After the official wedding ceremony came a feast. People trailed down the paths to get to the seating area.

Entertainment had been hired for the day; stilt walkers and jugglers, fire dancers and singers. Dyana found that she was actually enjoying herself. The wine was plentiful, which she was extremely thankful for as she drank away her anxieties along with the contents of her third cup. She walked the red carpeted grounds, suddenly feeling herself crash into someone.

Wine spilled across the carpet, staining it a deep burgundy. "Shit," she cursed.

She looked up at the figure she'd hit, and was surprised to meet the dark brown eyes of a Dornishman. "You're Oberyn Martell," she said, taking a few steps away from him.

The Red Viper smiled. "That I am," he agreed. "And what is your name?"

She curtsied awkwardly as she introduced herself. "Dyana Tyrell."

"Do I frighten you, child?"

"No. And I'm not a child."

Oberyn nodded. "How old are you, then?" he asked.

"I'm nineteen," Dyana stated.

There was a chuckle from beside Oberyn, and Dyana's blue eyes met the dark ones of the woman that Oberyn held against his side. "Pardon, my lady," Dyana said, "but I don't know your name."

"You wouldn't," the woman replied. "Ellaria. Sand. I'm not a lady, I'm a bastard. Use the proper words."

"Sorry," Dyana replied.

"You are the new queen's sister?" Oberyn asked, gesturing toward the table where Margaery was sat with Joffrey.

"Queen," Dyana mumbled. "Gods, that sounds strange. But yes, I am Margaery's sister."

"She seems like she will be a good queen, but I do not know her. You know her better than I. Do you think she will be a good queen?"

"Yes. Margaery loves the people. She'll be a brilliant queen."

Oberyn let out a chuckle. "My sister was going to be a queen. Elia Martell, you may have heard of her. She was married to Prince Rhaegar, she had his children, little Aegon and Rhaenys. She would have been a good queen. Perhaps better, even, than your sister."

Dyana knew about Elia Martell. She'd been killed during the Sack of King's Landing. Raped and murdered by Gregor Clegane. It had happened nearly twenty years ago, but Dyana couldn't blame Oberyn for being bitter. Here he was in the place where his sister and her children were murdered, watching the grandson of the man who'd given the order be married.

Dyana offered Oberyn a sympathetic smile. "I'm very sorry about your sister, Prince Oberyn. But I'm sure she wouldn't want you to be upset on a day like this. We have a new queen."

Oberyn nodded. "That is true. Elia would not want me to be thinking of what happened on such a happy day."

She looked down at the carpet, letting out a sigh. "I'd best find a servant before this stain sets," she said. "It was good to meet you, Prince Oberyn. And you, Ellaria," she added the last part hastily.

He chuckled. "Don't worry about the wine. Only a quiet insult to House Lannister. I won't tell if you don't."

Dyana smiled, barely able to contain the blush rising to her cheeks. "All right," she agreed. "But I'd still best be getting back to my family. My grandmother will take notice if I'm gone too long, and I'd rather avoid an angry Queen of Thorns."

Oberyn nodded. "It was good to meet you, as well, Lady Dyana."

"Oh," she murmured. "Please, you can just call me Ana."

"All right, Ana."

Dyana turned quickly, allowing the blush to take over her face as she hurried away. But even as she left, she could feel Oberyn's dark eyes watching her.

Dyana sat beside her grandmother, adjusting in her seat. "Where have you been?" Olenna demanded.

"Making friends," Dyana replied.

"What friend is making you blush like that?"

"No one of importance."

"Dyana," Olenna stated.

"I was speaking with Oberyn Martell," Dyana finally said.

"The Red Viper. Is he as interesting as everyone says?"

Dyana only nodded.

In front of Joffrey, a group of musicians was singing the Rains of Castamere. While the singer had a lovely voice, their rendition was slow and rather boring. Margaery looked half asleep in her chair. "Very good. Very good. Off you go," Joffrey stated.

He stood, throwing a fistful of coins at the singer. Laughter sounded as the musicians scrambled to gather the coins, hurrying away. Margaery leaned over, taking her husband by the shoulder. "My love, why don't we make the announcement?"

Joffrey smiled, getting back to his feet and tapping his cup with a fork. "Everyone. The queen would like to say a few words."

Cheers and clapping arose as Margaery stood beside Joffrey. "We are so fortunate to enjoy this marvelous food and drink. Not all among us are so lucky. To thank the gods for bringing the recent war to a just end, King Joffrey has decreed that the leftovers from our feast be given to the poorest in his city."

Everyone cheered, and the music started up again. Cersei stood, moving to Margaery's side. "You're an example to us all," she said, kissing the queen on the cheek.

A few tables away, Oberyn was watching Dyana. She caught his gaze, smiling and lowering her head, fearing that Olenna would notice. But hardly anything was missed by the Queen of Thorns, and the old woman chuckled at her granddaughter. "Now I understand why you're blushing. He is quite handsome. If I weren't as old as I am- -"

"That's enough, Grandmother," Dyana interjected.

Olenna rolled her eyes. "I'll tell you when it's enough," she snapped.

Dyana sighed, rising from her seat. "Where are you going now?" Olenna asked.

"I want to speak with Lady Sansa," Dyana answered coolly.

As she moved toward Sansa's table, she took note of Brienne stepping up to greet Margaery and Joffrey. She smiled kindly at the large woman, before addressing the girl in the seat across from her. "Lady Sansa," she said. "I was very sorry to hear about your brother and mother. To kill someone at a wedding... it's entirely unlawful."

Sansa nodded, though she said nothing.

Dyana offered a sympathetic smile. "Well, in any case, you look lovely, Lady Sansa. I didn't intend for our dresses to be of a such a similar color," she said.

The Stark girl looked up at Dyana, smiling a smile that did not meet her eyes. Dyana let out a sigh, turning to address Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion. I don't believe we've properly met," she noted.

"We haven't," Tyrion agreed. "My wife tells me that there's more to you than meets the eye."

Dyana had to chuckle. "I suppose that could be true. I'm the Princess of Petals, of course I'm going to rebel against a nickname like that."

"You seem to be enjoying yourself."

"Oh, certainly. There's plenty of wine. I never had a taste for it before, but King's Landing has done something to me."

Tyrion nodded. "Yes," he said. "We're all drunks with ulterior motives here."

It was a simple statement, and Dyana was sure it was only a joke. But something about Tyrion's tone said it wasn't.

Something said that it was a warning, and Dyana was certainly going to take it as one.