Wife of the Wolf, Husband of the Sun
Chapter Ninety-Eight
The wounds in his chest still ached, even after all of the time he had been recovering and on his feet. He knew there was a chance that he would have to put up with the pain for the rest of his life and he might not be truly able to fight as he had done before, it bristled him deeply and he was certain that Doran would not let him live it down.
He could hear the laughter of the lords of the Reach now, they would laugh themselves stupid into their cups about the two crippled princes of Dorne, a lovely joke they could laugh themselves sick over to make themselves fell better about the fact that their ancestors had never been able to conquer them. Well, they could laugh until they chocked.
He might not be able to fight as he had before but he was still willing to bet that he was a better commander than any of them and if that was the best way he could serve Dorne, could serve his sister, then so be it. Of course, it was not his tactical mind that Elia had need of him for, it was not for that he had been sent to Storm's End.
The knife that Doran had sent to her at Summerhall, the knife that she had given to him on the night before he had left King's Landing, seemed heavier than any weapon that he had ever carried before now. He did not intend to use it for the task he had been set, he knew Elia was smart enough to not expect that he would use a knife for it.
The knife was the promise, the understanding between them that Oberyn knew what he had to do, that he understand what he was being sent to do in truth even if everyone around him only knew that they were going to go and lift the siege. If only they knew, that was the easiest part of what today was going to bring.
It had been a very long time since he had last been at Storm's End, it had been when he had visited the castle along with his Lady Mother and Elia on the ridiculous cattle show that his mother had insisted that Elia be subjected too, if it had to be done then Oberyn meant to ensure that Elia at the very least had him for protection and for someone to make her laugh.
He had not thought much of it back then, in his mind no castle would ever be able to compare to Sunspear. It had not done much to change his opinion since then, it was a large castle of course with great walls that by all accounts had kept out many a siege before and had ensured that Storm's End had never been able to be taken by the force. It had been built to withstand the rage of the gods, after all.
But it was bland to look at, it was all grey stone and it's sole tower was massive but it was ugly and featureless.
The city of colouful tents that had sprung up outside of those massive walls then were quite the contrast to it, the gaudiness of the knights and lords of the Reach was certainly different but Oberyn hardly saw it as an improvement. But, it meant that the end of the siege was in sight and then the harder task would begin.
Lady Nymeria Toland rode up next to him and she let out a low chuckle at the sight set before them. "Well, the Reach lords certainly know how to do a siege in comfort. I swear that I spent less on constructing two new towers for Ghost Hill last year than they have on some of those monstrosities." Oberyn could well believe that looking at all of them.
Finding the Fat Flower would not be difficult, all they had to do was look for the largest tent and there it was in the middle of all of the other tents, like the center of a flower with a thousand different coloured petels spreading out from around it. Honestly, the man was lucky no one across the sea had a grudge with him as a Faceless Man, or any other assassian for that matter, would have no trouble with finding him.
A group of riders began to ride toward them, the group that was coming towards them outnumbered them by two to one which was an issue of some concern but Oberyn knew that it was a formality, most of this was a formality at this point in truth, but he never liked walking into these things. He knew that if he marched the forces he had brought with him straight on to them then it would be a battle.
"Prince Oberyn." A handsome woman with brown hair that was streaked with grey, and brown eyes which might have been warm if she was speaking to anyone else other than him. "I wish that I could say that it was pleasent to met you, but I would not like to make myself a liar for you. My name is Lady Arwyn Oakheart of Old Oak, my lord of Highgarden has asked me to ride out to meet with you. Our scouts have seen your force, if you try and raise them against us then we shall met them."
"My Lady of Oakheart, it is a pleasure for me to met you, at the very least." Oberyn said with his most charming smile, the one that certainly helped her when talking with most women. He could see what Mace Tyrell was doing, and it was as pitful as it was insulting to Lady Oakheart. "You know that you being sent to met with me is meant to be an insult, of course. Because if I was Mace Tyrell then I too would think that a woman being sent to treat with me would be a grave insult."
"Whatever reason my liege lord sent me, my Prince, he gave me a task and I mean to see it done." Well, the response was certainly a strong one and it made certain that Oberyn liked this one, which made her quite the find among the lords and ladies of the Reach, but all the same he did not stop his small smirk when he saw the Lady of Old Oak clenched her teeth.
Ah, was there anything worse than knowing you were smarter than someone you were forced to serve and being sent to do a task not because you were thought to be the best suited for the task but instead because it was deemed that you were the best to show the enemy that you did not respect them at all, because what could be more humilating then to treat with a woman?
"Of course, my Lady." Oberyn said while keeping his smirk on his face, the same smirk that Doran had taken a great deal of their lives together informing him always seemed to get under his skin and drived him mad. That was as much a weapon as his spear, indeed when it came to it his smirk might have to be a weapon that he would need to rely on a lot more now.
"Now, what do you want?" The lady asked as she glanced over his companions, he doubted that Lady Oakheart had ever seen so many Dornishmen, or indeed Northmen, in one place before. Of his small little honor guard Oberyn had chosen Lady Nymeria to come with him, grabbed in a black velvet gown with a high collar and a dark red bodice, some would argue that it was not in the best taste for her to wear the colors of House Targaryen now that said House was off of the throne and only a few steps from extinction.
Oberyn, on the other hand, found it to be hilarious. Why should they not be mocked now after all? The King was a madman and a murderer, Rhaegar had turned out to be a rapist and murderer. He had no tears to shed for them, so he might as well laugh at them instead.
Ryon Allyrion was stonefaced for one so young, but then war made old men and women out of most of them. Byam Flint was just as dower, a broad man with a shaggy mane of dark hair that looked like it had not been washed in years and had a beard to match it, the man may have been from the far North but he had been made a knight at the Trident by Ser Osmund Starton, the knight of the dunes.
The same man that he had sent to keep Obara safe as she had raided in the Reach, a man who he had made it clear was not to leave Obara's side unless she had died. He suppoused that Ned had been distracted, he was fighting a war after all and a single Dornishman was probably beneath his notice in the forces that he had brought with him, he would have had no reason to suspect that he had rode with Obara.
The knight had come to him when Oberyn had found his chambers in Maegor's Holdfast, they were perhaps not the greatest chambers that a Prince of Dorne could expect but with most of the court still either cowering in their rooms waiting for the word that they could return to their own castles or being actual hostages in their rooms meant that there was not a lot of room to go around and Oberyn made due with what he had, and the knight told him his story.
He had not been pleased at what he had heard, to say the least. He just wasn't sure who he was the most displeased with, Obara had acted like a fool yes and Oberyn would not have stood for it but Ned had no right to hide the truth from him, Obara was his daughter, he had every right to know about it and it had taken a great deal of effort to not go and find and stab Ned in the eye for lying to him.
He knew that wasn't right or fair, that his brother by law had to punish a solider under his command and that the lie was more than likely told in order to not set him back when it came to his own healing but Obara was his daughter and Oberyn would not allow him, or anyone, to punish Obara any more than she had been.
It was part of the agreement between himself and Elia, he would do what she had asked of him and in exchange Elia would use her influence that she had over her husband, and she did have it even if she liked to pretend otherwise, to use his own influence over the men he had commanded to get Obara released into his custody.
His sister and her husband did make quite a pair, for Ned would no doubt also deny that he had any influence over any of the men that had followed him and bled with him and had died with him but Oberyn knew that wasn't true, he had seen it for himself. He had watched as men who had no need to do so voluntered to follow him up and down the realm with no idea of knowing when they would be able to see their homes again, leaving their own loved ones behind until the found Ned's wild little sister.
Obara was his daughter, and Oberyn would do anything to save her. And Elia knew that, for all that he loved her and he truly did he knew his sister better than she knew herself and it wasn't just her trust in him to keep his silence that had made her send him, though he did not doubt that was a factor in it. Elia was more like Doran than she would like to admit.
If Elia wanted blood, then she knew what he wanted and he meant to get it.
"What I want my Lady should be fairly obvious, I want this siege to be lifted and I want the armies of the Reach to pick up their tents and lay down their weapons and swear feality to the new king, the king that at this very moment you happen to be laying siege to." Oberyn clucked his tongue. "You know, if I was the new king and my lords were laying siege to me then I would be very quick to hold back pardons for disloyalty, but then I am such a spiteful creature."
Lady Oakheart looked annoyed with him, which was both a look he was very familar with and the look that he wanted to place on her face so he was glad to see that he still had the skill to do so. "Such a thing would not be my decision, my Lord. I've sworn mine own forces to Lord Tyrell and until the siege has ended I will not command them to return home."
The fact that she did not seem to rule out the suggestion that if Lord Mace ordered the siege to be lifted or indeed if someone else suggested it to him that she might support them in this did not go unnoticed by him and despite himself, Oberyn could not stop a smirk from spreading on his face. He wasn't going to find much cause for enjoyment later, might as well take what little that he could.
"Be that as it may, my Lady. I will not leave until the siege is lifted one way or the other." Some of the riders in Lady Oakheart's party tensed and the lady herself narrowed her eyes. "If you've seen the forces that I have brought, then you know it is not a small number by itself and while I do not doubt you would indeed rise to meet them it would be a bloody thing and it would cost you to push us back and we would back, and we would be back with larger numbers to punish you for it." He hissed the last words, a bit of a mummur's flare but he thought it worked quite well.
"My prince, please." Lady Nymeria interjected, just as they had planned it. Her voice taking on a soothing note. "My lady, none of us want more blood. I think we can all of agree that Westeros has seen enough of it, if you would simply allow us to speak to Lord Mace himself so we can at least try to and bring a peaceful end to this then surely all would be for the better."
"You would speak to me of blood, my Lady?" There was a hint of derision in her voice then, and Lady Oakheart's eyes had narrowed. "What of the smallfolk of the Reach, that have been murdered by Dornish raiders? Of the fields and villages and farms and holdfasts that have been burned to the ground, the crops that have been ruined? I know for a fact that it was you and your band my Lady that terrorised the Crownlands, did the blood horrify you then even as you spilled it?"
"I took no delight in it, my Lady." Nymeria hissed, her hands slightly tightening on the reins of her horse. "I did what I had to do, and what has to be done is often terrible. As did most of the raiders, I have no doubt. And let us not pretend that every Reach man that marched in an innocent, how many of them stole crops and how many stole maidenheads as well?"
"You know, I will not lie I am rather enjoy this show. The only thing that could make this any better was if I had a rather comfortable pillow to recline on and a fine glass of Dornish Red to drink. And if the both of you were dressed in a few scraps of silk and oiled." Many of the men that rode up with Lady Oakheart cursed at him for that, the lady herself simply glared at him in such a way that Oberyn was certain that if he were a lesser man then it would have sent him running.
Lady Toland simply smacked him on the back of the head, and that brought more laughter from his side than his own comments. "Such a thing could be treason, my Lady. I am certain that if I were to tell my brother of this, then no doubt he would have your hand cut off and dipped in gold and presented to me in a very fine box."
"If your brother heard of this then he would empty all the coffers in Sunspear for me to hit you again."
That brought even more laughter, and in point of fact there were one or two smirks from the other side as well and honestly it was like they were leading lambs to the slaughter. Of course at that moment a man, who was quite possibly the ugliest that Oberyn had ever seen which was saying something for him, decided to open his mouth. "Look at them, they are Dornish savages and Northern barbarians my Lady. They laugh even as they speak of their broken hearts when it comes to the horrors that they themselves have commited, I say we send them away now. Whatever force they raise against us we shall defeat it easily enough."
"And who are you, my Lord, if I might have the honor?" Oberyn asked, keeping the cheer in his voice even as his eyes narrowed at him. He had a suspicion, the ears helped with that.
"I am Alester Florent, if you must know. Lord of House Florent and Brightwater Keep." The man announced himself with all the confidence of a man who thought that he was much more respected, lusted after and envied than he actually was. House Florent was old, and Brightwater Keep was an impressive enough castle, but the man acted like he was a king.
"I see, then it seems that I must beg your pardon, my Lord."
"Well, that's more like it-"
"For the mistaken assumption that it would be an honor to know who you were, the fault is my own of course. There is a chance that I did know who you were but it is quite likely I pushed it out of my mind for the space for more useful things." Oberyn tilted his head to the side and let out a hum. "Or to forget the trauma, your ears are very...formidable, my Lord. I shall need a great deal of wine tonight, I fear."
There was laughter on all sides then, even Lady Oakheart had to hide her own smirk behind a square of silk but she was not able to hide the fact that her shoulders were shaking. Lord Florent's lips were pressed firmly together into a line and his face was redder than a pomegranate and Oberyn was sure that he had to be biting his tongue.
Lady Oakheart, sadly, regained her composure rather quickly. Clearing her throat, she sounded like a septa with her next words. "Prince Oberyn, I will thank you not to insult Lord Alester, if you wish to gain anything from this conversation then I demand you apologise to him otherwise I shall ride away and tell Lord Mace to expect your attack."
"Oh, very well then." Oberyn said with a long suffering sigh, as if he had been asked to do something that would actually annoy him. "I am truly sorry for my comments Lord Alester, I truly did not mean to offend you. You must remember that down in Dorne, our mothers give us to vipers to be nursed and as we drink down their venom we have to spit it out in order to stop it from building it up and killing us, I am afraid that you were simply the nearest target for it. So, please forgive me."
In a moment that slightly, very slightly, improved his standing in Oberyn's eyes it was clear that Lord Florent thought that it was bullshit but anyone with half a working mind would know that. "It is quite all right, my lord. You know no better, after all. Living in the desert as you do, the sun boiling your brain inside of your head."
"Quite." Oberyn said with a grin, making quite the show that his insult simply washed off him like water. "Now then, my Lady. You said it youself, only Lord Mace can command the siege to be lifted so I think it would be better if I was brought forward to speak with him. Then, one way or the other, I shall be out of your hair."
"Very well then, follow me." Lady Oakheart turned her stallion around and began to ride down to the tents where the lords would be waiting, it spoke to how much she did not want to be here that Lady Oakheart had not put of more of a fight about it. Well, simply made it easier for him in the end either way and he doubted that Mace Tyrell would be harder than her to deal with.
As they rode, the men that were huddled close to the tents glared up at him as they rode past them. He couldn't blame them, since they all looked like they were the Reachmen that meant they had poison poured into their ears about Dorne since they had been born and they had not done much to help with that considered they had been burning their home as of late.
Still, none of them were stupid enough to try anything which he should be grateful for.
The sound of catipults throwing stones at the walls of Storm's End met his ears and Oberyn found himself glancing in the direction of the castle, the walls were standing as strong as ever and the stones were not truly being thrown up high enough to sail over the wall which meant that they were just keeping throwing the stones at the wall as a way to unnerve the defenders.
It occured to him that the boy might well be dead all ready, he was very young from what Elia had told him and it wasn't as if food would be able to reach the boy with the castle itself under siege and it had been under siege for a very, very long time indeed. He did not doubt that Storm's End had deep stores but how much would they have been able to stock it up before the siege was laid itself? Not that much, if Oberyn was any judge.
But, if the boy was dead then he also doubted that the defenders would still be holding the castle. The boy was chosen as king because of his Targaryen grandmother and without him they would have no easy choice to put on the throne, and the defenders might well see no more need to suffer and starve if the boy was already dead. Some of them might even have cut his throat themselves.
No, Renly Baratheon was still alive and every stone that was launched only seemed to reinforce that fact as well as to make it clear that it would be Oberyn that would have to change that. The air suddenly felt a great deal heavier than it had done a few moments before, and he had to force down a breath in order stop himself from falling out of his saddle.
Mace Tyrell's tent was larger than some holdfasts that Oberyn had seen, and Lady Toland had the right of it when it came to the coin that must have been spent on it. It only got worse as he was brought inside and the smell of roasting meat rushed to meet his nose, two large banquet tables were laid out, stretching from the wooden dais where the lord's chair was sat all the way to the enterance.
It was a miracle they were not broken from the sheer weight of food that was atop them, every kind of fruit seemed to be spread out across the tables with apples and pears and strawberries and fire plums and ripe peaches and blueberries and melons, a dozen different types of cheese and a least a hundred wheels of a buttery and sweet yellow.
Swans were resplendent as any queen in their plummage and no doubt were stuffed with something, fruits and nuts and meat perhaps. There were roast ducks as well, some which had been roasted with cheeries till their skin seemed a bright red and some roasted with apples and onions and sage the smell of which, he could not deny, made his mouth water.
Legs of lamb with a thick mint sauce, pies as small as man's hand and as large as a wagon wheel were scattered all about, honey cakes that were as thick as a castle wall and drenched in fresh honey, pears stewed in red wine and served with cream snowe. Yes, it was an orgy of delights and he was impressed that they had been able to make all of this without a kitchen keep.
But he imagined that the people outside the tent, the ones actually laying the siege, who would be eating hard biscuits and stale bread and a thin soup of herbs and half rotten onions. If Mace Tyrell proved to be as stupid as Oberyn thought he was then he might be able to use that, after all you could not lay a siege if you did not have the men to do so.
The fat flower himself was sitting in her chair on the dias, a goblet of wine in one hand and a tart in the other. He was laughing at something that a man sitting next to him was saying, with his orange hair and bulbous nose Oberyn had to assume that he was Paxter Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor. His blockade wouldn't be worth much if they could just walk through the gates, but still better if that was gone as well.
Tyrell's laughter died as soon as he caught sight of him, he quickly rose to his feet. Oberyn liked to think that he was fairly fair when it came to people and he couldn't not deny, Tyrell was not so displeasing to look upon. He had clearly been indulging with food for a good few years and it had put weight upon the muscle but the muscle was still clearly there, a fat flower but not a weak one.
His brown hair was straight and his eyes were blue, yes if he was a few years younger and not on the wrong side then Oberyn might try and seduce him for fun and as a distraction but ah well, he would make do regardless. "Lord Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Reach, Defender of the Marches and Warden of the South. It is good to know that the man is as impressive as the numerous tilts that he carries."
"False flattery will not work on me, Prince Oberyn." He puffed up like a chicken, why was it that all the lords of the Reach had such a grand sense of self importance? "You are a traitor to the crown sir, your countrymen are vile murders and have shown themselves to be little better than common brigands when it comes to the matter of war. I should strike you down here and now ser."
Oh, now that would be a fine sight to see. He might even manage it, considering that Oberyn would no doubt be laughing to hard to try and defend himself form him. All the same, he stiffled a chuckle before he could let it out. "That is quite a list of crimes you have accused me of Ser, one could also say you are complict in the murder on many innocents. You said and did nothing as the king burned many who commited no true crime."
"He was the King, I did not agree with everything that he did but I was sworn to obey him, as was Dorne." The Lord of Highgarden let out a short and dismissive laugh, waving his hand at him. "I would not expect a Dornishman to understand when it comes to matters of honor, certainly not a man who uses poisoned blades and beds down with men."
He was not going to kill him, he was not going to kill him. Oberyn tried to think anything else but killing him and after a very long moment, he found it and made himself speak. "Alas my Lord, I am afraid that all of this is rather a moot point to discuss. We can discuss the ethics of what the both of us have done or have not done or who better understands honor another time, there are practicallities that must be dealt with now."
"And what practicallities would those be?"
"The simple fact that the King you are so loyal to is dead, this siege serves no one." Oberyn glanced around at all of the men in the tent in this moment, watching for their reactions. "Prince Rhaegar is dead as well, that was made certain off. Queen Rhaella is timid woman, she has fled to Dragonstone for the safety of her son and I do not doubt that soon enough she will try and take him beyond the Narrow Sea, Viserys himself is a boy who cannot rule considering how both his Father and Brother turned out and Rhaegar's children are babes in their swaddling."
"My lord, this war is done and all know it. The winner has already been decided and everything else is simply a mattter of us all admitting it to ourselves. To pretend otherwise would be foolish." There was some doubt now, and none of it was being well hidden. It seemed that Lady Oakheart was not the only one who wanted this brought to an end.
"You know that I am prepared to force this issue, if it comes to that. This is me being more reasonable than I ought to be, and at the request of one of King Renly's own regents. I would have already attacked by now but I have not done that because I am giving you a chance to lay down your arms and be welcomed back into the King's peace."
Once he had finished speaking all of his attention was focused on the fat flower, it would be at his word that decided all of this one way or the other. After a few moments, he spoke. "I would like everyone to wait outside, I would like to speak to Prince Oberyn alone. Leave us." There was some muttering as they all left, but leave they all did.
Once they were gone Mace rose form his chair and stepped down from the dais, walking over to one of the tables. "Are you hungry? Feel free to help yourself to anything."
"That's very generous of you, sadly I am not hungry."
Mace laughed at that as he picked up a pitcher of wine. "You think I must've poisoned it, we are not in Dorne now Prince Oberyn. Here, poison is the weapon of cravens and women. You have no need to fear."
"Well, I am glad to hear that." Oberyn said with a tight smile, certain his teeth were about to shatter into a thousand shards. "And you must be glad of it as well, considering that you would have been poisoned a thousand times over no doubt by this point."
The man hummed, not seeing the insult. "Tarly was certain that he had killed you, you know? Well, not him but one of his bow men. I won't lie to you when I say that there was quite a lot of cheering at the thought of that. Many were disappointed as well when word finally reached us all that you would live and recoverer."
"You should speak with my brother, no dount the two of you would become firm friends as you bond of your shared understanding of how disappointing I am."
Tyrell hummed again and poured himself a goblet, putting the pitcher back down on the table. "Now. Despite what your Dornishmen may think I am not such a fool, I know that this war is all but over and I won't be able to hold out here. But, I've been starving the castle for over a year now I believe, never been good with dates to be honest, and while I can't do anything for the King and Rhaegar, well, I think I could do worse than to have the new king in my power."
No, he wasn't that stupid. He could see an advantage and he knew when to take it, but he was still pretty stupid if he thought that it would work out for him that way. "My Lord, you scouts have told you that I have an army nearby. If something happens to me and I do not return, then they have orders to attack. But, it is a small force. Smaller than yours."
"But every day that passes and more order is restored to the land more and more eyes will begin to drift this way, to where the new king is. To where you are, and more and more forces will being to come here and soon enough you will be outnumbered and they will take the king from you by force and they will remember then what it comes to dealing with you afterwards. You may be right that you can take the King, but you cannot hold him.
Mace sighed. "Then what do you suggest, instead?"
"You know what it is that I suggest, my Lord. Lift the siege now and end this, you will be welcomed back into the King's peace and you will be able to go home again, would you not like that my Lord? To go home?"
"It has been a long since I saw Highgarden, my wife's pregnant again. I've three sons already and I do hope for a daughter this time." Mace Tyrell looked wistful and for a moment Oberyn felt something that might have been sorrow for him. "You've no daughters, have you? Proper daughters I mean, not your baseborn lot."
Well, that had been a very short moment. "No, I do not have a wife to have proper daughters with and I am quite glad of that, now you wish to see your children again and I do not blame you but the only way you would be able to do that is to end this siege."
"And are you so certain that I will be allowed into the boy king's peace, Prince Oberyn?" The other man took a deep drink from his goblet then and drained it dry and looked sore tempted to fill the goblet back up again. "I've been laying siege to the castle for a long time, he might not be quick to forgive that and I know that two of his regents are in there, if they still live then I doubt they would."
"Renly is a young lad, by the time he is a man grown and has full authority to act on his own then he might not even remember all of this. Ederon Estermont and Mary Mertyns are both old, assuming they are both not dead already they will want an end to this siege more than they will want to hold a grudge over it." Oberyn took that moment to glance over to one of the table's. "And right now, I can see a way that you can win favour."
That would seem to be that, Mace Tyrell might have liked to dance around it but he wasn't so stupid that he didn't see the way that this was already going to end. So, from his tent came the command that the siege was to end. The response seemed to be...lukewarm, at the best. But Oberyn didn't need the lords of the Reach and the men to be happy about it ending, he just needed it to end.
Oberyn and Mace rode through the gates of Storm's End side by side, and following them came wagons and wagons and wagons of food. The guards, many of whom seemed to be using their pikes as support to stand up considering how weak the hunger has made them, suddenly seemed to forget that this was the man responsible for their weakness and a series of ragged cheers went up into the air.
As Lord Mace swelled from the praise, Oberyn was brought into the great hall were Renly's regents would be waiting for him. If the guards looked bad, then Lord Eldron Estermont and Lady Mary Mertyns looked worse. He did not think that he had ever met them before this but Elia had told him all that he would need to know before he had set out and he knew that neither of them had been young.
Now, it looked as though any moment death would come to claim them. They looked like skin that had been pulled over skeletons, Lary Mary's grey hair was thin and listless and her sharp nose looked even more prominent while Lord Eldron looked as through a weak breeze could push him over and his skin was as wrinkled as aged parchement.
"Prince Oberyn, I-" Lord Eldron began but already that set him into a hacking cough and Oberyn responded by picking up an empty cup and filling it with his own skin. Eldron drank from it deeply, and the cough was soothed at least a little. "Thank you, very choice."
"Spiced wine, a favourite of mine for more reasons than to sooth a cough but it is indeed one of it's many virtues." Oberyn said with a small laugh before he turned his attention to Lady Mary. "My Lady, it is a pleasure to meet you at last. Are you well?"
"I am old and starved and cold Prince Oberyn, well is the last thing that I am." Mary scoffed and held out her own goblet. "And I also have no wine to drink, one of those things you have already proven to be well equiped with dealing with."
"Oh, my Lady. I think you find I am equipped to deal with many manor of problems, and only to willing to do so." Oberyn said with an overly saucy tone and grin, which got the laugh he wanted out of her as he filled her goblet with the rest of the contents of the skin. Which was a slight problem as now he was out of wine.
"Oh, it is had been a long while since I've laughed." Mertyns said with a smirk as she reached up to brush away the tears from her eyes. "For a long while there, I thought that I should never laugh again."
"I wish I could spend the entire day making you laugh, my Lady. But I am afraid that other matters must come first, how is the King?" The two old skeltons glanced at one another and for a moment, a blissful moment, Oberyn thought that they would turn to him and tell him that Renly was dead, that the poor little thing had not been built to withstand the true crulties of a siege.
But alas, he should have known that it would not be so easy. He was brought to the boy, in his chambers at the very heart of Storm's End with guards at the door, he looked thinner than any young boy should do but he was alive. His nursemaid, who once might have been a plump woman but the siege had made it's effects clear on her with loose skin that could be grabbed at, was sitting by his bedside and feeding him a thin soup.
"Good morning, your Grace." Oberyn said with a smile as he sat down next to the bed, reaching out to gently take one of his hand's. He could feel the bones underneath the skin, thin and delicate as a bird's he knew that it he put even the slighest amount of pressure on them then they would break apart and into dust. "How do you fare?"
"I am hungry, and the sound of the catapults hurt my head." The boy whimpered and his nursemaid gasped and was quick to spoon more of the soup down his throat, the boy took it gladly but how much nourishment it could be giving him Oberyn did not know. It was not a meal that should be a young boy's last. "But...I bare it bravely, I am going to be the King, my lord."
"So you are." Oberyn said with a smile and forced himself to rise to his feet, he needed to leave. "And kings must gather their strength for the future, I shall leave you to rest."
Once he was outside the chambers, he turned to Lord Eldron and Lady Mary. "I must give both of you hearty thanks, children as young as he do not often survive long sieges such as this."
"We did what we could for him, as little as that was. We began to give him our own shares of food, to make sure that he would survive, even as the rest of the castle began to eat their own boot leather." Lord Eldron said with a sigh. "What is to happen now, are you to take him to King's Landing with you? I think that might be for the best."
"In a few days, a week perhaps, it is important that first of all he gather his strength for what is to come. Lord Mace had brought food through the gates, enough to feed the entire castle I am quite certain of that and the both of you must have some as well. If anyone has earned it, then I am quite sure it is the both of you." Lady Mary and Lord Eldron did not agree out loud, but he knew that they wished to do so and so they left to go find food and he left to go and find his room.
On his way there, he found that Paxter Redwyne was yelling at a lowborn man about something or over and Oberyn honestly would not care otherwise but the stupid man seemed intent to bring him into this. "Prince Oberyn, I hope our new king is taught the meaning of justice early on and sees it carried out quick. This man is a lowly smuggler and flaunted the blockade to bring food to the defenders, I demand the King meet out justice."
"The king is recovering from the siege my Lord, and the defenders you speak of were his. I do not think the King is likely to be to harsh on a man that brought him food." He turned his attention from Paxter Redwyne to the lowborn man. "And you, goodman, what is your name?"
"Davos, your Lordship, Davos of Flea Bottom." Well, the lowest of the low and none of Redwyne's fine sailors had been able to capture him. If this was any other day, any other moment, and Oberyn might have laughed at that.
"Well, Davos of Flea Bottom. It is not for me to determine what is done with you, that is for the king's regents to decide. In the meantime, you are to remain in my custody. Try to flee the castle and I shall hear of it. Lord Paxter, will you make certain that he does not attempt to escape and also, more importantly, that he does not come to harm until the King hears him. I will hear if that is otherwise as well."
"Of course, Prince Oberyn." The man growled and his guards took hold of the smuggler and dragged him off and Oberyn let out a long sigh and began to hurry on to his rooms where he waited for the sky to darken, he already knew how he meant to see it done and it would leave his own hands clean if all was done well but he knew the true blood would belong to him all the same.
The castle was not silent, but it was near enough when he slipped out of his rooms and began to make his way back to where Renly was. He lingered close, but not to close. For this to work, it was important that he was not seen as being to near to the king when this was done. He heard the footsteps, and he knew it was time.
The first he gave the nursemaid was planned, as she turned the corner and he smiled at her. "Oh, a thousand pardons m'lord, I didn't rightly see you there. Please, forgive me but I best be getting back to the kitchens."
"Of course, would it be all right for me to escort you back? No woman, highborn or low, should be alone on a dark night?" Oberyn said with a small bow as he held out his hand, the woman was old and fat and he doubted that any man had treated her so gently and his assumptions were right when the woman's face flushed red and she took his hand.
"How is the King? I worry for him." Oberyn asked her, as they walked through the corridors.
"Oh, I worry for him too. Poor little love, his mother and father died when he was still a babe in the cradle you see. And all my babes died in the cradle too, so im the closet thing poor little mite has to a mother. I made sure that he had all my food during the siege, I don't mind seeing as I had more than my fair share of my live."
"Very brave of you, and selfess."
"Oh, well I don't know about that. But little Renly is very well know, he was giving cheek when I left him. I was so glad of Lord Mace bringing in all the food in, he had a bowl of rabbit stew with carrots and onions and a whole loaf of bread, some meat pies and cheeses and some honey cake as well, oh and honey milk as well. He made me tell him five stories and was dead to the world when I left him."
"Stories from a book?"
"Oh no m'lord, I cannot read. Stories me own mam told me when I was a girl." Well, that was good. If she could not read then she could not write either which was quite important.
"Hm, well I hope they give him sweet dreams. They might be the last that he has for a very long while." Oberyn mused as they stepped out into the cold of the night, walking over to the large stone keep that held the kitchens.
A seed that is planted will sprout and grow, it just needs to be tended to. "Why would that be, m'lord?" The nursemaid asked.
"Well, he is to be king. This is no easy thing for even grown men to bare, I do not want to speak ill of anyone who involved in the decision you understand but it was a cruel thing to put a crown on his head. Little more than a babe, where the crown has driven men, great men, to madness and ruin and death. He will have false friends around him for the rest of his life and many of them will be out for his blood, they will tear him apart like dogs over a scrap of meat.
"Have you even seen the Iron Throne, goodwoman?" He asked the nursemaid, her skin had gone pale in the light of the moon to the point that it made her look ghostly. "I first saw it when I was a very young boy and my mother had brought my sister and I to court with her, to visit the king. I thought it a monsterr, the great black maw of a monster with a thousand teeth to rip me apart. And they want a babe to sit on it."
"It's blades have ripped into the Kings who have sat on it, made them bleed and it has even killed some of them? How could any boy hope to sit on it and survive? What happiness could he hope to have?" Oberyn sighed. "If only he could sleep forever, stay safe inside of his own sweet dreams where no harm can be done to him."
"Alas, we are here and I am in a meloncholy mood. Good night, goodwoman." If the nursemaid said anything then Oberyn did not hear it and the might indeed be for the best, every single step that he took seemed to be weighed down by lead weights and it seeme to take him forever before he finally made it back to his room.
He laid down, but he was not able to sleep.
That might have been for the best, considering that not even an hour later the screams began.
End of Chapter Ninety-Eight.
Well, I think this is probably the darkest chapter that I have written for this so far and I am not certain there is anything I can add in the note here, I think that most of it stands for itself pretty much.
Next chapter, we go back to King's Landing and it won't be an Elia P.O.V. That's all I'll say for now.
Please leave a review, follow and favourite and constructive criticism is always welcome.
With the warmest regards,
DiscordantSymphony