Chapter 18: Oberyn II

Oberyn sat on one of the many terraces of the Red Keep that overlooked the bay.

He sipped his wine - a fine Dornish vintage - and allowed himself to admire the beauty of the midday sun. Such musings were more Doran's pace than his own, of course, but Oberyn could see the appeal. There was a certain relaxing quality to the quiet, rolling ocean, the glimmer of the sun off the waves, the soft orange shadows cast across every surface, the relative isolation and silence.

Across the table at which he sat, the Boy King shared his view, a small tomcat sat in his lap, occasionally purring as he stroked it's back, "This is my little gem," he said. "When ruling becomes tiresome, I come here."

Oberyn observed the Boy King. He did look tired, but not as much he might have claimed. There was a nervous quality to the way he moved, that half-second delay that spoke to a mix of uncertainty or apprehension. Though King Tommen's eyes flashed with an intelligence they should not have, it was that delay that set Oberyn's mind at ease. The Boy King might have been exceptional, but he was a boy all the same.

"It is pleasant," Oberyn neutrally replied. "Ellaria and the girls would love it, I'm sure."

The King allowed the smallest hint of a smile to tug at the corners of his lips, "As would Myrcella, but we'll keep this our little secret, won't we? I'd so hate to lose my sanctuary."

Ah, Oberyn realised, Myrcella. I was wondering when her name would be mentioned.

"Myrcella will be well taken care of," Oberyn assured him. "You have my word."

The King shrugged, continued stroking his cat, and once again stared out over the bay, "What can I say? A brother worries."

"Yes," Oberyn said. "I know this all too well. My vengeance is not yet complete, but we have no more cause for strife - at least not with your side of the family."

The King smiled pleasantly, though Oberyn noted it did not quite reach his eyes, "And I'm glad for that, at least. Though I will say we were quite disappointed to see you could not ride in the tourney field, my prince. Many a man would have paid good gold to see the Red Viper ride. I do trust you are healing well."

"Well enough," Oberyn said with an easy smile. "But if these petty aches and pains are the price for you fulfilling a decade-old dream of mine, Your Grace, then I'll consider it a price well-paid."

The King smiled, "I'd much prefer to fulfill a woman's dreams, my prince."

Oberyn allowed himself a bark of laughter, "So I've heard." The new Queen in particular seemed keen to mark her territory before the old one. "And my daughters have apparently heard as well," he said with an impish grin. "I'm sure you'll get on famously."

"I'm sure we will," he said. "There are worse ways to die, after all."

"Don't worry, Your Grace," Oberyn mock-assured him, "they'll be gentle."

The King smiled another smile, and then said: "Yes, and that is much appreciated. But I am afraid we must move onto the meat of the matter. I did not call you here merely to enjoy the pleasure of your company, after all."

"How disappointing," Oberyn said. "Very well, then. What is the matter?"

"Myrcella," the King said.

Oberyn started a little, "King Tommen, I have already given my word."

King Tommen's tone hardened as he spoke, "And yet, your brother the Prince Doran felt perfectly comfortable keeping her from coming to my wedding. And after I specifically requested her attendance. How else can I take that but as an insult?"

"Oh," Oberyn said dismissively. "My brother is far too careful. He has a suspicious mind, you see. But again, I assure you, no harm will come to the Princess Myrcella."

"Ah, but is it your word that matters?" the King said with an eyebrow quirked. "Or your brother the Prince Doran's? You see my dilemma here, don't you?"

"I do," Oberyn tentatively said, his eyes narrowed. He's setting a trap, Oberyn realised. "But I came here empowered by my brother. Whilst I am here, I speak for him on all matters. It is as I told your mother-"

"You do not hurt little girls in Dorne," the King finished.

Oberyn nodded.

King Tommen clapped his hands together, and a servant rushed over, setting something large down on the table, covered in a silken cloth. For a moment, Oberyn thought it might be a head. The King gripped the cloth and pulled it away to reveal a fine marble plinth, "This is yours, Prince Oberyn. Consider it a gift, and an apology. As I said before, a brother worries."

"A fine gift," Oberyn said.

"It is," the King agreed. "Fit for a large man's head."

Oberyn's expression soon fell to mirth and he let out a bark of uproarious laughter. He offered the King a gleeful smirk as he inspected the workmanship, "Consider your apology accepted. I will mount the Mountain's head besides the dagger that took his life, and when you come to visit your sister in Dorne, I will feast you under this for a fortnight, King Tommen."

"It will be my pleasure, my prince," King Tommen easily replied. He gestured again with his hands, and the waiting servant hefted up the plinth and carried it off, presumably to load aboard the Elia.

"I look forward to the day, King Tommen," Oberyn said.

"I am saddened to see you go, my prince," King Tommen said. "Are you certain I cannot convince you to stay?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Oberyn shook his head. "I have been away from my children for far too long. And Ellaria longs to see her daughters. But you mustn't worry, King Tommen. Arianne is a clever girl, she will take good care with you."

The King looked as though he were sucking a lemon, "Yes, Arianne. She has been trying to take good care of me for a while now."

Oberyn again laughed. "We Dornish are a fiery people," he said. "And I believe Arianne has taken a liking to you. You should expect worse."

The King groaned, "Isn't she going to wed?"

"We are still looking at suitors," Oberyn said with a smirk. "But if her heart is taken by another, then what can I do?"

"Might I suggest a Tyrell?" the King asked, not dignifying his question with a response. "I don't suppose you'd consider a Lannister cousin - I know I wouldn't, if I were you. But Willas is still unwed, and I hear you have good relations with him. Such a match should put the animosity between your two houses to rest, at any rate. It would be good for the realm."

"I do know him," Oberyn said. "And it probably would, but I fear my brother Doran may be more hesitant to agree to such a match."

The King nodded, "Well, I suppose the final decision rests with him, in any case. It is his daughter. Yet with Viserys Targaryen dead, and your secret pact rendered meaningless, I don't see much more cause for delay." The King shrugged, "Still, I suppose I am not familiar enough with the politics in Dorne to say."

Oberyn felt the blood chill in his veins a little. So this was his trap. His mouth suddenly felt dry, "King Tommen?"

Tommen gestured dismissively. "Please! Think of it no longer," he said, his voice smooth and pleasant, as though he had not mentioned a grave treason like it was some passing fancy. "I have long forgiven your plotting. In fact, I quite sympathise. I know I would not react well if it were my sister. You don't have to worry about it, Prince Oberyn. I will keep your little secret."

"This has been interesting, King Tommen," Oberyn said suddenly, resisting the urge to ask the King a thousand questions, or perhaps to challenge his honour in the face of the accusation and demand satisfaction as he rose from his seat. It was a statement, he knew. I'm powerful enough to know, the King was telling him, and powerful enough to risk saying so. And so, partly out of respect and partly out of fear, Oberyn instead said, "But I believe the time has come for me to leave."

The King looked out at the evening sun over the horizon and nodded, "Yes, I suppose it has. Safe travels, my prince. I wish you all the best. Try not to commit any more treasons. Oh, and do be sure to tell Myrcella I miss her."

The balls on this boy...

Oberyn nodded sharply, "I will."

Oberyn departed from the terrace with a certain uncertainty in his gait. He walked almost in a daze, unable to comprehend what he had just heard. He knew, Oberyn thought. And from the sounds of it, he has known for a while. And yet, he decided to help me anyways. But King Tommen had already explained himself there. More concerning for Oberyn was the question of how.

Who betrayed us?

Oberyn thought, a cold fury lancing down his veins.

Though Oberyn was known for his fiery temper, he was not an impatient man. He knew how to wait, like a coiled serpent stalking it's prey through desert sands, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and deliver his venom. When I find this traitor, Oberyn vowed, I will make him suffer worse than the Mountain. Till then, however, he could not afford to tip his hand.

Oberyn stalked down the stairs and through the passages of the Red Keep. He made his way down into the city, and past the bay, where the Elia was waiting to take him home. He walked first to Chataya's brothel, making his way to see Ellaria and gather her to depart with him. He made his way to the usual room and found her with Alayaya, head thrown back, eyes screwed tightly shut in pleasure. She looked up at him as Alayaya wiggled her bare arse suggestively in his direction, her head still buried between Ellaria's legs with the wet smacking of lips on lips.

Oberyn resisted the temptation to join them.

"We have to go," he said.

Ellaria eyed him for a second, and then dismissed Alayaya with a frown on her face, straightening herself as she stood before him, "Is something the matter?"

Oberyn pulled Ellaria in for a kiss, his hand sliding between her legs to find her slick and dripping, "Yes," he said between kisses. "My patience for this city has been exhausted. Far too many lions for my taste. And it is time to leave, anyhow."

Ellaria moaned a desperate, shuddering moan at his touch, and then nodded sharply as she seized back her wits from the throes of her lust. "Our possessions have been moved from the cornerfort and are already aboard the Elia," she said. "Let me dress, and then we can go bid the girls farewell."

Oberyn nodded, cursing himself as he left. The girls. In his fury, he had forgotten them. Would the King tell Arianne? Should I do it instead? And if he did, how would she react? How would Doran when he inevitably found out?

A few moments later, Ellaria joined him and the pair departed for the bay. They walked arm-in-arm through the busy streets, the people of the city making way for them whenever they passed. Oberyn felt his hackles rise as eyes followed the pair through the streets. Eventually, the Elia came into view, and his two daughters, his niece and the Imp stood waiting to bid them farewell.

Oberyn greeted the Imp first. "I thought this was too enormous a task for you?" Oberyn asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Tyrion forced a smile and shook his head, "I am plenty big enough for this. I came only to bid you goodbye, my prince. And to give you my thanks as well."

"I have all the prize I could ever need here, Imp," Oberyn said, gesturing to the dagger on his hip. "I have no need for your thanks."

Tyrion gazed at the sheathed dagger intently, "No, I suppose you don't." The Imp's eyes met Oberyn's own a moment later, "But I hope you will my accept my farewell, in any case."

Oberyn nodded, "That, I will accept. Farewell, Lord Tyrion."

Tyrion nodded and stood waiting with a frown on his face. His mouth opened, as though he wished to ask something, and then closed again with an indecisive frown, and then he turned and left. Queerer and queerer, Oberyn thought, suddenly sick of this place and longing for the warmth of home. What does he know?

He watched the Imp waddle away into the city before he turned back to face Arianne.

"Uncle," she said. "We'll miss you."

"Yes," Nymeria agreed. "The capital will become ever so boring without you."

Tyene stood silent, waiting. Oberyn said goodbye to his girls, told them he loved them, and gave them each their instructions once they were all aboard the Elia and Oberyn could be certain there were no prying eyes or ears. To Tyene he said, "There have been some rumblings about the High Septon. The crown owes the faith a great deal in gold. See if you can try and get close to him."

"Why not?" Tyene said. "White suits my colouring. I look so... pure."

To Nymeria, he said, "A rift has opened between the King and his Lannister mother. Widen it if you can, so the sun can shine on the maggots and worms within her. This ends with the utter ruination of Tywin Lannister, and he cares for nothing more than his golden lions."

"I will," Nymeria said simply.

Finally, Oberyn pulled Arianne to the side, and spoke to her where no ears could pry. "The King knows plenty," he warned. "Be prudent about what you say, and about what you do."

"I will be," Arianne said, a look of concerned confusion on her face. "It is unlike you to be this... cautious, Uncle. Is something the matter?"

Oberyn battled with himself for a moment, and then made his choice. This is Doran's decision, not mine. I will speak with him first. Doran would no doubt be furious at him merely for leaving his daughter in the capital. Oberyn had no desire to earn any more of his ire.

It will be good for her, Oberyn thought as he looked at Arianne. She has much to learn, and I'd wager she'll learn it best here.

"Much is the matter, but nothing you need concern yourself with just yet," Oberyn said. "In the future, perhaps. Till then, stay close to the King, and learn all you can from him and of him. His marriage is new, use that if you must. Befriend his Tyrell wife. Speak to the other lords on his council. Exercise your best judgement. The King is not one for cruelty, and I do not think he is our enemy, but he is still the son of Robert and the grandson of Tywin. Remember that."

"I will," Arianne said with a frown.

Oberyn gave his daughters and his niece a hug each, and sent them back off to the Red Keep with his guard. "Above all," he said as he sent them away, his tone jovial again, "take care of each other!"

Once they were off, Oberyn stood on the deck of the ship and watched the city from his perch as the vessel began to move out of port. It isn't like me to brood, he offhandedly thought. But he knew better than to not. He watched the city shrink in his vision as the wind hit the sails of the Elia and caused them to billow and flap. Out of the bay they sailed as the sun descended over the horizon.

He stood waiting as the city disappeared from view, stood waiting as night came and darkness fell. He nursed a cup of wine in his hands as he continued to brood, caught in dark thoughts. Ellaria came to bid him to sleep, and he sent her down with a kiss and a promise to join her in a few moments. She would await him naked, he could tell by the glint in her eyes.

So, Doran, he thought as he finished the last dregs of wine in his cup, what now?

No, still not back yet.
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P.S. May be subject to a rewrite or edits in the future