My second asoiaf fic. Wish me luck. Again, please bare with me, as I haven't yet read ADWD, I'm no good with battle tactics that will come into play later in the fic, and some characters and situations will seem OOC or unrealistic. Just remember this fic is just for my amusement and the amusement of others, not a serious canon one. So, before you read you should know Viserys will be portrayed as a lot less dickish than he was in canon, the Tyrell's a lot more cunning and sly and loyal to the Targaryens and Dany won't be Queen. Also, Carmella Tyrell is an OC I created, and she will eventually be Viserys' love interest. Anyways, enjoy.

-Mel

15th of the Tenth Month of 283 AC

Lady Olenna Tyrell

"We're finished, Mace," Olenna Tyrell snapped. "We supported our rightful leader and we're going to suffer for it."

"You mustn't think this way," Alerie said, panic evident in her own voice. "What could they possibly do to us? Punish us for being loyal to our oath sworn to the throne?"

"Yes," Olenna quipped, taking a large gulp of Arbor wine from her cup. "Tywin ordered for Elia and her children to be massacred, and married his twin off to the new king," she explained bitterly. "We don't stand a chance. The Lannister's will take this oppurtunity to destroy us."

"Now is not the time to drink," Mace said, surprisingly sombre, taking the chalice from his mother's hand. "Now is time to think—we won't go down without a fight."

"Then what do you suggest we do then, darling son of mine?" The woman bit out.

"Dorne," Alerie said abruptly.

"Yes," Mace smiled at his wife. "Their Princess has just been butchered, we are not the only one's who supported the Targaryens and lost. They surely will not be prepared to swear fealty to the Lannisters."

Olenna thought on her son's words, she could see it, Dorne wasn't anything special, but they'd managed to resist Aegon and his dragons all those years ago, surely they didn't plan to bend to this new king, surely they had some plan for a rebuttal, a plan House Tyrell could be a part of. Yes, the Houses had never been close, but now they could be allies, friends even, now was not the time for hostility.

"Yes," she murmured. "We must act quickly. I will send a raven to Prince Doran."

"And one to the Red Viper, as well," Mace added. "He is an important to this as his brother."

"Of course," Olenna muttered, cursing the wine for clouding her senses. "Immediately," and with that, she departed.

Queen Cersei Baratheon

Cersei was to marry the king on the morrow; her father had organised everything. She was to be Queen after all, Queen of all the Seven Kingdoms and wife of the most handsome man in them too, and a fine warrior. He was no Rhaegar, his beauty was not striking and nor did he seem to her a particularly fine man who would write songs to make her weep, but Cersei assured herself that her father would not marry her off to anyone unless they were at least marginally suitable. And he is the king, a king who fought Aerys for his betrothed, an honourable and loyal man. Cersei valued loyalty.

"Father," she nodded respectfully. "Will you remain in King's Landing?"

"For a while," Tywin responded. "Your brother has taken it upon himself to be a kingsguard, with him here I must return back to the Rock."

Cersei cleared her throat uncomfortably—she hadn't spared a thought for Jaime since she'd heard of her upcoming nuptials to the king. Jaime would always hold a special place in her heart but she was to be married and bear princes and princesses for Robert. She and Jaime would always be close but as brothers and sisters.

"You know Jaime," she said airily.

"Tyrion will remain with you here."

"Pardon?" Tyrion couldn't possibly stay with her, there was no place for that creature at her court.

"Did I stutter?"

"Of course not, but—"

"He is your brother, he is a Lannister, he will stay here and represent our House."

"Father—"

"It wasn't a question."

Seething, Cersei ground her teeth. Fine, she thought, let the Imp stay, he will spend most of his time in brothels anyhow. I shan't have to lay my eyes on him but once a month, if I tell my king to, he will order Tyrion to the darkest corners on the Red Keep for me.

"What of the war?"

"For a woman, you ask far too many questions," Tywin stated, yet he answered nonetheless. "We have won. Nearly all royalists have bent the knee."

"Nearly all?"

"Dorne still resists:understandably. House Moot and the Tyrell's remain quiet."

"How do you plan to respond to these acts of treason?"

"I will advise the king on forgiveness of Dorne and Moot. The Tyrell's are another matter."

"They fought for Aerys," Cersei protested. "Let them burn as he would've done to us."

"I see no sense in that."

"Then what will you do?"

"Nothing. I am not the king. The Tyrell's should've remained neutral as I."

"They are not known for their caution," Cersei smirked. "Even their eldest daughter, Carmel, is it? She's a wild one, they are barely able to keep her within the Reach."

Tywin simply shrugged, and returned to his scrolls, dismissing his daughter. "I will see you tomorrow, Cersei."

"Yes, father."

Doran Martell

"Lady Olenna Tyrell," Oberyn Martell drawled. "Queen of Thorns."

"Prince Oberyn," the woman replied briskly. "And Prince Doran."

"My lady," Doran said, his hunched back paining him. "Unfortunate for us to have to meet under such inhospitable circumstances."

"Yes, it is. Next time we'll meet indoors and above ground, yes?"

"Why do you want an alliance with Dorne, hm? We have been estranged for years," Oberyn asked.

"Past grievances should not hinder future success."

"Success, I hear?" Doran had allowed his brother to take the lead while he listened carefully.

"We are both loyal to House Targaryen," Olenna began. "We both fought for them and lost."

"Dorne is loyal to Princess Elia," Oberyn quipped. "You Tyrells however, owe the Targaryens your titles and lands."

"And Princess Elia was a Targaryen, no? Her children blood of the dragon like their father?" Olenna countered.

"You are a smart woman," Doran commented. "We will hear what you have to say and consider an alliance."

"Though we must make it clear," Oberyn interjected. "We ultimately want revenge for Elia, which seating Viserys on the throne will bring. We are not mindless followers of the dragons."

"Understood," she said.

Then she told them of her plan, of what she knew of theirs. Doran had to admit he was shocked to know she was privy to his ideas of betrothing Arianne to Viserys, and shocked to hear she would not protest against this but merely wanted Viserys' sister to wed Willas, her heir. She spoke quickly and with a certain authority he'd never heard in the voice of a woman of her position. Doran knew of course, that he would accept Olenna's help, Dorne was not as fearsome as once and did not command such a large army, the Reachmen and their Redwynne fleet would be a massive help, but he would have to seem apathetic at first and gauge just how much Olenna wanted to be part of this. Apparently, quite a lot. He wasn't sure to what extent he could trust House Tyrell, he certainly wouldn't be divulging everything to them but he recognised the usefulness in having an ally so close to King's Landing, with a social standing amongst the royals that Dorne did not have.

"Do we have a deal, then?"

"It seems we do, Lady Olenna of House Tyrell," Doran replied. "Viserys and his sister are now residing with Ser Willem Darry in the Free Cities, whom I am in contact with. I will tell him of these new circumstances and your wishes shall be granted. You do accept, however, that you will be funding and supplying an army for Viserys once he takes the throne?"

"Of course I do," she snapped. "Viserys will have 50,000 Reachmen once he comes of age and 200,000 golden dragons."

"Well, let us drink to our king," Oberyn proposed.

"Let's."

III

"Do you trust them?" Oberyn questioned.

"Not so much. I am not fond of her plans to somehow send her youngest grandchild to the capital to integrate with the royals, nor do I like the idea of her trying to marry her offspring to the current royals, but it must be done."

"We cannot be blamed if she does decide to betray us," Oberyn shrugged. "We are barely even considered part of Westeros anyways."

Third Day of the Eleventh Month of 290 AC

"He'd dead?" Alerie Tyrell hissed. "How?"

"Some sickness," Olenna replied. "Viserys and his sister are stranded."

"Good gods," Mace said. "What shall we do? We cannot wash our hands of his cause, it our way to the top. Willas married to royalty."

"The Targaryens aren't royalty anymore," Alerie pointed out. "We can wed Marg or Carmel to Joffrey or Tommen or Loras to Myrcella, if we truly want a foot in at court. Viserys Targaryen is no longer a safe option."

"No," Olenna said firmly. "We swore an oath to the Targaryens."

"Oh, don't tell me you've now decided to develop a moral compass?" Alerie scoffed.

"I swore an oath to Doran Martell. He deserves justice for his sister's death. Not only that, but these Lannisters are poison. Our Margaery may be a gem, but I would never put upon her a lifetime with them, and Carmel would slit her wrists before marrying some Lannister prince. No, no, we will continue to support Viserys."

"But how?"

"Send Carmel," Mace said out of nowhere.

"What?" Alerie exclaimed, turning to face her husband. "Send our daughter, where, exactly?"

"To Viserys and his sister. She is as wild as they come, and we can barely keep her in the palace for longer than a week."

"So we send her thousands of miles away, alone, to watch over some prince?"

"Some king," Olenna corrected. "And why ever not? Every one knows of her nature. We can claim she ran away, and have her groom the king to our liking."

"Are you crazy?" Alerie demanded. "She is a child!"

"She will not go alone, of course, and we'll keep in touch and make sure she doesn't starve. She might even like it, Alerie, she longs for adventure," Mace said.

"Then send her North! To the honourable Ned Stark, not to, where is it? Braavos?"

"We can accuse some Dornishman of seducing and kidnapping her," Mace suggested. "Start up some feud between us and Dorne, to keep the Lannisters of our trail."

Olenna smiled proudly at our son. "Yes. I will teach her everything she must know, and send her on the way with a substantial amount of money."

"I won't stand for this," Alerie announced, departing the room.

"I'll speak with her later. For now, you contact the Viper and I'll fetch Carmel."

"And Willas. He must know, if this is to work."

As Olenna thought over all the changes that she must make for her plan to succeed, she wondered when she'd grown so sympathetic towards Dorne. Doran and her had become correspondents, and she respected his careful thinking and enjoyed the games of chess they often played in their secret rendezvous. She abhorred the Red Viper, yet she trusted him too. For five years all three of them had schemed for another takeover, an end to the false peacetime King Robert reigned over, to exterminate the power of the Lannisters, to see them crushed. Initially, though, Olenna had only proposed the plan in a moment of panic, when House Tyrell had been forgiven and left alone however, she often imagined she'd slowly decrease contact with Doran and ease out of the plot. But she hadn't. She couldn't. She'd sworn a vow, and say what people might say, she valued her integrity. And her power. A large part of her simply wanted to help a friend avenge his sister, and that was probably the part that had kept her engaged in the scheme for these long five years. But the part that would ensure she won the upcoming battle was the one that wanted House Tyrell to be respected and honoured, that wanted to be known in history books for restoring the Targaryen Dynasty. And this time, they'll be none of that nasty inbreeding, we don't need any more Aerys'.

Lady Carmel Tyrell

Carmel hated her life. Yes, she was grateful for it, but she hated it nonetheless. The restrictions and repetition and mind-dulling activities. She never understood how her younger sister could stand it. How any of them could stand it. Maybe I'd be happier if I were like grandmother, no man to dictate my life, a ruling position in a powerful House, but alas, Carmel, or Carmella as she was commonly called, was not a widowed force of nature, but instead a highborn teenage rebel.

"Coming for a spar, Carmella?" Garlan asked.

"I'll have to pass at the chance of destroying you this one time," she teased. "Father wants me."

"He summoned Willas, too. What have you two done?"

"Not a thing," she argued. "Well. Nothing I haven't gotten away with in the past."

"Right," he grinned. "Good luck."

Her brother ran off. She longed for the sense of purpose he had. Life wouldn't be so dull if I knew what I wanted to do with it. I cannot be a knight, or a sailor, like Loras or Garlan, nor a Maester like Willas, and I certainly won't be some lord's highborn wife. Carmel had spent significant times with her grandmother, she knew of the power a highborn lady might wield, but that was only if their husbands were willing to allow that freedom and even then it took a mighty lot of work, manipulation and sexual persuasion. I may be good at it but the politics of court seriously bore me. Bore her they did, she was sick and tired of accompanying her father and grandmother to their vassal lords and convincing their young heirs to sway their father's to increase tax, or lend us a few ships.

"Father, you called for me?" She said uncertainly, as she entered his solar, giving her eldest brother a brief smile.

"I did, yes, Carmella it seems we need your help."

"Where is grandmother?"

"Right here, child."

"Father says you need my help?"

"We do. You both must listen while we explain."

And explain they did. Carmel could hardly believe her ears. We're rebels! It was like something straight out her own imagination. The dangerous position these plans put her family in, the fact that she'd be leaving the only home she'd ever known, her beloved family and all their riches, didn't register in twelve-year-old Carmel's brain. She simply wanted to be gone. She wasn't even put off with the order of having to spend six weeks 'preparing' with her grandmother for this 'mission'.

"Smile, Will," she urged. "This is exciting."

"This is dangerous," he said solemnly. "Does mother know?"

"Of course."

"Mother knows?" Carmel exclaimed, pouting slightly.

"It is necessary, Willas. The Lannisters cannot be allowed to prosper as they have, we cannot allow a Usurper to sit the throne."

"Technically, Aegon was a Usurper. He had no claim nor ties to Westeros."

"Back then, we were seven separate kingdoms. There was no one royal family, it was up for anyone with the guts to take it, but now, the Targaryens have ruled for hundreds of years. They are the backbone of Westeros, our history and culture. It is their throne."

"I see. And if you bring Viserys back here and win him that throne, House Tyrell will be amongst the most powerful families in the realm," he noted dryly.

"Yes, son, so you see!"

"We already are a powerful House, what need is there for more?"

"Will," Carmel interrupted. "Can you not see we are fighting for justice? Tywin Lannister had Elia and her children butchered! Robert Baratheon is a drunken fool, and his wife is only Queen of Ice. We will not last long under their incompetent rule. We must bring back the Targaryens since we cannot claim the throne for ourselves."

"And what do you know, Carmella? You're but a child who fancies herself and adventurer. People will die if we bring this boy back to Westeros. Most likely us."

"Don't be such a spoil-sport," Carmel retorted, folding her arms.

He cannot ruin this for me! This is my chance to be free, and explore, and not only that, help my family in the most important way possible! Live with the future King of Westeros! I must make him see things as I do.

"So you truly believe King Robert will rule well? That his children will prove good leaders?"

"Better than Aerys or his offspring," he brother replied.

"You can't know that, Will," Carmel sensed that she'd found a way to persuade him. "He could be the next Jahaerys, or Aegon. Let me go, and I will tell you if Viserys is worth warring for."

Silence echoed around the room as Carmel's words sunk into her brother's mind. She could almost taste the air of Essos, feel the scorching sun on her back.

"You will have to read extensively before you go," Willas finally sighed. "It is not some holiday, you'll most likely be living on the streets, begging for a living since we will not be able to send you money."

"I don't mind," Carmel gushed. "And it's not like I'll be alone. I'll have the king."

"That's my girl," Mace clapped. "Come, let us begin, we do not have time to waste."

Fifth Day of the Second Month of 291 AC

Lady Carmel Tyrell

"Is she ready?" The harsh voice of Oberyn Martell scratched at Carmel's ears.

"Yes," her grandmother answered, impatiently.

"She is sure this is what she wants to do? It will be years, decades even before she can return."

"She understands. This is what she wants," Carmel heard her grandmother's voice falter.

It had been hard leaving. Her father, who'd been the most enthusiastic about the plan, sobbed as she left for the final time, begged her to stay, her mother, who'd never wanted her to leave, had ignored the departure date for months, remained stoic and glassy as her eldest daughter waved goodbye, and her brother, Willas, stared upon her face for ages, before pulling her into a long hug and walking away. Lady Olenna had been the only one to remain strong. Carmel sensed the woman felt as upset as everyone else, but was the only one able to remain detached and solely focused on the plan. Plan. The word had become Carmel's worst enemy and best friend the past few months. It's all for our plan.

"Fine. Let us go. Come, Carmel."

"It's Carmella, actually," Carmella told the tanned man.

"That's a bit obvious, isn't it?"

Olenna shrugged. "She insisted. Says it must be something she'll answer to."

"Whatever. Maybe you shorten it to Elle once you arrive."

"Arrive where, exactly?"

"Tyrosh. It is where the king and the princess head for; there are some old families from Valyria who might hear their plight."

Tyrosh. Carmella knew everything there was to know about the place. Willas had made her read book after book after book on the Free Cities, and even a few about Slaver's Bay. She was ready.

"Then let's go."

"I will let you say goodbye to your grandmother while I fetch my children."

Once the man had left, Carmella turned to face her closest confidante, the one woman she'd looked up to in all her life. Tears slipped unbidden down her face and her lips quivered.

"Don't cry, child."

"I'm ready, right?"

"If you want to be," the withered woman said.

"Do you think this is the right thing?"

"For our House, yes. For you, for our family, I am not sure."

"I need this," Carmella said, to herself more than anything. "I want it."

"Then take it. Roam the Free Cities with the king and his sister. If he is not what we want, you have your fun and you come home. There is always a place for you."

And the two hugged.

Carmella of Westeros

For two months, Carmella—nicknamed Ella by Obara who had no time for long names—roamed the city of Myr with Oberyn Martell and his two baseborn children. And she most definitely learned more on the two short months with the Dornish trio than she'd ever learnt with her Maester and septa back in Highgarden: what plants to avoid if you wanted to keep your life, what mixture of plants could cure you if someone made an attempt at your life with poison, how to know whether a man is lying, if a man can be persuaded with seduction or money, and how to dodge thieves. She also picked up a few tricks with Obara's spear. Highgarden was easily forgotten in her daily—not so playful—spars with Nymeria, who held none of Garlan's kindness or innocent teasing. Even Oberyn would occasionally give Carmella a small survival skills lesson, which could range from sword-fighting to gauging which gender a person is physically attracted to. It was the one of the best two months of Carmella of Westeros' life.

III

Viserys and Daenerys stood not too far away, clutching each other's hands while the latter scanned the area with the curiosity only a six-year-old could possess. Carmella was not nervous. She'd watched them for weeks, she knew they were both becoming increasingly more desperate and starving as the days progressed. She'd heard Viserys soothe his sister with illuminating tales of their real home across the Narrow Sea. She had forty golden dragons that would keep them all well-fed for at least a month. Carmella approached the two.

"What are you looking at?" Viserys demanded, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"I believe I'm looking at Viserys Targaryen, the Third of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Daenerys smiled uncertainly at the familiar title, and Viserys quirked a regal eyebrow. Carmella sighed internally in relief. She had him.