One: The Crownlands. Eight years after Elia's death. (AC 290)
Ages:
Joffrey – 4
Cersei – 24
Oberyn – 32
Doran – 42
Myrcella – newborn
The Viper clenched his fists and tried to control his breathing. He was angry…no he was more than that…he was fuming. Despite the hotness of the day and the stickiness of the air his blood ran cold as he strode towards the Red Keep. Oh what he'd give to run his spear through the Usurper's heart. He took a breath and Doran's words came to him 'don't start a war yet', he grinned and wondered if his brother was aware of the unspoken promise yet he wasn't to start a war yet. As long as the Viper got his vengeance for the wrongs done he could wait, he could wait for all their heads. He made his way to his quarters which were far from the royal apartments, a smirk crossed his face; did they fear him that much? As he strode past the kitchens a laugh nearly escaped his mouth, were they having all the food tested he wondered just in case he snuck something in. Did they think he was such a fool? If he tried that there would be no doubt who it was and besides he wanted them to suffer, he wanted to hear their screams. Yes, poison was too good for them. His eyes clouded over as he remembered the reports arriving in Dorne all those fateful years ago dragonspawn, dragonspawn the Usurper had called Elia's children. But he'd forgotten sweet Rhaenys and innocent Aegon were no ordinary children. They were children of two kingdoms, children of Dorne and Valyria, Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken with Fire and Blood. His hand twitched to the glass bottle hanging on his hip, mercy was too good for them. They would die today. Turning on his heels he made his way back down the staircase but as he reached the kitchen doors he saw a mass of blonde hair bobbing up and down excitedly,
"I want a lemon cake." Came a demanding voice and the Viper found himself lifting the glass bottle. Prince Joffrey that pretentious little bastard was enough to make any ordinary man want to commit regicide. He swore softly, damnation he'd be doing the Usurper and the Lannisters a favour by getting rid of that little $&£*£^. He checked himself. Now was not the time…oh but it was so tempting, all it would take would be a slip of the hand into his food or drink. He stroked the bottle with his thumb, it would only look as if the little prince had suddenly stopped breathing…children died of illness all the time and princes were no exceptions. Almost as he'd made up his mind to slip the poison into the next dish to leave the kitchens, further blonde heads appeared in his line of sight. The Queen and her new-born daughter. Oberyn swore as he felt his heart melt at the sight of the babe and he placed the bottle back on his hip before turning away and returning to his apartments.