"Shame; it appears he survived the battle," Oberyn Martell waited at the King's Gate alongside his paramour, niece, and bannermen. He'd taken only a few, fearing a possible trap, but it was enough for a show of force.
"Don't worry, Uncle; I know what to do." Arianne nodded, many of the surrounding peasants leering at her. Ellaria watched Oberyn with a concerned face.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" She questioned.
"I have waited half my lifetime for justice. I will not be denied it now." At a minimum, he would only leave with Clegane and Lorch's head. Tywin was temporarily out of reach, but not for long.
Dorne had considered joining the Starks when war broke out, but Oberyn and his brother held them responsible for Elia's death no less than Tywin Lannister. Ned had joined the rebellion that claimed her life. Oberyn held a brief consideration toward giving indirect support, though it ultimately amounted to nothing.
The Lannister host slowed down as they approached the Capital, Joffrey riding in the front, flanked by his Kingsguard. Behind them, Oberyn spotted two members
"Prince Oberyn, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Joffrey nodded from his horse. A man of steel, not the boy he had anticipated.
"I do apologize for the delay, but with the weather changing, travel is difficult," Oberyn lied. He'd intentionally timed it to where he and his niece would arrive at the same time. Arianne stepped forward, revealing as much cleavage as she could. "My niece, Arianne."
"Truly, you're even more beautiful than the stories." Joffrey looked down her neckline, as did most of his procession. Oberyn scanned their eyes, calculating how many he could kill during their distraction. He made a mental shake of the head; however tempting, he couldn't kill the King with so many around. "Please enjoy our hospitality. After such a long journey, you must be exhausted." Joffrey turned away from Arianne, less mesmerized than Oberyn hoped.
"Congratulations on your victory over the Starks." Oberyn looked over at them, heads bowed down. The former contender for the Throne still possessed spirit, but his mother appeared truly beaten.
"A hard-fought battle, but things should be settling down now. I can get to work improving all of Westeros. My father unfortunately left the realm in considerable disrepair and it is up to me to fix what he started." Oberyn raised an eyebrow at Joffrey's willingness to disparage his supposed father. Clearly, the boy was unaware of his true parentage.
"I am here due to your proposal: a match between yourself and my niece. I was unwilling to bring her here without escort, for I have not forgotten what happened to my sister when she was in the Capital." It had been almost eighteen years, but Oberyn's anger had not dimmed in the least.
"Yes, we will have much to discuss when the time comes. In the meantime, feel free to enjoy our hospitality. Chataya's establishment is the best in King's Landing, with a couple Dornish girls if you have a taste for home. I recommend Alayaya if you're looking for passion and a. . . willingness to experiment." Joffrey smirked at Ellaria.
"Thank you for keeping my welfare in mind." Oberyn studied him carefully.
"I've always been curious what it's like to be with a King," Arianne flirted but with calculating eyes behind it. "Perhaps we can have a. . . private meeting later."
"Who am I to say no to such an enticing offer?"
"I expect my nephew will be able to provide all the entertainment you want," Tyrion interrupted while Jaime chuckled and Tywin fumed. "He can satisfy even the tastes of Dorne."
"Ah, Tyrion. It's been many years since I last saw you." Oberyn nodded. Arianne hid her disgust behind a polite smile. "You were but a newborn babe last time. You haven't grown much since then, clearly."
"No one is more disappointed than I am," Tyrion quipped. "Save, perhaps for my Lord Father." Tywin observed the conversation with a cold expression.
"I've heard you're responsible for the tax on brothels and pubs. A few stories from the smallfolk."
"Those were my orders, and my Uncle merely followed my instructions," Joffrey informed, dismounting from his horse and looking Arianne over.
"The King has many duties," Tywin interjected. "I understand you have come a long way, but once everything has settled down, we can discuss the details."
"So soon? I'm enjoying meeting you at last, Your Grace." Arianne gave a slight bow, Joffrey looking down her neckline. So did Tyrion and most of those close enough to see it.
"The pleasure is all mine, My Lady." Joffrey stroked her arm for a moment. "Now I have surrender terms to dictate and a continent to stabilize. Once that is concluded, we can work out our proposal."
"I would expect you to make your new bride a higher priority, especially a woman so beautiful." Oberyn anticipated the Lannisters had changed the King's mind on the match. While he had no desire for a match, he could play up the affront to Arianne's honor.
"I would love nothing more than to spend time with her, but duty waits for no one." Joffrey avoided calling Arianne his bride.
"And justice? How long must I wait for that?" Oberyn swallowed his desire to kill Tywin where he stood. He had waited eighteen years. A few more weeks would make no difference.
"You'll soon see it." Joffrey clapped his shoulder. "We both know such an act cannot go unavenged." I know why you're really here were his real words.
"Then you understand why a brother's pain can fester. My older brother might have forgiven, but I am not so generous. Lannisters are not the only ones who pay their debts."
"Do remember where you are." Barristan and Balon moved to shield the King from any possible attacks. "We will continue this at a later time."
"I will ensure you have what you're looking for." Tywin moved his horse aside to allow Oberyn another look at the Starks. Joffrey and his men departed without another word. Oberyn noticed a subset among them, wearing different uniforms and a few of them carrying unfamiliar weapons. His mind considered the possibilities. "So what did you think of him?" Oberyn inquired once they were out of earshot. No doubt Joffrey's spies were listening to every word, however.
"He's not what I expected," Arianne's eyes darted around the city.
"No." Oberyn anticipated dealing with an arrogant, spoiled prick, doubly so because he'd won a major victory. With the Starks defeated, the Lannisters no longer faced serious opposition to their rule. . . or so they believed.
The wedding between him and Margaery isn't finalized yet, though it's only a matter of time. Oberyn looked over at his niece with a smirk. She would be able to distract Joffrey long enough to delay the alliance and if the Tyrells balked at catching them in bed together, all the better.
Joffrey might not have been like the rest of his family, but he was still a Lannister and tainted by their deeds. Oberyn intended to respond accordingly.
I will not let them hear me scream, Catelyn promised, hoping she could keep it. Joffrey had promised they would not be harmed, but she knew how little the King's promises were worth. Robb marched beside her, dark curses under his breath. Jaime and Barristan flanked them while Joffrey marched behind, an unreadable expression on his face.
"So when is this ceremony?" Robb got right to the point.
"In a couple of hours." Joffrey shrugged. "You two have become the talk of the Red Keep."
"Sansa!" Catelyn covered her mouth with her hand, no longer caring about proper decorum. Her daughter was naked under the sheets, complete with several dark red stab wounds. Sansa's chest moving up and down the only indication she was still alive.
"What kind of insult is this?" Robb spoke with quiet fury. "You try to murder my sister and force us to see your handiwork? I wish I'd have killed you in the training yard!"
"I know you're still grieving, so I'm going to pretend this once you didn't threaten me." Joffrey met his eyes without flinching. "Do consider your position before you open your mouth again." He turned to Jaime. "Allow them to visit however long they like. Court will be assembled when this meeting is concluded." Joffrey resumed staring at Robb. "I trust you can behave yourself. Lady Sansa won't be happy if you're executed."
Catelyn pressed her ear against Sansa's heart, listening to faint thumps emanating from her chest. She stroked her daughter's hair, tears in her eyes. Despite the circumstances, there was still a faint joy they had reunited. By the Seven, her daughter would survive.
"I hope you've been looking after her," Catelyn threatened the Grand Maester. Old as he was, she was confident she could strangle him before the Kingslayer could stop her.
"Of course, I have, my Lady," Pycelle doddered. "I have fed her honey three times a day, cleaned her wounds, and used maggots to remove the dead tissue. I have done all it is within my power to do." He got to his feet with an enormous groan.
"Thank you." Catelyn's tone was grudging but sincere. All she could do was pray for Sansa's recovery. Bran made it through. She will too.
"She's got the blood of the North within her," Robb tried to convince his mother as well as himself. He adjusted her blanket, lip curling at Sansa's wounds. Behind them, Jaime watched with his usual smile.
"You know, if I had not arrived when I did, she would not be lying here now," Jaime commented. "Never thought I'd save the life of a Stark."
"You're the one responsible for her condition in the first place," Robb looked ready to attack him. Jaime moved into a combat position, but did not draw his sword.
"And you think that makes up for you attempting to murder my son?" Catelyn couldn't decide whether to scream or cry. "For burning our lands and killing my husband?"
"You kidnapped my brother and your sister intended to murder him. Nor have I forgotten the rotten food, stones, and beatings your men inflicted during my captivity. Yet I took the time to save your precious Sansa from the eunuch. Perhaps you should show me a little gratitude."
"Gratitude? To you?" Had they not been hostages, Catelyn would have attacked him, ignoring his legendary skill with a blade. "You attempted to murder my son! An innocent boy who had done nothing to you! And you think because my daughter is unconscious instead of dead, I owe you something!"
"Tell me, Lady Catelyn, what would you have done were our positions reversed?" Jaime wore his smile, but his face went red. "If a boy had discovered something about you and your beloved Ned? Children can't keep secrets, even in King's Landing. If you knew his words could lead to the death of not only you, but the children you love, what would you have done?"
"I. . ." Catelyn wanted to scream in denial, but she would have done anything to protect them. If that involved murdering an innocent boy. . .
"I am sorry for what happened. Bran didn't deserve what happened to him, but I would make the same decision even knowing the consequences. So would you, even if your Stark honor doesn't allow you to admit it."
"We may have lost to you, but that does not mean you get to insult us." Catelyn's voice lacked its previous rancor. She would never forgive Jaime's actions, but. . . she privately admitted she didn't know what she would do under the same circumstances. If the Gods were kind, she would never find out.
"Actually, I can say whatever I want to you. You have no power to control me any longer. Don't think I've forgotten the hospitality I enjoyed." Catelyn knew the Kingslayer had been beaten and humiliated, with neither her nor her son doing anything to stop them. Jaime smirked at the implied threat.
After another hour of visiting Sansa, Catelyn prepared to walk into court. They couldn't avoid it forever. She gave a final kiss to her daughter's cheek and prepared herself for the worst. "Robb, do not do anything to endanger yourself or Sansa." Catelyn feared her son's temper would get the best of him.
"I should have won that battle," Robb grumbled but lowered his head. He had made an error and now they paid the price for it. The Vale still had military strength, but Catelyn no longer saw the point in fighting. It would only lead to further tragedy.
Hundreds of people awaited them in court, eyes on her and Robb. Catelyn told herself not to shrink from their arrogant faces. Joffrey awaited them on the Iron Throne, in his glory. "Good to see you here at last," he bragged. "It seems the reputation of Northerners was an exaggerated one." Laughter echoed throughout the room.
Robb's face turned bright red. Catelyn knew he wasn't about to let things go without a little humiliation. She put a hand on his shoulder to restrain him from saying something foolish. Joffrey raised his hand, gesturing for the others to remain quiet. "However, I am not an unreasonable man. I will spare your lives, provided you agree to the terms I mentioned before. Do you?"
"I do, Your Grace." Catelyn bowed before him. With clenched teeth, Robb proclaimed the same.
"Do you denounce the false rumors of my parentage?" Joffrey thumped his fingers against the Iron Throne.
"Yes, Your Grace." Catelyn and Robb spoke together. She wasn't sure whether they were true, wondering if even Cersei could be so mad as to bear children from her brother.
"Do you swear, from this day until your last day, that I am the true King of the Seven Kingdoms?"
"I do," Catelyn made sure her voice carried across the entire court. She intended to give Joffrey no reason to kill her children. Robb kneeled in silence, stone-faced. She gave him a discreet nudge to the ribs.
"I do, Your Grace," Robb was all diplomacy but his eyes told a different story.
"Then so long as the Starks and the North continue to abide by the terms I set, your lives will be spared. Fail to meet your obligations and you will receive the maximum penalty. Am I understood?"
"I understand you completely, Your Grace."
"Your Grace, if I may ask a favor." Robb bowed for the first time. Joffrey raised an eyebrow. "If you must hold a hostage in the Red Keep, take me. Do not punish my mother for the actions I chose. She implored me to make peace with you earlier."
"Then you should have listened. No, you will return to Winterfell, where you will be subordinate to a Warden more loyal to the Crown. Lord Bolton is anxious to receive you, no doubt." Robb could do nothing but obey.
This was her home now, to live out the rest of her days at a hostage. Her brother and Uncle would soon be forced to submit as well. At least she was able to see Sansa again.
Daenerys paced through the Great Pyramid of Meereen in a fury, flanked by her loyal bloodriders. She muttered to herself, not caring what kind of display it provided to those she had conquered.
This is not what I wanted! Daenerys had freed the slavers, who worshipped her as a result. She'd expected that by taking control of Slaver's Bay, the horrible institution would be destroyed for good. Daenerys refused to turn her back when witnessing such suffering.
Only it hadn't gone as she planned. Many slaves, especially older, educated slaves, pleaded to be allowed to sell themselves back into slavery. Unable to refuse them anything in their desperation, Daenerys agreed, though she watched their masters as closely as she could for potential harm. They had few better options available to them.
Many others still worked for their former masters, given a small salary to give the appearance of freedom. In practice, however, they were still slaves. Daenerys could do nothing about it, since it was the only method of supporting themselves. All three cities' primary income came from the slave trade and as Daenerys outlawed it, Meereen was suffering.
Worst of all, Astapor and Yunkai had reinstituted slavery the moment she left, the former slaves gleeful at the prospect of becoming masters. Daenerys could hardly keep Meereen from starving, let alone force freedom down their throats. How am I going to break this Meereenese Knot? Trapped in Slaver's Bay, she might never be able to claim the Iron Throne.
Daenerys observed the nobles and former slaves. Most told her what she wanted to hear, but she was certain at least a few of them belonged to the Sons of the Harpy. Her Unsullied were unmatched on the battlefield, but had little clue how to fight against sneak attacks. Several had already been killed and she had little clue as to whom was responsible.
Daario, whom she'd taken as a lover, suggested slaughtering all the nobles, down to the last child. Daenerys balked at that, refusing to punish the innocent, but she had yet to come up with an alternative. Having a few put to the question had accomplished nothing.
"Follow me," Daenerys instructed her guards. Strong Belwas and her bloodriders traded tales of combat, arguing over who was the superior fighter. She marched down the Pyramid, intent on at least seeing her dragons. Drogon was her favorite, but all three were her children, and more precious to her than anyone.
As she walked through the streets, even some former slaves gave her hateful glares. No one dared to act openly, but Daenerys felt the stares nonetheless. Her bloodriders looked ready to repay their scorn with violence and it took a gentle shake of the head to dissuade them. Slaughtering people for their opinions would alienate what allies she possessed.
Daenerys looked up to see one of her dragons in the sky. At such a distance, she couldn't tell which one it was. All three could be ridden and were of fighting size, though still vulnerable to spears and especially scorpions. Daenerys didn't think it wise to use them in combat.
Just use the dragons to kill them all! A vicious voice echoed in Daenerys' head. It was a more tempting prospect every day. They were cowards skulking in the night, killing freed sullies and her Unsullied, then pretending to be loyal servants.
However strong the temptation to kill all the nobles, Daenerys knew she had to resist. She was a liberator, not someone who replaced one tyrant with another. And things would improve over time. Change was always difficult.
Twenty of the Unsullied stood guard over the dragon pits. Even if her children had grown large enough to look after themselves, a mother always worried. Without a word, they allowed her to pass, staring at her with grateful faces. "Thank you all for protecting them," Daenerys smiled, making sure they knew of her gratitude.
Drogon was the biggest of all, his black scales visible from the moment Daenerys entered the fighting pits. Viserion curled himself around the stadium seats, gulping down a dead horse. Daenerys turned around and instructed her bodyguards to stay back. With their continued growth, her children were no longer so accepting of strangers.
Rheagal circled the stadium, disappearing from Daenerys' sight every few moments. A brief thud told her he had landed inside, but despite his considerable size, she could not locate him. He made no further sounds, hiding himself from his mother's view.
Daenerys approached Drogon until she stood only a few feet away, watching him eat a pair of human corpses. Bodies of people and animals piled up quickly and dragons required a large amount of food. It appeared an easy way to dispose of them. My sun and stars. . . She grieved for Khal Drogo, even after so much time. She grieved for Jorah, a noble warrior who saved her from the Usurper's assassin.
She reached out to touch Drogon, only for him to roar mere inches away from her face. Daenerys jumped back and fell into the dirt, momentarily terrified her child would harm her. Rheagal jumped to her defense, while Viserion observed with seeming indifference. Apparently satisfied his message had been received, Drogon resumed eating the dead horse.
"Dragons are not pets, Khalessi," Bennero reminded, moving forward toward Drogon with his hand raised. His eyes glowed red for a brief period. Drogon roared, but after a few moments, calmed.
"How did you do that?" Daenerys demanded.
"Dragons are very intelligent, perhaps more intelligent than humans in their own way. You are their mother, which they know, but a dragon is not a slave."
"Thank you." Daenerys didn't think any of her dragons would harm her, but as they grew, they became more rebellious.
"Only one rider has ever been bonded to a single dragon. Possessing a bond with three at once is something none of your ancestors were ever able to accomplish.
That night, her sleep was interrupted by Strong Belwas and Grey Worm screaming at her bloodriders, demanding to be let into her chambers. With a groan, Daenerys pulled herself out of Daario's arms and got dressed as quickly as she was able. This better be important. "What is the meaning of this?" Daenerys crossed her arms, hoping she was wrong.
"Khalessi. . . there has been another attack!" Belwas declared, scars still visible in the dim light.
"How many have been killed?" Fury bubbled within her.
"Seventeen Unsullied have been ambushed, Khalessi, and thirty have been injured." Grey Worm kept his voice even as he always did.
"I've been listening in on those in court," Missandei contributed. "No one has bragged about taking part, but many seem confident in their success."
"Khalessi, do you recall the discussion we've had previously?" Daario grinned, playing around with his knife. "Perhaps now it is time to revisit it."
"The answer is still no." Killing the nobles became more tempting with the constant attacks, however. Daenerys had yet to harm any of the child hostages she had taken to force their compliance. She couldn't punish them for the crimes of their parents.
"What do you want us to do, Khalessi?" Grey Worm inquired, loyal as always.
"From now on, none of the Unsullied are to travel anywhere alone. They travel in groups. Daario, I trust your men can work behind the scenes and gather information."
"I'm at your command." Daario bowed, eyes glinting. "None of your enemies will long survive."
"I will not concede anything to them. They think to intimidate me, to convince me to reopen the fighting pits and allow slavery once again. They are wrong." Daenerys considered her options. The Unsullied were excellent fighters, but possessed minimal skill at finding hidden enemies. Daario's Second Sons would have to do the job.
"Khalessi, there is someone in the city who is said to see the future," Belwas suggested. "Perhaps you could visit her."
"Nonsense and trickery, nothing more," Daario sneered.
"Thank you for your advice." Daenerys gave a slight nod. However, she had little to lose and a possible gain to be made. "Perhaps we can do that now."
"Well, I've never been able to deny a beautiful woman what she desires. I will escort you there." Belwas and her bloodriders insisted on coming along as well.
"Who is this person who claims to see the future?" Daenerys knew magic existed, else her dragons would not have been born. Someone who could see what was to come, however. . . many were either frauds or fools.
"She claims to serve the Lord of Light," Daario appeared unconvinced, putting his arms around her. Daenerys removed herself from his grip, not wanting such a display during a serious situation.
"Then perhaps I should see her after all." The alternative was to murder children, something Daenerys wished to avoid unless there was no other option. I am the blood of the dragon. She would prevail in Slaver's Bay, one way or another. "I trust you know the way."
"No harm will come to you so long as I draw breath," Strong Belwas proclaimed. Daario refused to come along, which her bloodriders were ready to kill him for. Only a slight tinge of nervousness penetrated his otherwise confident demeanor.
Daenerys kept her pace quiet, though so many surrounding her would attract attention. Not everyone was asleep and she knew some of those who swore loyalty spied for the Sons of the Harpy. Even at night, Meereen was bright, torches lighting the main roads. A few sounds could be heard among those who did not dare to conduct their business while the sun stayed aloft. Daenerys saw no need to cover up, not with sweat pooling up on her skin. Her bloodriders muttered about the use of magic, but did not attempt to dissuade her.
I hope this will get me somewhere, Daenerys had yet to discover how to untangle the Meereenese knot and she still had Yunkai and Astapor to regain control of. Destroying slavery and regaining her rightful throne sometimes appeared too great a burden for a single woman.
"It is here, Khalessi." Strong Belwas pointed to a hut with a small torch inside. Daenerys sniffed, unsure if she had been given the correct directions. However, a woman with red eyes appeared before a word was uttered.
"A pleasure to see you at last, Mother of Dragons," she greeted. Her bloodriders moved forward, but she gave them an amused smile. "My name is Kinvara, servant of the Lord of Light. I knew you would arrive soon."
"Thank you for taking the trouble to speak with me." The woman stood up to her full height, heartbeat steady.
"Come into my humble home and we will find the answers you seek." Kinvara gestured for Daenerys to follow. She found herself almost compelled to follow the woman's instructions. Daenerys pushed past the beads while those who accompanied her studied Kinvara for any danger. Her home possessed only a single table with a flame at the center. She saw a few shapes within it, but could not make them out.
"I am. . . at a crossroads," Daenerys' shoulders slumped. "I know I'm destined to rule the Seven Kingdoms, but I'm unsure what to do next. I want to know my future."
"Be cautious, Mother of Dragons." Kinvara sat down and gestured for Daenerys to sit in the chair next to hers. "Many wish to know their futures, but few are prepared for what they hear." Her eyes stared into the flames. "This will take some time, but I require patience." She whispered in a language Daenerys couldn't understand, stroking her palm.
"How long is this going to take?" Daenerys felt her skepticism return.
"You don't believe, do you?" Kinvara let her go and searched through the flames. "But I know you've been told you are barren, that your dragons are the only children you will ever have." Daenerys' eyes widened.
"How did you know that?" Daenerys jumped out of her chair, forcing back her fear. Even with her bloodriders outside, she no longer felt safe in the woman's presence.
"The Lord of Light sees many things, Daenerys." The flames grew until they nearly reached the roof. "And my powers grow as the long night approaches. You will play a role in the war to come. That much I see."
"What else do you see?" Daenerys attempted to contain her eagerness. She spoke in a similar way to Bennero, who told her every day she was destined to destroy the plague of slavery.
Kinvara did not give an immediate answer. She moved from the flames to Daenerys' palms, studying them from every angle, muttering to herself. "Interesting, most interesting." She paused for a few more moments before speaking. "There is a seed of darkness within you, waiting for the opportunity to sprout. You can achieve great things, perhaps." Kinvara's face turned from neutral to frightened.
"What do you mean?" Daenerys wanted more. She was supposed to be able to tell the future, but Kinvara told little she did not already know. A seed of darkness?! Ridiculous! She wanted to bring justice to the world, not a new tyranny.
"That is all I am able to tell you, Mother of Dragons." Kinvara backed away. "I apologize for being unable to give you more."
"There's more you want to say. Out with it!" Daenerys learned through her experience with court politics when someone held back the truth.
"Some things are best left unsaid, Khalessi." Kinvara turned her head away.
"If there is something I need to know, some peril I need to avoid, I demand you tell me!"
"I know what you want of me. You want me to tell you there is a great destiny ahead."
"I want to know the truth."
"Well, take this for what little good it will do you." Kinvara closed her eyes and shuddered. "When I look upon you, Daenerys Targaryen, I see a great hand reaching across the land. That hand is your hand. And I hear sounds, the sounds of millions calling your name."
"My followers?"
"Your victims."