The Exchange

This was madness. She would have dearly liked to have watched Daenya put her sword through Rhaegars throat but this was quite enough. Nudging Silverwing just so, she brought the great beast to the ground amidst the carnage of the Dornish emissaries. "Stop this!" She shouted, slipping down from her white dragons back as Silverwing roared from the scent of blood and dead flesh.

She took several steps forward, raising her crossbow to aim it first at Baratheon and then at Daenya. "Stop this now in the name of my husband the king, Maekar first of his name. My brother will be taken prisoner, my lords, and you and I will have a talk later." She narrowed her eyes at the man. Her grandfather lay dead at her feet and seemingly for no reason. What a senseless waste of human life. "Drop your weapon, cousin," she repeated in a cold voice.

As Silverwing landed, the blast of cold air from her wings knocked the two combatants apart, nullifying Daenya's attack and making her drop her sword. Flame spurted from Silverwing's jaws in warning, narrowly missing both Daenya and Rhaegar. The guards surrounded the duellists, though careful to avoid the dragon's fire.

"Surrender, ser and m'lady," they cried, closing in on both parties.

Rhaegar turned his head in time so her spittle landed in a glob on his helmet. He took off the helmet and threw it away. He did not attempt to retaliate, other than giving her a look of derision.

Still holding his sword he limped away from Visenya and Silverwing toward his grandfather's body. He bent down and closed Lord Yronwood's staring eyes.

Once done he turned and faced his sister. After a long moment he knelt holding his sword out with two hands.

"I yield to you sister. I ask for nothing, other than our grandfather's body be returned in all honor to Yronwood for entombment with his ancestors."

"A sword for his head, that was the deal," Daenya said with a grimace, turning to Baratheon. "If she puts her weapon down I'll do it now." She added, pointing at Visenya.

Visenya frowned at the guards who had their weapons pointed at her. "Put those down. I am your Queen, if you might recall. I was sent by my lord husband to parley with Lord Yronwood, my grandfather." She gestured in his direction with the bow, seeing her brother close the eyes of the poor dead man and approach her to kneel. "These prisoners may be yours, but you will answer for the dead. We were to try to get support in Dorne and now there will truly be none. We will see what King Maekar has to say about that breech of conduct."

Still, she lowered the weapon, confident that Silverwing would roast them the moment they fired toward her. Without looking at her brother again, her eyes still narrowed and glaring toward Baratheon. "I accept your surrender, brother. Our grandfathers body will go home. Baratheon here will send some of his men to escort the body. Lord Yronwood was wrongly murdered, that is the least my Lord Baratheon can do to set things aright."

"As for your marriage, I believe it is to the monarch to arrange the marriages of his family, so perhaps you will be free of this man yet, dear cousin Daenya."

"What of him?" Daenya called out, pointing at Rhaegar as she watched Baratheon saunter over to Visenya. "Let us finish this!"

"My place is killing Dornish." Baratheon replied, opening his arms wide to the carnage that surrounded them as evidence. "And to whisper truths. I have accomplished both this day."

Though the royal guardsmen followed the Queen's orders, those of Darkheart Keep looked to Baratheon first, only moving when he nodded.

"You do not know me well, Your Grace, so I will correct you this once. If and when a man dies under my care; they are awake, facing their attacker, and armed. We are done here."

Rhaegar is stripped of his arms and placed under guard. Daenya is allowed to keep her arms, but still placed under guard.

Rhaegar rose still clutching his sword. He and his sister had had their differences in the past but she was still family and closer to him that the treacherous Baratheon and his distant cousin.

He had no doubt that Daenya, still frothing at the mouth about her dragon he had been ordered to kill, would see him dead the first chance she got.

As he surrendered his arms he said. "You have my support if you need it Visenya." he said quietly. "What little it is worth at the moment."

"Informing the Dornish of this event will only put us at additional risk. The men I sent with the body would be as good as dead." Baratheon replied, a slight smile crossing his features as he looked at Yronwood's corpse. "We will leave him for the crows. The snakes can bury their own."

"I have the command here, not you. We leave them for the crows." Lord Baratheon repeated, this time with an edge. "A plume of smoke will tip off the Dornish as much as delivering Yronwood's corpse."

"Fine." Visenya pointed at one of the Kings men. "You. Bring me a sheet of canvas and rope. I will take my grandfather somewhere where he can be burned in safety. The crows do not deserve him. The rest, well, let them rot." She turned back to Baratheon. "You are right about the smoke and the messengers. Will you spare a bit of cloth and rope that I may send this man to his rest? My lord?"

Visenya grit her teeth and did not look at the corpse on the ground. How could he mistreat her kin in such a way? She was the Queen...if she wasn't due even that tiny ounce of respect then what was the point of her title? She looked at Rhaegar, seeking his eyes. Surely he had been closer to their grandfather than she was, since she had not seen the man since before their fathers rebellion. It hurt no less to see his corpse desecrated so.

"Very well, my lord," she said in a tone as cold as the never-melting ice beyond the wall. She turned and walked stiffly toward her dragon. For a moment she considered burning them all. She could. Silverwing could. But she didn't. They lifted into the air, the strong beats of the beasts wings sending gusts of wind toward Baratheon and his men strong enough to knock the weaker of them down. She did not let herself cry tears of rage and humiliation until she was a mile up in the air.