted. That he would have far too much of a personal interest in the matter. That he might run a spear through someone if they tried to rule Dorne from a nonexistent Iron Throne.
“Did you fuckin hear me? Yes! Did you see nothing wrong with that meeting? A Stark as King of Westeros with the North gaining independence under another monarch who just happens to be a Stark as well. What is just in that? How is that breaking the wheel?”
“Yara, may I call you Yara? When my mother, Ellaria Sand, placed a crown on my head and hid me away it was done for a reason. Dorne is independent and always will be. We will never bow to no King from the North or any other region that carries the name of an influential house. That meeting was not about changing the way things are. That meeting was about influence and power. So when you tell me to sail East with you, that a red priestess has brought a Targaryen back from the dead, well that brings upon personal investment.”
And it certainly had. Henryk had no plans to leave Dorne under a King sitting in King's Landing. His mother and father, his sisters, did not die just for those that betrayed their liberator to gain control once again.
That council meeting in the pit had been nothing more than a show. One that he had seen played more often than he would have liked, but wasn’t that what this still was? The Iron Throne may have been melted down, but the Game of Thrones kept turning.
The Starks held a King above all else and another in their name to rule the North. Tyrion had saved himself by making such a choice, but when was he not saving only himself and those that were named Lannister?
“You bloody bastard are you coming or not? If we do this then we need to leave before a crow can catch us.” Yara said, feeling her eyes wander to the open window. Yara had seen many things, some shit that simply couldn’t be explained, and she had heard all about their new King back when Theon was with her. If any of it held true then that meant that they would have to leave before Bran could form any plan to stop them.
Theon didn’t die for this , she thinks as her gaze falls, because truly would he have been content with knowing how the wheel wasn’t breaking?
“Of course I am coming. I would be a fool not too. However, we must go to Dorne first, I have something that might be of interest if what you say is true.” Henryk gathered his fathers spear from where it hid beneath the banner.
“My Lady.” He offered, showing his hand to the door of the room that he had been provided.
“You’re lucky I need you.”
“I could say the same.”
Yara had been to Dorne many times when she had first begun to sail. She enjoyed Dornish company just as much as she enjoyed Dornish wine only the Prince of Dorne sometimes made her want to run herself through his spear if it meant not hearing a witty remark. Though they did work better during their moments of bickering as they traveled towards the city of Sunspear.
Yara ask when the sun begins to set upon the red dunes. Their men are camped down below where the cold winds won’t cover them with sand, and as both leaders chose to watch over them perhaps it was simple to pass the time.
It was a smart move to do so with questions. Simple things to strengthen their knowledge of each other. Henryk came across as being impressed by Yara changing the ways that had been at the core of Iron Born society. He found their voting of a leader, even more so of a woman in a political system that had only ever been patriarchal, that would be just as something many should aspire towards. Yara would almost consider him to be far too flattering if it wasn’t for the bare truth that he was genuine.
And perhaps it was only logical for the two of them to share their ideals in opposition of the recent events that would ripple across the western continent.
“How did you become Prince of Dorne anyways?”
Yara did not know much of Dornish politics. Only that Dorne had fought for their independence despite being free in all things but formalities. What she did know, however, was that bastards were viewed differently, and now one sat within command of an entire nation.
Henryk was blunt in the way that he was honest, “My mother vowed that weak men would never rule Dorne again. She thought that I would be a stronger ruler when the time came. Stronger than my Uncle and cousin, though they were strong just the same, and I would be at fault to dismiss the wrongdoings that my mother did.” Henryk traced his fingers into the sand. Dancing his graze upon the worn leather covering Yara’s legs. He looked younger then despite being the eldest if she was to assume his age in comparison to what she knew of House Martell.
“She placed me as the Prince of Dorne. Though I went through trials and test to gain the trust and loyalty of my fellow Dornish houses. I had to fix the economic stress brought upon by the Lannisters sitting upon the Iron Throne. I walked among the streets to learn the story of every man, woman, and child that I would serve. I developed a parliment that would oversee my rule. And when I was done in the west I sailed to the east.”
“When Daenerys had first started to sail west, I had met with her briefly, vowing to make sure that no master would rise from the shadows for as long as I could throw a spear. I continued to free the slaves in the smaller cities and towns. I brought liberty where it was beginning to fail. I helped spread more ideas of equality the further I went until I met a red priestress. A former pleasure slave with a mark upon her cheek. She told me to look back if I was to not be lost. To return to the west and by the time that I did well it was too late.”
Henryk paused, a heavy sigh upon his lips, “My mother was dead upon the collapse of the red keep. My sisters had been slaughtered and the others made orphans. It was too late for me to lead my army north to fight against the White Walkers, and at the same time it came too late for me to attempt to help Daenerys Targaryen once I learned of her death. So I remained in Dorne debating within my parliment on what our next move would be.”
“Would it be wrong of me to ask what that move is? What drives you to sit here with me for Dorne?” It was perhaps selfish for her to ask such a thing. Yara had been questioned herself over motive within the political environment of Westeros. Though maybe one to many Kings had given the people that very mindset.
“Dorne will never bow to a King in the South whose name is Stark. Not even one that was voted in a mockery of breaking this godsforsaken system.”
By the time that they reach Sunspear, Yara rides beside Henryk’s side upon dornish stallions as they are greeted by the people in polite greetings and gentle smiles. It was the opposite of what she had experienced when trailing behind Euron in King’s Landing.
The people of Dorne are a clear mirror difference to how they treat an outsider entering alongside someone as loved as Henryk was. Only what was Kings Landing if not a place where bitterness and hate spew as easily as words of how the low deserve the better?
“Come Yara, I wish for you to meet my parliament. They have what I have brought you to Dorne for.” Henryk tells her as the homes dwendle towards a building edged away towards the sunset mountains.
It is not the royal palace that she had imagined them going too. Instead it is a long building with high ceilings that hold paintings of dornish red upon them.
Yara almost wants to remark back that it better not be useless. That the red priestess is awaiting them in Essos and that for all they know Bran and his council already know of what they are doing. But some things are easier thought than said as he brought her into a chamber with a round table.
It was then that Yara was greeted by a line of men and women, one woman stepping out to raise a hand towards her, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Yara of House Greyjoy. I am Arianne Martell and these are the ones chosen by the Houses of Dorne to act as the parliamentary for our Prince of Dorne. We are glad that the Iron Islands has chosen to break the wheel.”