It had been a long time, a very long time indeed since had last set foot into King's Landing.
Indeed, he had deliberately avoided it since Elia died, and even before that, he hated the city. Massive and sprawling, and unspeakable in smell, it was the dank and miserable opposite of the dry and cheerful shadow city that surrounded his own capital.
Still, there was grandeur here and there, the Red Keep was certainly impressive, if only as a fortress, and the Great Sept of Baelor was something any faithful lord ought to see at least once, and as much as it irked him, he was glad to see it or is up above the city walls, perhaps the only decent thing in the entire capital.
Of course, there was also the new tourney grounds, something which he was quite certain had not been present on his last visit. They sat to the south of the walls in an area of cleared farmland, a massive freestanding structure of stone and wood that rose up covered in banners and tapestries. The lower sections featured small arches running around its rectangular edge, serving as doorways and the like, while above them enormous wooden stands sat, held up by wooden crossbeams that raided the entire structure to almost the height of the city wall. The inside could apparently hold anything from jousts to horse races and had room for three simultaneous melees.
Oberyn seemed to love it, though personally, he felt more conflicted, he was here for Arianne, and her wedding to Prince Arthur, not for the tournaments that would no doubt follow the ceremony.
Still, he supposed there were worse things, and with any luck, such a chaotic tourney might present an opportunity to take the Mountain's head.
"The Lannisters are arriving." His brother said, stepping into his chamber. The Martells had a sensibly sized manse in King's Landing, enough to support their party at least.
"The Old Lion?"
"Yes, and the North with him, they've entered the city together."
Doran sighed, rolling himself over to the window, which overlooked the King's Road, before the Red Keep. Even now the Throngs were forming for what would no doubt be a ludicrously extravagant procession. "I suppose that means that he's been relatively successful in his attempts to woo the North to his side. That will make Arthur's ascension far more difficult."
"It's possible certainly." Oberyn nodded. "But your soon to be son in law seems perhaps less interested in seizing the throne then we are in him doing so."
"He'll come around to it in time, I'm sure. His kind always does, though whether he'll conquer his way to Yi Ti first I don't know." Doran chuckled, smiling lightly. "My daughter decided to marry a warlock-conqueror with an army of spoke spewing death machines, but that does not mean he is not a man. He will conquer and conquer and conquer wherever he finds the least resistance. I have no doubt of this, and eventually, that will be Westeros."
"That is… an optimistic view, brother, but I wish you the best of it anyway." Oberyn smiled. "Though my own daughters have been aggrieved to be separated from their cousin. I might assign him a poison checker for his drinks."
"Food as well. I don't trust the Lannisters."
"As you say, brother."
"Hush, here they come." Doran's eyes sharpened as he beheld the procession. At its head was a child who must be Prince Joffrey, and flanked on both sides by Lords Paramount as well. That was certainly a proclamation to make. Behind them the children of the Stark and the old Lion's malformed spawn, and behind him…
He felt his blood boil, his sisters name hot on his lips.
"Clegane…"
The Mountain was unmistakable in his massive armor. Twice the size and twice the thickness of what any other man could wear, it cut an intimidating figure atop his monstrously huge Warhorse, itself as much of an anomaly as he was, and no doubt bred or purchased for just this use.
The very sight of him made him want to draw out one of his son in law's cannons and blow the man's brains out.
He wouldn't, of course, but the thought, the thought lingered, even as the procession went by, greeting the throngs of small folk who streamed out to see their crown prince and their Lords paramount.
Venom was in his lips when he finally regained the ability to speak calmly.
"Oberyn, you will do nothing until the wedding is over. Do you understand? Nothing at all, and you will restrain your enthusiastic daughters from doing anything either. This should be a happy time for Arianne, so I will not see you spread even the barest touch of your poisons until the wedding night is done."
"And when it is over?"
"You have the tournament to act at your discretion. Put his head on a plate."
"With your leave,"
He glanced at his brother for a long moment, before smiling slightly, and nodding. "And do be sure that when you act in your discretion, that you take care to use something particularly excruciating to carry out your task. With what that man did to Elia I should think that we should both be better off for seeing him suffer a bit."
Oberyn smiled, a small thing, but on his handsome features, it rested in an utterly devilish manner.
"Why of course, dear brother. I could hardly dream of anything less."