"I only meant that my presence here was not initially expected, but all the same, it is a pleasure to meet you, Ser Kevan." Quentyn suddenly put a much more serious face.
"And how could I forget the two wonderful ladies here?" Oberyn smirked. "My paramour, Ellaria, and my daughter, Nymeria, who is also my nephew's paramour as well."
...
Oberyn enjoyed how deeply Ser Kevan blushed. Quentyn didn't take very kindly to this, though, as he shot him a stare that could have struck down a man from his horse. Was it too far? Perhaps it was a little much. But he did enjoy Ser Kevan's face slowly melting.
Patience, his time will come as well.
But for now, he would ensure his presence caused the utmost amount of chaos inside the Lannister ranks. Dealing with the Roses would be easy.
Arianne and Tyene would probably be doing the same in Highgarden, but Oberyn has at his disposal more than three hundred and fifty men to ensure the Roses would not sleep quietly every night. Surely Willas would forgive him for this, after all, there is little harm done.
There would likely be a brawl as early as tonight if he were to place some bets. Perhaps he could wager something with his nephew. After all, he had caused the Reachers all sort of problems if his own tales were to be believed.
He wondered if Lord Rowan was still demanding compensation for the virtue of his two daughters whse maidenhead was allegedly taken by Quentyn's squire…
He had laughed heartily at this news and that of the many stories that arose from the few days at Ashford and Bitterbridge when the Flowers of the Reach met the Sun of Dorne. Rumours and events had flown as far away as Dorne even before Renly had marched on Storm's End and another kind of rumour had spread.
He had enjoyed them all, the Roses' ladies falling for the Dornish, the jousters being humiliated by his lancers, the brawls outside of camp, and the many little secrets that some men were all too eager to give out once they had been properly drunk.
Surprisingly, there were no deaths then. He would probably expect a few to occur here, especially with the presence of the Westerlanders fueling the fire.
"Well, I am glad to see you in good health, Ser Kevan." Oberyn finally spoke once again, gritting his teeth at that. "It has been a while since we have met."
"I can't believe it has been so long." The man nodded back, his armed guards slowly relaxing their stance.
"I still remember it vividly. It was long ago, with my mother, prince Trys, and my sister, the gods rest all of their souls." Oberyn continued. "Our rooms too were dark and windowless. Your skies were too grey, your wines too sweet, your women too chaste and your monster a complete disappointment. At least, it didn't stink, and you did well enough to entertain us while your older brother treated with more important matters."
"Shall we go?" Ser Kevan asked, quickly avoiding the matter.
"Fine." Oberyn nodded and slowly got dressed, motioning the others to do the same.
While he was doing so, Quentyn slowly approached him and whispered in his ear:
"Was that really necessary?"
"Did you not like to see him squirm like that?" Oberyn countered.
"I don't particularly care for that. I do care, however, that soon enough me and Nym's nicknames won't be exactly flattering." Quentyn countered.
"I fear this might have been a matter of time, nephew." Oberyn shrugged. "It is best for you to accept that she and you will be mocked. It is good to just embrace it. Nym surely should have heard worse in her life, and you probably will too."
Quentyn groaned, dropping the issue swiftly, while they all saddled their horses, some of the best pure-bred sand steeds that Dorne had to offer, and slowly headed to the Red Keep, the monstrosity of a castle dominating the city.
Oberyn rode near Ser Kevan, while Ellaria, Quentyn, Nymeria, and a few of his men rode closely behind.
"A shame we have to leave so early, I had other appointments." Oberyn sighed.
"No doubt that you may visit another time." Ser Kevan frowned.
"Oh, perhaps." Oberyn smiled back. "Although I have to say, the rates are going up these days. Especially with the new tax the Hand has placed."
"Well, such is the law." Ser Kevan huffed.
"Do not fret, Ser Kevan, a prince pays his dues." Oberyn countered back. "Ellaria and I are always in search of new things, and what better place to discover new things than the beating heart of the Seven Kingdoms?"
"I am glad you can find things to do here." Ser Kevan nodded. "Dorne coming into the fold and joining the King's peace will be most welcome."
Oberyn suppressed the urge to strike down the man right then and there.
"Naturally," Oberyn replied simply. "As soon as our…conditions are met, of course."
"I fear that the conflict in the Riverlands, the negotiations with the Tyrells, and the preparation of the upcoming wedding have kept us all quite occupied, Prince Oberyn." Ser Kevan countered in his all so calm and diplomatic voice. "But we will have time to talk about your grievances and…"
"Spare me the talk, Ser Kevan." Oberyn frowned at him. "We both know what my grievances are. I did not come to this city to talk grievances; I came to this city to see that justice is done to Elia and her children…starting with that beast Clegane."
Ser Kevan didn't show any hint of emotion.
"Lorch was responsible and your nephew carried that mission out on his own. Lord Tywin is ready to forgive…"
"Lannister lies are less believable than my daughters'." Oberyn scoffed back at the Hand's brother. "We all know of Clegane's responsibility. I shall not stop until justice is done to that man, and I find out from whence came his orders.
I fear that if my nephew asked that very question to Lorch, he spent more of his pitiful life pleading for mercy or crying out in pain than saying anything useful. Although he did shift all of the blame on the Enormity that rides. He claimed to have done nothing at all, and that Clegane did everything.
Funny, isn't it? How it isn't anyone's fault? Clearly, my sister stabbed her daughter half a hundred times, bashed her son's head in and then committed suicide by impaling herself on a greatsword that was probably her size? Do you really take me for a fool, Ser Kevan?"
"Careful with your words, Prince Oberyn." Ser Kevan only sighed. "There are many men in this city and around it. How many do you have? Three hundred? Four hundred? There is ten times that number in this city, alongside fifteen thousand of our swords and seventy thousand roses."
"Roses die when the sun is burning bright." A voice came from Ser Kevan's left. It was Quentyn, who had come to take a bite out of the lion, it has seemed. "Their petals darken and fall one by one, their pristine colour suddenly takes a greyish tone, their flower falls, and their roots slowly die."
"But the Lion cares not for this." Ser Kevan huffed.
"If the Lion cannot find shade, it will weaken." Quentyn continued, narrowing his eyes. "The sun will keep beating on his mane as it slowly drains what meager forces it has. It will be the prey of the wolves, jackals, and dogs. It will die of thirst. Everything eventually bows before the sun, my lord. And roses provide quite pitiful shade, I have found."
"Seventy thousand of them, prince Quentyn." Ser Kevan countered. "Is enough for a Lion to take shade in."
"I have seen twenty thousand roses get slaughtered beneath the walls of Storm's End, my lord." Quentyn just shrugged. "And they outnumbered the burning stag four to one. And has the lion not bent to the wolf time and time again?"
"The Starks have been dealt with by the Greyjoys." Ser Kevan replied gruffly. "Robb Stark is dead and the Riverlands stand alone. They will eventually be forced back into the realm by force."
"I would be careful with such words, my lord." Quentyn chuckled. "The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."
"We hold Ned Stark's daughters and all his sons are dead." Ser Kevan frowned even deeper. "There are no wolves left."
Quentyn just shook his head and bowed out of the conversation.
It did seem that his nephew had struck an interesting chord with Ser Kevan. After all, shouldn't the Riverlands have cracked under the pressure long ago?
But according to the tales he was getting, they still held everything but Harrenhal, had pressured the Golden Tooth, and that wasn't counting the constant raids of Stannis' pirate fleets which still held Dragonstone, Driftmark, and some other islands while reducing the Royal Navy to dust.
No doubt that the Roses would bring a lot of weight into the discussion, notably with whatever Paxter Redwyne could muster at the Arbor to finally cleanse the Narrow Sea and all of these men that the Lannisters would desperately need to clear the Riverlands…without worrying about their flank. Quentyn did have a good idea to build that new fleet.
And all of this could probably explain why the Lannisters were so eager to expedite the wedding with the Rose of Highgarden. If Tyene's ravens were anything to go by, it seems that the lion in the capital was more one made of paper, despite Lord Tywin's best efforts at making it appear otherwise.
All the more opportunities to get a clean vengeance opened up, and for a second, he wondered if he couldn't discuss it more with the Tyrells. Perhaps a conversation with the Queen of Thorns was in order…
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