Kings Landing: 284 AC: 1 Day Later:
The southern sun cast a heavy glow through the stained glass window adorned with the Seven-Pointed Star. It bathed the room in a soft green and orange hue, while the council members settled into the sturdy, yellow leather chairs. The atmosphere in the small council chamber was dense with tension. Robert occupied the head of the table, with the Old Falcon, Jon Arryn, at his side. Across the table, Tywin Lannister's gaze was laden with anger and contempt for the King before him. His fury was so intense that he barely acknowledged Varys, Pycelle, and Stannis, who sat engulfed in an uncomfortable silence, each pondering who would break it first.
"My sons titles and ranks. I want them reinstating." Tywin demanded, breaking the silence. "You will not rob me of my heir, Robert."
"You have another son, no?" Robert sighed.
"Do not play games with me. If I did take this city for you, you would not have that throne, that you now lounge upon. So I ask again, I want my sons titles reinstating and I want to know where he is."
Robert slammed his fist upon the table, becoming quickly irritated at how the Old Lion spoke to him. "He is a traitor to the Realm, and has taken up with the fucking Dragons. That's where your son is, making friends with murderers and Rapespawn."
Tywin had to use all of his strength to not storm out of the chamber. "Where is my son?" Tywin demanded, his teeth gritting.
Before Robert could speak, Varys spoke up in his stead. "We are looking everywhere, my Lord, but we have turned up no answers so far." Varys had to do well to hide the truth in his voice. A man such as him knew where everyone was, no matter how far they were from Westeros.
Tywin slowly turned his deadly gaze towards the Eunuch. "You control more spies than the rest of the Seven Kingdoms combined, and you mean to tell me you have no idea where he is?"
"We know he is in Essos, Tywin." Jon interrupted. "It is only where in Essos we do not know."
Tywin huffed in amusement, a sarcastic smirk appearing across his face. "Of course he's in Essos, you idiot, everyone in the Realm knows that. What I want is him back home, where he belongs."
"If he comes back here, I will have him in irons before he steps foot off-" Robert roared.
"Enough!" Tywin interrupted, standing up from his chair, and commanding the entire respect of the room. "I give you my daughters hand in marriage to secure your rule, and now you've spat it back in my face by naming my son...my son! As a traitor to the crown for a crime you have no evidence he is guilty of."
Robert smirked in silent amusement. "What else would he be doing in Essos, Tywin, hm? My rule is secure even without your help, and had you not sacked this city, I would have taken it anyway. I think you forget that I won the real battle, on that glorious day, I killed that dragon scum and took his fathers crown, whilst you hid under Casterly Rock."
Tywin's eyes narrowed at the Stag King's insults, and he leaned forward, palms pressing against the table. "It's evident that I will find no answers here," he sighed. "I shall depart from this city at once, and you, Robert, will never lay eyes on me again. Had I foreseen this outcome, I would have never consented to my daughter's marriage to you," he confessed, exiting the room.
"Out! Out, damn you! Go on, run back to Casterly Rock! I'll have your head on a spike!" Robert shouted after him, standing up from his chair, his fury clear on his face. Beside him, Jon rubbed his face with his hands and let out a deep breath. "What, Jon?" Robert asked, noticing his exasperation.
"We need him, Robert. He is the most powerful Lord in the Realm. We need his coin and army should things go wrong." Jon sighed.
"Nonsense, I am the King. I need not the support of an old man such as him." He grumbled, downing his wine.
Varys sat silently content at what just unfolded in front of him. He himself could not have ordained a better outcome. Tywin abandoning the King, and his son making his way to the Targaryens. He would have laughed with joy if he were not in the presence of Robert. "Your Grace, perhaps we can come to a more rational discussion with Lord Tywin, when we find his son." He suggested.
"After what he has just said to me? He should be grateful I don't have him executed." Robert sarcastically chuckled. "I have a better idea."
"May I ask, what that idea is, Robert?" Jon said, the despair almost showing in his voice.
"We kill them."
Jon put his head in his hands. He could not have imagined Robert would be this reckless. "The Targaryens?" He asked, silently praying he did not mean Tywin.
"Of course, the fucking Targaryens, Jon, who else?"
"There is no honor in this, Robert." Stannis interrupted.
"Honor?!" Robert yelled. "Was it honorable when Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna and raped her? Was it honorable when the Mad King burned men alive? Or was it honorable when that fat Tyrell, starved you for half a year?"
Stannis sighed heavily at his brothers words, and found no words to argue back with except. "What about Arthur Dayne? You think a common assassin can kill him?"
"Fuck Arthur Dayne, I'll send a hundred assassins to kill him and that bitch Queen. He is only one man and how can one man stand against so many foes?" Robert blustered.
"Robert, if I could suggest-" Jon attempted to speak.
"No. I am decided. Jon, I want as many assassins as you can find brought to me by midday. Oh, and be discreet about it." Robert interrupted, before leaving the room.
Jon sighed, and followed him out of the small council chamber. Stannis and Pycelle followed suit, leaving Varys alone. The Spider sat there a few moments more to collect his thoughts at what had just occurred. He decided, it would be best to warn Arthur and his charges about the incoming assassins, lest his plans unraveled before they had even begun.
Leaving the small council chamber, Varys made his way to his own quarters, where he decided to write his private letter that was bound for Illyrio's manse. He could not have a fool such as Robert Baratheon, kill the last scions of House Targaryen. If he did, the Realm would be doomed.
Later that day, Robert and Jon sat in the private royal chambers, drinking wine and discussing what was to come. In a few moments, five rugged men were brought before them. They all looked as if they had seen a hundred battles, the scars present on their faces marked them as such. The clothes they wore were dirty, yet all of them had dark cloaks to hide their appearance when it called for it. Their bodies were toned and hard, and they were tall enough to stand up to any Knight in the Realm. One stood out amongst them all, a young boy who couldn't have been more than sixteen name days old.
His skin was pale and his dark brown hair was cut very short. He stood with his head bowed downward, as he stared at his feet. On his hips, he wore two steel daggers, and although young, his hands looked calloused and worn. The candlelight around him casted a dark shadow across his face, and only his mouth could be seen, which unnerved Jon ever so slightly.
"Are these the men, Jon?" Robert asked, his eyes never leaving the young boy.
"They are, Your Grace." Jon answered.
Robert stood up and walked in front of them all. His eyes looking them up and down as he did so. He arrived in front of the boy and stopped in front of him. "You look young for this sort of work, no?" Robert devilishly grinned.
"I do what I do to survive, Your Grace." The boy mumbled, looking up at the King before him.
"Hm. What's your name, boy?"
"Karl Tanner, Your Grace, from Gin Alley."
"Karl Tanner, from Gin Alley." Robert repeated. "How much do they pay you to kill a man?"
"Seven Silvers. They give me a mans name and that man will never see daylight again."
Robert began to laugh heartily. "You hear him, Jon! Yes this one will do...Now do you all know why you're here?" Robert asked, to the shaking of the men's heads. "No? Well, I have brought you here for a mission, a job if you will. I need some people dead, and I need men like you to do it."
"Give us a name, Your Grace, and we will kill them for you." One of the men spoke.
"The Targaryens. I need them all dead." Robert announced. The men shuffled uncomfortably at his words. They had all by now, heard the stories of who the Targaryens had protecting them.
"The Targaryens? They're in Essos, Your Grace, how do you expect us to get there?" Another rogue asked.
"I'll give you coin enough for you to get there, and should you be successful, I'll give you anything you ask." Robert assured. The men seemed to pay more attention at Roberts promise of rewards.
"What about Arthur Dayne?" The same man asked, his deep brown eyes never leaving the King.
"I want him dead especially, that cunt killed Ned, I won't rest until he's in the ground. The rest of the traitors, I care not. Kill anyone with fucking silver hair, and kill that Rapespawn baby."
The men seemed to step back slightly, until the boy spoke up. "You want us to kill a baby, you're gonna have to pay us extra." He mumbled, the shadows reeling to reveal his black eyes, which made the boy seem soulless.
"Fine...Here." Robert grumbled, as he took a Valyrian steel dagger from the table behind him, and held it out to the boy in front of him. "I was going to give this to whoever killed Arthur Dayne, but I will give it to you now as a...gesture of good faith."
Karl took the blade and held it up in the light. The steel was otherworldly, and it seemed dance in the light. The hilt seemed to be made of bone and a dark rough material, that Karl could not make out. He smiled at Robert as he placed it in his belt. "Where in Essos are they?" He asked.
"Pentos." Jon Arryn interjected. He had found this out through his own informants days ago when Jamie Lannister left Roberts service. He silently admitted, he had a hard time concealing the truth from Tywin earlier, as if he found out, he would have ruined his plans to be rid of the Targaryens and their threat to his new found power. "They're in a manse owned by a magister Illyrio. The place is heavily guarded with large walls, but I imagine men such as yourselves would have no trouble dealing with that."
"How much are you paying us?" Karl asked, his hand lingering on his dagger.
"I'll give you five thousand gold dragons each." Robert boomed, as if he was proud of being in ownership of such a vast sum.
"Five thousand?" One of the assassins asked in disbelief.
"I find it to be an important job worthy of a large sum."
"Very well, we accept." Karl bowed, accepting the contract for them all.
"Good! Here is five gold dragons for each of you, to book passage to Pentos. Bring me back Arthur Dayne's sword as proof that the deed is done. Its hard to miss." Robert demanded, as he handed each of the assassins a small coin purse.
"We will see you soon, Your Grace." Karl bowed, as did the rest of the men.
Robert and Jon watched them all leave the room. They sat in silence for a moment before Jon turned to Robert, who sat contently sipping his wine. "Five thousand dragons, Robert?" He smirked.
"We have to make it worthwhile. Besides, I have no intention of paying them. Should they be successful, they would all need to die. We cannot allow word of what we have done hear get out to the Realm, lest we face disgrace and disparagement."
"Of that we are in agreement, Robert. But I need to ask, what of Jamie Lannister? Should he fall to the assassins and should Tywin find out, there will be war."
"I doubt the Kingslayer knows where they even are, and if he is there, then he will die. Do not fret, my friend, word of this will never reach the Old Lion."
Jon had a hard time believing him. Should they fail, then they were in a bad position indeed. He secretly hoped that Jamie had indeed no idea where then Targaryens were. Should he be there, then it would be a shame if he was slain. He could only pray to the Gods that, if he did fall to the assassins blades, the truth of the matter would die with the assassins once they came back to Westeros.
Myr: 284 AC: 1 Day Later:
Jamie sat on an uncomfortable stool in an unfamiliar tavern with his cloaks hood up. He had only arrived in Myr on the morn, and had immediately set about seeing if any information on the Targaryens had been passed around. He decided that a tavern keeper would know all the comings and goings of the free city, and it would be difficult for word of knights and an exiled Queen, to not be heard by him.
"Old man." Jamie called out to the aged man behind the counter. "Tell me, have you heard anything to do with the Targaryens?" Jamie asked, as he studied the mans aged features.
"The Targaryens?" The man asked, his accent almost sultry. "The only thing I've heard is that they were all killed in some war, and that they've run to our beloved Essos."
"Do you know where in Essos? Are they here in Myr"
The man looked at Jamie with quiet wonder. "If they were in Myr, my friend, I would know of it. Perhaps you should speak with one of the slave masters, they would know more about the other cities and who resides there."
"I see...Thank you." Jamie sighed, as the man smiled and walked away. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, and let out a deep breath. Of course, it wasn't going to be that easy, and he knew he was not lucky enough to guess correctly the first time round. Finishing his drink, he stood up and walked onto the street. He still had trouble getting used to this new land, and everything seemed so exotic to him. Women danced bare chested in the streets and mummers performed on every street corner, as tattooed slaves walked by them, their heads drooping and low. He saw the extravagant clothes some of the people wear, and he recalled how renowned Myrish lace and craftsmanship was back in the Seven Kingdoms.
He decided it would be best to ask one of these slaves who their master was, to see if they could point him in the right direction. "Excuse me...who is your master?" He asked to a tired looking woman, who looked up to him with saddened eyes. Her arms seemed be carrying baskets of what looked to be rope. "My master is the sellsail, Admiral Morosh."
"Where is he?" Jamie asked, almost pleading.
"He is on his ship at the docks. I can take you to him, if you'd like."
Jamie breathed a sigh of relief, and followed the slave woman. She quickly showed him the way to her masters ship. When he stood before it, he could hardly believe the size of it. The sails were almost the size of whole buildings and it looked as if it had at least three decks. The color of the ship itself was a deep brown, and Jamie wondered if it would give Roberts pride and joy, the Fury, a decent battle.
"This way." The slave woman mumbled, as she walked upon the ship. Jamie followed her example and found himself on top of the lengthy deck. She pointed him towards a door which was at the back of the ship. She told him Morosh resided in there and that's where he will find the Admiral. Knocking on the door, Jamie heard a bid to enter, which he did.
In front of him sat a small stocky man. His olive skin and black hair, depicted him as being from Myr, and his dark eyes looked up and down at the pale man before him. "Do I know you?" Morosh asked, his voice hoarse.
"I am Jamie Lannister, one of your slaves led me here." Jamie explained to Morosh's indifference at hearing Jamie's name.
"So, Jamie Lannister turns up on my doorstep. What is a lion doing so far from its den?"
"I've come seeking information."
"You've come to Myr seeking information? And here I thought you wanted to hire my services." Morosh sighed. "What do you want to know."
"The Targaryens, where are they?"
Morosh's eyebrows raised in surprise. He had heard all about what had happened to the Targaryens from fellow sailors from Westeros. "Why would you want to know that?" Morosh questioned.
"I wish to serve them, to redeem myself for my past failures." Jamie announced honestly.
"To serve them? Ha! You killed Aerys, no? Everyone from the Wall to Slavers Bay knows it, yet you wish to serve them. Very optimistic from yourself." Morosh chuckled.
Jamie grew frustrated at the sailors jests. "Do you know where they are or not?"
"Yes...yes I know where they are. Pentos. I've seen their ships with their banner."
The relief hit Jamie like a tidal wave. "By the Gods, do you know anyone who will sail there?"
"I can take you there...for a price." Morosh smirked, as he intertwined his fingers on his desk.
"Fuck...here." Jamie muttered, as he tossed him his whole coinpurse. He watched Morosh open it and count it eagerly. The Myrish Admiral looked up at Jamie with a large smile drawn across his face. "This will do. Go pick a bed in the deck below, Jamie Lannister. We will leave in an hour or so."
"Thank you, Morosh." Jamie bowed slightly, as he left the room and made his way to the deck below. On his way, he passed burley sailors, who all looked at him with varying degrees of suspicion and mistrust. He wondered if it was because they knew he wasn't a sailor, yet he decided he cared not. He found a bed in the furthest corner of the deck and he sat upon it. He placed his sword across his lap, and then leant his head against the wall. Closing his eyes, he began to ponder on what he would do in Pentos. He thought on what Arthurs reaction would be when he saw him, what he would say to him and if he would or would not just kill him on sight.
Surely, Arthur would hear him out and at least listen to what he had to say. He knew he would have to explain his reasoning for killing Aerys, and he dreaded the conversation as he drifted off to sleep.
Pentos: 284 AC: 2 Days Later:
Oberyn stood on the deck of the ship as the docks of Pentos came into view. The tall walls and large buildings were familiar to him, as were the people he saw on the docks. He saw some of the workers wear blue and yellow colors in their hair, as they went about their work. He was surprised to see a large ship, that bore the three headed dragon on its black sails. He had thought that once the Targaryens made it to Pentos, they would do away with their ships as to avoid being detected by any who might look for them.
As the ship docked, Oberyn checked that he had everything he would need, as he secured a sword to his hip, along with a dagger on his lower back. He would have brought his more familiar spear, but did not feel it would serve well in a densely packed city, such as Pentos. He ensured he had the letter his brother gave him, and finally stepped off the ship. He took in a deep breath of the Pentoshi air, and smelled all the scents that the city often gave off. From exotic spices to the smell of smoke, it all seemed homely to him.
He walked through the city, and made his way to the only man he knew that knew where the Targaryens were. Illyrio Mopatis. Making his way to his manse, he looked at all those who danced in the streets and cheered along mummers as they performed their acts. His dark hair soaked up the sun as he walked, as did his copper armor, which reflected the light like a mirror. After some time, he arrived at the high spiked gates of Illyrio's manse. Either side of the gates, stood the feared Unsullied, though Oberyn noticed they looked a little pudgy when compared to their more hardened brethren.
"What is your business here?" One of the Unsullied asked, his voice gritty and harsh.
"Tell your master that Prince Oberyn of Dorne has come to visit him." Oberyn smirked.
"We had no notice of a Prince coming?"
"That is because I did not give it. Now, if you would tell Illyrio I am here."
The Unsullied spearman eyed Oberyn up and down through his black leather helmet, before opening the gates and making his way to find Illyrio. Oberyn stood there quietly waiting. He looked through the gaps in the gates at Illyrio's manse. A vulgar thing, he thought. Why one man needed so much space, he could never understand, though he knew that Illyrio was a large man so perhaps it was appropriate for someone his size. The thought drew a small smile across his face, as he saw the fat magister appear from the doors of his manse a few moments later, followed by the Unsullied from the gate.
As Illyrio approached Oberyn, he could see the confusion painted across the fat face of the Magister. "Prince Oberyn, I had not expected you." Illyrio panted, clearly out of breath from the brisk walk he just had to do.
"I felt it not necessary, Magister. I did not want a big song and dance when I arrived, you know." Oberyn chuckled.
Illyrio studied Oberyn's face, as if to work out his reasoning for being in Pentos. "May I ask why you have come?"
"I have come with a proposal for Viserys Targaryen."
"I see...Very well, come in." Illyrio smiled, moving from the gate and into his manse.
Oberyn followed the Magister, as they made their way inside. Illyrio walked him through his manse, making small talk about how things were in Dorne now that Robert was King, as if Illyrio really cared. Eventually, Illyrio led him to a balcony, where he took a seat and let out a big sigh as he did so. He bid Oberyn do the same, and as he did he noticed that below them, a boy with silver hair was sparring with a man that wielded a blade that looked like lightning. Oberyn knew immediately who the man was, and he knew immediately who the boy was.
"Is that him?" Oberyn asked, his eyes never leaving the boy.
"That is Prince Viserys Targaryen. The man he spars with is Ser Arthur Dayne, my Prince."
Oberyn quickly stood up, and made his way down to the garden that was below him. Passing through some double doors, he stood and watched as Viserys and Arthur practiced. Both man and boy had not noticed him, until he cleared his throat to which Arthur quickly turned around.
"Prince Oberyn?" Arthur asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"I have come to see Viserys." Oberyn explained.
"Why? What are your intentions?" Arthur demanded, as he moved in front of Viserys, his grip on Dawn tightening.
"I have come with a message from my brother, Doran. I wish for the Prince to read it."
Arthur could not tell if Oberyn was trying to get him to lower his guard or not, but he doubted that the Viper would be working with Robert, after what had happened to Elia. "Wait there." Arthur decided. "Barristan! Willem! Come here!"
Oberyn watched Arthur call for his friends, who quickly appeared from the bowels of the manse. The sight amused Oberyn slightly, as seeing all these famed knights come before him like he was an enemy. "If you would let me explain, Arthur-"
Arthur glared at the Viper in front of him, as Barristan and Willem stood either side of him. "Explain why you are here, Prince Oberyn." Arthur eventually asked, his eyes never leaving Oberyn's own.
"As I said, I have come with a message from my brother. For Viserys."
"What message?" Barristan interjected.
"Here." Oberyn said, pulling the note from a small leather pocket on his belt and holding it out towards them. Willem slowly took the letter and opened it. His eyes widened as he read it, and he quickly passed it to Arthur who did the same. "Is this some kind of jape?" Arthur spat.
"I wouldn't have come all this way for a jest, Ser Arthur." Oberyn assured. "Show it to the Prince, let us see what he makes of it."
Arthur handed it to Viserys, who stood confusedly behind them all. He read the letter and wondered why this Doran would want anything to do with him, as he was just a boy. "I am lost, Ser. I don't know who this Arianne is or why she would want to marry me?" He admitted.
"Go get your mother, Viserys. Bring her here." Barristan asked, to which Viserys obliged, as he began to run off into the manse.
"You think he's the rightful King, don't you?" Arthur asked, figuring out the reason as to why Oberyn was truly here.
"He is." Oberyn bluntly replied. He noticed the look that Arthur and Barristan gave each other. A look of concern. "He is, is he not?" Oberyn scowled, his voice almost yelling.
Before any of the knights could say anything, Rhaella appeared from behind them. She held Aemon in one arm, and held the hand of Viserys with the other. Arthur looked on in despair as she carried Aemon past them all, as he had no idea how he was going to explain all of this to Oberyn.
"Prince Oberyn, I am surprised indeed to see you here." Rhaella spoke, her violet eyes studying the Viper.
"That boy in your arms, who is he?" Oberyn asked, his finger pointing at Aemon.
"This is Aemon Targaryen. The rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms."
Oberyn let out a laugh, and rubbed his face. Of course this would not be simple, he thought. "His mother is not my dear Elia, judging by his black hair."
"Lyanna Stark." Rhaella bluntly replied.
"You wish to place a baby, born of rape, on the throne." Oberyn wondered.
"Careful, Oberyn." Arthur warned.
"Careful, is it Arthur? Where were you when Elia was raped and butchered? Protecting some bastard in the middle of nowhere." Oberyn spat, as his grip around his sheathed sword tightened. As good as he was, he knew he stood no chance against both Arthur and Barristan, but his anger was beginning to cloud his judgement.
Arthurs eyes narrowed at the Vipers words. "I was doing what my Prince ordered me to do. If you say another-"
"Enough!" Rhaella ordered, her voice authoritative. "Are you two so blind that you can't see that you seek the same ends? Now Prince Oberyn, we have proof that his birth is true and legitimate." Rhaella corrected. "Ser Willem, if you would please fetch the papers."
Willem bowed, and almost ran to gather the marriage annulments and letters from Rhaella's bedchambers. He very briskly returned, with the papers in hand and gave them to Oberyn, who read them with earnest. He looked at all the signatures, Rhaegar's, Lyanna's and Elia's. Even the High Septon Maynard's was there. A tear fell from his eye at the sight of his sisters writing, however brief it was. Once finished, he handed the papers back to Barristan.
"By the Gods..." Oberyn sighed. "I am at a loss for words..."
"Elia wanted to go home, Oberyn. Back to you and her family. I understand, you saw what my son did as an insult. I understand, that you may still do. But this boy, is the King, and he is the one who can give you what you desire most." Rhaella explained. "Revenge."
"I understand. My brother will be furious...but there is still the question of Arianne, and the proposal." Oberyn sniffed, his tears appearing at the thought of his deceased sister.
"We can accept the proposal. Viserys can marry Arianne when they come of age, and the house of the dragon and Dorne can be united once again."
"Doran...he won't accept it, he has his eyes set on the throne..."
"You must convince him, Oberyn. Let him know that when the time comes, we can give him all he desires. We can bring him both the heads of the Mountain and Amory Lorch. Then we can finally bring down Tywin for what he did." Rhaella smiled, as she placed a caring hand on Oberyn's shoulder.
"I'll see what I can do." Oberyn sighed. His attention turned to Arthur who was still looking at him with mistrust. "Ser Arthur, I want to apologize for my insults to you... I know you are honorable, and I let my anger get the better of me."
Arthur seemed to relax at the Princes words. "I understand Oberyn, you have been through a difficult time. We all have." He solemnly smiled, as his eyes turned to the Queen who stood in front of him.
Illyrio let out a deep breath at the defusal of the situation. He had begun to take slow steps back, in case Arthur and Oberyn drew their swords, as he would not be happy if blood was spilled on his expensive clothes. "Now that we're all on the same page, how about some refreshments, my friends?" He smiled, clapping his hands together, and bidding them follow him into the manse.
The remainder of the day and night unfolded as smoothly as possible. Arthur's apprehensions lingered, yet they diminished as the night progressed. He and Oberyn found common ground in discussions about family and children. Arthur frequently talked about Viserys, expressing paternal feelings towards him, and shared his hope to offer the same guidance to Aemon as he grew older. Oberyn glimpsed a side of the renowned knight he never expected to see. Previously, he had perceived Arthur solely as a stoic figure, concerned only with his honor and duty as a Kingsguard. However, those traits persisted, Oberyn now recognized that Arthur had adopted a broader perspective, embracing more familial values.
The following day, Oberyn departed from Pentos to return to Dorne. He had secured a written agreement from Rhaella consenting to the union of Viserys and Arianne. Yet, it remained his task to persuade Doran that backing Aemon was the correct course of action. Oberyn himself was indifferent between supporting the young King or Viserys, as ultimately, either choice would serve his purpose: vengeance against Tywin, the Mountain, and now Robert, for permitting these events to unfold.
A/N: Thanks for reading. I feel like Oberyn may have gone down this path, had he been given some sort of evidence of Aemon's birth, but were so far from cannon now, who knows lol. Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed reading.