LordStrange: You're right on the Margaery ambition part. On the rest, much less. I will say that for Jon, I will never even consider him and Sansa. She's part of the "5" that have no reason being with him in any timeline (other four being Arya, Ashara, Cersei and Satin; yes people actually write him with all of these, don't ask). So, no Jonsa here. For Quentyn, the answer is in his lines, he does say that his consort could do what she wants as long as she doesn't get pregnant with a child that is not his.
Kuman: Eh, the armor in ASOIAF looks more like fiberglass than anything else considering how a lot of it straight smashes. Even in the canon trial, Oberyn's spear slashes through Clegane's armor.
Natman: Any marriage Quentyn goes for will be political, because Nymeria obviously cannot be Quentyn's consort, even Dorne has limits.
Guest: Thank you. A lot of storylines will come together in Act IV, before the conclusion in Act V, so...stay tuned for that (the first chapter of Act IV takes us to the Riverlands, as a matter of fact).
ATP: Not a chance in hell Jon is usurping Rickon.
Imperial: Yessir. Kermit and Elmo Tully are very real Tullys, since they were alive during the Dance!
Archibald
Night had fallen on King's Landing and, with it, an eerie silence had imposed itself on the Red Keep. A silence that was deceiving, however.
Indeed, the Dornish had planned to make their escape that night. All of them.
Quentyn didn't want to take any chances…it was now or never. The chaos following the end of the trial by combat wouldn't last very long, and their window of opportunity was closing. Many Dornishmen had already been sent home, but tonight, the last fifty would go.
Prince Oberyn would lead the first group to the beach, while other Dornishmen would sneak in small groups, no more than five. The small clearings below the Red Keep being perfect grounds for small embarkations to come and go between the Dornish ships at anchor offshore.
Tomorrow, the Red Keep would wake up and notice that everyone was gone…and that a few guards had had their throat slit, too. After all, one couldn't be too careful.
There were only six people left in their rooms: himself, Quentyn, Ned, Nymeria Sand, Myria Jordayne and Iris Anson. Wordlessly, they all prepared, taking care packing their things, while Arch kept watch to see if anyone was coming.
Finally, a tap on his shoulder. They were all ready.
"Is it safe to go?" Quentyn whispered.
Arch nodded in response.
Quentyn turned to Ned and the two Salty Dornishwomen.
"Well, good luck to you," he whispered, handing Ned his things, and his frog, which Ned awkwardly accepted. "Take care of Achilles and make sure he doesn't croak. Just keep him inside your vest pocket and he won't say a word. Do you remember your instructions?"
"If you aren't back before three hours past the hour of the wolf, we leave anyways." Ned nodded, trying to shove the tree frog into his vest as best he could, while the frog itself was having a hard time fitting inside, considering its head was deforming slightly. In the end, Ned gave up and kept it open.
"My prince, are you sure…" Iris Anson, the older woman of the three, at almost nine-and-ten, whispered.
"We must do this. It is what honor and justice demand," Quentyn replied, his gaze unwavering.
"Surely there must be someone else," Myria Jordayne protested in turn. "We cannot risk harm coming to you."
"I fear that it must be me, and you know why," Quentyn sighed. "We've prepared for this. Now, go. Else it shall be too late."
Ned looked at Quentyn worriedly, but eventually nodded and tiptoed out of the room with the two women, bags in hand. Arch was now alone with Quentyn and the sand snake.
"It's time," Quentyn said in a dark tone.
Arch and the snake nodded simply, following Quentyn out of the now empty room and into the dark halls of the Keep. There were a few twists and turns, a few dead men in the hallways, their throats slit and bodies carefully thrown out of view or placed as though they were sleeping.
Arch felt his breathing continue to increase rapidly. He wasn't exactly discreet like the other two with his size, after all, he wasn't supposed to be here.
If only Cletus hadn't fallen for the Tyrell girl, he would have been here instead. But with his cousin making his bed with the roses, it was on Arch that the responsibility came.
He gulped slightly as they approached the tower of the Hand, and they all took cover behind a wall, since two sentries were placed in ambush.
Arch immediately looked at the snake, who drew two daggers from under her dress. Taking a few moments to aim, she threw both at the same time.
The sentries had no time to react.
Both daggers lodged themselves in both sentries' throat. One of them managed to gargle something before falling, their armor clanking slightly.
Arch felt the blood drain from his body. Did anyone hear this? The faintest sound surely could awaken the whole Keep. And they'd be dead. All three of them.
Fortunately, nothing moved, and Arch could breathe a sound of relief.
"Good shot, love," Quentyn whispered into his lover's ear, earning a smile from her while she took the bloody daggers back.
"Let's keep moving." Arch looked over his shoulder, worried that someone might find them.
"Big man is right, let's go." The snake led the way into the turning staircase of the tower. Soon enough, they were climbing these stairs, until they found the hall they were looking for. Of course, there were sentries there, in their crimson cloaks.
However, it was more difficult. The hallway was facing a wall, not an open space, and the sentries were therefore one in front of the other. One dagger could kill one, but the other…
The snake breathed heavily as all three of them took cover.
"Damn it…" she whispered, frustrated.
"I think I have an idea." Quentyn whispered back, reaching for his pocket.
Searching in his vest, he pulled out a golden dragon.
"Alea jacta est…" Quentyn whispered, blowing on the golden coin while sliding it down the hall.
Arch frowned, not bothering to try and translate some kind of Valyrian dialect, instead keeping his eyes riveted in front of him as one of the sentries moved. Mechanically, he reached for his hammer, forgetting that he'd entrusted Ned with it, instead keeping a sword, much less cumbersome inside some tight hallways of the Keep.
The sentry didn't say anything, though. Instead, the soldier looked at his partner, and then took one step to the right and moved down to pick up the coin.
The snake didn't have to be told anything. She pulled out the same two daggers and threw them again, with deadly accuracy. The sentry standing up took the dagger in the side of the throat, a clean shot.
However, the one crouching didn't. Instead, he took it right on the cheek. Arch was ready to rush and finish him off, but instead, quick as a fox, the Volantene bastard took out another dagger and aimed straight at the throat, finishing the sentry off before he had time to cry out anything.
"That was close," Quentyn breathed a sigh of relief as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Did you ever doubt me?" the snake mockingly asked.
"I don't think I had time to," Quentyn whispered nervously.
The three of them made their way past the sentries, taking care of finishing them off. Then, all of them moved in front of the door – locked, of course.
"Shit." Arch sighed. "What now?"
The snake turned her head towards Quentyn, who cleared his throat, and then knocked on the door.
Arch thought his friend had gone mad. What was he doing?
"What is it?" came a voice from inside the rooms.
"My lord," Quentyn tried the best Reacher accent he could muster. "It's the Dornish. They're gone! You must come at once!"
The door opened almost immediately.
"Wha…" the figure said, clearly not expecting them to be standing there,, before Arch shoved his fist into the man's face.
The Lannister man didn't have time to react as he stumbled a few steps backwards. That was more than enough time for the three Dornishmen to step inside the room, quickly locking the door behind them.
"Greetings, lord Tywin," Quentyn grinned from ear to ear. "Pleasant night, isn't it?"
"You…" the old lion started, clutching his obviously broken nose.
"Arch, bound and gag him," Quentyn ordered.
Archibald didn't have to be told twice. In one great swoop, he picked up the Hand of the King, took the ropes he'd been keeping in his vest pocket, and immediately gagged the old lion before he had the good sense to scream out. Then, he tied his hands and feet, ensuring that the lion couldn't move, and sat the unfortunate man in a chair.
The snake took position on the bed, while Quentyn stepped up, Arch moving towards the door, keeping it closed, but also opening a small peeking hole in order to watch for intruders.
Arch could see that the old lion was panicked. His demeanour was still calm, but his eyes told another story.
"Sorry to interrupt your sleep." Quentyn frowned. "But I fear this conversation couldn't wait."
"Love, I don't think he can speak," the snake intervened, grinning.
"Good," Quentyn replied. "I'll do the questions and answers, then. You might be wondering, Lord Lannister, why am I here? In fact, I think you already know."
The old lion didn't react, his eyes sternly fixed straight forwards, in a mixture of panic and confusion. Quentyn didn't care much, dragging forwards a chair of his own to sit upon across from the Lord of the Rock.
"I'm here so that you may honor your house's word." Quentyn grinned from ear to ear. "A Lannister always pays his debts, no? Well, I am here to collect your debt, Tywin Lannister. The debt written in blood when you ordered your beasts to savagely kill Elia and her children. However, first I want you to know everything that will come after you die. I want you to know that you brought in the fall of your own house and that your legacy will be nothing but ash once I am done with you."
Quentyn raised a finger to point at the old lion, looking like a maester about to give a lecture. "When you die, there will be nothing keeping the Tyrells from exercising their control over this city. Your grandson will rule as a king subservient to the whims of the Reach, and the Westerlands will answer to Highgarden in all but name. Sure, your grandson will rule – for a time, of course.
Tapping his finger against his temple, Quentyn continued, "Because for all your planning and great delusions of grandeur, you made yourself a lot of enemies, Lord Lannister. Your vassals are not loyal because they respect you, but because they fear you. And fear alone cannot rule. When you die, the Westerlands will collapse. Some will side with your son, Tyrion. Others might side with Ser Kevan, Ser Lancel or Ser Daven. Others will want the protection of Highgarden. It truly doesn't matter in the end."
"The North hates you for what your family did to Ned Stark. When they come back, they will want to see your lands burn. The Riverlanders saw their keeps burnt, their lands reduced to ash, their people slaughtered and their daughters raped, do you think they will hold back when they eventually turn their eyes west?" Quentyn spread his hands wide while the old lion glared at him, eliciting a short snort of amusement from the snake.
Quentyn's grin took on an edge that would have been sinister in any other circumstance. "Most of all, the Dragons hate you. For Aegon, for Rhaenys, and for everything that came after. When I bring back Daenerys Targaryen, will she show mercy to your family? Or will she burn them all? I don't think it matters, and I don't think I care. What matters most is that when I am done with everything, the Westerlands will be a pitiful shell of their former glory, their riches gone and their power destroyed. House Lannister will be but a footnote in the histories, a family that once ruled a kingdom reduced to bending the knee to the Tullys, Starks or Tyrells to survive. Your house will be reduced to nothing. Your bloodline will rule neither the Seven Kingdoms, nor Casterly Rock, I can promise you that much! And all because you decided to have three innocent people killed out of, what? Fear? Pride? Revenge?"
Standing up from his seat, Quentyn shook his head and looked down at their captive. His voice was surprisingly nonchalant as he spoke, "It doesn't matter. Once again, all that matters is that you brought it onto yourself. You brought everything onto yourself, Tywin Lannister. I am sad that you won't be able to see your house fall before your very eyes, because you thought it was best to be feared by the entire realm. Who will fear you now, lion? You have nothing left."
Quentyn paused and drummed his fingers against his chin, as if deep in thought. Arch wasn't sure if his friend was giving the old lion time to think on his words or if he was actually debating what to say next. Considering how long the Martells had been yearning for this moment, it could have been either.
"I thought about how you should die," Quentyn eventually said, "I killed Lorch the same way Rhaenys died, it felt fitting to make you die like Elia did. I surely would have had many candidates wishing to rape you to death."
The old lion's eyes went wide at these words.
"But then, I realized that would make me no better than you," Quentyn continued, rage in his eyes. "No better than a monster. No, I have a more fitting death planned for you, you colossal piece of shit. But first, I have one more revelation for you. One more little secret to share to prove that you have failed in everything. Love, why don't you tell him?"
"My mother is from the old blood of Volantis." The sand snake leapt from the bed. "From House Maegyr, one of the most powerful houses. It is a cadet branch, not the main line, but one that commands respect nonetheless. Her father was, of course, of House Maegyr too, and he married three times. She came from his third marriage, to a Westerosi. She had come from the Westerlands, as a matter of fact."
Their captive seemed puzzled by this change in subject, looking at Nymeria with a tilt of his head.
For her part, the snake smiled down at Lord Lannister the way one might at an uninformed child. "She was a great beauty. Young, blonde hair, green eyes, smart…perfect. My grandfather instantly fell in love with her when she arrived in Tyrosh, with only her belongings and a few sacks of gold as she was visiting the Free Cities. Her family was supportive, of course, and she settled into the Volantene lifestyle quickly. He decided to marry her, promising her safety in Volantis. It was soon enough that they had my mother, their eldest. And eventually my mother had grandmother was a sweet woman, but she was also very sad. When I asked if she had brothers or sisters, she would avoid the subject. But when I was ten, she revealed to me what happened to them, and why she left the Free Cities."
Nymeria leaned forward, her formerly calm face now a rictus of anger. "They were all slaughtered. Slaughtered for having dared to oppose a tyrannical decision from their liege lord. She was the only survivor since she had been in the Arbor then, and fled to the Free Cities."
The snake was almost breathing on the old lion's face now.
"Her name…" the snake continued, "was Calla Reyne."
The snake laughed. It was not a happy laugh.
"You think you slaughtered us all? You think we wouldn't come and take our vengeance? That we didn't have cousins, sisters or brothers not in the Westerlands when you came to slaughter us like pigs? Well, Lannister, it's time you pay your debt. And we Reynes would like a lot of interest. I have brothers, you know…and I've already offered one of them the Rock. House Reyne of Casterly Rock…"
Quentyn grinned at the old lion, whose eyes were completely wild.
"It's done," he whispered. "Casterly Rock will be given to the Reynes as compensation for your horrid crimes. Enjoy death, Tywin Lannister."
With a quick movement of his arm, Quentyn clutched the old lion's face and slammed it into the wall with enormous force. The old lion couldn't react, and tried to cry out.
"For Elia," Quentyn said softly, slamming the Lannister's head into the wall in a mess of blood and broken teeth.
"For Rhaenys." Another slam.
"For Aegon." Another. This time, the old lion had stopped writhing. Blood was dripping on the floor and a multitude of teeth were laying on the cold ground.
"For Elia." Again.
"For Rhaenys." And again.
Tywin's Lannister's face kept hitting the wall with such ferocity, Arch could hardly recognize Quentyn at all. The names kept coming, though.
"For Elia. For Rhaenys. For Aegon. For Dorne."
Finally, when it was obvious the old lion was clearly dead, Quentyn took out his dagger and unceremoniously cut his throat while whispering softly: "For me."
Quentyn shoved the body aside, Tywin Lannister's face being completely unrecognizable, being a mass of blood, brains, teeth and skin, while Quentyn himself was breathing heavily, blood coating his shirt and part of his face.
"It's done," he finally sighed. "Let's get out of here."
Arch nodded simply.
It was all over. The Dornish vengeance was complete. Lorch, Clegane, Lannister…all dead.
The snake quickly dashed to the wardrobe to take out the old lion's coat marked with the sigil of house Lannister, bathed it in Tywin's blood, and smiled widely.
"Thank you," she said with a huge smile.
Quentyn just nodded, smiling weakly, hobbling towards her. Arch had to support him as they looked to make an exit.
However, Quentyn stopped.
"Wait," he said.
Arch grew confused when Quentyn looked around the room, trying to find an object. Then, his eyes quickly darted to something, and he threw himself forwards.
Going over the bed, he found a hilt, carrying a sword with a lion's pommel. Unsheathing it, he smiled widely, and both Arch and Nymeria's eyes went wide.
"Valyrian steel…" Arch whispered in admiration.
Quentyn exhaled deeply and smiled.
"I think we can get out of here."
Arch didn't have to be told twice. They managed to run down the stairs of the tower of the Hand, making sure to avoid the main hallways, while darting towards the gardens.
It was then that curiosity got the better of him.
"My lady," Arch whispered to the snake. "Was your mother really a Reyne?"
"No." The snake giggled, holding a hand to her face as if to keep herself from bursting out in loud laughter. "Of course not! The old blood of Volantis are almost like Targaryens, they only marry amongst themselves."
"Why the act, then?" he asked.
"I wanted Tywin Lannister broken before his death," Quentyn replied while looking around at the corner of a hallway. "He had failed in everything, but still succeeded in wiping out the Tarbecks and Reynes. I didn't want him to believe he'd at least succeeded in that."
"You think he believed it?" Arch asked.
"Perhaps, perhaps not," Nymeria replied. "It didn't cost us anything to say it. And if it succeeded, then Tywin Lannister's last thoughts would have been that Casterly Rock was going to be given to his worst enemy."
"I think you played the mummer quite well," Quentyn winked at her. "I choose to believe he ate up every word you spoke."
Arch nodded, not completely understanding why it was useful to torture a man seconds before his death. Instead, he focused on the road ahead, as they finally exited the Keep.
The night was completely dark, the moon being obscured by clouds which meant the moonlight could not illuminate their path. Just as well, it would make things easier.
They hurried down the paths outside, quickly reaching the oak tree. There, Quentyn stopped, and put a hand on Arch's.
"Go, Nym," Quentyn asked the snake. "We'll follow."
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I won't be long, I promise." He quickly closed the distance and kissed her fervently.
"I'll meet you at the beach, cousin." She smiled haughtily.
The snake quickly left their field of vision, while Archibald was left alone with Quentyn. They waited and waited, but nothing came, and Quentyn was getting impatient. Suddenly, when Quentyn took a step forward as if to leave, a voice came from the bushes.
"My prince?"
Quentyn and Arch immediately turned their heads.
Archibald couldn't exactly see through the darkness, but he thought he recognized the Tyrell girl Cletus was smitten with.
"Lady Alla," Quentyn whispered. "I didn't expect you to be here."
"Queen Margaery said I would find you here. I…she's not coming," she whispered. "But I wanted to give you this."
Arch stared confused as the Tyrell girl handed Quentyn a small envelope.
"It's…it's a letter to be given to Cletus…"
"You haven't broken his heart enough already?" Arch took a step forward, but Quentyn immediately stopped him.
"Stop it, Arch, you're scaring her."
Arch gruffly crossed his arms, while Quentyn stared at the envelope.
"I…" Alla Tyrell continued. "I wanted to tell him, but he doesn't want to see me. You may think I manipulated him, and that is partially true. But I care about him, gods forbid…I think I just love him. Please, my prince, give him the letter."
"I will." Quentyn nodded simply. "Now hurry along, or you might catch a cold with these clothes."
"Thank you…" Alla whispered. "Will you also tell Cletus…that I love him?"
"If your words are not enough, I shall." Quentyn nodded.
The Tyrell girl then disappeared as fast as she had come, running off into the darkness. Quentyn took Arch's arm, inching him to head to the beach, all the while shoving the envelope into his pocket.
It wasn't long till they were on the beach, where the snake was waiting for them with Larra and Jon Blackmont.
"Is that everyone?" Quentyn asked, still carrying the stolen sword while the snake had the bloody cloak, much to the amazement of the two Blackmonts.
"It is, my prince," Larra Blackmont replied, her gaze switching from the sword to the cloak.
"Good," Quentyn sighed deeply, entering the small wooden boat, looking into the distance. "Let's go home."
END OF ACT III
