Jon gently pressed his ear against the door, feeling its cool surface against his skin. Sam, not being able to contain his curiosity, mirrored his actions after a while, and also leaned against the wooden frame. The door, unlocked from the inside, almost swung open under the pressure of Jon's curiosity. He stopped it just in time, a rush of caution sweeping through him like a gust of wind.
"...You got your 6 links years ago, but you refuse to get the last one to become a full-fledged Maester at that time. So now that you're back, I hope you can work hard on getting the last link because you can't just treat the Citadel like your home where you can just come and go whenever you please," The Archmaester said with slight contempt, "It lowers the reputation of Citadel and I don't even need to talk about your lack of abstinence that a Maester candidate should apply to. Now I hope that you don't expect to be allowed to be this hedonistic when you become a—"
"Ah! I think that we have a misunderstanding here, Archmaester," The voice, that Jon had now identified as the younger prince of Dorne, said absentmindedly, "I didn't actually come here to complete my last chain and become a Maester,"
"Huh? You Didn't?" The old voice asked confused, "Then why did you?"
"To have fun, I was about to head towards Essos for a new adventure and I felt like partaking in a few of the books present here so I just came along for a short visit,"
"T-That's just—" the Archmaester was speechless for a few moments, "So you never intend to actually forge your last link and just want to treat this place like your backyard forever?"
"That seems about right,"
"Y-You can't do that! I won't tolerate the lack of respect you have for this sacred institution. I'll have you banned from the premises and you'll never be able to come back here—"
"Don't care about that... I am leaving tomorrow anyway," Oberyn said before they suddenly heard the sound of leather boots striking the floor as the prince walked toward the Archmaester, his carefree tone suddenly taking a dangerous turn, "But my dear Archmaester, you should really be careful who you offend, who knows what could happen in your old age," he said patting his shoulder with a smile on his face.
"A-Are you threatening me," Archmaester gulped as he unconsciously took a few steps backwards when he looked into the eyes of the man who was believed to be half mad and the most unpredictable noble from Dorne.
"Oh no no... I am not threatening you," Oberyn said, he had a smile on his face but his eyes were cold as ice, "I am just saying that you have plenty of acolytes working under and you haven't exactly been kind to them over the years... Who knows which one of them hates you for it and suddenly one day one of them decides to take drastic action and a drop of unknown liquid drops in your food or your drink... It would be quite unfortunate wouldn't it,"
The Archmaester shivered, realizing that Oberyn wasn't merely boasting and that he was perfectly capable of acting on his threats.
"I-I-I will—"
"That'll be all, Archmaester," Oberyn said abruptly as he turned his back on him and went back to his seat. He picked up the book about poison that he was reading and placed his feet on the table, "I am sure that you have a lot of work to do, so don't let me keep you."
There was pin-drop silence for a few moments before the door opposite them opened and closed as the Archmaester hurriedly left. Jon smiled as he moved away, thinking that he had acquired a good piece of gossip about the Viper of Dorne. 'Maybe he would be able to use it in the future if he ever meets him,' he mused.
Just as Sam was about to move away and join Jon, Oberyn's voice echoed from inside, startling them both. "You can come out now."
They exchanged alarmed glances, both of them thinking that they had been caught. Sam's hand twitched in his panic, inadvertently pushing the door open, "OH! NO!" "SHIT!"
Stumbling, they found themselves in a medium-sized room with a window on the right side and a large table in the middle. One of the chairs was occupied by Oberyn. Beside the door, a cupboard stood partially open, and on its threshold stood the other occupant of the room—the person Oberyn had likely instructed to come out. The same panic and fear reflected in his face mirrored the teens' emotions.
Oberyn's eyes widened in surprise as he looked up at the sound of the door opening, to find two teens in acolyte clothes and they were almost falling over each other as if they had just been pressed to the door.
"Well Well Well... Looks like we caught a bunch of little rats eavesdropping," Oberyn said in a calm tone, his hawk-like eyes sharply examining the two teens, the Fat one was sweating profusely and almost quivering in his place at the sight of him while the Tall handsome one swiftly stood up straight and regained his control over his expression remarkably quickly.
"There seems to be a misunderstanding, My Lord," Jon said calmly, bowing elegantly, "We weren't eavesdropping on you, we were just passing by and roughhousing with each other when I accidentally pushed my friend here too hard and he unintentionally opened the door, Right Sam?"
Sam quickly nodded his head and Jon continued while pushing Sam towards the exit and simultaneously backing away, "So I am sorry for the interruption and we'll get out of your hair and be just on our way,"
Oberyn looked at them with an amused expression on his face while putting the book in his hand on the table and taking his feet off the table, "You think that I'll believe that lame—"
"I'll take care of it, F—My Lord," The boy interrupted while slowly walking towards them with his hands hidden behind him. He was a comely boy their age with skin the colour of teak and a slender physique with curly black hair and big black eyes, "I am sure they are telling the truth and just made an honest mistake," he gave Oberyn a cute smile before turning to them, "Farewell then, I'll close the door behind you,"
"Thank you! Thank you!" Sam said while bowing, his body almost sagging with relief as he thought that they had been let go but just as he felt that he was very lucky today, he felt Jon put a restraining hand on his shoulder stopping him from leaving. When he puzzledly turned to Jon to ask him why, he saw him looking at the Dornish boy with a calm smile on his face.
"Why the pause?" the boy inquired, innocence radiating from his expression. "Didn't you just mention your intention to leave?"
Jon met the boy's gaze, his eyebrow arched inquisitively. His gaze shifted between Oberyn and the Dornish boy, his tone steady. "Leave, we will. But only if you promise not to strike us from behind with your hidden blade—"
The word "blade" hung in the air for a moment, pregnant with tension. Suddenly, the Dornish boy lunged at Sam, a hidden dagger poised to strike. His target was the weaker link, the fat one first.
"Allears No!" Oberyn's voice rang out urgently. He sprang from his seat, his initial calm demeanour shattered. From the beginning, Oberyn had sensed a calculated calmness in the tall boy's demeanour and the way his eyes roamed around the room, taking everything in. He knew that he wasn't some weak acolyte, instead, he was a wolf in sheep's clothing, but it was too late.
Just as the dagger was about to pierce into the fatty's gut, Alleras's hand was caught in a steel-like grip by the tall boy's hand that came out of nowhere like lightning. Alleras looked up into the Northern boy's eyes to find them not even a little bit surprised as if he was expecting it from the start. Alleras tried to pull the hand holding the dagger but the boy's hand was like hard rock as it didn't even budge a little bit instead he was pulled instead.
A swift, expert movement allowed Jon to disarm the boy, the dagger now poised at his own throat.
Oberyn sprang into motion, but his progress halted as Jon's words cut through the air. "Make no hasty moves, or you'll regret them," Jon's voice held a calm resolve. He held his ground, his gaze meeting Oberyn's chilling stare. At that moment, Jon understood that any sign of weakness could not be afforded in the presence of the Viper of Dorne.
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