Chapter 4: Deception

Getting some face-time with Oberyn Martell was a surprisingly hard thing to do.

Even though I was a king, I was also a king operating under the pretence of being a child. As such, making a visit to the city was a move that would almost immediately raise some red flags in the minds of people who's attention I wanted to evade, at least till the trial was over. Conversely, I also wanted to impress upon Oberyn the power of the throne, as a backup in case the offer of Gregor's head on a stick proved insufficient to achieve my goals.

Even worse, Oberyn spent much of his time post-wedding in Chataya's brothel, where he opted to stay in his stint in King's Landing, rightfully suspicious of the Lannisters in the Red Keep. Ultimately, if I was going to extract the maximum benefit from Tyrion's trial, it was a risk I was going to have to take. It wasn't like Baratheons weren't known for whoring, right? Being a young lad in the midst of puberty, even if a tad young for that sort of thing, I figured a visit to a brothel would be easy enough to explain away.

And so, here I stood, outside the entrance to Chataya's brothel. With me I brought two members of the Kingsguard, in the form of Ser Jaime and Ser Balon, alongside a full guard of a dozen gold cloaks. Venturing inside revealed an intensely unpleasant atmosphere. The smell of sex was mixed with a strong waft of various perfumes, as well as the characteristically shitty smell of the rest of the city. Given the stench alone, I struggled to imagine how anyone could manage to find the atmosphere erotic. Oh, to be sure, the decor was nice, and girls were pretty, but the whole thing seemed more disgusting than enticing, and the place gave me the same feeling as the one I got from a motorway service station.

Spotting their royal visitor, one of the girls let out a peep and rushed off, Chataya herself emerging from the background to greet me, a tall, slender, handsome woman who wore a surprisingly conservative dress for her profession. Still revealing, but not as much as I had expected. She gave a shallow curtsy with a small smile on her face, "Your Grace, what a pleasure it is to see you here. Come, and I will personally see to it that all your desires are met."

I nodded curtly, "Many thanks, Lady Chataya, but I am not here for a woman, but for a man instead." At that, I spotted some of the occupants of the brothel shooting me strange looks, "I hear Prince Oberyn is currently patronising your establishment. I have business with the Prince, and I would like to see him."

Some of my gold cloaks sported relieved expressions, and Chataya nodded, "You heard right, Your Grace, but the Prince is occupied for the moment. Can I tend to your needs whilst you wait?" She gestured and a slim girl who looked perhaps no more than fourteen came over, "We have many different maidens to suit your tastes."

I pointed to the upstairs, where I knew the private rooms were, "Is he up there?"

"I cannot say, Your Grace."

Chataya looked a tad on edge, and I couldn't be bothered to begin issuing orders. Instead, I pulled out my coin-purse and tossed it at her, "For you to let the prince know I'm waiting to see him, and to keep my men entertained whilst we wait."

Chataya nodded, and one by one, the gold cloaks, many of whom I suspected were reporting to someone other than me, were lured away by the whores. Jaime and Balon stuck close by, as I had ordered them to do, waiting in the room Chataya had seen fit to give me, and I had the two of them search it up and down for hidden doors or hidey-holes or any other means by which someone might be listening in. Inevitably, Varys would find out about the details of the conversation, and that didn't much bother me, but I didn't want the true nature of this meeting to be revealed to Tywin or Cersei too early, lest they find some way to fuck up my plans.

After a few minutes, Oberyn finally appeared, shirtless. I dismissed Jaime, bidding them to wait outside, and bid Oberyn in, speaking as he sat down and made himself comfortable, "I must thank you for taking the time out to meet me, Prince Oberyn, I hear you were quite... busy."

Oberyn nodded, a smile on his face, "Such is the purpose of a brothel, no?"

"I suppose, though I wouldn't know. Kings can rarely afford such luxuries during such tumultuous times. What with the weddings and wars and all."

Oberyn sniped at me with an amused smirk on his face, "Which one? The one where your brother choked on his pigeon pie, or the one where you will marry his widow?"

"I was rather referring to the one of my sister to your nephew, the Prince Trystane."

"Little Myrcella." He nodded and smiled, "She's taken well to Dorne, and last I saw her, she was playing with my daughters in the water gardens. From what I hear, Trystane is quite smitten with her."

I nodded, "And I hear that she is similarly taken in by him. I expect that means that my request for their wedding to be brought forwards will be granted."

Oberyn tutted, "My brother is patient beyond all good sense, you see. He will not reschedule just because you asked."

I paused for a moment, taking care to meet Oberyn's increasingly curious gaze, "Myrcella's my favourite sibling, and one cannot help but wonder about the health of one's loved ones, and a marriage would help protect her." I leaned forwards, noting that he made no attempt to deny my accusation, "And I don't expect you to do that for nothing. In return, I will grant you the one thing you've always wanted."

Oberyn quirked an eyebrow, "Which is?"

"Gregor Clegane."

He snorted, "Your grandfather already offered me a meeting with the Mountain, King Tommen, provided I act as a judge in the trial of your uncle, the Imp."

"Would that satisfy you? A meeting with the Mountain. I don't think so, I think you want the pleasure of taking his head for yourself. I certainly would, if it were my sister."

Oberyn's eyes narrowed, "And how, pray tell, would you help me do that?"

"Simple. As it is, my grandfather promises to offer my uncle mercy at his trial if he confesses and repents, at which point he will be shipped off to the wall. My uncle, lacking for much in the way of alternative choices, plans to take this offer. If, on the other hand, he could be convinced to ask for a trial by combat..." I smiled, "My mother, possessed by her vindictive fury, plans on using the Mountain to represent the crown should that occur. Just imagine it, Prince Oberyn, the chance to exact revenge on your sister's killer, the great Lord Tywin Lannister helpless to do anything but watch as you bring his rabid beast crashing to the ground. A spectacular sight, I would imagine."

Oberyn looked sceptical, "You would undermine your own grandfather in such a manner? Free the man who killed your own brother?"

"My uncle is innocent," I insisted, "he is a great many things, but a kinslayer is not one of them. My mother is merely blinded by her own hatred of him."

"You know your mother hinted that she may wed me if I were to rule against your uncle in his trial? Ellaria, my paramour, was practically gushing between her legs at the thought, so beautiful a woman your mother is." Oberyn chuckled, "Then again, Ellaria always was a lusty wench." His expression straightened, "But I have a greater desire than her, greater than even the Mountain's head."

I smiled at the implication, swiftly rejecting his hidden request, "I love my grandfather dearly, Prince Oberyn, even if he and I don't always see eye to eye. If it were up to me alone, I would have Gregor hung, drawn and quartered, and his head delivered to you on a silver platter for his crimes against your family. Alas, it is not up to me alone."

Oberyn nodded sagely, "Hmm, I suppose I must be satisfied with that, for now. And the price for this golden opportunity is the marriage of your sister to my nephew?" I nodded, "And if I say yes, and my brother says no?"

I shrugged, utterly nonchalant, "Then I will find another way to free my uncle. It'll be harder, no doubt, with my mother's desire to see Tyrion's head on a spike, but your refusal is ultimately of little consequence."

Oberyn narrowed his eyes, clearly probing me, "Weddings take a long time to arrange, King Tommen. What if one cannot be arranged in time? And Myrcella is too young to be wed, as is Trystane."

I was tempted to threaten Oberyn with my knowledge of Doran's plot to wed Arianne to Viserys, or perhaps Arianne's plot to put Myrcella on the throne. Instead, cognizant of Oberyn's famed volatility, and the dagger that hung off the belt on his waist, I opted for a different approach. I wasn't looking to get stabbed, after all, and no number of guards could save me from internal bleeding or infection.

"It is not as if I am asking for some elaborate affair, merely a few words muttered before a Septon to bind my sister and your nephew together, followed by a public announcement that the ceremony has been completed as proof. As for them being too young, I call bullshit. Just because they are being wed does not mean that they have to immediately be abed. I'm younger than either Trystane or Myrcella, and I am to be wed to a girl five years my senior. A girl I neither know very well, nor particularly like."

Oberyn laughed as he sipped his wine, "Do the Tyrells know this?"

I let a little annoyance bleed into my tone, "Oh, come on, Oberyn. I am offering you the vengeance that you always wanted. Myrcella and Trystane actually like each other, so it is hardly a punishment for them. And it's not like Trystane is the heir to Dorne, not with both Quentyn and Arianne in the mix, so it's not as if you have anything to worry about there."

Of course, Quentyn was on his way to get roasted in Yunkai, potentially allowing me to secure Dorne as a future ally by having Arianne bumped off, but I didn't think that would be a productive fact to mention right now. "I know Myrcella's marriage to Trystane won't stop you from rebelling, not if you really wanted to, but it will insure she doesn't suffer a similar fate to your sister in that event. I merely want safety for my family, just as you want justice for yours. And, frankly, it is high time for our feud to come to an end, for the good of all involved."

Oberyn's eyes softened marginally, and he appeared contemplative, "The Martells did not initiate this feud."

I nodded, "Then it falls to me, as a Lannister and Baratheon both, to end it. Let us bury the hatchet between our two families, Prince Oberyn, preferably in the Mountain's ugly skull."

Oberyn let out a harsh bark of laughter, and the tension seemed to drain from his form, "That is a lovely image, King Tommen." He sipped his wine and looked at me and then nodded, "Very well. I will send a letter to my brother, and the wedding will be pushed forwards."

I stood, extending my hand for him to shake, "I'll be waiting for the announcement."

With that sorted, I left the brothel with Jaime and Balon in tow. I left the Gold Cloaks behind, enjoying their dose of rampant hedonism, though I found myself somewhat sickened to discover than many of them had opted for much, much younger girls than I thought suitable. With a twinge of guilt, I realised that I had probably overpaid. Girls, some of which looked to be as young as twelve, should not be spending their time on their knees servicing men more than twice their age, even if they were willing, or more likely, desperate.

Alas, what had been done was done, and I buried the twinge deep down. I had bigger fish to fry. I made a beeline for the Red Keep, not yet comfortable with spending a prolonged period of time in the city proper, with furtive glances given by all those on the streets, but once inside, I was content to meander for a good while. I had all day to meet Tyrion, he was hardly going to be going anywhere, and I wanted to shake off or at the very least confuse any of Varys's little birds hiding in the walls.

As my legs began to ache, Tommen's body not particularly well-adjusted to exercise, I made my way to the top cells, where Tyrion was being held. The gaoler let me inside, and I had Balon and Jaime wait outside. I could hear some grumbling on Jaime's part, likely an expression of frustration, and I elected to ignore it. Tyrion heard the gate to his cell close behind me, and he stood from his seat, turning his head to look at his latest visitor with curiosity written across his features, "Tommen?"

Tyrion, frankly, looked a bit shit. There were hints of Dinklage in there, but many features were entirely different. For one thing, his hair was a silvery white, and one of his eyes the characteristic Lannister green whilst the other was black, though neither eye appeared misshapen. The most noticeable feature was the complete absence of a nose, just a bit of bone and cartilage that left a whacking great hole in the middle of his face. It was a bit shocking, but I had seen worse, and I ploughed through, "It's King Tommen now."

He nodded and moved forwards, giving me a mock bow, "Ah, where are my manners. Welcome, Your Grace, to my humble abode. What can this servant do for you on this fine day?"

I smiled, "I should have known that your time behind bars wouldn't have blunted your wit, nor your tongue."

Tyrion looked to be appraising me, seeming to catch on with my friendly tone, and tried to build on the rapport, "I've found that being a prisoner suits me. Did I ever tell you about the Vale?"

I smirked, "I've heard bits and pieces. Something about you sullying the young Lord Arryn's ears with the tawdry tales of how you milked your eel into my mother's stew." I raised an eyebrow as if I were his disapproving mother, "Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

Tyrion blushed and coughed into his palm, "Ah. Well, no, not exactly. I was more referring to some tales regarding the famed sky cells and the trial by combat that ended with a fall through the moon door." He looked at me and frowned, "How did you know about that?"

I gave him a non-answer, if there ever was one, "The same way I know you're innocent."

"Varys, I presume?" When I neglected to respond with anything bigger than a smile, he brushed past the topic, "Am I to be released?"

"No. Your trial will still commence as planned."

"But you know I'm innocent! Why would you still try me as a kingslayer?"

"Just because I know you're innocent doesn't mean that anyone else does. My mother, in particular, seems possessed by some fury, and will accept nothing less than your head on a spike. She's spent her time trying to bribe the judges who aren't grandfather, and gathering what is practically an army of witnesses, detailing those times you butted heads with Joffrey. I would free you outright, if I thought it were possible, but I'm afraid that when given the choice between following their king or following Lord Tywin, most people would choose Lord Tywin."

Tyrion seemed to deflate and become even smaller, "So, it's hopeless, then?"

"Not quite. Grandfather intends to have you shipped off the the Wall instead of executed. Whilst normally I would be inclined to agree with him and to abandon you as a lost cause, I can't just seem to let you go. I suspect it has something to do with loving thy family."

Tyrion snorted, "Yes, that old chestnut." His expression became serious again, "So, what can you do?"

"Just because the results of the trial has been rigged doesn't mean that the rules by which it will be conducted have changed. You can still call for trial by combat."

He gestured to his body, "I am hardly a warrior, nephew, and from what I can gather, there is not a man in all of Westeros willing to fight in my stead."

I nodded, "It is quite true that the attitude of the court has turned quite against you. But just because nobody is willing to fight for you doesn't mean that there isn't anyone willing to fight against the Mountain."

Tyrion's eyes narrowed as he thought it through, arriving at the only logical conclusion, "The Red Viper?" I nodded, "Risky."

"Not as much as you'd think. I've done my best to stack the deck in the Prince's favour. Even if that fails, I guarantee you this, no matter the outcome of the duel, I would have you alive, and not rotting in a cell or freezing at the Wall, but free as a bird. Likely in Braavos, or any other place in Essos where I could have you squirrelled away till your innocence could conclusively be proven."

He smiled a resigned smile, "I appreciate that, nephew."

"Of course, if that doesn't happen, and Oberyn wins his duel, then I would have you on my small council, if you would still like a place on it. My reign is in desperate need of competent, loyal, and most importantly genuinely good people as advisors, and I have it on good authority that you are all three. Given time, I think you'd even make a good Hand of the King."

"Your Grace, I... I would be honoured."

I nodded and moved on, "Naturally, there is a political cost to all this plotting. Once Tywin realises what I did by turning to the Dornish, he will be beyond furious. To keep him in line and ensure his continued cooperation, which I will need to retain stability, I'm going to have to dangle a particularly juicy carrot in front of him."

Tyrion looked suspicious, "And what would that be?"

"You know what it is."

Tyrion looked to be filled with hatefulness and spite at the very thought, "Ah, yes. The heirship."

I shook my head, "Don't act aggrieved, uncle, we both know it's only temporary. If I make uncle Jaime the heir to Casterly Rock, who do you think he will appoint to take his place when Tywin dies? Jaime openly admits that he never had much interest in governance, and you know it." I waved my hand and cut Tyrion off as he made to rebut, "The change in heir will last only as long as Tywin does. Though I wouldn't tell him that, if I were you."

Tyrion bit down his pride, "I see. Very well, then."

"And there is one other thing. Your woman, the Lady Shae, is one of the witnesses against you." Tyrion seemed stunned, "I suspect that mother has applied a mixture of coin and threats to get her to comply, and that her testimony will be particularly humiliating. If you don't want that happening, I suggest you shout and rage and scream at the end of the first day of the trial, and call for a trial by combat then and there. Mother will no doubt still want to use her to humiliate you, but I can stop that from happening if you ask at the end of the first day of testimony."

Tyrion's face cycled through a range of emotions. Rage, fear, concern, and most importantly, exhaustion. He nodded his head slowly in resignation, "I will."

I smiled and patted his shoulder, "Stay strong, uncle. It is only a matter of time. And don't worry, in due time, I will deal with mother's hatred for you as well."

His smile was more genuine this time, "I look forward to the day, Your Grace."

I stood, offered him a final farewell, and left.

Up next, trial by combat!
I have, for those wondering, finally read King Business, and I am painfully aware of how similar this chapter is to that story. This story is not headed in the same direction, so don't worry. I expect that this will be the last chapter that bears much in the way of resemblance to that story.
Feel free to comment and let me know what you think.
Hope you guys enjoy!