Chapter Fifty-One
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Rivendell Prison
He has no idea what day it is, much less what time it is. Oberyn's inglorious strategy of creeping into Rivendell has ended before it even begins. One moment he is hiding out as one of the merchant's bodyguards trying to get into the border, next thing he knows quarrel bolts and arrows are peppering them from every side dropping his loyal bodyguards and the merchant caravan one after another. In the end Oberyn is captured without a fight and brought here to be tortured.
He has been expecting knives or beatings, what he doesn't expect is to be shoved into a very tiny space with four walls which he cannot move. He means literally at that. The space is so narrow that he can't even bend his knees or turn his body. Same goes with his arms. It is like he is put into a tube. The only movement he can make is to look up.
It is hell on Earth, the claustrophobia, the dim light from above where escape is impossible due to being unable to move. It takes Oberyn five minutes to start pleading for forgiveness. None are given. What little food and water is poured from above and Oberyn has to open his mouth as large as he can for all that he is able to eat are the scant few that would enter his mouth. He has to catch as much as he can or else suffer being hungry.
Thus when the walls suddenly start moving giving him some breathing space, it is heaven for Oberyn. In his current state of mind and terror, he would have happily told everyone the secrets of Dorne when asked.
So he is totally surprised when he is pulled out of the torture chamber by a harness and thrown into a bathing area where he's ordered to clean himself. Apparently "no one approaches the lady smelling like a drowned rat".
Thus here Oberyn is being frog-marched into the Welcome Hall of Rivendell dressed in a simple white linen shirt and dirty ragged brown pants, his hair askew looking like one of the Smallfolk of Westeros. Despite his current state, he can't help but marvel at the majesty of Rivendell. Very few at Westeros can say that they have walked its halls. During his way here, he has watched in wonder at the amazing gazebos, plazas and gardens perched on the sides of the mountain intertwined by dozens upon dozens of white staircases. Now here he is at the Welcome Hall and the center of Rivendell power, with great silver, gold and white open arches at the side. The sunlight is gleaming in through the open areas and it looks like someone invited the sun in. Chairs, six each are lining the red and velvet carpet heading to the Throne like chair where the Lady of Rivendell sits in all her glory, dressed in that ornate outfit that the Emperor of Yi Ti have given her, shawl not included.
For sixteen years, Oberyn has to admit that Delianah Tully looks really mature. If not for the information learned from Doran, his first impression that the Lady of Rivendell looks like she is on her early twenty's instead of not even reaching the twenty mark.
His eyes dart to the women at her side sitting on simpler white chairs of pearl though one is black obsidian. One is dressed as a warrior, with a pale face, the Lady Amelia, Castellan of Rivendell. Beside Delianah in a yellow and white sun dress makes Oberyn scowl, the spawn of the bitch Lioness and the Fat Stag, Princess Myrcella. At her side holding the spawn's hand with sharp Asian features can only be Lady Yasmina, Concubine of Delianah Tully. His eyes however at the sight of the last female.
Dressed in training leathers of brown and grey, she looks Dornish and more importantly, the spitting image of his fallen sister, Elia Martell. In fact for Oberyn, it looks like he is seeing back to the past. The face, the hair style and the outfit including the swords is almost a carbon copy of Elia when she's stubbornly trying to train at the Water Gardens before the Maesters declare that her body is weak and frail.
"So, a Prince of Dorne trying to enter my borders illegally," the sudden voice of Delianah sound out stopping Oberyn from ogling the carbon copy look of his sister. "I wondered what the Captain of the Border Guards are being so fussy about when he barged in here without warning. And it's not just any Prince of Dorne either, it is the one who tried to attack us during the tournament here a couple of years ago either. Curious, indeed,"
Normally Oberyn would respond with a sassy remark with a bit of sexual innuendo. However the sight of seeing a carbon copy of his deceased sister in the flesh has unhinged him a lot.
"I've come to see the one who looks a lot like my sister!" he booms loudly only to receive a punch in the gut from one of the Death Dealers at the side.
"Have some respect when talking to the lady!" snarls his puncher.
"I would when she explains why she has a Dornish young woman under her service," gargles Oberyn spitting out a wad of blood at the ground. "One who also looks a lot like a member of the Prince's family"
"So you come in here, cross the borders of my nation without permission whatsoever, risk conflict between our Houses and for what? To see someone who looks a lot like Elia Martell, your dead sister?"
"Yes!" Oberyn grits out despite the coppery taste of blood in his mouth.
He is totally surprised when Delianah Tully without warning laughs out loud at that, one hand covering her face. "You are really dumb aren't you, and selfish to boot. And pray tell me Prince Oberyn, what exactly are you trying to achieve at this goal of yours? Let's say you found my friend here, you've seen her, what then?"
"I-," Oberyn blinks as his mind pauses. He has been so engrossed in laying eyes on the one that looks a lot like his sister that he hasn't exactly thought what would happen once he achieves that goal.
"I thought so," answers the Lady of Rivendell with a victorious smirk. "For the record, the lady Rhaenys has been a friend of mine since I am young and I am responsible for her education and protection seeing that she is a citizen of Rivendell,"
"What?!" Oberyn's brain goes into a grinding halt at the name of Rhaenys. He looks hauntingly like her sister, dresses just like her sister and those purple eyes. Once is a coincidence, Twice is doubt, Thrice is solid proof to the truth.
"No," whispers Oberyn trying to put things together. The only one that fits the bill is supposed to be dead, dead by a being stabbed a hundred times by Amory Lorch.
Unfortunately Oberyn is not given the chance to put his brain into action as the guards grab his arms and begins to bodily drag him away.
"No! No! Wait! I have questions! QUESTIONS!" Oberyn yells in desperation as the larger and bulky forms of Death Dealers pull him like a rag doll.
"Take him back to the cells where he belongs," he faintly hears the order of Delianah Tully making Oberyn's struggle double at the realization that he is going to be taken back again to that place of hell from before.
"NO! NO! NO! NOT AGAIN! NO! PLEASE!"
…
Main Road to Rivendell
The caravan of the king lines up into the distance like a winding snake. Nearly half his court has come on this journey with him both to protect him and to assure Robert's comforts on the Road. Knights ride ahead at the front alongside with the Kingsguard with Robert while following slower behind is the large wheelhouse of Queen Cersei being pulled by three horses with the Redcloaks. Even more behind is the plethora of servants, minor lords and ladies that march with the rest of the retinue, alongside their own guards, a common sight when the king officially leaves King's Landing.
Robert stares in awe at the beautiful Last Homely House currently looming over them. He has planned to pass through Rivendell here because he wants to pick up Myrcella on the way North. Of course on the other hand, he also wants to see the jewel of Westeros, the Last Homely House and the capital of the kingdom within the kingdom. The reputation of Rivendell after all is well-known throughout the known world, as with its…entrance policies. Even the Spider can't get any of his little birds down there too.
He has been impressed ever since they passed Fort Granger down South. Robert is already at the end of his patience with that dratted wheelhouse that Cersei insists on riding. For some reason he doesn't understand why she isn't content with riding a horse, the journey North is being delayed consistently by the rickety thing. It doesn't help that it has rained a couple of days back. The Kingsroad's sand and graven has been transformed into one full of mud and wet Earth, Robert almost pulls his beard as the wheels of Cersei's ride comes off five times and they are not even halfway there.
When they passed through the River Bridge being held by Fort Granger though, it seems that Robert has entered into a whole new world. The wilds of Westeros even at Summer is never welcoming, filled with mud, plants, shit on the road and not to mention the usual farm or house looking run down and ready to fall. None of that greets them the moment they entered the territory ruled of Rivendell.
Miles upon miles of greenery only broken by the sight of massive homesteads with large farmlands gleaming in colors of gold, red, and green, the spices and rice that Rivendell produces whole year round to supply Yi Ti and the North. There are no dirt roads, none. The roads are instead made of flat stone, so straight that Robert has to lie flat on his stomach and peer forward to make sure that his eyes are not deceiving him.
The smell of shit and piss are also absent, with large tract of trees making small natural forests looking extremely healthy, none of that dark and gloomy stuff. Herds of deer, and wild horses can be seen grazing on the meadows, untethered and lacking worry. Large herds of Aurochs can be seen at the side of the roads being driven by riders wearing large brimmed hats. Same can be said also for the other pastures they pass. Some contain sheep, pigs, poultry and even giant birds. There also many things that Robert doesn't understand, like a mill but has water pouring all over its giant wheel, giant irrigation fields and tracts of land with square open spaces filled with people gathering salt of all things.
The people of Rivendell also reflect the mood of their land, rich, proud, tall, successful. The king's retinue of course meets many also along the road. While majority of them are just the usual citizens of Rivendell dressed not in ratty clothing but rather simple outfits of well-tailored clothes of cotton and silk. In fact they look so comfortable compared to the irritating cuffs and roughs that the nobles usually wear.
Black Guard squads can be seen every now being led by a captain or a sergeant. The occasional members of the Silver Order with their iconic wings are also present who salutes a happy Robert at seeing the men who have helped stabilize the realm. There are also odd looking fellows that look more akin to mercenaries with different weapons taking advantage of the road.
In the end, the king's retinue arrived at High Point, the large field which have been allotted to them and where they will meet the Princess Myrcella alongside the Lady Delianah with her retinue.
…
Rivendell Training Yard
The sound of sword hitting dummy is a normal sound that can be heard here. However with the upcoming meeting with the king, the training yard is empty except this single soulith all the Death Dealers either reporting to their stations or taking new assignments from Amelia about the upcoming trip North. Everyone is busy with even Yasmina directing messages for their allies at Osgiliath, the secret training grounds and Dol Amroth about the official attachment of the Lady Delianah to the king's retinue. Amelia of course would be staying here at Rivendell since the Castellan would need to remain here (no matter her protest). Myrcella of course would accompany Delianah alongside Rhaenys who is her sworn shield and Yasmina as her handmaiden (and part time lover). Nearly sixty percent of the Death Dealers and the Grandmaster, Leomord of the Silver Order would also be accompanying them with his best Masters. All in all it would be quite a sight.
Rhaenys however is the only here right now. Training has always cleared her thoughts. Thus as she disembowels the fifth dummy with the training sword, she almost misses the small claps from behind making her turn to see her benefactor and savior standing there dressed in a violet form hugging bodysuit, her long hair unbraided and falling at her back freely.
"My lady," Rhaenys bows in recognition to her,
"That is what? Five now? I know that fighting can releases a lot of pent up stress Rhaenys, but sometimes what we need is talking, come tell me what is in your mind," she indicates to the stone benches.
"Nothing is troubling me my lady. Just want to put some last minute addition to my skills before we head out," Rhaenys expertly lies.
"Of course, and I am a bunny," declares Delianah with sarcasm dripping from her words. "You're troubled by the coming of Oberyn Martell, your biological uncle aren't you?"
"I-, yes my lady," Rhaenys finally acquiesces. "But it's not what you think. I barely know the man and the last memories I have of him are vague recollections of a faceless man buying me gifts for my name day back then. I feel confused, he should be my blood and I am part Martell, I should have some loyalty for him but here I am feeling nothing of a sort,"
"And you're troubled by that?"
"Yes my lady," says Rhaenys. "Does it make me a bad person not able to accept her own family by blood?"
"No, it does not. For the record, it is rather a simple answer for that worry of yours Rhaenys,"
"And what is that my lady?" she asks the taller young woman who grins at her.
"Oberyn might be your uncle by blood, and same goes with the Martells but we here at Rivendell are your true family. That is why you are feeling nothing,"
…
High Point, Tent Area
The large tents of the king's retinue are slowly rising one by one as the servants labor for it. Said king however takes the time to watch in amusement his retinue of knights and bodyguards being ordered by two Silver Knights in digging a pit for the latrine area that everyone would use. Apparently everyone here in Rivendell is rather strict when it comes into your area of defecation. The king's men of course do not take being ordered well, and the result is a two man thrashing as the Silver Knights whipped the butts of everyone who puffs out his chest the wrong way before setting them to work.
Robert of course being the king does not have any duty other than "look kingly". This of course brings him into a melancholic mood. He can still freshly remember Jon shouting at him and Ned when they're still wet behind their ears to help the squires on putting up the tents. "Character building" Jon calls it. Robert chuckles to himself at the memory. The end result is them causing mayhem by wrong things being placed into wrong places resulting into a lot of unsupportive tents and angry knights.
Turning his eyes at the gathered groups, he grimaces at the sight of Joffrey hitting his younger brother with a stick on the arm. The former is grinning savagely while the latter is a wimp who does not even defend himself, making Robert grimace at the sight. So much for the expected future heir and spare of Westeros. This only reinforces his doubt and decision about putting Myrcella on the throne. Robert cannot simply imagine that Delianah would allow Myrcella to be pathetic and useless under her watch like the rest of the hens here at Westeros.
Before he can move however to smack the living shit out of his dumb ass eldest son, a shadow passes above blocking the light of the sun for a second. Robert pauses as he turns.
"That passes way too fast for a random cloud. Maybe a flying eagle?"
He turns again ready to put the smack to Joffrey but a rather loud piercing shriek, a combination of a very loud yowl of a cat and a snarl of a lion snaps everyone up faster than they can fart. Even Robert reacts as he turns to the source of the sound. What he sees nearly makes him wet his pants, a giant eagle hybrid, coloured gold with a read mane lion horse thingy has landed with one other this time with a dark reddish coat with golden mane. Two riders jump down from the back of such massive dangerouns looking beasts as easy as a knight unsaddling himself from his horse.
Normally Robert would have chalked this occurrence that they be Targaryens if not for the fact that the winged giant beasts are not dragons, but rather something else. Plus there's also the fact that his tall looking daughter wearing a Delianite form fitting armor painted in black and gold approaches him with an extremely confident smile on her face that is not present there before.
"Father, it's good to see you," Myrcella greets the shell-shocked Robert Baratheon.
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Author's Note: Hope ya like this chapter folks. Thanks as always for the support of this story.