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Olenna's voice carried that familiar edge of mockery. "Your victories hit like lightning, Your Grace. Prince Doran was still gathering his men when word reached him that you'd already taken Myr."
When Rhaegar sailed for the Smoking Sea, House Martell knew the wind had shifted. They reached out to Highgarden and made quiet overtures to the Iron Throne. The flattery came too late. By the time Sunspear finished mustering troops, the Iron Throne had already won.
Daeron studied her. "So you're here as his go-between?"
Olenna shook her head at once. "No. These old bones aren't welcome enough to speak for anyone else."
The Tyrells and Martells had started feeling each other out, moving in cautious alliance. Olenna knew Daeron didn't favor her house, which left them sidelined. An ally like Dorne could change that, but she was careful. House Tyrell could survive on its own. It didn't need dead weight tied to its leg.
Doran had to prove he stood with the Iron Throne, not against it.
"I have no interest in calling down dragonfire," Olenna said, sipping her wine. She only agreed to the talks because Doran had already shown signs of bending.
Daeron waited. "Speak plainly. You want something."
Olenna nodded. "During the campaign, House Tyrell and its bannermen fought hard. Our loyalty is clear."
Daeron said nothing.
"Doran had his eye on my granddaughter for his second son," Olenna continued. "I turned him down flat. But he's being overly cautious. He wants a path forward for Dorne, yet he won't come to King's Landing himself. He asked me to feel you out."
"Did you?"
"No," Olenna said. "You don't show your hand. Even if someone tried, they'd never guess what you're thinking."
She hated that about him. A young man who acted colder than Tywin.
Daeron just smiled.
"Let's get to it," Olenna said. "Doran wanted to send troops to Myr to smooth things over, but you moved too fast. His plan fell apart."
"So?"
"He wants to meet you," Olenna said. "He'll sail here himself. It'll be the first time the two of you speak face to face since you both took power."
Daeron considered it. Doran coming in person, gout and all, meant he was backed into a corner. Daeron had planned to deal with Dorne after the Triarchy was finished. The Martells had always been unreliable—half loyal, half scheming, too close to Rhaegar. He'd already picked Oswell Whent as a possible replacement Warden.
But right now his focus was east. He needed the Triarchy cities under control and Rhaegar handled in Lys. If Lys submitted, Rhaegar became a vassal. That gave Daeron leverage over any dragons and over Rhaegar's children.
Rhaenys was Rhaegar's heir. She carried Dornish blood. If Daeron raised her right, she could help keep Dorne in line later.
"Tell him I'll see him," Daeron said.
Olenna smiled, satisfied. "He'll come then."
She started to rise, but Daeron stopped her.
"One more thing," he said. "I'm granting lands to my brothers. It's time they married too."
Olenna's eyes sharpened.
"Viserys already has a match," Daeron continued. "Jaehaerys needs someone suitable."
Olenna thought for a moment. "The Reach has noble girls, but few worthy of a prince. Lord Leyton Hightower has an unmarried daughter. The Royces in the Vale have two. House Dayne in Dorne has one. And Prince Doran's own daughter Arianne is already here in the Red Keep."
Daeron filed the names away. Arianne Martell was heir to Sunspear. Marrying her to Jaehaerys could bind Dorne without another war. Their children would carry Dornish blood, which might ease relations later.
He wasn't forcing anything. But giving them chances to meet made sense. Marriage lasted a lifetime. They should at least like each other.
Olenna left. Daeron sat alone for a while.
He had plans for Rhaenys too. She was the most reliable of Rhaegar's children—raised here, Targaryen to the bone. She could inherit Lys one day and help manage Dorne.
Doran was desperate enough to come himself. That meant the Martells were finally ready to deal.
Daeron allowed himself a small smile. Good. He needed every piece in place before the next phase.