( Oberyn POV )
Nymeria humpfed and just let Oberyn join the rest of the guards, who, seeing them, did not ask for them to hand over their weapons or even for anyone to stop at the gate. Quentyn just saluted them, said a word or two of greetings, and continued walking.
Times were changing indeed.
...
The group moved forwards, until the center of the private gardens, towards a large area where silken covers had been placed to shield everyone from the sun. On the middle of it all, perched atop his seat, was Doran himself, flanked by a couple of guards, and, of course, Areo.
Doran frowned when he saw how many people flanked his son, but said nothing. Instead, he pointed to two seats, obviously destined for Oberyn and Quentyn.
Oberyn and Quentyn both walked forwards, leaving the rest of the party to slowly follow behind them. Quentyn gave a few words to the Drinkwater boy, who nodded in response.
Unable to tell what had been said, Oberyn took a seat, while Quentyn took a few more moments to do so, but only after having bowed his head.
"Father." Quentyn nodded simply as he took his seat.
Doran, though, did not say a word. Instead, he crossed his arms and frowned.
"What is the meaning of all of this?" he asked.
"The meaning of w…" Oberyn started, before getting cut off.
"Not you, you fool." Doran snarled at him, causing Oberyn's eyes to widen in shock. "We shall talk about you later."
"I can ask the same question, then," Quentyn said softly.
"Why are you escorted by this many men? And why are they armed?" Doran asked.
"I take my own security seriously, father. After King's Landing…"
"Let's talk about King's Landing!" Doran energetically spoke. "You overstepped your prerogatives greatly! Do you even know what you did?"
"I do," Quentyn replied, sipping a cup of tea which had been presented to him. "Do not ask for apologies, father. I will not give any."
"You are lucky that you are my son, else I'd have you punished for this," Doran growled. "You put the Dornishmen and women accompanying you in danger. What would have happened if your little escape failed?"
"If I may say so, father, the security of my person and every Dornishman or woman present in our group was compromised the moment you sent me to the capital." Quentyn crossed his arms, his voice still calm. "What did you think the Lannisters would do when they came face to face with Lorch's killer? Not try and have him killed? Because they did…"
"This wouldn't have happened if you stupidly went after Lorch…" Doran started, before it was Quentyn's turn to interrupt.
"Yes, and we'd have to wait for him to die of old age!" Quentyn laughed. "Or better, wait for someone else to strike the blow! A Stark, a Tully or one of their lackeys, what a vengeance that would be!"
"I am disappointed, my son." Doran sighed. "I thought that a prince like you knew that vengeance cannot cloud one's mind lest it destroy you. We needed time."
"Yes, yes." Quentyn waved him off, earning another scowl from Doran. "Time. You speak of patience, and that is all well and good. But."
Quentyn then grabbed an orange from his pocket and began peeling it, while placing an overripe one on the table before them, then pointing at it.
"You, father. You are a patient man, I shall concede. However, you wait and wait, and you never seize the opportunity presented to you. Like an overripe blood orange, the plans are no longer good, they leave a sour taste in your mouth."
Quentyn then stopped peeling his own orange, and brought a slice to his mouth.
"Me? I know how to wait too, father. But I also know when to strike. And that's the most important thing. To know when your fruit is perfectly ripe, when you can taste its savory sweetness on your tongue. That's the difference between you and I, father."
"There is a lot more to it than that." Doran replied.
"What have you brought us for, brother?" Oberyn finally intervened.
Doran turned to him then, his face filled with a dark gaze, then calmly continued.
"I thought it was time to end all of this." Doran laid back in his chair. "You have done great service to Dorne, Quentyn, I will not strip you of that. However, you have pushed your prerogatives too much. Do not think that I do not know the game you are playing at."
Quentyn raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.
"First of all, you will stop this stupid dallying with your cousin. I have turned a blind eye to it because I know you are young and such feelings can be hard to contain, but this has to end now," Doran explained swiftly, "I will not have a Prince of Dorne having a paramour as his cousin, and even less one of your uncle's."
"Doran," Oberyn warned softly, sensing the tension mounting behind him.
"No offence meant, brother." Doran raised a hand. "I simply meant she is of bad influence to Quentyn. I will send her to send a peace banner to Highgarden. In the meantime, your daughter will be taken to some place where she can be raised properly."
Oberyn's head immediately turned to Quentyn, whose expression was now completely frozen. His gaze was becoming darker and darker, and Oberyn feared what would happen next.
"As soon as this is over, you will go to Essos and meet Daenerys Targaryen," Doran continued, unphased.
"There, you will offer your hand in marriage and you will win us our blood on the throne. It will be your reward and your punishment. You talk about our vengeance so much, you will finally be able to contribute to it, but as punishment, I will give Dorne to Trystane."
"No." Quentyn's answer couldn't be clearer.
"No?" Doran asked.
"You will never, ever take Nym or Aliandra away from me." Quentyn immediately rose from his chair.
Doran's answer came just as swiftly. "Do not be foolish, Quentyn. You will soon thank me for it."
"I'd rather damn you to the seven hells if you take the two people I love most in this world from me."
Oberyn could see Quentyn's fists clenching, and got very worried for a moment.
"In time, you will learn…"
"I've had enough!" Quentyn finally yelled.
The area went completely silent, shocked by the words Oberyn's nephew had uttered in front of the prince of Dorne.
"I have given everything for Dorne and our vengeance, while you sat there in your useless chair and counted the horses that passed through your window." Quentyn's hands were shaking as he spoke. "You don't seem to realize that everything Dorne is going through, it is because of you.
You undermined my relationship with my sister. You sent me far away, to be sheltered from the rest of Dorne. You foiled my many attempts at bettering the life of the Dornish people.
You sent me away because you were afraid of your position. You did nothing while golden opportunities came and went. You did nothing to get rid of Lorch, Clegane or Tywin. You just sat there, and did nothing!"
Quentyn pointed to himself, then to the group behind him.
"We did everything for you!" he continued his tirade. "Dorne's betterment. Lorch, Clegane, Tywin, the dissensions between the Lannisters and Tyrells, it was all us! Now damn you if I ever follow one of your orders again.
I don't think you realize, father, but you are nothing. I am Dorne now. And while I will agree to your order to go to Essos, it will be the last I fulfill.
Because although I will bring Daenerys Targaryen back, I will not marry her, because I do not care for that throne, I do not care for our blood on it, and I certainly can't care less about her! I want Dorne, an accommodating leader for Westeros and those responsible for the deaths of Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon dead, that is all!"
Quentyn then calmed down in front of his shocked father, and took his seat once again.
"I will not bend to your demands, father," Quentyn finally said. "I will continue serving Dorne, but I will not do what you ask of me."
"Quentyn." Doran sighed deeply. "I did not think you would be as stubborn as your sister. Do not let lust take the better of you."
"Bold words coming from the man who did that exact same thing five-and-twenty years ago."
Oberyn's jaw nearly dropped at his nephew's attack, but, to his surprise, Doran remained completely calm.
"Me and your mother…it was complicated," Doran replied, "but it is also because of this that I warn you now. You cannot continue seeing your cousin, and that is my final word on it."
"And my final word on it is that I'll continue seeing her whether you like it or not, father." Quentyn had a wide smile. "I'll even marry her if I have to."
"You wouldn't dare do such a thing." Doran countered.
"Father, I would tie you up to a pole, bound and gag you, then force you to watch as we make another child, that's how much I would dare to do such a thing." Quentyn's answer took everyone by surprise.
"Quentyn." Oberyn's head turned towards his nephew in an instant.
However, Quentyn was unrelenting, and stood firm, although he shot an apologetic glance towards Oberyn.
"Then I have no choice but to force such a decision on you." Doran sighed.
"Force it on me?" Quentyn scoffed, "You cannot force anything on me anymore."
"I am still the Prince of Dorne, son." Doran frowned. "Do not presume so much."
"Are you?" Quentyn asked. "As I said, what have you done for Dorne that I have not done better? No, father. Dorne is mine, and as of today, you will retire, and name me as acting prince of Dorne, while you can go and do whatever you like."
"What?" Doran stood up from his seat. "Have you gone mad?"
"On the contrary, father, I am serious," Quentyn replied simply, "You are tired and after so many years of ruling and suffering of gout, I do think that you need to enjoy the rest of your days without worrying about politics or war. As such, you will draft a letter which describes your abdication while you name me as prince of Dorne."
"I will do no such thing," Doran angrily replied.
"Shame." Quentyn sighed. "Father, please, let's do this easily, there is no need to escalate."
"You wouldn't dare." Doran's eyes narrowed.
"I would and I will." Quentyn took a deep breath before continuing, "if you refuse to abdicate in my favor, then I have no choice but to declare you unfit to rule by this decree."
"What?" Doran quickly stepped forward and snatched the piece of paper from Quentyn's hands.
"As you see, it has been signed by all but two Dornish major lords." Quentyn's eyes met his father's, who was completely dumbfounded. "They all find you unfit to rule and nominate me as Prince of Dorne."
"What a bunch of fools…" Doran scowled. "I'll deal with them. Oberyn, in the meantime, escort Quentyn back to his rooms and make sure he does not get out of them unless I say so."
Oberyn, though, didn't move.
He had made his choice.
"Not you too, brother." Doran's expression completely fell, as if Oberyn had just struck a knife in his back.
"Everything for Dorne," Oberyn replied. "I'm sorry, Doran."
Doran then looked at his own guards and Areo, then back at Quentyn.
Finally, his mouth opened.
"Areo, escort Prince Quentyn…"
Before he even had time to finish his sentence, every single person behind Quentyn had unsheathed his sword. Even more surprising, four of the guards near Doran had also unsheathed their own blades…pointing them at the Norvoshi.
"Then we are truly lost," Doran's expression fell, and he slumped back to his seat, defeated, "Areo, stand down."
With this order, everyone put their blades back from where they had unsheathed them.
"What's to become of me?" Doran asked with a resigned look on his face.
"Nothing much out of the norm for you." Quentyn shrugged. "You will just be removed of your title, otherwise, you can do whatever you like, except of course, if you try and impede me. In that case, I shall have your freedoms revoked and you will be contained to the Water Gardens."
Oberyn looked at his brother, who looked around, as if looking for someone, then he shook his head.
"You will plunge Dorne into war and suffering, boy," he finally exhaled deeply.
"We could not stay out forever," Quentyn shrugged while he rose up.
As Quentyn and his group made to leave and Oberyn spared one last look at his brother, Doran made out a few words that only he heard.
"I should have kept Arianne."
Not paying attention to his words, Oberyn scurried off to join the rest of the party which was already exiting towards the large gravel alley. There, he managed to listen in on the end of a conversation between Quentyn and Ser Gerris.
"Did you understand?" Quentyn asked.
"Yes. I summon all the Dornish lords for a Great Council at Sunspear in four days, and I tell Gulian to transmit the Anvil order," Ser Gerris replied with a small bow and a smile, "my Prince."
"Shut up, Gerris," Quentyn laughed and shook his head while the blonde-haired boy just smirked and left.
Oberyn meanwhile approached Quentyn, who was now flanked by Nymeria, her hand firmly locked on his arm.
"And, nephew, what now?" Oberyn asked.
"Well now, uncle, I was thinking about a little Essosi vacation," he winked. "After all, after Overlord comes Dragon."
Quentyn showed a satisfied smirk and chuckled a little, leaving a confused Oberyn to dwell on the choices he had made today.
Well, then.
Everything for Dorne.
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