"You can not really expect us to believe that Ser Gregor and his men went all the way from the Westerlands to Dorne, do you? Do you even know how far that is?" Kevan asked as he looked around at the nobles with a sardonic smile, as if telling them to see how funny this joke was, "No one here is going to believe that."
"How strange," Doran said slowly as he looked down at Kevan with a pitiful look on his face, "You say that Dorne is too for your men to travel, and yet you insist in the very next sentence that my brother did the very same thing with his men. I don't know if you were sleeping during your Maester's lesson, but according to what mine has taught me, the distance between two stationary places remains the same no matter which direction one travels in. So either both are impossible, or both are very much possible; you need to choose one, my Lord."
"I-I-" The Lannister Lord's face immediately flushed in humiliation at the condescending tone that the Dornish man was using but try as he might, he could not dispute the clear logic behind this, and sure enough, when he looked around Kevan could see in the eyes of other nobles that they were buying this horseshit, so in his panic, the man blurted out, "Your brother, of course, had a reason to go the length so he could have just used a trade ship to slip in, but there would have been no need for Ser Gregor and the others to travel that far just to...um..." Kevan stopped himself at the last moment and looked around, trying to find an appropriate alternative, but sadly, he didn't get the time.
"To hunt? Is that what you were going to say, Lord Lannister?" Doran asked while shaking his head with a disappointed expression on his face, "So, you were aware of their usual hunting practices, My Lord. Tch! Tch! How sad it must be for those smallfolks who looked upon you to protect them, and to think that you threw them at the mercy of the likes of Gregor and his men,"
"Do not change the subject. We are here to discuss the crimes of your brother, and not—"
"Let me get this right," Once again, Doran interrupted the man with that calm infuriating voice that made the Lannister brother's blood boil, "You mean to tell me that, my brother, entered Westerlands, searched for Ser Gregor, killed all his man, and then just picked up his two captives, and took him all the way to Dorne on his own," Doran finished as he looked down at him with an amused smile, "I must say, My Lord, you really give my brother too much of a compliment,"
"What?!"
"I mean, you must think of my brother as some kind of Magical knight who can travel a thousand leagues, kill fifteen men, and then take a man weighing fifty stones across the border without getting caught. I would dare say that even our king, the man known as the Demon of the Battlefield, wouldn't have been able to achieve the feat that you are laying on my brother's feet. No offence, you grace."
"No, you are right," Robert nodded with a frown on his face, "It would indeed be very tough, but perhaps if I had..." he murmured and then fell silent as he contemplated the logistics of a task such as this, and how he would go about it if he were in his prime.
"This man is quite good," Tyrion muttered with a piqued expression as he took a deep swig of his chalice, feeling very entertained at the moment.
The man had come here envisioning a very dry, boring debate on whose fault it was, with each of them throwing a thousand accusations at each other, before the Lord Hand, famous for his negotiation tactics makes them settle with some kind of compensation, but this... this was completely out of his expectations, and the dwarf was relishing every moment of it.
'Especially, if it makes my old man angry,' he thought giddily, as he looked at his dear Father, who looked unbothered from the outside, but his tight grip on the arm of his chair told a very different story.
"I agree. He is indeed good." Blackfish murmured in begrudging reply, as he too was looking at the Dornish prince who was known outside Dorne as the useless and cowardly cripple, with very different eyes, "I don't know if I believe in your family version of things now," he commented in a low voice, making sure only the dwarf could hear him.
"Me neither," Tyrion replied with a snort as they both shared amused smiles with each other.
"I did not say that he entered alone," Lord Kevan finally found his voice and replied to Prince Doran hotly, "Do not put words into my mouth! He obviously must have brought his men with him to help, otherwise—"
"How many, then?" Doran interrupted with a raised eyebrow.
"W-What?"
"How many men do you think my brother brought to your land to hunt the Mountain and his men? Thirty? Fourty? Or even more?"
"I—How would I know?"
"You don't? Well, then, let us take a conservative estimate of twenty," Doran said with a smile, "As my brother would need at least that much to defeat or kill these men reliably, after all, they were all good warriors of Westerlands, especially the Mountain, who was well known for his prowess. Would you agree with that?"
"Y-Yes, that should be about it," Kevan replied subconsciously, feeling a little put off by this line of continuous questions.
"So, what Lord Kevan here wants us to believe is that twenty or even more Dornishmen entered the borders of Westerlands, asked a random passerby about the whereabouts of Ser Gregor, rode towards them, ambushed them, killed most of them, and then leisurely carried away their trophies all the way to Dorne," he finished with a snort and a chuckle as he shook his head, and even the Lords sitting in the Westerlands part of the court began to look uncomfortable on how rubbish this all was looking with every passing moment.
Kevan was left feeling very dumbfounded at the moment, with his mouth opening and closing again and again, as he tried to come up with some kind of brilliant retort, but no idea popped up in his mind, so in his desperation, the man turned to his brother, only to flinch at seeing the murderous look in his eyes.
"I mean," Doran continued soon after, not wanting to give his opponent too much time to think, "You really must believe all your Lords incompetent to assume that they would let such a large party of Dornishmen pass through their borders unhindered,"
That single comment immediately ruffled a lot of feathers, as almost instantly, pandemonium erupted from the side of Westerlands, with all the big and small petty Lords standing up and loudly proclaiming their innocence.
"No such men entered through my land, I can assure you of that," a wealthy lord with a bulging belly stood up and bellowed as he defended his honour, "Though I can't say the same about others," he mumbled glancing sideways at his rival across the border.
"Why are you looking at me? I do not even share a border with Dorne, unlike you?" The rival stood up and retorted.
"What does that matter? We can all guess that they must have surely entered by ships, and other than Lannisport, you have the biggest port, of course, they must entered through your—"
"How absurd is that reasoning? Just because my family has a port under us, they must have entered through there?" The man in question replied angrily, "I can say with certainty that every man, woman, and child has to go through strict checks before they are allowed through our port. After all, I do not spend my time out there drinking and whoring my life away in a tavern like you,"
"Why you—"
"I agree with Lord—"
But just as the Lords of the Westerlands were about to come to blows in their rage, the commotion abruptly stopped, as all their loud protests died in their throats.
Not because they all suddenly wised up and decided that it was embarrassing to argue like that in front of the Lords of Westeros, but because that 'Man' suddenly turned his head at that moment to look at them.
His cold blue eyes stared at them with such complete detachment, as if they were not human, but slabs of meat, and this single glare scared the lot so much that they almost started hearing the most famous song of Westerlands being played by their ears.
"It does not matter how these men entered the Westerlands, whether it be by land or by ship. What matters is that only by entering our borders could Oberyn have gotten his hands on Ser Gregor and Lorch, as there would have been no possibility of them entering Dorne of their own will. They were well aware of how much they were hated there, so why would they act so stupidly?"
"Who would presume to know the mind of such sick individuals?" Doran simply shrugged as he answered, "Perhaps even after being given free reign of all the woman in Westerlands by his Lords," his words drew quite a few glares and curses, but the Prince continued regardless, "Those men could have easily just gotten bored, and may have wanted a taste of something different, something a bit more... exotic, and just decided to take a long trip to fufill their base desires,"
"How dare you—"
"Enough! I have had enough of this!" King Robert thundered with an impatient expression as he massaged his forehead, "From what I understand, both the possibilities of Oberyn entering Dorne and capturing the Mountain and his group, and of these men going all the way to Dorne on their own, are equally unlikely. There really is no way to learn the truth here, now that those two are already dead, so why are we wasting our time here when—"
"B-But they are not dead, your grace," Kevan beseeched desperately, trying to regain some semblance of control over where this all was headed, "Ser Gregor, and Lorch are still alive, and being tortured as we speak outside the walls of Sunspear. They are making a spectacle out of this, your grace."
"What? What is this, I am hearing? I thought they had already been hanged or something?" he said with a frown on his face as he turned to glare towards Doran. After all, this changed things as if they were still alive, then they could act as witnesses and reveal the truth about what had really happened.
"Ah, that would be the fault of my impulsive brother, Your Grace. He has just too much anger bottled up inside of him, and took some punishments to the extreme, which I, of course, realise is wrong of him," Doran replied to the King with a humble bow, "But do not worry, your grace. I shall write to him in haste, and have him stop this foolishness and return Ser Gregor and Lorch, if they are still alive, to the Westerlands with all the honours that a knight like him deserves,"
"That... is fine then," Robert said with a pleased look on his face. He was very much satisfied about how humble the Dornish prince had acted this day, completely unlike the angry and hate-filled man he had come to expect after his foster father's lecture about handling him a bit more delicately.
"But, your grace—"
"Enough, Kevan!" a firm voice suddenly ordered making the Lannister brother flinch, as every eye in the room turned to look at the Old Lion, who had stayed silent so far, "Clearly, you have made a mistake here, and Lord Doran is either innocent or ignorant of the facts of the matter. But it matters not, this shall be buried here," he said with absolute certainity in his voice as he stood up, "I have some matters to attend to, so I shall take my leave, your grace," he said and then without waiting for an answer, he immediatley turned and began walking towards the exit, with his lannister guards following his every step, "And as for those two," he stopped at the gate and turned to look intently into the calm smiling eyes of Doran, "You can keep them, they shall be your gifts from Westerlands," he finished his piece and immediatley exited the silent room.
And just like that, the solemn atmosphere that had been held until now completely broke apart as the court turned into a marketplace, as the nobles sought out their fellows, looking very eager to discuss what had just happened in front of them, and what it all meant.
'Fucking old coot!' The King muttered in annoyance as the Old Lion had left without his leave to do so.
But he was his father-in-law, after all, so there was little that he could do out here in the open, no matter how distasteful it was.
'Then again, he too must have been very irritated with me for not completely taking his side in here,' Robert thought with a smile on his face, feeling very vindicated at having dealt with the matter without looking partial, but then the smile on his face abruptly vanished into dread as the face of beautiful woman with a nasty expression appeared in his eyes, 'Damn it! She is not going to screech into my ears for this, is she?'
Down below, watching the Nobles letting go of all their inhibition and not acting properly at all, the Hand of the King wanted to bring some semblance of order back to the court, but just as he stood up, and was about to clear his throat to attract their attention, and announce one thing or the other, someone beat him to it.
"Meeting adjourned!!" The King's booming voice echoed across the court, as they all turned to watch him amble down the stairs of the throne as fast as he could with that massive girth of his.
There was no other thought in that man's mind other than to get a glass of wine in his hand as soon as he could, and then disappear into the embrace of a pretty whore before that miserable woman could find him to complain.
The Old Hand sighed helplessly at the missed opportunity as he watched his ward eagerly leave the hall, but having kept him still and sober for so long was already an achievement, so he decided to put his out of his mind and turned to move towards Lord Royce, having a lot of questions to ask the Lord about things back home.
"Ah, that was very satisfying, was it not, boy?" Olenna muttered as their small party of Reach and North left the hall together.
"A little," Robb replied vaguely with a distracted expression, as if his mind was not fully there.
"Oh, you Northerners and your muted expressions," The Old woman said as she rolled her eyes, "You should learn from your brother, boy. At least that brat knew how to be entertaining," she snorted as she shook her head, and turned on her heels to walk away.
"Lord Robb," Margery bowed gracefully in farewell, before hurrying after her Grandmother.
"...Did you hear that, brother?" Robb muttered a few moments after being left alone, "She thinks that I should learn the art of jesting from you?" he whispered as if someone was standing right in front of him with his ears to his mouth.
"Chi! Chi!" came a trilling, merry squeak out of his pocket as a small, colourful head popped out of his front pocket, and looked at him with amused beady eyes.
"You know very well that I can't communicate with Tweety as we did with Tiger," Robb replied with a snort, as he turned and began walking towards a nearby mansion that he and his party were occupying during this Tourney, and a very confused Rodrik followed behind him, wondering why his Lord's heir was whispering to himself.
"You should hurry up here, brother. Because I really want to know all about why that pretty girl was so bloody interested in knowing everything about you..."
///