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123 AC, King's Landing
Borros Baratheon looked around him in the Red Keep's Great Hall and saw hundreds of lords and ladies from across the Seven Kingdoms speak to one another about nonsensical things, each one barely more than fools grasping power that was not their own. At the head of the table, the King, Viserys Targaryen, laughed at a joke from some Reach lords whose names escaped him, not that it mattered anyway.
Of course, most of the conversations centred around the coming Great Council, for it was seen as a brilliant way for the King to stave off a war of succession after his death, for the realm would decide its new king.
It was one of the most hateful things that Borros had ever experienced.
His house had been dishonoured, its blood ties to the Iron Throne had been forgotten. Seven hells, the King had barely greeted him when he arrived, and Rhaenys, his cousin, had been the only one to hold more than a few words with him, even if she could not do it for long, given her new position as Hand of the King.
Borros was happy for her; he truly was. He had celebrated her rightful rise, as she was of his blood, competing in her honour during the feast where it had been announced in the first place. She had been grateful enough to arrange for taxes to be lowered in the Stormlands, which he appreciated, but it was but a paltry gift to give one's family. It was obvious for anyone to see that what Borros lacked was an heir, for he was cursed with only daughters.
His wife, Elanda, had borne him three of them and no sons, and her health was worsening with every child she birthed. Floris had been a very difficult birth indeed, and their Maester was unsure whether or not she would survive another. He needed to accept the fact that his eldest, Cassandra, would likely end up as his heir, and he needed to arrange a betrothal to secure his line, something that likely every lord worth his salt knew.
Yet not a single member of the royal family or House Velaryon offered. Oh, he could understand why House Velaryon had not, for the Sea Snake's line ended with his Granddaughters, and thus faced the same problems. Of course, there seemed to be some unspoken betrothal agreement between them and Rhaenyra's bastard children, so that seemed managed. Borros could not understand how anyone would allow their line and reputation to be tainted in such a way, even if the boys were Dragonriders.
He had realised that the Targaryens did not consider him family long ago, for they cared little for people without their silver hair and purple eyes or who did not ride their precious dragons. His original plan was to leave his children to be unmarried, and when the war started, and the mighty dragons came begging to him for help, they would accept matches to his daughters, and perhaps, he would live to see a Baratheon Queen on the Iron Throne.
Oh, what a beautiful dream it was, for he would fight a bloody war, like he ached to do, and see his house honoured once more. Alas, that whore Rhaenyra managed to fuck that up as well. How anyone could have been this fucking stupid to destroy her very own chances at sitting on the Iron Throne so thoroughly was something that he did not know.
The war did not seem to be on the horizon, and he wished that he could have sailed to the Iron Islands during their civil war and bloody his war hammer with the blood of Ironborn. Alas, the Stormlands did not have much of a fleet given the common storms in the region, and the Iron Islands were on the other side of the continent.
Oh, if only he had come earlier to King's Landing and had a chance at killing the Shadowbinders and their pet monsters during their attack, he would have had his fill. He looked at Cregan Stark, who sat stoically, with his 'legendary' blade sheathed behind him, ignoring the awed looks that everyone around him gave him, and Borros scoffed in derision.
He had not seen the boy lord fight, but the tales told were more in line with legends from the Age of Heroes. Borros had no doubt that the songs had exaggerated, but he could respect a man who would fight monsters with only a sword, even if he used sorcery in the meantime, or whatever the fuck he did.
Having had his fill of these cowardly grasping creatures around him, Borros took a large gulp of his wine and readied himself to return to his quarters. He looked to see his wife speaking with her father, Royce Caron, and decided to leave her be. He did not have the patience to deal with her whining if they left early.
He walked past the Westerlands delegation and saw Jason Lannister prancing like a peacock, showcasing his sword to the realm. Apparently, the man had, somehow, recovered Brightroar from Old Valyria. Borros thought that it was horse shit. Either the man had bought a sword from some Essosi merchant or slaver for a ruinous sum and pretended that it was his ancestral sword, or the gods themselves picked up Tommen Lannister's ship from the poisonous ruins of Valyria during the Second Doom, no less, and sailed it to Lannisport. Borros thought that the former was more likely.
Not wishing to listen to the prick for too long, Borros hastened his steps, though he did notice that the lord's twin, Tyland Lannister, seemed strangely pale, and kept looking at Princess Helaena worriedly every few seconds.
Borros huffed in disappointment. Fucking hell, this era of peace had birthed nought but pricks and cowards. In his opinion, they all needed a proper war to finally start acting like men instead of snivelling roaches.
Of course, Borros knew that the Great Council would not stave off the war forever. Eventually, some of Rhaenyra's whelps would think that they had been usurped, and war would come to Westeros. After all, war was a constant, unchanging thing in the Seven Kingdoms, and no 'Peaceful' kings would ever be able to stop them forever.
Unfortunately, it would not be for some time, decades maybe, and Borros would be far past his prime at that time. As he arrived towards a balcony and stared at the city below him, Borros wondered if it would eventually be sacked. It was a nice exercise that he did every time he entered a new stronghold. He would do it by the River Gate, the weakest part of the defences by far, and then storm the city.
The next step would have been going to the Dragonpit and slaying the chained dragons, but he had heard that the beasts were not chained anymore, and that the castle's roof had collapsed, which allowed the dragons to escape. The Shadowbinders had presumably shown this particular weakness during the attack, and the Targaryens really acted rather quickly whenever their beasts were in danger.
His musings were interrupted as he heard a voice behind him, "It's beautiful, isn't it? The city. I always loved looking at it, especially at dusk, looking at the people getting on with their lives. It's akin to seeing an infinite weave slowly spreading out with every decision. I find it quite humbling."
Borros tensed at the voice, for he did not hear it approaching. He turned around, ready to unsheathe the dagger in his hip, only to see Helaena Targaryen there, who was staring out of the balcony towards the city, just as he had moments prior.
Despite his initial wariness, he relaxed his grip on his dagger, though he still remained tense. After all, this girl would likely be the next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms after this mummery of a Great Council. After all, the outcome was all but guaranteed, which made the entire endeavour a waste of everyone's time, including his own. Most of the lords of the realm were coming to the Capital for this occasion, all because their weakling of a king could not be decisive with his choice of heir, even when it was fucking obvious who it should be.
Still, it was strange for the princess to have left the feast too early, and he was in no mood to entertain royalty. "Why have you come here, princess?"
"I am here because you are," the girl simply answered as if it were a fact, and Borros suppressed a chuckle at that. He never really thought much of her before. There were some rumours that she was a simpleton, but he thought it mattered little in a woman.
However, he did like how direct she was compared to the rest of his brief time in the Capital. The contrast between her words and the constant falsehoods and half-truths of this place already made her more interesting than anyone here. "You wish to speak with me, then."
"I do. It's not often that we see House Baratheon outside the Stormlands, let alone have one who would leave a feast without having his fill. I quite like your house. You're… honest in your likes and dislikes, for good or for ill. It's quite refreshing here."
That succeeded at making Borros laugh likely for the first time since he entered his rotten city, "That we are. Then I suppose, for the sake of our honesty, let us be direct. You wish to see what my price is for my voice in the Great Council. For the sake of saving time, I will tell you what I want. A betrothal."
Despite the fact that the princess had made a good impression on him, there was only one reason why she would wish to speak with him, and that was the impending Great Council. The girl likely wished to secure her husband's throne, unaware that not a single lord would choose Rhaenyra or her brood over him.
Borros could use this as a way to secure his line by tying it to the royal family. Currently, Cassandra was his priority for it, as it could mean that her children, his line, would be Dragonriders. Alas, Cassandra was of the age to only marry Prince Aemond, Prince Daeron, or Joffrey Velaryon. Of course, he refused the last one, as he would not have his line tainted with bastard blood, so that only left two of the princess's siblings.
However, he would also not deny a match between his youngest, Floris, and the princess's son and heir, Jaehaerys, for that would mean that his blood would sit on the Iron Throne as well.
He did not truly know what he expected from the princess, but he felt surprised when she did not look surprised or even thoughtful about his demands, "I do not mind having greater ties with House Baratheon, but I can only promise my son's hand, and I think that it would be better for him to have his choice as to who he would marry. It would be cruel to tie him down when he has not lived to see a single nameday yet."
Borros scoffed at that, "And yet, your daughter, Jaehaera, is betrothed to the son of a woman who has tried to kill you."
"That was an order from the king, not a personal choice. But setting aside possible betrothals, I believe that I have some troubling news that concerns your kingdom, one that I thought prudent to share with you."
"Oh," he said, while raising an eyebrow at her.
"Yes. I have heard whispers of a new outlaw appearing in Dorne's Red Mountains, one that calls himself the Vulture King."
For the first time since the conversation began, Borros found himself utterly unsettled by these words. The Vulture King was a title that he had not heard in some time. The original one belonged to a Dornish outlaw who rose against Aenys Targaryen, the weakling king. A pretender donned the same title decades later and raided the Stormlands, dying at the hands of Borros's grandfather, Rogar Baratheon, but not before poisoning the man, denying him a warrior's death in battle.
"Another upstart, then," Borros commented while feeling some excitement swell inside him. Finally, he would have a war that would cement his place in history against one of his house's greatest enemies.
The princess nodded seriously, "It seems so. I must admit to being surprised that your family let them off so easily. I always assumed that a Baratheon's vengeance would be a terrifying thing indeed."
Borros frowned at that, "I don't understand…"
Helaena Targaryen tilted her head in confusion, "The Vulture Kings, I mean. You defeated them, yes, but never truly made a move towards their patrons."
"Patrons?" he thundered.
"Yes… A few Dornish houses banded together in an alliance of sorts, where they allowed their troublesome elements to unite as outlaws under a banner, often one of their bastards, the Vulture King. They would be a force that would not be traced to them, operating across Dorne, and sometimes, even raiding the Stormlands or the Reach for honour. I believe the first Vulture King was a Blackmont bastard, which is somewhat evident given his title, as for the current one, signs point to the man being a Wyl bastard."
That… Borros had not known that.
No one knew that.
There had been theories, of course, about the Vulture Kings, suppositions in letters he had found from his grandfather about the Third Dornish War, that the Lords of Dorne were involved in some way. But there was little they could do without declaring war towards Dorne, something that the Conciliator had refused completely.
However, this little princess, who had not even seen fifteen namedays, seemed to know the movements of outlaws in the Dornish Marches that he did not, movements in his own kingdom. He looked at the girl with new respect in his eyes, for she certainly was not a simpleton.
He wondered what else she knew, for if she seemed informed about the affairs of the Dornish, she must have known much more about the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms.
Despite his dislike of these games, Borros's blood thundered in his veins, and he smiled menacingly, "It seems that I will have to visit Wyl in the future."
"Oh, I'm afraid that you were quite late about that. It seems that the bastard in question recently discovered that his promised reward, a legitimisation from his father, was nought but a lie. It seemed like his father had planned on having him killed should he survive the coming raids, somehow. Young Walter was overcome with rage and poisoned his father and his entire family, leaving the castle in complete ruins, and is currently riding towards Skyreach, for the current Lord of House Fowler happens to be a conspirator of the former Lord Wyl, ironically enough making Walter Sand an outlaw in truth, not just in name."
Finally, Borros couldn't hold it in anymore and burst into laughter. It seemed like Dornish treachery and dishonour were common amongst their own people as well. It truly was a wretched land for Kinslaying to have occurred at such a scale.
And the princess's little tale… Seven hells, if she had truly engineered such chaos with nothing but ink and whispers, then she would make a finer queen than any of the pampered fools strutting about the hall. A woman who could topple a Dornish House without lifting a blade was not to be ignored.
When he finally calmed himself, the princess continued, "I do wonder what House Martell's response will be to this. Dorne has always been a divided kingdom, with most houses having been Kings at some time in history. Leaving a bastard outlaw wreaking havoc across the Red Mountains would weaken his kingdom and also spread unease around Qoren Martell's leadership, but attacking them would be akin to helping his rivals and could actually weaken his armies, with a risk of defeat."
Borros felt a slow grin spread across his face. Conquering Dorne. Gods, the idea tasted sweet.
However, before he could say anything, the princess looked at him, "Oh, it seems that we have stayed here for too long. Let us return to the feast, for I am sure that our absence will soon be noticed."
The woman simply turned and motioned to leave, before she turned to him once more, "We will speak of the matters of Dorne at a later date, Lord Baratheon. Should things devolve into a war or not, we shall not know for some time, perhaps even after the Great Council has taken place. Until then, should King's peace shatter through Dornish hands or otherwise… I will know who struck the first blow."
A chill crawled down Borros's spine before he could stop it. Then the haze returned to her gaze, softening her expression as she curtsied. "Farewell, Lord Baratheon."
She left him standing in the quiet.
After a few minutes in pure silence, the Lord of Storm's End shook his head. He must have imagined this, mustn't he? Deciding to see the veracity of the girl's statement, he quickly dispatched a raven to his castellan, asking him to send some men to investigate any strange happenings near the Wyl lands.
When the reply came days later confirming Castle Wyl had indeed fallen, any satisfaction he might have felt withered beneath the memory of Helaena Targaryen's too-knowing purple eyes. However, that did nothing to curb his enthusiasm for their next meeting, for he was sure that it would certainly not be boring.
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The Conquest of Dorne and the Final Unification of Westeros
By Archmaester Aemon of King's Landing
Aegon the Conqueror was, by all accounts, a great man indeed, for he had forged an entire realm from warring kingdoms with dragons, fire, and blood. Alas, it was tainted by the fact that his greatest ambition, the true unification of Westeros, was never achieved in his lifetime, for Dorne had remained defiant, unbent, and unbroken. It would be over a century later that his line would achieve it, though it seemed like House Targaryen had learned from its mistakes and approached the conflict differently.
From ages past, one could easily deduce that the Conquest of Dorne was decades in the making, starting with economic measures, such as the second Campaign to the Stepstones in 124 AC, which had been spearheaded by Lord Borros Baratheon, citing an increase in pirate raids on the only true port in the Stormlands, Tarth. To everyone's surprise, King Viserys agreed with these measures and also ordered the Rogue Prince to participate in putting the islands to order, only this time, the King had ensured that there would be sufficient infrastructure in place for every island, small or large, built with the Crown's treasury. The islands were managed by House Velaryon for some time, until they were given as boons to servants of the crown at the King's discretion. The fortification of the Stepstone resulted in increasing tolls towards the Dornish, who were found to have been collaborating with the Triarchy to remove the strategically located island from the authority of the Seven Kingdoms.
Of course, the Stepstones tolls should have only just hampered Dorne, if it weren't for the bandit king's raids across Dorne. Walter Sand, a bastard of House Wyl, started a rebellion towards the northern houses of Dorne, and was surprisingly successful, for before his death in 127 AC, he had sacked half a dozen castles near the Red Mountains.
Qoren Martell, the Prince of Dorne, met this Vulture King in battle in 127 and fell in battle, leaving Dorne with a Princess of twelve namedays. When Princess Aliandra gained her majority, she urged most houses to raid the Dornish Marches, likely trying to unite her kingdom against a single threat. Of course, this ended with a quick reprisal from the part of the Stormlands, spearheaded by Borros Baratheon. The Lord of Storm's End, successful from his campaign in the Stepstones, conquered much of the Red Mountains and manned the abandoned castles sacked by the Vulture King, though King Viserys urged him not to pursue further conflict on the pains of being branded a traitor. It is said that Lord Borros had disliked the King ever since.
The true conquest of Dorne did not occur until 161 AC, after which Dorne had been severely weakened due to tensions within the Triarchy and a few bad harvests, and an increase in discontent over Martell rule. Prince Merron Martell had attempted to join the Seven Kingdoms with a marriage alliance, as well as building a Citadel in Sunspear. Though the matter was debated, it would not be decided fully, for a Civil War erupted in Dorne, led by House Yronwood, who had employed the help of Water Mages from Essos. This culminated in the sacking of Sunspear in 163 AC, with the surviving members of House Martell fleeing to Essos before eventually finding their way to the Rhoyne and joining the new Rhoynar.
House Yronwood, in a bid to secure its position, was overconfident in its victory and declared war on the Seven Kingdoms, hoping that its Water Mages would succeed against Dragons. They did not, for King Daeron, though he was a prince at the time, led a campaign that wiped out House Yronwood and the remnants of the Dornish armies in less than a year, showing the supremacy of their Dragons.
Soon later, a ravaged Dorne would rebuild itself under the authority of the Iron Throne, with Sunspear becoming a seat to a branch of House Targaryen. The locals were too weary of war and were grateful for the improvements that the Seven Kingdoms began, for the scattering of the Citadels had reinforced much of the industry and innovation in previous decades, and after a few years of tensions, the Conqueror's dream was fulfilled, for the Seven Kingdoms were truly united under the Iron Throne.
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AN: Phew, that took a bit out of me. I noticed that you guys liked the chapter with Helaena and Jeyne and thought that having one with Borros Baratheon would be nice. I don't think I pulled it off quite as nicely as the one with Jeyne, but Borros is a bit different and has different priorities, so Helaena had to deal with him in a different way, especially since I could tie it up to the historical section about Dorne. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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If you want to support me, check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.