Elsewhere II

(Quellon Greyjoy, Pyke)

The Old Way was a cursed and self-destroying tradition that held his people back. Where a man's worth was judged by his skill as a raider, where they had to pay the 'Iron Price'.

It was a way that glorified devastation and made them more enemies than could be counted.

Quellon was by no means soft, but he understood that the Ironborn could not sustain themselves through it. The reign of the Dragon had largely ignored their existence which had allowed them to get away with their reaving.

Now the Dragon was dead, what remained of its kin absorbed into a House many thought would never appear in Westeros again.

One that shared a vicious history with the Ironborn.

It was no secret of the sheer hatred shared between the Riverlanders and Ironborn. The Westerlands and the Reach may claim to hold immense loathing for his people and they probably did. It was unlikely it would ever reach the same level as that with the Riverlands.

Those bickering and petty fucks could be quite savage given the chance and this was coming from someone like him.

His children for their part didn't seem to understand.

One was an ambitious fool who sought to bring back the traditions that would see them dead, fancying himself a King. The other one was dumb as a stump and a dullard, more brute than a brain. Another was cunning and mocking, the one he trusted the least and the one he considered cursed. The final one was a drunkard, joyful and amiable but also weak.

Four children had survived to adulthood, every single one of them being a massive disappointment in their own way.

They cared not for the responsibilities and duties they had as the Ruling House of the Iron Islands.

They cared not for the future of their people or their survival and growth.

No… all they cared about was some half-witted traditions that would see their home bathed in their blood.

Treasure and spoils were good and all, but they could not multiply, they could not be grown. There was also the issue of its past owners who just happened to be rather influential Lords who didn't take kindly to having their shit taken.

Influential Lords who with a little nudge may decide to say 'fuck it' and just slaughter the Ironborn then and there.

As he moved through his keep, Quellon frowned at the thought of what lay ahead in the future.

A few of his Lords had agreed the wiser move would be to Kneel and swear fealty to the new King.

It was a pity that most wanted him to break away and declare himself King of Salt and Rock, seeming blind to the danger of pissing off a King with three dragons.

Sure they weren't what the Dragons Westeros was used to, but they were still dragons nonetheless.

There was a divide in their Kingdom, one that had been growing for decades since he became the Lord of these Islands.

Now it was there for all to see.

Dragonfire loomed heavily in his mind, breaking away would only see their ruin but the greedy fuckers didn't seem to realise that.

"Are you going to show yourself, or will you continue to slink about." He didn't turn to look at his follower.

"Don't be like that father, can't a son follow in his father's footsteps." Was the smug retort from his most troublesome child.

Quellon openly snorted at that response, though he kept moving, not wanting to interrupt his walk for the irritating shit. "Piss off Euron, I don't have time for your shit." He spoke gruffly.

Of all his siblings, Euron was the one Quellon feared the most. Balon was unlikely to make a move until his death, what little respect he had for him as a father remained there. Euron on the other hand held no qualms about making a move against him, openly or discreetly.

The most vocal of his sons eyed him like a vulture would a dying stag.

They were now at one of the bridges connecting the Sea Tower and the Great Keep.

Quellon paused in his steps, something felt off about the whole situation.

Finally turning back to the most despicable of his children, he found him eying him with a serious look.

'What the fuck are you planning…'

Turning his attention to the bridge, he calmly made his way through it.

As soon as he was in the middle of the narrow thing, two burly men appeared on the other side.

Sending another look behind him, he again observed Euron, only to find another man with him.

There was a smug look in the bastard's eyes.

Quellon wasn't an idiot, he was well aware of what going on at the moment, unfortunately for his son, despite his failing health.

He still made an imposing figure, six and a half feet tall, being both strong and fast. Quellon Greyjoy was not a man who could be cowed or taken down easily.

"So you're finally making your move." He said.

"Nothing personal Father, but you're getting in the way and the Lords don't appreciate it."

"So be it…" These were the only words that he had for the traitors as they rushed towards him.

'May the Gods have mercy on these fools, because the Father of Dragons certainly won't.'

…

(Doran Martell POV, Water Gardens)

When he had given his brother the authority to negotiate on his behalf, his main intention was to try and mend the gap between them. He held full faith that his brother would wring out as much concessions from the Mudd as possible.

Dorne may not be able to threaten the other Kingdoms but invading it would've been impossible, no matter how skilled its enemy's armies were. The Young Dragon's fate showcased that.

Unexpectedly his Sister and niece were both alive.

When he first got the raven he had been giddy with excitement, thinking that they'd be able to crown Rhaenys, but his sister willingly gave up her daughter's claim and his brother did nothing to dissuade her out of it.

If he had been able to make use of his legs properly, Doran would've jumped in anger.

Centuries of planning by his family to gain a firm hold over Westeros gone down the drain just because his siblings had allowed their emotions to get the better of it.

The whole damn reason his ancestor had insisted on the marriage with Daenerys despite already wedding Princess Myriah to Daeron has been because it would guarantee a future marriage with House Targaryen.

Eventually, the Dragons would have no sisters to wed, so they would look elsewhere. His mother had been giddy at the Baratheons' and Velaryon's failure to produce a daughter, considering they were the first Houses the dragon would seek a bride in.

There was some worry that the late Steffon would manage to find a pure valyrian woman for Rhaeger, thankfully he failed.

Even the dogmatic Mad King had to fold and agree to wed Rhaeger to Elia, who held the closest blood ties outside of House Baratheon and Velaryon.

There were a few minor houses here and there but none of them provided the power and influence his House could.

He had plans to betroth Aegon with his daughter Arianna, firmly tying the Iron Throne to House Martell.

Everything his House had sacrificed and toiled for was now gone.

Doran wanted to shout, to rage at the world at the whole unfairness of his situation, but he chose to remain silent.

Seething in his fury.

Whatever joy and happiness he had felt for his sister's survival washed away by his anger.

Motioning at one of the servants to pour him some wine, Doran contemplated his next moves.

Oberyn's letter also mentioned the betrothal agreement signed between Rhaella and Erlend. Rhaenys would wed Erlend's heir, and in turn, would be crowned Queen alongside him.

It was legal as far as anyone was concerned as Rhalla was now the official head of House Targaryen until Rhaenys came of age.

Wanting to distract himself from that infuriating topic, he changed his focus to something else he found interesting. The southern portion of the former crownlands was transferred to Storm's End, from Sharp Point to Kingswood. Essentially redrawing the borders back to their original position before Aegon's Conquest. Alongside swearing allegiance to House Mudd, Stannis was expected to retake the name Durrandon, reviving the old dynasty.

It was a clear message to the rest of the Realm, as by agreeing to do so, Stannis effectively gave up what claim he had on the now redundant Iron Throne.

The North was compensated by Erlend returning the Gift to them, decreasing their reliance on the South for grain and food.

The Westerlands had Tyrion Lannister gaining the backing he needed to guarantee his hold onto Casterly Rock, as Erlend had made it clear any attempt to unseat the young Dwarf would earn his ire.

Then there was the amount of land now directly under the Mudd's control, almost a third of the Riverlands was held by him or minor houses, and the two-thirds that was left were held by Major Lords sworn directly to him.

This contrasted greatly with Aegon who relied on his dragons to mollify his vassals, the crownlands providing only a meager amount of levy when compared to the rest of the Kingdoms.

If Erlend wanted he could pacify any rebelling Kingdom then he could do so without the support of any Great House or his Dragons.

Just his Banners and the levy he could raise were enough to deal with anything the other kingdoms could muster.

Frankly speaking, Doran was well aware that this new King was going to be far more dangerous than the Dragon Kings of Old. Only blood raven during his tenure as Hand of the King could come close to being such a threat.

As he drank the wine poured for him, Doran began to make new plans for the future.

The old board had been overturned, it was time to pick up the pieces and prepare for the new one.

=======

[Note:]

- The name change is simple, Baratheon has connotations and connections to House Targaryen, of their royal if illegitimate descent. Erlend wants to nip that in the bud, especially since Stannis's grandmother was a Targaryen.

- The Southern Crownlands were originally part of the Stormlands, so returning it will smooth out any lingering resentment. For Erlend, it mattered little since it will take decades if not a century or more to properly assimilate these new Lords and lands, giving the Mudds more than enough time to entrench themselves.

- The gift is arguably worse, considering how much poorer the northern houses are compared to the south. Alongside the fact that the gift hasn't been properly maintained and the isolationist nature of the north. So, Erlend doesn't need to worry too much about the north.