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Trying To Get Myself Killed: Westeros Edition by NotAHero101
TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Humor & Adventure, Robert B., Eddard S., Words: 71k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Nov 25, 2021 Updated: Oct 6, 2023
279Chapter 7
Rated C, For multiple uses of the word, because of Westeros.
You've been warned.
...
Trepidation, wariness, and even a small dash of fear were all he felt, and really all he saw as he walked into the chamber, past the mirrored expression on Barristan Selmy's face.
The man looked to have aged a decade.
Which, well, he figured could be said for himself.
Entering the room, Eddard Stark was surprised to find it nearly barren, the only other occupant was the king himself. For a small moment, he feared Karma had taken out the entire council. Which considering included the King's own brother, was a step too far, no matter his reasoning.
Truthfully, even that potential realization, didn't affect him as much as it might've back in Winterfell.
The gods certainly weren't fond of sword swallowers, and the rumors surrounding the king's brother involved that more than any other.
He hoped Renly Baratheon wasn't dead, and that the king had simply called for him alone- Because if he was, and Karma was going after every broken rule or law or hell even religious facet, then no one would be left alive in the sordid city.
"Your Grace." He remarked tiredly. The man in question was sitting in a chair, facing away from him towards the window, a bottle of wine in his hand.
He steadfastly ignored the numerous empty ones on the floor.
When he received no answer, he took another step forward.
"Robert." He called out again, this time eliciting a reaction judging by the sudden twitch he could make out. "You called..." He added on lamely.
"Jon..." The king remarked back, slowly turning his gaze towards him.
Jon Arryn? He frowned at the thought. He hoped the man, though any in his position likely would, hadn't lost his wits.
Their foster father had died months ago.
It was the queen and-
"That was the name of your bastard right?" Robert remarked as he turned his gaze fully towards him, the man's free hand idly turning the direction of his chair as he momentarily got up to his feet, before sitting back down, there was an... Unnerving gaze on his face.
Eddard himself had simply frowned all the more, entirely unsure why Robert was bringing Jon up. "It was." He agreed.
Robert nodded.
"Wylla..." The man added on tiredly. "What a pair of tits she had, aye?" The man added on, his unnerving straight expression not budging the slightest as the knots in his stomach turned. "Don't you wish you could just go back?" Robert added on. "To simpler times?"
He blinked a few times before deciding to step fully into the room, his hands barely reaching the free chair opposite Robert before-
"Promise me, Ned." Was all Robert had said after watching him like a hawk, the brief hint of his intoxication not in his face as he'd expected.
Despite the lack of anything else, he'd frozen. Yet just as quickly as he'd frozen, he'd let a calm wash over him as he took his seat, his gaze locked onto Robert.
"Whatever it is, y-"
Yet he never got to finish, his gaze only now noticing the sheer resignation that had quickly filled Robert's.
"She made you promise to hide him," Robert added on. "From me. To keep him safe... To take him as your own bastard."
He could practically feel his breath leave him.
"Didn't she?"
The sheer look on Robert's face could've cut through a mountain- For a brief moment, he was reminded of what his oldest friend had used to be- The warrior he had been.
Alas, the conversation itself only made him feel fear.
He opened his mouth, and immediately closed it. His mind warring with itself before eventually, he let out a long sigh and simply nodded.
"Aye... That she did."
Robert's expression didn't change in the slightest at his admission. Though after a tense moment of silence, of the two of them staring at each other, he watched as anger filled his friend's face.
"I knew it!" The venom behind the man's tone practically shook him. Before a calm, almost cold, acceptance took over.
"I fucking knew there was something wrong, you know!?" Robert practically yelled out as he hammered the table with the bottle, barely stopping himself from shattering it entirely.
Then, he heard the last two words he'd ever expected to hear from him. The last two words, on the woman in question, from Robert Baratheon's mouth.
"That bitch."
The acceptance in him turned to anger briefly, before resignation added itself as well. Before dread folded over it all.
Of all the times he'd ever considered Robert finding out, this wasn't the mood he wanted him in.
He had come in with a plan to try to help the continent avoid falling into war- Though more importantly, try and avoid the Old Gods wrath for failing even after they'd sent someone on their behalf.
He did not wish to see their second attempt.
"That goddamn whore!" Robert roared out, livid.
And despite everything, the anger in him took over as he promptly stood up, narrowed his own eyes at his friend, and called out his name- If only because his mind had failed to so much as come up with anything else.
"Do you plan on defending her!?" Robert copied him, the wine bottle dropping to the side of the table as he pushed himself up to his own two feet, his massive hands crashing onto the table with a thud. "That bitch fucked her own brother!"
...What?
Just. What?
He blinked a few times, and a few more, for the words had practically killed all the anger in him, bemusement taking over completely.
Robert swept his hand across the table, though nothing had been in the way for him to lash out his anger on, while Ned battled with the sheer thought that could've possibly been going through the man's head-
"With a smile on her face!" The man added on with another roar. "She brought those bastards to me and told me they were mine!"
He blinked once in response, as a cold realization filled him.
Karma... Had given Robert a letter of his own.
Robert looked to say more, before he grit his teeth and slumped back down on the seat, quickly shaking his head.
"I always knew that little shit couldn't have been mine." He added on with a labored breath. "That little brat was as mad as Aerys! Only a poisonous cunt fucked by its twin poisonous cock could've made him!" A single beat passed as a morose expression took over the king's face.
"I don't know how Myrcella and Tommen came out from the same twisted-" Robert gripped his right hand into a fist, his eyes momentarily closing before he shook his head again.
"Sweet little Myrcella... And dumb as a fucking rock, Tommen... But sweet all the same." He promptly let out a sigh. "I doted on 'em more than I ever did Joffrey. If only to try and stop being responsible for more royal psychotic little shits."
He watched, practically speechless, as Robert raised his gaze towards the ceiling.
"I thought I'd done well when neither of them cut up the belly of a cat for its unborn kits in their first years." A single beat passed as Ned's expression turned from surprise and relief into abject horror.
He wasn't sure what he'd do if Robb or any of his other children had done the same...
"What a waste."
He wasn't sure if it was his own instinct as a father or not, but... In that brief moment, he realized that Karma may have in fact given him another blessing all on its own.
Perhaps Karma hadn't been as crazy as he thought.
"It's not blood that makes a father, Robert." He whispered softly. "Jon Arryn showed that all too well."
Robert mutely nodded as his expression turned grave once again.
"I am going to burn the fucking Eyrie down if I have to, for what that Tully whore did."
...And cue more worries.
There was a long conversation to be had it seemed.
"... He sent me a letter too." Eddard finally pointed out, watching as Robert's expression turned from grave to bewildered, before it settled on thoughtful as the man let out a derisive snort.
"That fucking cunt. I don't know whether to knight him for his skill, give him Casterly fucking Rock for what he's shown me, or take his bloody head myself for killing them himself!"
Eddard had to admit- He certainly saw where Robert was coming from there.
A messenger from the gods he might be, Karma wasn't exactly the best of people... He frowned at the thought.
No.
Robert was right.
Karma was a cunt.
Well-meaning, blessed by the Old Gods, certainly filled with good intentions.
Still a cunt.
He frowned again.
He doubted the Old Gods would look kindly on him for disparaging their messenger... Though considering Karma's thoughts on them himself, he doubted they would react badly on him for it.
...
Hope You Enjoyed! Don't Forget Feedback!
Quick note (Given some of the confusion I got as feedback when I uploaded this somewhere else) Robert didn't think it was Cersei who told Ned to promise them etc, he was asking about Lyanna and Jon, the confirmation from Ned essentially just led Robert to assume the other parts of the letter were true- That Cersei cuckolded him (Tbf, in a part of his mind, he had his own suspicions given , well, Joffrey) He just jumped from talking about Lyanna to talking about Cersei- His mental state isn't at its greatest right now, which is why he didn't even bother switching conversations, he just started going off on an angry rant regarding Cersei.
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Trying To Get Myself Killed: Westeros Edition by NotAHero101
TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Humor & Adventure, Robert B., Eddard S., Words: 71k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Nov 25, 2021 Updated: Oct 6, 2023
279Chapter 9: Interlude: Oberyn Martell
...
He wasn't sure what he felt, stood outside the gates of Sunspear as he was, a retinue of guards surrounding him. His hands fidgeted with every moment that passed, as his gaze took in the approaching mad man called supposedly Karma.
As he took in the most wanted man in Westeros.
Sunspear had received the letter on the shitstorm that had swept the capital the following weeks past. A letter followed by the promise of a lordship for the price of the head of the man currently surrounded by the Dornishmen sent to the capital for the hand's Tourney. Followed on by another letter from the West, promising a noble daughter's hand and a position amongst Casterly Rock's finest, from the Old Lion himself. Once again, finally, followed by a letter from the Reach, promising ten thousand gold dragons for the very same head.
And what a head it was- If the rumors, if the usurper's word, if Tywin Lannister's letter was to believed...
The man that had killed the Mountain. That had slit the throat of the Queen. That had ended the life of the Crown Prince of the kingdom.
Oberyn Martell wasn't sure what he felt.
Rage at his lost revenge?
Glee at the irony that had befallen the Usurper?
Disgust at the murder of a child?
Though truth be told, the rumors that had come from the pale Dornishmen beside him, the man hadn't killed the child while he was defenseless- No, he'd done it in front of Jaime Lannister, after thrashing the kingsguard-
Let it not be said that he had very much enjoyed hearing that part- To hear that the man that had left his sister and her children to die... Had to watch his sins pay him back, right before his very eyes.
Perhaps The Lannister will do them all the honor and kill the Usurper as well, let history repeat itself fully.
Still, the rumors if anything hadn't made the presence of the second disgruntled man in the middle of the retinue etching closer and closer to the gates of Sunspear much of a surprise in the least.
The Hound had been the Crown Prince's sworn sword- And the mad dog's younger brother certainly seemed smart enough to hitch his bets on the Dornish, given their evidently mutual hatred of the man's brother, as opposed to the Usurper's non-existent mercy.
Regardless... Oberyn Martell overall just wasn't sure what to feel at that moment in time.
"You never did say how you came across the man." He remarked to the Dornishmen that had swept ahead of the rest on his steed, putting the poor animal on death's doors, to simply warn them of Karma's arrival.
"We followed the trail, my prince..." There was a haunted tone to the man's voice, one that had him turning a raised eyebrow towards the man. At the look, he elaborated further, and the sinking feeling in his stomach only seemed to grow with every word.
"He left a trail of blood, we weren't the first to find him. He hadn't been trying to make an effort to distance himself from Kings Landing- pushing the cart you see slowly across the country..."
"Blood?" He questioned with a frown.
The soldier nodded, a grim look on his face.
"Dozens of knights that had come for the tourney, from every part of Westeros had beat us to him. We followed the road their corpses made... When we realized it was leading here, we hurried."
He processed the words with an even more pronounced frown.
"The cart? What's in it?"
The soldier shrugged, the brief grim expression on his face turning sour. "We didn't look, the fucker told us they were gifts meant for a Prince of Dorne," A single beat passed. "Though why he kept making us stop to buy buckets of ice, I've no idea..." A brief look of bemusement filled the man's face. "The dog complained 'cos he had to pay for it. But after the second stop... He changed his tune and only started laughing every time we stopped. Called the man a disgrace to manhood... Whatever that meant."
Oberyn simply narrowed his eyes.
"So none of you have any idea what's in the cart?" It had required an eyeglass at first, the finest made for ship captains, to notice it the first time, even if the aloof man had taken most of his attention.
"All we saw was two boxes, my prince... The small one he carries on himself, he kept on filling with ice, every time the last batch melted... And the bigger one on the cart he left alone." Another beat passed. "We looked no further than that, the man had been willing to travel with us- Whether to a cell or a headsman block, he didn't care... We thanked the gods for it, more so our captain believed only a Prince of Dorne ought to decide what was to be done with him..."
"It could be Wildfire for all you know..." He added on warningly.
The soldier's expression turned for the worse, a hint of satisfaction filling him as he noticed-
"Wildfire doesn't whine, my prince..."
He blinked once at that.
"So treason then." He deadpanned in response, idly wondering who the man had elected to kidnap. "Can't say that's much better." He remarked humourlessly.
The soldier had the sense to look ashamed at the very least.
"Apologies my prince. We would've acted up, had we not watched him gut the Mountain and his companions like a fish."
He let out a sigh at that one.
"The Dornish are not meant to break so easily," He remarked pointedly. "Not for any man."
"Pardon the blasphemy my prince, but that there, is no man..." The soldier remarked, the haunted tone coming back- Oberyn couldn't help but wonder as to what they had witnessed.
"That there is the Stranger."
...
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Trying To Get Myself Killed: Westeros Edition by NotAHero101
TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Humor & Adventure, Robert B., Eddard S., Words: 71k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Nov 25, 2021 Updated: Oct 6, 2023
279Chapter 8
...
I walked up towards the open gates, Oberyn Martell stood before me, his spear nowhere to be seen, even if his guards- One of which I recognized as the fellow that had run ahead, clasped their weapons uneasily.
The Red Viper simply raised an eyebrow at my nonchalance, his expression otherwise unreadable.
"The most wanted man in the kingdoms," The man started, as he took the last few steps towards me, causing me to stop on my feet. "I must say, I expected someone..." He paused, a hand rubbing the stubble on his chin. "Bigger." He finished, his gaze roaming up and down at my appearance. "Not a beggar," He promptly crossed his hands. "Hard to believe a man like you killed... Well, so many." He finished with a chuckle.
"Yes, well, the quality of knights can be blamed on your realm," I shrugged easily. "Can't blame me for killin' em so easily."
"The Crown begs to differ."
"The Crown begs for a lot of things, mostly gold." I immediately responded, earning a raised eyebrow. "Besides, I didn't take you to care for what the Crown wanted."
He let out a humorless chuckle, nodding his head once.
"I don't, usually." His expression immediately twisted into a cold one. "But the Crown very rarely targets those who've taken what is mine,"
I nodded again.
"Yes, I do believe they're the ones usually doing the taken themselves." A single beat passed as he blinked at my words, a frown rapidly filling his face. "Must be strange to have the same target as them for once."
Oberyn Martell clicked his teeth in response, his gaze narrowing as he took another step towards me.
"Tread carefully stranger, I have yet to decide whether to send your head back to them for your recklessness, or invite you into Sunspear for the protection you desperately need."
I snorted in response, watching as his gaze narrowed as far as it could. "Is that what you think I am here for?" I scoffed. "Please. If I wanted to hide, I would've left the continent." Another beat of silence passed. "Or just killed them all really." I finished with a shrug.
Oberyn Martell settled for a moment of silence as his gaze seemed to search my own for something before eventually he simply tilted his head upwards the slightest. "Yet, here you are." He remarked warningly. "Are the Martell's the next on your list? Or are you merely passing through?" Both of his hands settled behind him, as ever so slightly he tensed his frame in preparation.
"Of course not," I gave him an open smile. "If I wanted your family dead, your people would be preparing caskets this very moment," I added a hint of cheer to my tone. "No, I am not here for that- In fact, I imagine you'll find yourself rather happy in a moment or two." Without waiting for a second, I turned on my feet and walked towards the cart, my gaze briefly going over the very disgruntled and wary Hound.
With the gaze of literally everyone but said Hound on me, the former Westerman's gaze locked onto everyone around us, I promptly picked up the bag and walked back towards the bemused prince.
Reaching both hands out, I gave him another grin.
"A gift, for the vengeful prince."
Oberyn's gaze never left me as he grabbed hold of the bag.
"If I wanted-" His hand reached inside, the man making no reaction to the cold touch of melted ice. "-the Mountain's head delivered, I would've paid for it-" His rant was promptly cut short as he pulled the head out, his eyes blinking a few times as his jaw barely stayed closed.
Couldn't blame him.
The sight of the Mountain's dick stuck between the dead man's teeth would've done that to anybody.
"Eh, not my fault you decided to take so long," I shrugged. "Honestly, the fact he got to live for so many years after your sister, is borderline disrespectful to her memory."
Oberyn lowered his hand, though his grip never loosened as he glared at me for my words. "You dare speak of her?" He barely managed to conceal the anger in his voice.
"Coming from the guy who was willing to literally die to avenge the woman who died trying to protect her family? I imagine I have more room to speak of her than any of you." I tilted my head.
"Oh fuck," Sandor, gracefully, remarked.
Oberyn promptly dropped the mountain's head back into the bag, and threw it over towards the guards behind him, before he closed the remaining distance between us and grabbed hold of me by the collar of my shirt.
"You think giving me the mountain's head gives you leave to insult my family? You have never met Elia Martell... You will not speak of her again if you value your life."
I gave him a deadpan stare.
"I don't."
He blinked once at me.
"Like seriously, I don't value it at all. Either way," I promptly pushed his hand off my collar. "It doesn't change the fact that I have a right to speak of her- Considering of all the people here, I actually know a little something about the afterlife." I crossed my arms, ignoring the boiling anger on the man's face. "I've died more times than any other man in history, and I've sent more to your sister's realm than any dragon ever did." I paused. "So yes, I'd say given that your sisters been dead for more than a decade, I am certainly the only living fucker she's likely to have interacted with since."
Needless to say, Oberyn ignored all sense of survival as he literally threw a punch at me.
Ducking the swing, I promptly pulled the man's free hand behind his back and pushed him towards the cart, all the while the guards around us haphazardly drew their spears and crossbows. The growl from the prince was the only thing stopping them from firing.
Sandor Clegane face-palmed.
Ignoring the way Oberyn Martell tried to jostle his way out of my hold, I calmly reached towards the cart with my free hand and pushed the large box's lid open.
"Let it not be said that I am a greedy man," I remarked with a grin as Oberyn's frantic movement had subsided the moment his gaze took in what was inside said box. Letting go of the now much calmer prince, I watched as he slowly rose to his full height. "He may be as dead as the Mountain in the eyes of the crown, the eyes of a Martell would beg to differ." A single beat passed again. "Tywin Lannister's going to be so very disappointed to find out his loose end is as loose as his golden asshole."
Armory Lorch, at the first hint of sunlight since his imprisonment, promptly paled further than his already weak constitution allowed him as his eyes fell on the Martell prince.
The shit amount of food and water had clearly gotten to him.
The sound of a chuckle, that quickly turned into laughter promptly filled the clearing as Oberyn Martell clasped an arm around my shoulder.
"Oh you crazy bastard, the rumors didn't do you justice!"
Needless to say, the turn of events (and emotions at that) was quickly making Clegane question his drinking, judging by the look on his face.
...
...
Oberyn, in light of, well, everything, had elected to walk his newly acquired corpse across the Sunspear, his destination west, towards what I presumed were the Water Gardens. Smallfolk and minor nobles filtered throughout our path up ahead, all of them making a line of supportive cheers and projectile throwing hands.
At the head of the very small contingent was the prince himself, a long spear held up straight in his hands, Gregor Clegane's dick-holding rotting face crowning it. His guards surrounded me and the much quiet, and far more alive, Hound.
Sandor had elected for the silent treatment until he figured out whether he wanted to continue his journey with my crazy ass or settle for a quiet job as a guard for the Martells.
Evidently, it'd never occurred to the younger brother to seek their employment earlier, what with their mutual hatred for his kin.
Right behind me, the recipient of every thrown article, whether natural or not, was the staggering pale Westerman.
"...Why?" The man rasped out, his sluggish movements unable to dodge the next projectile that hit his face.
"Hm?" I turned my gaze towards him, my movement was uninterrupted.
"...Gregor..." The man weakly managed to utter, his gaze rapidly blinking the stinking shit rolling down his face. "Was worse... He raped..." He immediately winced at the sudden glare that shot his way from the Prince up ahead, a glare that immediately died down to laughter the moment another projectile hit Armory's legs, causing him to buckle. The chains holding him to the horses were the only thing stopping him from falling completely. "Why did he get a quick death? And me..." He stopped short.
"Worse ya say?" I questioned with a pointed look. "Gregor was an animal," I remarked pointedly, turning back ahead, noticing the Prince's unsubtle attempt at listening in, his fervor with the smallfolk at the back of his mind. "A lackwit fool who only understood three things in life- Fucking, listening to Tywin, and bloodying his hands," I added a scoff to my words. "For all that he was a vicious moron, the fucker wouldn't have known the difference between the children he cut down, and the knights he carved through." I paused, turning my gaze towards Armory once again. "He was a literal animal." I gave the man a smile.
"You, however, have a working, functioning brain- You know the difference... And in your infinite wisdom, you decided to stab a child fifty times." I paused, turning back ahead towards the Prince's back. "Gregor Clegane deserved to die like the animal he was, while you deserve to die like the utter piece of shit you are."
And as if the gods themselves had orchestrated it, a piece of shit hit his head.
Oberyn however, besides the barest nod he sent my way, promptly started throwing out silver coins to whoever assimilated the art of projectile shit.
"...You won't get away with this..." The man forced out in a snarl, evidently unmoved by my speech.
"Please." I scoffed again. "I killed the Queen in her chambers, and walked out of the castle like I owned it." His eyes widened. "If there was a flying fuck that cared about making me pay for what I've done since getting here, I haven't seen it yet."
"...Why did you kill her anyway?" Sandor elected to question Armory's silence. "I thought she was doing you a favor with all those assassins she sent after you- Unless you've been lying about wanting to die."
"She degraded the very name of assassination, I took offense to that-" I broke out into a chuckle, shaking my head. "Kidding, of course." A single beat passed. "The half-assing bitch had it coming. Trust me."
Up ahead the Prince, at the same time as Sandor, let out a sigh, though both for likely different reasons.
"We Martell's do not agree with the murder of innocents and children." The man remarked as he turned a look towards me. "I do hope you remember that while you are under our hospitality."
"
Sure. But honestly, if I wanted to kill for the sake of killing, I would've ended the lives of her other two children as well- I kill when it's necessary, and unfortunately out of self-defense," I gave the man eyeing me with his peripheral a look. "Both of 'em were literally crazy. Madder than Aerys goddamn Targereyan, though at least that fucker's origin story backed his shit-for-brains logic."
The Prince gave me a non-committal hum at that, before fully turning his gaze back ahead.
We'd reached the western entrance into Sunspear, and judging by the number of horses, I was rather glad we wouldn't be making the rest of the journey on foot-
I momentarily froze, at the same time as Prince Oberyn, the man electing to grab the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
I had no doubt we'd frozen for very different reasons.
"Say..." I called out, rapidly covering the rest of the distance as I came to stand beside the man, earning his attention in the process. "You mind telling me who the heir to Highgarden is?" I gave him the same question I'd given the Spider when I'd briefly met the eunuch, the same question that had dictated whether he lived or died.
Oberyn Martell slightly raised an eyebrow at the question.
"I do believe that would be a Loras Tyrell, known as the Knight of Flowers," The man finished with a snort. "Why? Is he one of your targets as well?" He questioned, an unreadable tone to his voice.
"Not really..." I whispered back, my gaze locked up ahead, even as Oberyn shrugged in response and kept on walking, even if he was slightly annoyed at the very familiar-looking figure waving at him with open glee.
Loras Tyrell being the heir meant Garlan and Willas weren't in the picture. Which in essence had put this firmly as the show universe, and so was the only reason Vary's was still breathing.
So what in the fuck was Arianne Martell doing here!?
...
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Trying To Get Myself Killed: Westeros Edition by NotAHero101
TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Humor & Adventure, Robert B., Eddard S., Words: 71k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Nov 25, 2021 Updated: Oct 6, 2023
279Chapter 11: Interlude: The Hound and The Old Lion
For those that might frequent the site Webnovel: Christian_Uzumaki is currently plagiarising my fanfic 'A Grindelwald's Tale' And deleting any reviews/replies that hint at it. If anyone has any advice on how to get him to stop, I'd appreciate it!
This chapter is focused on two different interludes.
...
Sandor Clegane was no fool.
He knew abandoning his post- Well, abandoning what was left of his post, was an easy ticket to having Tywin Lannister come after you. To have the Old Lion decide you were no longer worthy of living in his world. And such a ticket was one that guaranteed an untimely, and very much so unseemly death.
Just as much as he knew that staying would've resulted in him having to either go to the headsman block for failing or take the long journey to hunt down the one responsible.
Truthfully, he just cut the middle man out and elected to go after Karma. Whether he'd intended to kill him and take him back to the crown for mercy or not had been decided the moment he'd laid eyes on those corpses that had thought to do so before him.
Some he recognized from his stint in tourneys, some he didn't. Some that he beat handily, and some that beat him.
Most he could've killed, yet most that would've killed him in a group.
All of them, knights.
And Karma had killed them all.
With every batch of corpses, his vision of what he'd find, if he ever did, had grown. An injured man running as fast as his feet could take him from all the swords sent after him.
With every corpse, that injury grew- Perhaps he'd be missing an eye or an arm. Perhaps he'd be on the verge of death himself. Yet all he'd found was a whistling fucker lazily drudging a cart with another of the Old Lion's men, and the head of his older brother. All he'd found was a mad man walking across a continent that wanted him dead.
Either he hadn't noticed, impossible really what with all the knights trying to kill him, or he didn't care.
The man spread death around like it was wildfire.
That had been the moment he'd elected to forget all hints of killing him, of returning him to the crown, and settled for traveling with him instead.
If Karma dies, then he could simply lug his corpse back to the crown and tell 'em all that was his original goal, and if he didn't, then Sandor was going to live a long life watching knights throw themselves onto their own swords.
Push comes to shove, the mad fucker might even gut the Old Lion for him.
Or make a friend out of him, as he'd done with the Martell.
He still couldn't believe his lot. He'd left the crown certain that he'd be on the run for the foreseeable future, and yet within weeks he'd somehow found himself within the good graces of Dorne, and all because he was a companion to the absolute maddest fucker he'd ever seen. Which considering his brother, said a lot.
Mostly that he'd killed said brother, but that was neither here nor there.
"Uncle!" The young woman remarked, arms wide open as they reached the small group, a minor scowl filling his face as said Martell princess briefly let her gaze wander over him, before turning back towards the Red Viper as he covered her in a hug. "You show up in Sunspear and don't bother to greet me?" The woman questioned, a fake pout filling her face as she drew herself out of the hug, "Have I lost your favor as well?"
He ignored the insinuation- He didn't play politics before, and he certainly wasn't going to start now. He'd leave that for the daft fuckers intent on getting themselves killed.
His gaze however did fall onto the only Sword in the princess company, the man's gaze not leaving his own for whatever bloody reason.
After filling his own face with a scowl, he turned his attention towards the- Wary Karma?
There's a sight to behold, he couldn't help the thought as his stomach unsettled itself. What could unsettle a man who could walk into the royal quarters and slaughter its residents and walk out as if he owned it?
Truthfully, he didn't want to know.
After all, he was no fool.
"Nonsense, niece," The Red Viper remarked easily, drawing his attention. The man promptly put a hand on the crazy fucker he'd tagged himself along with and brought him forward. "I simply had matters to attend to." The man turned his gaze towards the expressionless killer. "I don't seem to have gotten your name..."
When the man didn't bother responding, his gaze still intent on a now bemused princess- The woman in question briefly looking back towards him with a quizzical look before turning back towards the other.
Oberyn Martell, after rolling his eyes, let go of the man's shoulder and raised an eyebrow at his niece.
He could practically taste the irritation that momentarily filled the woman's face, irritation that quickly disappeared in favor of courtesy.
"Princess Arianne Nymeros Martell Of Dorne," The woman remarked, turning her nose up the slightest while amusement danced through her eyes.
Karma in response seemed to take a moment to respond- But respond he did.
"Karma Of The Gods."
Silence filled the surroundings as an uneasy expression filtered through the Red Viper's face, while the princess rolled her eyes.
"Aren't you full of yourself," The woman remarked haughtily.
Sandor Clegane wasn't a fool, but the Princess of Dorne definitely was.
It was odd how the higher one was in status, the more lack of sense they had.
"Yes, well, given your bed warmers I hope that doesn't encourage you." Karma deadpanned in response.
Sandor did all he could not to spit-take at that.
Mad or not, the fucker had balls of Valyrian steel.
An awkward silence filled the clearing before the princess completely wrote off the man in question, her gaze turning towards him instead.
"Funny, I thought the scarred one would've been the one everyone wants dead, what with all the rumors."
He ignored the twitch that showed on his face.
"But you?" The woman scoffed, before turning towards the Red Viper, "Uncle are you sure you got the right one? I expected a knight at least."
Oberyn Martell looked like he wanted to slap the hair off his nieces head, what with the forced smile on his face as he clamped a hand on an amused Karma's shoulder.
"I assure-"
"I am not a knight," Karma spoke over the prince to the princess's party's clear insult- The sword looked like he wanted to start a duel then and there for it.
He watched as the man shrugged off the wary prince's hand, and leaned in the slightest towards the princess- Completely ignoring the way the Sword's hand went to his sheath- He really should get the fucker's name.
"I am the guy that kills knights."
He couldn't make out the rest of the man's words, but they seemed to rattle the princess somewhat. And the prince at that, what with the shocked expression his face took. The shock he quickly waved off with a shake of his head.
Though the subtle look on the princess's face was one he'd seen faked enough in most of the brothels he'd visited- And frankly it buried any hope of the women having any sense at all.
...
...
-Tywin Lannister-
Anger was putting what he felt inside mildly.
From the moment he'd received that cursed letter, he'd marched for the capital, an army behind his back.
Oh, it hadn't been easy, to raise up his host as quickly as he had, but through sheer determination, and a healthy dose of intimidation, his lords had obeyed and almost reached his expected standards.
It was that same host, currently milling about the streets of Kingslanding and outside its walls that had held his caution enough to enter the Red Keep with a smaller than usual guard for someone of his stature.
He'd come to the capital prepared for war, yet that cursed letter, in the end, had only been the beginning of an utterly wretched day.
His eyes barely believed what stood before him, his gaze focused on the golden-haired fool in chains, as he ignored the no doubt furious king.
With one swift motion, he stood up from his seat and walked over towards his golden son, removed the gauntlet from his own arm with ease, and smacked the damned smiling fool across the face.
"Put him back in his cell..." He barely managed to contain the fury in his voice as he ordered the tongueless headsman- The only one that had been allowed entry into the council chamber, though for good reason. "I'll deal with him later..." He snapped through grit teeth, hopeful that his son would in fact live til' then.
For all the anger in his face, it didn't compare to what he felt inside as he watched his son take the hit and with as much bravado as he'd entered with, promptly leave without a care.
As if he hadn't just admitted to cuckolding the king.
As if he hadn't just admitted to tarnishing his legacy.
As if he hadn't just admitted to fucking his own twin sister.
It seemed Aerys, despite being dead for the past decade and a half, was still somehow tormenting him.
Tywin Lannister had come into the Red Keep intent on burning the land itself if it meant cutting the head of the fool that had killed his daughter and grandson, and yet, a small part of him was almost glad at what had occurred.
Calmly, as if he hadn't just smacked his firstborn across the face, the Old Lion took a seat and turned his gaze towards the only other two in attendance.
The man who had learned the truth of the matter, and despite his honorable fame, had elected not to proclaim it before the Seven Kingdoms- Instead, if he was to be believed, wished to bury it to prevent a war from happening.
Eddard Stark, as always, was a surprising man to behold.
And the other man that had gotten the confession out of his utter fool of a child, the King who by all rights could've had him, his son and the rest of his grandchildren gutted for his children's stupidity and gotten away with it.
For all the misery his stunted dwarf of a Lannister had brought him, at least the drunken fool had never so blatantly committed treason!
He'd always known his daughter was far too confident in herself, even for a Lannister, and up until today, he'd thought her greatest trait...
Frankly, if the fucker responsible for her death had failed to kill her, Tywin Lannister feared what he would've had to do himself.
"Jaime Lannister's white cloak will be taken from him," Eddard Stark's voice washed over him, as he inwardly tensed. "He will be returned to you, for you to deal with as you see fit."
He blinked at the words, though he stopped himself from showing any other reaction.
He'd firmly expected the first, and hoped at worst he'd be sent to the wall.
The hand of the king had just offered him mercy his son didn't, by any right, deserve.
Turning his gaze towards the King, he found the man barely containing his fury, though he refused to say anything else.
"I see." He remarked curtly.
"Tommen will marry Shireen, who as of this morn has been put on a ship to the city, by her father, Prince Stannis Baratheon." His gaze minutely narrowed at the words.
They intended to let the children keep their royal titles?
He quite frankly refused to believe it wasn't without a price.
"Understandable." He remarked, unsure of what else to say.
He supposed it was the only way to save the King's... reputation, as well as make sure there truly was Baratheon blood on the Iron Throne.
"Myrcella's betrothal will be decided later-" The hand continued, indifferent. "Though the front runners for the moment are either Edric Storm-" He frowned at the words. "-Or Loras Tyrell."
Marriage to a bastard, who within the eyes of the land was her own half-brother, to prevent her being used against the crown, without resorting to the truth that would no doubt escalate to a war- Or marriage to a Tyrell, a false prize as it, meant to keep them in line, and essentially blackmail them into obedience with the truth if necessary.
A copper piece in the false skin of a golden dragon.
He'd certainly underestimated the Wolves of the North.
"The crown's debt to House Lannister will be considered paid in full."
He promptly stood up from his seat, his teeth grinding against each other, before he forced himself into a calm, his eyes closing- The two before him not so much as budging in their places- Though the daring glint in the king's eyes was telling.
"...Anything else?" He questioned tersely.
The Stark nodded with ease.
"House Lannister if I am correct, are known to pay their debts," He clasped both hands behind his back as he pulled himself to his full height. He would not humiliate himself by taking a seat. "There will come a day, where you will receive a letter, requesting the full might of the West up north. You may consider the debt paid when you arrive with your host."
He frowned once again at the words-The Stark was preparing for war against savages? Or perhaps treasonous bannermen? He doubted the latter, and couldn't see why his army would be needed given the armies of the north could surely handle an upstart king beyond the wall-
"It's non-negotiable, Tywin." The King spoke for the second time since he'd arrived, the first being to order his son to admit to his treason before him. "Every abled man, from the Stormlands to the North, will be needed. There's a war coming, one I intend to win."
For the first time since the Rebellion, Tywin Lannister, from the sheer determination behind Robert Baratheon's eyes, remembered why the man before him had toppled a three-hundred-year-old dynasty.
In the end, however, the terms were far more than acceptable- Despite the... situation at hand, his blood would still rule the Iron Throne, and no amount of dragons, no... dubious marches across the continent would eclipse it is worth it.
Which was why it was obscenely easy for him to agree to it.
"And? What of the man that killed my daughter?"
"Do you want me to give him a knighthood for it?" Robert Baratheon's prompt scathed on his skin- Even if he could hardly blame the Stag. "The bounty on his head stays- You're welcome to put whatever efforts you see fit to bringing him to justice."
He nodded indifferently at that.
Eddard Stark chose that moment to stand up, and to his surprise, he watched as the man removed the Hand's pin from his chest and placed it on the table.
"Come the morn, I intend to take my family and guard and set off back home, a long winter approaches, and I intend to prepare my lands for it and the coming wars."
He made no reaction to the words, even if the gears in his head started whirling.
The man's use of wars was rather telling.
"And who will replace you as Hand?" He questioned stiffly.
"The only one with as much interest in keeping the truth hidden," Eddard Stark answered easily.
He turned his gaze towards the King, sniffing once in the process.
"In that case, I accept," He remarked easily, watching as the King nodded in response.
It seemed history had repeated itself once again.
For the Hour of Wolf had once again struck hard against the South, and left as quickly as it came.
A small part of him had to respect it, even if it gnawed at him for House Lannister's place in the centerfold of it all.
"Good, first order of business- I want that Arryn bitch's head on a spike! 'Cos if she thinks she can get away with murdering Jon Arryn, she's got another thing coming!" Robert Baratheon remarked with a snarl.
...Tywin Lannister quite frankly found himself lost for words.
At least his daughter hadn't attempted to kill the one responsible for her former status and power.
No, she'd only cuckolded him.
He wasn't sure what was worse.
Still, it didn't compare to the sheer indifference marring Stark's face.
Despite the fact it was his own sister-in-law, the man looked as if he was willing to take her head himself.
A small part of him was starting to understand exactly why the Stark's hold on power across the biggest of the kingdoms was so stable.
The man was ruthless.
...
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Trying To Get Myself Killed: Westeros Edition by NotAHero101
TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Humor & Adventure, Robert B., Eddard S., Words: 71k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Nov 25, 2021 Updated: Oct 6, 2023
279Chapter 9
Very raw, do mention any mistakes!
...
"You know, I get why you like this place so much," I remarked as the opener to my conversation with the first Prince of Dorne.
It had taken a little longer than expected to reach the Water Gardens, no thanks to Arianne Martell's entourage, said princess currently pinning me with a curious, albeit narrowed gaze as she sat beside her just as a thoughtful father. I couldn't blame the girl really, considering I hadn't bothered to bow, and instead simply took the offered seat as if I'd owned it. For that matter, even the big ass fucker with a spear behind them wasn't too pleased either. While a smug Oberyn, probably the reason Hotah hadn't swung at me yet, settled for standing beside me, every so often turning his gazes towards his no doubt eavesdropping daughters.
Sandor Clegane unsurprisingly had elected not to appear for the meeting, instead of setting up what he presumed was going to be his room for the stay. No matter how long it may be.
"Show some respect," Arianne Martell remarked after a moment of silence, her Princely father electing to take his time to respond. "Peasant," She added after a pause. "You think clothing gives you a higher status?"
The aforementioned clothing was a gift from the Prince beside me, the one who ever since he'd seen my utter disinterest in his niece, had both found it amusing and for whatever reason seemed to ease his mind.
"Hush child," I snorted in response. "The grown-ups are sizing each other up," I turned towards Doran Martell, and ignored Oberyn's snort, the man shaking his head as he turned a brief look towards his daughters in my peripheral.
Needless to say, the girl's gaze turned into a glare as she gripped the side of her seat harder than before.
"My brother was right," Doran Martell prevented the silence from returning as he spoke up for the first time. "You are incapable of showing respect,"
"For telling off your hotheaded daughter?" I questioned with a raised eyebrow. "Maybe if you did that yourself some more, I wouldn't have to."
Oberyn's hand rapidly went to my shoulder, the man sending a warning albeit still amused look towards me.
Doran Martell to his credit didn't react to the barb.
While Arianne Martell proved my point as she promptly stood up from her seat.
"How dare-"
"It's no wonder you don't trust her to rule Dorne," I rolled my eyes as I continued, watching as the gout-ridden prince's eyes narrowed, while Arianne's voice was promptly shut down. "But still," I leaned forward. "Trying to hand her over to Aery's mad son- A tad extreme as far as punishments go, no?" I gave him a shark-toothed grin as I watched Arianne's eyes momentarily widen before disbelief rapidly filled them as she scoffed and sat back down, crossing her arms in the process.
Doran on the other instead locked a very grave look with his brother, whose hand on my shoulder for a brief moment started shaking. The man in my peripheral, ever so slightly, shaking his head. The action caused Doran's gaze to quickly turn back to me, a stormy look to them.
The stretching silence, for a brief moment, seemed to kill the disbelief on his daughter's face.
"Oh, don't look at me like that!" I snorted again. "Not like I ran my mouth to the crown- Mostly just a blade through the queen's neck really."
"...Father?"
Both of us ignored the princess.
"Still, I gotta say, I really do see why you like this place so much," I remarked leaning back again. "The Water Gardens," I enunciated each word as I took a look around. "The gift that brought about a rebellion, a Blackfyre legacy-" I turned back towards the expressionless prince before me. "Really apt that you would reside here and wait for your treason to bear some cursed fruits."
"...You are actively giving me more and more reason to disregard my brother's request to offer you hospitality." The prince eventually stated, before leaning back into his seat. "You come here, before me- A chance many would pay with a life for, and you accuse me of treason..."
"Accuse you, point out a fact," I shrugged. "Same difference." A single beat passed as I let a smile grow on my face. "Is that why you haven't offered me bread and salt by the way? Haven't decided if I get the old headsman block?"
"Karma..." Oberyn remarked beside me, a frown on his face before said look turned into bemusement as he turned towards his brother.
"Not that I blame you- Though I imagine guest right means less to me than to you, so either way, no skin of either of our backs if you decide Hotah's blood ought to run through your garden." I finished with a shrug.
"...Areo is one of the finest fighters of Norvos,"
"Won't stop his lifeblood if you decide to execute me," I turned towards the expressionless guard, noticing his tight grip on his weapon. The grip he'd held from locking eyes with me since I'd arrived here.
The man knew danger when he saw it, I'll give him that.
"But still, enough teasing, I'd much rather you didn't make me a promise you wouldn't be able to keep so let's shelf executing me for now," I grinned, "Let's instead talk about the fact you, for some inexplicable reason, want to wed two of your children to Dragon's," A single beat passed that had the Prince in front of me's expression turn stormy once again. "Honestly, it's like you Martell's have a thing about handing over your children to half mad lineages. All for a throne destined to get you all kill-"
"Enough!" Doran snarled, standing on his two feet as he gripped his two hands into a fist.
I calmly raised my gaze towards the man.
"What has that cursed throne done for you?" I questioned calmly, watching as the man on account of gout running through his legs or whatever promptly fell back down into the seat as Areo Hotah helped into it. "Honestly, if I was you I'd burn it to the ground,"
"What would you know!?" Doran remarked, his breath coming out rapidly as the hand on my shoulder from his brother started digging into my skin.
"Oh, what would a man who has seen your schemes, and plots, and dastardly stupid decisions play out, know?" I put a hand on my chest, "I do wonder,"
The man's eyes, almost manically roved around as he searched my face before after another brief moment he let out a very humorless chuckle.
"You are mad-" The man made to bark out,
"First borne, you were raised alone, on account of your mother's unfortunate miscarriages-" The prince's eyes narrowed once again, the indifferent expression was once again gone. "-Only for poor Olyvar and Mors to make it to the cradle, and no further." I continued, watching as a slack expression filled the prince's face. "You were a squire when your beloved sister made her way into the world-"
"Enough..." Doran Martell remarked shaking his head. "You think researching my family tree-"
"I've been in this continent- Neigh, this world of yours for barely over a moon, I didn't research anything Prince." I tapped my finger on the chair, "And yet, I somehow know you intend to help Visery's Targaryen retake his seat, provided Arianne was at his side of course. Somehow know you intend to wed Quentyn to Daenarys Stormborn to solidify what was once stolen from your family. Somehow know you were convinced your sister would follow in your earlier brother's footsteps-" I shook my head, "Do you get what I am trying to say here?" I questioned honestly, earning no response from the speechless wary prince.
Rolling my eyes at that, I turned towards the very uncomfortable prince beside me. "Just like I somehow know that when he and his sister first traveled to Casterly Rock- Oberyn here was so very disappointed after all the promises from the dead blonde queen about meeting a little monster- 'That's not a monster," he told Cersei. "That's just a baby.'" I paraphrased the show's words, the effect on the two Martell's in front of me minimal, besides the glint that said they were staring at a very deranged individual, but the prince beside me was...
For lack of a better word, utterly shocked. Judging by the way he took his hand off my shoulder and stared at me, wide-eyed. Which only uneased me more really, this world really was a mixer-
The only question left... Was the mixer prepared beforehand? Or was this like my stint as Aizen and I was essentially piecing it together slowly? On the one hand, the former would be... Difficult to navigate through while the latter could result in me accidentally and frankly utterly dooming this world.
Either way, I really don't want to be around for it.
Finding a way to die just got a hell of a lot more important.
"How..? The queen?" His second words were followed with a tad bit of hope, though mostly resignation as I raised an eyebrow at him.
Doran Martell, on account of his brother's reaction, had gone back to pinning me with a glare.
"Look," I rolled my eyes again, "You do what you want, I am just saying it's a terribly stupid idea- And don't freakin' deny it- Gods if Willem Darry hadn't kicked the bucket I'd ask him for proof, considering I doubt the freakin' Sealord of Braavos would pay me any mind."
I promptly stood up, ignoring the way Areo Hotah snapped the spear onto the ground in warning as a few of the Martell guards slowly made their way closer.
"Calm yourselves," Oberyn remarked to the assembled warriors carefully, even as he still dealt with what I'd said.
"Who are you?" Doran Martell questioned, his gaze searching mine, his expression barely held at bay as his hand shook.
"Father-"
"Quiet." The man snapped at his daughter, even if he kept his eyes on me.
"Does it matter?" I questioned with another shrug. "You and I both know how this is going to go down- You didn't invite me here out courtesy, you invited me here because you know there's going to be an army or two coming to collect my head," I crossed my arms. "And you certainly won't say no to easy leverage."
"Karma-"
I turned towards the second prince. "What? You trying to tell me that isn't something he'd do?"
"..." Oberyn held my gaze for a moment before turning towards his brother. "He gave us Clegane's head... Lorch as a prisoner-" The man shook his head quickly. "He's destabilized the crown-"
"Tywin Lannister is the hand of the king," Doran cut his brother off, the words sending him into silence, his gaze not leaving my own.
I blinked in surprise at that one.
"Eddard Stark marches back home to gather his army-" The man shook his head. "Even if he weren't... Mad, Dorne will not fight the might of five kingdoms over him."
"Not with that attitude," I snorted raising both my hands. "But hey, if you wanna hand over my head, hand me over personally, you do you, I ain't fussed. Long as you don't just tease me with the promise of death and actually follow through." A single beat passed as the man's gaze turned incredulous, while Arianne's looked at me like I was absolutely insane.
And by that, I meant with desire for some fucking reason.
"Your loss, either way." I put my hands down. "So, where's my cell? Or headsman- Personally like to meet my victims before I accidentally gouge their life out of 'em" I snorted.
Doran didn't answer that question, his gaze turning thoughtful for a brief moment.
"My loss? I don't see how." The man remarked, ever the opportunist.
I took a single step forward, Areo Hotah about to the same towards me if not for the hand of the viper who did the same. "Oh, I don't know, perhaps the medical expertise to heal you?" I snorted.
"The Maester's have no cure," Doran remarked passively, and even if he knew it existed, I doubted he'd go for it.
"Oh please, you may kill me, but don't disrespect me- Hell, I could go either way, perhaps an acceptable, albeit long., cure made from the resources you've certainly got, or perhaps sorcery if you're inclined to a quicker one and a little blood sacrifice." I promptly put a hand over a visibly interested Prince, the man somehow not off-put by me in the slightest.
"Or perhaps you'd prefer the knowledge to destroy the armies you fear are coming?" I started chuckling. "The knowledge that could've put Aegon bloody Targeryan's conquest to an unsightly end."
"Words are wind, Karma." Doran Martell referred to me by my chosen name for the first time since I'd gotten her, his expression once again hidden. "And sorcery never ends well for those who partake."
"Oh, it wouldn't be sorcery, I can assure you- Only time, effort, and man's ability to destroy."
"... As I said, words are wind, and coming from a man who doesn't fear death, even more so."
"Indeed, too bad there's no time to prove my claims." I shrugged, taking my hands off the prince's shoulder beside me.
The two princes shared a look between each other before Oberyn spoke first.
"How much time would you need?"
I let a thoughtful look fill up my face.
"Depends on what you want I suppose. Provided you had the resources on hand..." I paused briefly, putting a finger on my chin. "Give me a week and I'll show you how to kill a dozen men within seconds, a moon and I'll show you how to eviscerate a vanguard..." I let go of my chin, pocketing both hands as I tiled my head at the man. "Three moons and I can show you how to wipe an army off the face of this land..." I leaned my head closer towards the visibly interested prince.
"A year, and I can show you how to wipe Westeros off the map."
...
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Trying To Get Myself Killed: Westeros Edition by NotAHero101
TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Humor & Adventure, Robert B., Eddard S., Words: 71k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Nov 25, 2021 Updated: Oct 6, 2023
279Chapter 10
...
It seems Prince Doran's mild physical exertion, of having stood up rapidly, with a tad amount of rage, of his seat had resulted in the man being forced to delay his return to his quarters and pretend everything was fine. While holding what I presumed was supposed to be a secret meeting with his brother, in broad daylight, in the middle of the Water Gardens.
Oh sure, there was no one within the vicinity of him, his brother and his faithful captain of the guard, but still, it painted a pretty visual picture of how far gone the man's health was.
I, as well as Sandor, we're currently on the opposite side of the pool, as far away as we could be with Oberyn keeping an eye on me at all times. The man's gaze never wavering even as he spoke with his brother in hushed tones.
As if a dozen guards near us weren't doing a good enough job of that themselves.
I let out a sigh, idly waving a hand towards the two princes, before turning my gaze back towards my silent shadow. The man standing behind my seat, his eyes wary as they kept watch on everything he could.
"Who do I gotta kill to get a drink around here, eh Sandor?" I questioned, somewhat amused. The words themselves earned a twitch from the man as he leveled his gaze towards me. I rolled my eyes as I pointed towards the empty seat on the opposite side of the table before me.
"I am good." The man let out in a gruff tone after a moment's thought, before shaking his head at me. "You're a brave one though, I'll give you that."
"For killing?" I questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"For wanting a drink around here." He remarked pointedly, before to my surprise, he reached into his side and grabbed hold of the leather drinking pouch that belonged to him, and offered it to me.
Staring at the thing for a moment, I let out a snort and shook my head. "No thanks, I much prefer my drinks in a cup."
The man, not so much as reacting at the remark, let out a shrug.
"Your funeral."
"Coming from the guy who's already planning to sleep here for the night?" I questioned idly. "Or was the room not satisfactory?"
"It was expected," The man sniffed, before his gaze momentarily narrowed at me. "Though I didn't expect to have to use it." A single beat passed. "Are you really planning to spend the night here?"
I gave him a non-committal shrug as I lowered both my hands onto the table before me.
"I suppose we'll have to see, the Prince's already willing to let me stay here for a week, at minimum."
Which is all he'd really said on the matter before my dismissal to the little kid's table.
That I had a week here, as thanks for the gifts I'd brought along with me.
After that, well, it'd depend on his mood, or whatever happened with the crown-
For some odd reason, the man hadn't made any mention regarding my offer of creating weapons for him.
Not that I'd personally planned too- Honestly, I'd intended to use the week of resources he had on hand to try and make some sort of drug to get him high as a kite, point him at his lost cause of a daughter, and watch the fireworks. Mostly as a joke, but also to test his patience.
I heard he was cautious, so naturally, I wanted to see how far I could push that before I drove Doran Martell into actually lifting a finger.
If I am lucky, it might be the finger that finally pushes me into the next life, but I wasn't holding my breath.
Idly taking notice of Sandor's sudden silence, my gaze settled on its cause as I stopped paying him any mind. The man elected to take a step backward from me as Arianne Martell, with a servant behind her holding a tray, walked up towards me. A haughty look on her face.
"My my," I snorted, leaning back into my seat. "News travels fast."
Barring the raised eyebrow, I watched as the princess promptly ignored my remark, flipped a loose hair strand back, and promptly sniffed at the seat on the other side of the table, before asking another servant to bring her a freakin' pillow, while the servant behind her placed the tray holding a flagon of wine and two cups down on the table.
I raised an eyebrow at the action while holding gazes with the princess, watching as she took a seat once said seat was covered with a rather comfortable-looking pillow.
"Well go on then," I remarked tipping my head towards the princess, earning a brief look of bemusement. "Aren't you going to pour me a drink?"
Her expression briefly cracked, before the woman took in a deep breath and leveled a passive look towards me, her nose tipped the slightest bit upwards.
"You really do have no manners, do you? To ask a princess such a thing..." She remarked with a sneer.
I rolled my eyes at her without a missed beat, watching as she twitched at me before I reached over towards the flagon and poured it into the cup closest towards me.
The princess's expression turned sour the moment I simply placed it back down without doing the same to her. With a subtle gesture towards her servant, I watched as the poor woman treated the princess like the brat she was. And, you know, poured her a drink for her and all that.
Honestly, it was like the woman couldn't handle the idea of not making every little action a power play.
Arianne Martell's bloody handjobs probably came with a freakin' political concession of some sort. Presuming the woman would ever lower herself to do such a thing anyway.
I idly watched as the woman, after a brief moment of silence, promptly picked said cup up to her lips and took a sip.
"Hm," I shrugged, picking the cup up. "Guess there's no poison in the flagon," I remarked, earning another pair of narrowed eyes. "Pity," And promptly downed the whole thing.
"Pity?" The woman questioned incredulously, a glint quickly growing in her eyes as she watched me pour myself another drink. "How would you know? Perhaps I've already drank the antidote myself."
"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow at the princess, pausing the cup in the air before lowering it onto the table. "Are you teasing me, little princess? I do so hate that."
The glint disappeared, replaced by more incredulousness.
"...Are you suggesting you want to be poisoned?" The woman questioned, bemused before her lips tugged upwards into a smirk. "Because that really can be arranged," She remarked, leaning forward.
I idly noted the fact her eyebrows didn't help her appearance at all whatsoever.
"Perhaps all the rumors about wanting to die are true after all." She finished, reaching into her chest and pulling out what looked like a small vial- One she reached the slightest out towards my cup. "Maybe I can help you with that?"
I blinked at her, placing the cup down on the table.
"I understand you must feel bad princess, but taking your own life because your younger brother's considered the better heir is a tad dramatic." I deadpanned. The words practically cut her coyish expression into an almost feral one.
Which, well, in all fairness didn't even tamper with the woman's attractiveness at all.
No wonder so many people fell for the crazy woman.
Still, taking my chance at her sudden lack of composure, I promptly snatched the vial from her hand and gave it a quick lookover.
The action startled the princess for a brief moment before to my surprise once again she managed to dampen it all down into another smirk. "Having second thoughts?" She questioned easily, as she leaned back into her seat, a strange sense of calm or rather... Relief emanating out of her?
Which was surprising given I'd just insulted her.
I raised an eyebrow at her, idly noting the rather panicked prince walking over towards our side.
I hadn't even noticed he'd been close enough to hear us, stood next to a nearby pillar as he'd been- Doran Martell was nowhere in sight.
"Not at all," I grinned, watching as her composure broke the moment I opened up said vial and promptly dumped it all into my mouth. Swallowing it, I gave the woman a gleaming smile. "I just prefer to skip the middle man- No sense in diluting it with wine after all."
The dread that suddenly filled the woman's rapidly paling face was somewhat confusing, given she'd practically offered to poison my cup for me herself.
I watched as she haphazardly stood up, her gaze turning towards her even more panicked uncle as she called out for an antidote to a strangely named poison, before her gaze quickly turned back towards me as she walked over to my side, her hands reaching out to my face-
"Spit it out!" She remarked freezing her hands inches away from my face, a panicked wide-eyed expression on her own face, before her uncle calmly pulled her aside-
"Karma, what-" Whatever the man had been about to say died down as he shook his head and promptly pulled out another vial, one he held out towards me. "Drink this- Quickly you crazy fool!"
I stared at the offered vial, before once again leaning back into my seat and letting out a sigh.
"What are you-" Oberyn looked about to shove the freakin' vial down my throat based on his expression.
Only for the man to suddenly stop, for the princess's panic to quickly subside, for Sandor's utterly done face to turn into bemusement.
And all because I'd started laughing.
"Oh, aren't you all just precious," I remarked, shaking my head, before promptly grabbing hold of the vial, opening it up, and dumping it into the pool beside me.
It was telling that for a brief, very, confused moment, Oberyn looked like he was about to ask the gods themselves where my missing sanity was as he took a step back. His gaze turned from bewilderment to concern, before finally to utter confusion as he searched my face for something.
"What is the matter with you!?" Arianne Martell suddenly shrieked. "Do you have a death wish!?"
I nodded at that, before letting out another sigh. "Out of curiosity, princess,"
Oberyn's face rapidly turned into dread.
"How fast was that poison supposed to be?"
"..." Arianne Martell blinked once, twice, and finally a third time before she spoke with an almost haunted tone to her voice. "Without the wine... Seconds..?" She turned a questioning expression towards her uncle. When the man didn't react to her, she turned back towards me.
I tilted my head at her, still grinning, as I raised an eyebrow towards her. "Funny that, isn't it?"
Oberyn rapidly moved a shaking hand towards his niece's shoulder, his wide-eyed gaze still on me.
"...Why..." The princess's voice seemed to crack. "How..?"
I snorted in response.
"If it was that easy to get what I want, I'd already be dead, little girl..." I let out another sigh. "Alas, I happened to be very hard to kill,"
Oberyn's face seemed to have lost some of its colors as he definitely started seeing me in a new disturbing light.
Sandor's utterly done expression seemed to change to one that found god, and decided he was an utter maniac- In that, he was looking at me like I'd grown a second head, ate the first, and then grew a third.
While the princess, breaking expectations, had settled for an utterly fascinated expression as she shrugged off her uncle's hand and promptly moved her seat closer before taking it- A nearly fanatic look to her face as she stared at me.
"You called yourself Karma... Of the Gods right..?" The woman suddenly chuckled, her voice ringing through the area as she shook her head. "What are you? Truly?"
Needless to say, bitch was clearly crazy.
The fact I was starting to see Doran Martell's freaking point of view, at least regarding Arianne Martell, wasn't a feeling I'd expected, nor wanted.
Honestly, that feeling hurt more than the poison ever freaking did.
...
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