The Wrong Prince.
Chapter Four
Oberyn yawned and stretched his arms out before he rose from the bed in the brothel, untangling himself from the limbs of the whores that he had gone to bed with the night before. Doran had sworn him to restrain himself while most of their guests from beyond the mountains and Oberyn had gone along with it, and when most of the Westerlanders had returned to their homes Oberyn had decided to catch up on lost time.
As soon as he was out of the bed, the blond male whore that he had taken in it rolled over and tangled with the olive-skinned female whore. His cock twitched with interest and for a moment he wanted to climb back into the bed and stay there for a few more days, at the very least but he knew that if he didn't turn up back within the castle today then he would never hear the end of it.
So he pulled on his trousers and a linen shirt and walked out of the room and into the brothel's common area where his cousin Ser Manfrey was waiting for him as well as some of his friends around a low table, almost every brothel within in the shadow city served food for breaking fast and Oberyn was very glad for that as after the night that he had had, he needed something to try and distract himself from the headache he was suffering.
"Bread and snake stew good woman," Oberyn called to the brothel madam as he threw himself down onto a pile of pillows next to the table, his cousin glanced over at him and then rolled his eyes at him.
"Cousin, it's nearly midday."
"Is it!?" Oberyn asked, with a smirk on his face. "Why, what a shock? I must be getting older, I never used to get up before evenfall before!"
There was a gentle titter of laughter around the table, more polite than actually amused but Oberyn had only just gotten up so he could hardly be expected to be at his best. The brothel madam brought forth the bowl of stew and the bread that he had asked for, the bread was golden from being smeared with butter before being placed in the oven to bake and tasted of garlic, mace, and ground-up pepper seeds and the stew was just how Oberyn liked it, so firey and rich that for half a moment you could be fooled into thinking that you had put a cinder of wildfire into your mouth.
He was about to ask for a flagon of wine to wash it down but he knew that if he did that then their cousin would tell all to Doran and so he asked for a flagon of milk and honey instead, in truth he was glad of the sweet taste of the drink as well as the way it soothed his mouth from the heat in a way that wine would not. It was a part of enjoying food that he had missed most greatly.
For the past few moons turns the food within the Old Palace had been too mild for his taste, he had understood though had not liked it when the great throng of men and women from the Westerlands had taken residence with Sunspear and the cooks had been reducing the spice within it. Not that it had done any good as every day that they had been here there had been complaints of sore stomachs and having to spend hours upon hours over their chamber pots.
Even though almost all of them were gone the food still did not have the same heat as it had before and there was only one reason for that, his brother's wife had not been able to handle the heat that came with their food, and thus Doran had ordered the cooks to not use so much when it came to the cooking which meant that all the food that had been served within the castle was too mild for Oberyn.
He had asked Doran why he didn't just tell the cooks to make his wife's meals separate, and that question got him a lecturing that made it seem like their dear mother had never died. It had gone the gambit of being more work for the cooks that wasn't fair on them, to the point that he wanted his wife to be as comfortable as possible as she adjusted to her new home and Oberyn's favorite of the old standards from whenever he had gotten a scolding, he was a grown man and if he wished to eat differently then he might go and become a guest of someone else's castle.
Oberyn had kept his mouth shut since then to save himself from more scolding, that did not mean that he was happy about it. When it came to Cersei Lannister Oberyn wasn't happy about any of it, he wasn't happy how the woman simply being here seemed to hurt Mellario and he was not happy that Doran had done nothing to fight against it or change the law that her mother had passed to stop the Prince of Dorne from being to married to someone outside of Westeros.
Doran had explained to him why he could not repeal or change the law but Oberyn would not have let that stop him if he had been the Prince of Dorne and Mellario had been the woman that he loved, he wouldn't have given up for a single second and he would have changed every law regardless of what anyone said.
"Prince Doran will be wondering where you are cousin," Ser Manfrey said as he reached for his cup. "We should be making our way back to the castle before much longer."
"As my brother is so quick to point out I am a grown man," Oberyn told his cousin with a roll of his eyes before he tore a piece from the flatbread and dipped it into the stew, and popped it into his mouth, enjoying the taste of the spices on his tongue before the comforting warmth engulfed his mouth. "I see no reason not to stay here for a few more hours."
"Fine," Ser Manfrey said with a roll of his eyes. "But if we are not gone from here before dark then I will drag you back to the castle myself. I mean it Oberyn."
"I am certain that you do, you worry too much cousin. Did you even have a whore last night? You should have done," Oberyn waved the madam over once again and placed a few gold coins in her hand. "A whore for my cousin."
"I do not want a whore Oberyn."
"A whore for me then."
"No Oberyn," Ser Manfrey said. "Forgive my cousin madam, you may keep that coin as payment for his stew and as well as a favor for the fine service we have partaken of through the night and this morning but we shall all be moving on before too long."
The brothel owner nodded and moved on and Oberyn glared at his cousin. "You never let me have any fun."
"You had more than enough of that the night before." His cousin's voice was as dry as any desert and that got a much more hearty laugh than Oberyn's jest had. "Eat your stew and drink your milk and gather yourself cousin, but I shall not let you spend another night here. It's time enough to return, there is starting to be talk in the Old Palace that you are avoiding your brother."
It's not him that I'm avoiding. Oberyn thought to himself as he took another spoonful of stew. "I am my brother's truest and most loyal man." It was not the first time that he had needed to say those words, Oberyn would never take up arms against his brother, no matter how much the older man could vex him. But he knew that some of the Lords in Dorne thought that he could be convinced to do so.
Doran had never been as well-loved in Dorne as their mother had been, to be sure he still had time to change that but earning the people and the lord's love had always come easier to Oberyn and Oberyn had always been the strong in terms of arms, there had been plots and schemes to make Oberyn the Prince of Dorne instead and Oberyn had always turned them down. No one had ever been fool enough to approach him directly with their treason, if they had then they would be a head on a spike by now.
But Oberyn knew that they existed, and so did Doran. And if Doran had reason to believe that he was part of one of them then he would no doubt find himself shut up in the Spear Tower until his brother decided what to do with him and so Oberyn had always made it clear that he would always be Doran's man, he would never betray him, that was all the truth he knew.
No, it was Lord Tywin's daughter that he wished to avoid, The woman was hardly good company, but even if she had been Oberyn would still not wish to be around her. He would never do anything to hurt Doran but in his mind, it was Mellario who should be in the place that the Lannister girl had claimed. Oberyn could remember the day that Doran had brought her back from the Free Cities, his older brother had always seemed to him a distant figure, there were ten years between them and he had been squiring at Salt Shore when Oberyn had been a boy.
And even when he was there Doran had been their mother's heir, he had to learn how to rule and had little time to play with him and Elia or any of the friends that they had surrounded themselves with at the Water Gardens. And even when he did have the time it was often spent reading, Elia had always loved to read but Oberyn had never had the patience for it. Always something better to be doing.
And most of all his brother had always been dutiful, had always treated their mother's word and her commands as law and so when he had brought back a woman from the Free Cities to wed and had defied their mother at every turn when she had made it her goal to ensure that their wedding would not happen.
Mother had won in the end, of course, she always did but to see that his brother had a bit of defiance in him, that he would not send Mellario away, it had earned him admiration and respect from Oberyn.
And he liked Mellario, she was not a great beauty by any means but she was handsome and elegant and there was something about her that commanded the attention of all who knew her. She would have been a good wife for his brother and an even better consort and yet she would have to content herself with simply being Doran's paramour. There was honor and influence to have in that role, to be sure, but it wasn't a wife.
Cersei Lannister was his older brother's wife and they all had to live with that. She wasn't boring, he would say that much for her. He had been worried that his brother's wife would be a well-mannered, perfectly courteous and that the realities of living in Dorne would have her be shocked and fainting every other moment, shielding herself away by hiding in her chambers.
Cersei wasn't that, Oberyn wouldn't say he would have preferred that, to be honest, but the woman was testing his patience. She was an unpleasant woman and Oberyn did not know how his brother had not strangled her yet, he would have if he had to be married to her. She held all in contempt and thought she was clever in how she hide it but Oberyn could see through better than her, she hated Dorne and she hated everyone in it.
Doran had to see it as well, he couldn't be blind to her.
"How is Prince Doran?" asked Symon Santagar, the heir to Spottswood. "I hope that he has found joy in his beautiful new bride, and once again I wish to apologize for my father not being able to attend the wedding."
"Is his chest still troubling him?" Manfrey asked.
"I'm afraid so yes."
Liar. They all knew it but none of them said it aloud, Alistair Santagar was as healthy as an ox and could have made the wedding if it was as far away as Yronwood or Wyl. The only reason he had not presented himself to the wedding at Sunspear was that he did not approve of a northern match. The knight of Spottswood was not the only one, their halls of the Old Palace had been crowded but not as crowded as they could have been.
Still, Oberyn played his part, danced the dance, and never missed a step. "You don't have to keep apologizing my friend," honestly the man had been at it since he had arrived as if saying the words over and over again would make his father's poorly hidden insult seem any sweeter to them. "Your father is a dear friend to House Martell and loyal to Dorne, none can doubt that and certainly not us. I might visit Spottswood to speak to your father, to ensure to him that he never need doubt in his place in Dorne's affections."
And maybe he would sprinkle something in his cup when he visited, his chest complaint might suddenly grow a great deal worse.
"And he seems happy enough, and does his duty." Happiness and duty, Mellario was his happiness and the Lannister girl was his duty. Oberyn knew that his brother took Cersei to bed every night, the sooner to get an heir on her the better, but it was Mellario whom he spent his days with. Cersei Lannister sat by his side on the duel thrones within the Tower of the Sun and at feasts but it was Mellario whom he took into his solar, Mellario who he listened to for counsel, Mellario who he seemed to relish in kissing.
They stayed within the brothel for a few more hours, longer than Manfrey would have liked but not as long as Oberyn would have wished, and the small group began to make their way back to the Old Palace. Slowly.
He might have to return to the castle today but Oberyn saw no reason to hurry and there was always something new to see or do, there were a thousand hidden courtyards and squares within the walls, the city had been quiet for a while after the westermen had left for their homelands considering all of the parties and events that had happened while they were there but not it seemed that the pulse of life here was returning to normal.
There was a small farce in one of the courtyards that he enjoyed very much indeed, a trope of dwarves were dressed as animals and the lead dwarf, dressed as a snake, slipped in through a crack of a great mountain to steal the greatest treasure of the king of the lions. It was foolish, and quite clearly meant to flatter Doran which was not going to work as Doran never had time for follies like this, but Oberyn enjoyed it.
After that, they headed straight back to the castle, if only because Oberyn could tell that his cousin was starting to get truly annoyed with him. As they got closer to the castle walls the more affluent citizens of the city called down to him from their windows and Oberyn couldn't hide the smile that tugged at his lips if he tried, he had always loved Sunspear and it was good to know that he was loved back.
As soon as they were through the castle gates an excited squeal drew his attention. "Uncle!"
Oberyn grinned and swooped Arianne up into his arms as she came running up to him on chubby little legs. "Hello sunflower," he spoke before pressing a kiss to the bastard girl's nearest cheek. "What are doing on your own, where is your septa? If you get yourself hurt then your mother will bring down all the walls with her wails."
"Septa Lasaria fell asleep," the young girl said and Oberyn was not surprised to hear it. Dear old Lasaria had been in service as Sunspear for nearly fifty years and had to be pushing eighty, at least. The woman had been entrusted with the care of all the baseborn children of House Martell, another septa might have balked at that but Lasaria had taken well to the task and seen it admirably done throughout the long years of her service.
But she was an old woman now, and the children seemed to grow younger and rowdier with each new lot to fill the nursery, and Oberyn knew that Arianne Sand was more than enough trouble all on her own to try and keep an eye on. "Arianne," Oberyn began, trying to sound stern. "You knew that you are not to leave your Septa's side for anything, and you are not to wander the castle on your own. A great deal of harm could come to you."
"I know," Arianne pouted as she kicked her legs back and forth as hung in her uncle's grip. "But I was bored!"
Oberyn could not help himself when he heard that, he laughed. "Well fair enough then!" He was an uncle, it was for Arianne's mother and father to scold her and for him to dote. So he hefted the girl up higher so that she might ride on his shoulders as he walked about the courtyard, the little girl's breathless giggles more than enough to get him to ignore the ache in his shoulders.
As he walked deeper into the courtyard Oberyn heard the sound of steel clashing against steel and when he looked over to where two people were fighting he was shocked to see who was fighting.
Well, one of them at least. Ser Domeric Tvon had been a household knight for House Martell since Oberyn's grandfather's day and while the man's hair had long since gone to grey he still had strength in his arms with shoulders that would not disgrace an ox. The man had been the master-at-arms at Sunspear since before Oberyn had been born and the training of green boys and girls had always been one of his duties that he had always performed admirably.
No, the surprise came from who he was sparring with. With her long golden hair tied back into a long braid behind her that caught the sunlight every single time she moved, Cersei Lannister was dressed in a white silk tunic and linen trousers and had a blunted sword clutched tight in her hand and was meeting every single one of Ser Domeric's blows, not that it was hard considering the old man was using blows that it would be easy for a child to meet.
A wicked idea entered Oberyn's mind, and it was too fun to even consider resisting.
He lifted Arianne from his shoulders and placed her down on the ground, "Go and find your mother sunflower." He spoke before he ruffled her hair before he walked over to the sparring partners.
"A lion does have claws, isn't that how the song goes?" He asked once he was close enough for both Ser Domeric and Cersei to be able to hear him. Ser Domeric spun to face him and bent his head, lowering his sword as he did so.
Cersei Lannister did not drop her sword and frowned at him, so heavy a frown that it twisted her lovely face into something ugly. Lannister's pride ran deep under her skin, thick as bile and poisoned. "A lion still has claws." She corrected him as if Oberyn did not already know that.
"Ah, that was it. Well, either way, you are quite clearly proving that song correct." Oberyn said with a grin as he gestured to the sword that Cersei was holding. "Tell me good Ser Domeric, is my brother's wife as fierce as a lioness in combat?"
The poor old knight glanced between the both of them and Oberyn would have taken more pity on him if it wasn't so funny, the old man cleared his throat before he spoke. "Princess Cersei is very eager to learn Prince Oberyn, I am quite shocked in truth as most northern ladies who come to Dorne and marry into the great houses are not interested in learning any form of combat."
"My uncle Tygett did train me a little in using a sword when I was a girl," Cersei put in as she looked down at her sword, a softer frown crossed her features then. "When my father found out about that he banished my uncle from Casterly Rock for a year and a half, and when he came back there were no more lessons."
Tywin Lannister was a prat, it was hardly something that Oberyn was surprised to hear. "Well, it's a good thing that you are no longer under your father's rule then. Here in Dorne you may learn to use whatever weapon suits you best, My own mother wore a sword on her hip and no man dared to question her about it."
Cersei looked confused at that. "Did her husband not have anything to say about that?"
Oberyn laughed, and the look that the Lannister woman got on her face at that only made him laugh harder. "My mother was the Princess of Dorne, my father was only her consort. If he did have an issue with her carrying a weapon, which he did not to be clear, then there was little that he could do about it. That's something you should learn quickly, sister, as the consort of the Prince of Dorne you are held up higher than most anyone but trying to gainsay my brother will not end well for you."
Cersei Lannister stared at him for a few long moments, and this time she was the one who laughed. "Do you mean to shock me, brother? I am not surprised to hear that Dorne, for all it pretends, is much like everywhere else. My opinion does not matter at all compared to my husband's, how would that be different if I had stayed in the Westerlands? In the end, men are men, and I imagine that if your father could have gotten away with it he would have beat your mother down every time she said no to him."
"An interesting theory," was all that Oberyn said but his blood was boiling in his veins and he wanted to throttle the woman for speaking of his father like that. She did not know him, his father was always gentle and loved to read more than fight and he never liked hurting anyone he spent most of his days fretting over Elia, to make sure that she would not grow ill. "You are quite wrong, of course."
"Oh, I'm certain," Cersei said as she stepped closer to him and raised her sword, it was blunted steel which meant it was not as dangerous as a sharpened sword but a sword was still a sword and he had to admit that he was surprised that Ser Domeric did not have her start with a wooden blade, and rested it against his cheek. "Would you like to spar with me, Prince Oberyn?"
"Oh yes," Oberyn hissed. "Ser Domeric, your sword."
"My prince, I do not think that-"
"I do not care what you think! Give me your sword now!"
Ser Domeric blanched and handed his sword over at the same time as Ser Manfrey stepped up. "Oberyn, do not do this."
"I do not know what it is you mean cousin, I am simply going to have a friendly sparring match with my dear goodsister," Oberyn said as he took the sword from Ser Domeric. "What could be wrong with that?"
Ser Manfrey frowned at him and then stomped off towards the castle, no doubt to go and fetch Doran which meant that Oberyn would have to make this quick. He raised his blade towards Cersei and beckoned her forward with his free hand.
Cersei roared and swung at him.
Honestly, fighting a green boy who had just picked up a wooden training sword might have offered Oberyn a greater challenge. A lack of bravery was not the other woman's problem, nor was a lack of willingness to learn how to fight but it was clear that Cersei had an idea of what combat was and if she ever did need to fight then that idea would probably get her killed.
Oberyn blocked her every blow, everyone she telegraphed for him. And with each one that he blocked, it was clear that the woman's frustration was growing, just as he had expected it that it would.
She lunged at him then, and Oberyn stepped to the side and reached out to grab a hold of her long braid and pull on it harshly, a loud cry of pain burst out of her and Oberyn stepped close to her and put the flat of his blade against her long, pale neck. "Such lovely hair you have dear sister, but a bit of advice from here on out. If you wish to use a weapon, either tie your hair up or cut it short. A braid is just something for an enemy to pull on."
"Oberyn!" Doran's voice called out and Oberyn let go of Cersei's braid and stepped away from her and smiled at his brother as he walked over to them, his expression as dark as a storm.
"My lady, are you alright?" Doran asked Cersei, his voice soft as he offered his hand for her to take but Cersei pushed his hand away and jumped up to her feet, throwing her sword down to the ground and storming back inside.
Doran watched her go for a moment before he turned to face Oberyn. "My solar. Now."
Oberyn followed after him through the Old Palace until they arrived in his older brother's solar, Doran took his seat behind the desk and adjusted some parchments that had been on top of it that looked as though they had been disturbed when he had risen from behind it. Doran dipped his quill in the ink and started to write on a fresh piece.
Oberyn knew that if he sat down without waiting for his brother to invite him to do so would irritate him, so of course, he did just that. When Doran looked up to glare at him Oberyn met it with a smile. "Are you proud of yourself?" His brother asked him.
"Often yes," Oberyn hummed as he placed his feet on Doran's desk. "Do you mean about anything specific?"
"Oberyn," Doran sighed as he brought his free hand up to rub at his eyes. "You know what I am speaking of, what were you thinking? If you had hurt her then it could have been a war between us and the Westerlands, Lord Tywin is firm friends with King Aerys and he might have marched on Dorne with all the other kingdoms at his back."
Oberyn laughed. "Please, from what I've heard it's been a good many years since Lord Tywin and the king could be called friends. Regardless I had no intention of hurting her, it was a blunted blade and all I did was block her blows and pull her hair. A bit of shame maybe, but nothing that can't be lived past. Besides, if you did not want her to be put at risk then you should not have allowed her to train with a weapon."
"She asked me if she could and I saw no reason to deny her, she had been denied training with any sort of weapon since she had been a girl and if it made her a bit happier then why not, Ser Domeric has trained hundreds upon hundreds to use a sword and I know that he would know how hard to push her and not hurt her. But it seems I cannot depend on mine own brother to not cause trouble within my household."
"I am the Prince of Dorne Oberyn, I need order and peace from those around me lest my lords think me weak or foolish." Doran shook his head then and folded up the piece of parchment he had been writing on and sealed it with bright orange wax. "I am going to send you to King's Landing, Elia can deal with you and gods help her with it."
"King's Landing!?" Oberyn cursed and jumped to his feet, "No, I will not go!"
"You do not have a choice," Doran told him, not looking up at him as he reached for another piece of parchment. "I am surprised at this reaction, truth be told. I had thought that you would be happy about this. It is hardly a secret that you have always preferred Elia's company to mine."
There was no point in pretending like that was not the truth as they both knew it was, he loved his brother but he had always been closer to Elia with only a year being between them and he would have stayed with her in King's Landing but Elia had been the one to insist that he return to Sunspear as she needed to learn to live with her husband and at court on her own.
But to be sent away from his home because of that woman, he could not bear that. "I would prefer a swarm of stinging hornets to your company at the moment," Oberyn spat at him. "I refuse to go."
"Let me be quite plain, you will be leaving Sunspear tonight. Either with our cousin giving you an honorable escort to the capital as befits a Prince of Dorne or as a prisoner as I send you to Ghaston Grey where you will remain until I am certain that you will cause no more mischief, the choice is yours, little brother."
He meant it, Oberyn realized as he stared at his brother. Ghaston Grey was a punishment reserved for the worst criminals in all of Westeros and his brother was threatening to send him there just so he could have peace within his home. For a moment he consider choosing the crumbling castle in the middle of the sea, it might have gotten him away from Sunspear but let his brother deal with the guilt.
But he doubted his brother would feel any anyway. "Fine," he relented. "I will go to King's Landing." In truth he had never loved Elia being alone there anyway, he had missed her greatly regardless and it would be good to see her again after so very long.
Oberyn turned and was about to leave the solar when he opened his mouth to speak. "All this for a woman you do not love, do not want, and do not even know."
"I know that she is my wife, I know that she is the princess consort and I know that both those things must be respected. My friends must respect that and so too must my enemies, and you need to respect it as well even for all that you do not like her. When you understand that then you may return from the capital and I will greet you warmly as my brother and gladly so. But not before I have seen you kiss my wife's cheek and kiss her ring."
Oberyn scoffed and stormed out, making sure to slam the door as he left the solar.
That night, after he had packed and Ser Manfrey had come to collect him from his rooms with an escort of armed guards, they rode out from Sunspear and Oberyn looked back at his home as his steed came to a stop atop a dune. It was beautiful, it was his home and he was the one that was being forced out. For a moment he wanted to ride back, to fall to his knees and beg Doran to not send him away. He even considered kissing Cersei Lannister's ring now and making an end to it.
But he was a Prince, and he begged for nothing and thus he urged his horse on through the night, leaving Sunspear behind him.
End of Chapter Four