Royal Library, Red Keep - King's Landing, CrownLands - A few hours later
Trystan had found solace in the Royal Library, which had been empty for a while now. He had not gone to pay his respect to Joffrey yet, not truly feeling like doing so after all the psychotic boy did to Sansa.
He had, instead, chosen to visit Tyrion but the conversation with his half-brother was not the best. The dwarf was in a sour mood and was being overly sarcastic at first. Then, though, became desperate and kept repeating how he was innocent.
The Half-lion knew that was the truth and that Tyrion would never go as far as to poison Joffrey, none of the Lions truly would. However, there was something that the dwarf had told him that put him into deep thought.
"I don't know who it was but I suggest you better start questioning those around you," Tyrion told him.
Trystan arched an eyebrow.
"What are you talking about?"
"Joffrey had made a lot of enemies, two very powerful ones right from our family."
"You can't possibly say that our parents planned to poison him," he argued back, the idea sounding absurd. "Father is obsessed with legacy. Why risk losing the very next person who would give him more children to carry the Lannister name?"
Tyrion shook his head, realizing that Trystan was the most naive of all their siblings.
"Joffrey insulted both Father and Good-Mother during the last council meeting. They were furious and I know that Father was planning some sort of punishment for his behaviour," he explained.
"Perhaps this was it... perhaps it was Good-Mother who had chosen to cross the line and add Kingslayer to her many titles."
The blunt accusation displeased Trystan, who grabbed the bars of the cell and pressed his face closer to them. He narrowed his green eyes at his half-brother.
"Mother would never do that. She doesn't harm children."
To his surprise, Tyrion started to laugh in mockery.
"Is this what you believe?" he asked, clearly amused by how holy and innocent Visenya was in the eyes of her son.
"I am sorry, brother, but I am not going to stand here and hear you accuse our mother like that," Trystan said and pushed himself away from the bars, before turning his body and starting to walk away.
"Wait, Trystan," Tyrion said, his laughter long gone and one of his shackled hands extended forward.
The Half-Lion stopped and turned to face him.
"What about Sansa? What happened to her? Have they found—"
Trystan let out a heavy sigh and shook his head left and right.
"No, she is gone and so is that fool, Dontos. They suspect that he must have helped her escape but she is nowhere in the City or if she is, the Guards have yet to find her."
For her safety, I truly hope she has already left the city, he continued in his mind and noticed the relief in Tyrion's eyes.
Trystan was staring at the same page of the book for five minutes now, unable to focus on the words on it. His mind was busy, like a swarm of very angry bees buzzing around and giving him quite a headache.
He kept thinking back to what Tyrion had told him, trying to understand why he so openly accused their good-mother. Tyrion always had a soft spot for her and even when he was not the best stepson, it was clear that he did care for her to a certain degree; more than he did Father.
Yet, to speak that way as if she had committed some atrocious crimes... this did not seem right.
He could not help but think of the wedding the day before and how calm she seemed to be. She had not moved from her place or shouted any orders, yet again in public she never did; when Tywin was present nonetheless.
The Half-Lion was not going to lie, though, that she was rather calm despite the horrific image of Joffrey choking in his blood and vomit.
Then, it was the fact that she asked Tyrion to fetch her that damned poisoned goblet.
He understood that she wished to inspect it or check for any poison residues, but the timing of all, with Tyrion being the one pointed at and with the goblet in hand...
No, she couldn't have orchestrated all of this on her own. This is too complex, even for her and how would she know when Joffrey would point at Tyrion to order him? This is simply impossible, even for her. He thought and let out a sigh, leaving the book on his lap. He passed his hands over his face, trying to put some order in his thoughts.
At the same time, he kept wondering about Sansa.
He did not care how she escaped or who helped her, as long as she was okay. A part of him wished that she had stayed, so he could keep an eye on her but with Joffrey dead; Cersei would not let her escape.
Perhaps it is better this way for her. Further away from our family that would harm and use her at the first opportunity, he thought and leaned on the armchair.
Yet, he was not sure how to explain what he felt. Her absence already was sensible to him, her presence having left a mark in his heart. After that walk in the Gardens, he truly wished he could repeat it one last time with her; just casually walk and talk without any true worries.
He could be a little bit more of himself around her and he always felt proud when he managed to make her smile or laugh. She seemed too sad most of the time and he had taken it upon himself to make her life better and brighter while she was trapped in King's Landing.
Did she know of the escape all this time? Would she have dared to tell me? Or did she not trust me and thought I would betray her to my family? He could not help but ask as new questions and scenarios entered his mind.
If Trystan had been present during her escape or if he knew, he would not have stopped her. He would have helped her get away, knowing it was the best thing for her. He simply wished to know with whom she would be now, to know that she would be in good hands and would be kept safe.
"Headache?" a familiar voice asked, making him look towards the source of it.
His mother, in all her royal pride, walked his way. She had worn a black dress this time since she had gone to the Sept to pay her respects to the boy. The colour suited her, reminding her of the times she used to wear it often when she was younger and she was the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, one of the Dragons; now she was just the Last Dragon.
"Headache," Trystan confessed, deciding not to hide anything from her. She always understood him, better than anyone and was always willing to listen and offer her advice.
She took the chair by his side and also leaned back on it, although with far more grace and manners than him. She could not help it, her body on its own remembering her perfect posture and how she had to sit.
"You did not come to the Sept," she started, looking forward. "I know you did not like the boy but you should do it for appearances, at least," she reminded him, turning her head to look at his troubled face.
She decided to head to the next topic when he did not answer directly.
"You worry about Sansa, aren't you?"
A heavy sigh left his lips, finding no reason to hide it any longer.
"I am," he confessed. "From one side, I am happy that she is safe and away from father's claws but on the other... I just wish to have more answers. Did she know? Would she have told me?"
Her gaze softened and she extended her hand, placing it on top of his in a comforting and motherly way. He looked at her with pained green eyes, filled with questions that even she did not have the answers to give.
"It's not easy, I understand. However, it has passed now. You can ask all those 'What if?' questions but it will not change the things at present," she told him, squeezing his hand.
"What matters now, is to focus on what we have to deal with around us. Eventually, she will make an appearance and maybe one day you will have the chance to ask her all those things."
He nodded, understanding what she was saying and looked forward again. He did not pull his hand away, enjoying this small moment with her.
I truly hope so, Mother, he commented in his mind.
After a minute of just them sitting there in silence, away from everyone and everything, Trystan felt this need to ask her.
"Have you found out who had truly helped her?"
She shook her head in denial.
"I am afraid not yet. We are trying and I do have some suspicions but I will not point fingers until I have enough proof."
"What about Tyrion?" he asked, looking at her.
It was her turn to leave a heavy sigh.
"He will pass through a trial. Your father will be one of the three judges along with Lord Mace and Prince Oberyn," she explained, making him lean forward and turn his body to look at her better.
"Prince Oberyn? I thought they wanted to kill one another."
This seemed to amuse the Dragoness.
"Oberyn wishes to kill your father, specifically."
Although after yesterday, Tywin might have started to plan his murder as well, she added in her mind.
"The Prince has an extensive knowledge of poisons. He can help identify the poison that killed Joffrey and confirm suspicions," she explained.
Trystan did not seem to share any amusement but rather worry.
"I have a bad feeling about this, Mother. Surely, Father won't let Tyrion die; right?" he asked, although even he had his doubts.
Visenya did not answer him directly; instead, she pressed her lips until they formed a thin line.
"I don't know, Trystan, I really do not," she confessed, not daring to look at her son in the eyes.
So many things were taking place in the shadows, so many webs were being pulled, so many were the puppets and had no idea. It was a complicated chaos at the moment with a lot of unknown variables that could favour or destroy the whole thing. Wild cards, if one would call them, were in the game and only the Gods could truly know the outcome of it.
Humans could try to change or control it, maybe even predict it but at the end of the day; even they could not be 100% sure.
Unknown Brothel, Road of Silk — King's Landing, Crown Lands — Around the Same Time
While people grieved or chased shadows for the murder of King Joffrey, Oberyn had chosen to spend his time enjoying himself. He had first chosen the brothel he had visited when he first arrived since there was a man and a woman there that had truly gotten his attention; and Ellaria's as well.
He would eventually visit Chataya's as well but he would later. While he would remain in King's Landing, he would make sure that none of the good brothels missed his presence much.
Currently, he and Ellaria were lying on a rather big and comfortable bed. She was being treated by Marei and her expert mouth while he was busy making out with Olyvar. The smell of arousal and incense was dominant in the air while the perfect romantic light helped perfect the atmosphere.
Suddenly, Ellaria turned her attention to the boy, Olyvar. She grabbed him gently by the back Of his neck and kissed him, pulling him faintly away from Oberyn; who simply watched with enjoyment and amusement.
"Greedy." He joked as a comment.
Olyvar, however, did not return her ardour and soon pulled away from the rather deep kiss.
"No?" Ellaria asked him, looking into his eyes.
"I'm sorry. You're lovely; I just never acquired the taste." Olyvar confessed.
This made the Dornish Prince frown. "You're calling my beauty an acquired taste?"
It was Ellaria's turn to be amused. "That's quite all right, lover. It's more for you." She said and turned her focus on Marei and her pleasuring skills.
Oberyn did not comment and simply moved his shirtless body to grab his goblet from a nearby table. He started to drink the sweet wine while Olyvar drew circles with his fingers across his chest.
"You like them both the same? Boys and girls?" he asked him.|
"Does that surprise you Oberyn asked him with curiosity.
"Everyone has a preference."
"Then everyone is missing half the world's pleasure. The gods made that and it delights me. The gods made this and it delights me" He slapped Olyvar's ass. "When it comes to war, I fight for Dorne. When it comes to love, I don't choose sides."
"l hope I have as much stamina when I'm your age."
"What are you, 25?"
Ellaria heard that and chuckled. "Children."
Her comment made Oberyn chuckle as well. "Someday, if you're lucky, you will wake up and realize you are old. That pretty ass of yours will sag. Your belly will grow soft and your back will ache in the night and grey hairs will sprout from your ears. No one will want you anymore. Make sure you fucked your fill before that day."
"Did you?"
Ellaria smirked as she let her latest toy kiss another prostitute and instead, she moved to straddle her lover. i' He is a prince of Dorne. Girls and boys will line up to fuck him till the day he dies."
This made him smirk as his hands held her waist. "Almost all of them" he reminded her and she bent forward, bringing her face closer to his. "You speak of her often, Lover. I will start getting jealous" she joked and kissed him, an action he happily returned.
"You saw her as well. Do not tell me she did not get your interest" Oberyn asked her as he pulled away for a moment, a smirk on his lips. "She did mostly because of the claw mark that she left on you" Ellaria explained, one hand passing above the scar close to his right nipple. "In the end, though, She doesn't know what she is losing with that old man she chose" The two lovers kissed again
However, just a moment later the door to the private room was opened as the very same Old man Ellaria had talked about, marched into the room with two soldiers standing guard by the door.
"Prince Oberyn," Tywin said, standing a respectable distance and with his hands behind his back.
Oberyn stopped kissing Ellaria and looked at him, slightly disappointed. When the doors opened, a part of him was expecting someone else.
"Lord Tywin," he greeted back.
"May we have the room?"
The Dornish Prince let out a sigh and looked at his lover.
She seemed to understand and pecked his lips.
"Call my name if you need me, lover," she said and climbed off him.
She joined Olyvar, Marei, and one more prostitute as they all started to walk out of the room; planning to continue on their own somewhere else.
Oberyn watched them go, enjoying the sight of their naked bodies. He glanced at the Old Lion, who surprisingly did not look at any of them even as the girls smiled and passed very close to him.
His eyes not once did they advert to their exposed bodies, as it was expected from almost every man in the room. This made him scoff but also be intrigued by his composure, making him wonder if it was all a play or if he was 'loyal' to his wife.
"Would you like to sit?" Oberyn offered, pointing to the rest of the huge bed.
"No, thank you," was the Hand's reply, hiding his disgust about the idea all too well as the guards left the room and closed the door behind them.
Oberyn rolled his eyes at the drama but moved nonetheless.
"Some wine?"
"No, thank you."
He shrugged and merely tossed a plain material above his shoulders before making his way to the table, pouring himself some wine. "I'm sorry about your grandson."
"Are you?" Tywin questioned him, standing at the very same spot like a solid rock.
"l don't believe that a child is responsible for the sins of his father...Or his grandfather. An awful way to die."
"Which way is that?"
This amused Oberyn, who saw right through the attempts of the Old Lion. "Are you interrogating me, Lord Tywin?" he asked as he lay back on the bed, his goblet in one hand.
"Some believe the king choked."
"Some believe the sky is blue because we live inside the eye of a blue- eyed giant. The king was poisoned."
"l hear you studied poisons at the Citadel."
"l did. This is why I know."
"Your hatred for my family is rather well known. You arrive at the capital, an expert in poisoning, some days later my grandson dies of poisoning." "Rather suspicious. Why haven't you thrown me in a dungeon?"
"You spoke with Tyrion in this very brothel on the day that you arrived. What did you discuss?" Tywin asked him, remaining as patient as ever but he was clearly reaching his limit as well.
Oberyn could see that and he enjoyed it, taking his time and testing the man's patience. "You think we conspired together?" he pointed out, a stupid amused smile upon his lips.
This was too amusing for him. Tywin truly thought that he might have conspired with his son and yet he had no idea that his own wife visited him not so long ago. He had no idea how his precious Dragoness was hovering above the man he hated and made promises to save his puny life from the wrath of the Viper. A part of him felt like bringing it up, a chance to truly hurt Tywin and see this possessiveness that many talked about.
He did not, though, because he respected Visenya. He was not going to harm her to get to Tywin, at least not like that. Of course, if the Old Lion ever found out and did dare to harm her because of this; Oberyn would end his life despite their agreement.
"What did you discuss?" Tywin asked him again.
Oberyn started to get tired of this, so he stood up and started to walk towards the Lion. His amused smile was long gone, his expression serious and his gaze... deadly.
"The death of my sister," he said, standing now in front of the older man.
"For which you blame me."
"She was raped and murdered by the Mountain. The Mountain follows your orders," Oberyn reminded him, his eyes scanning him from toe to head.
"Of course I blame you," he continued, staring dead into his eyes.
The Red Viper could not truly see what the Dragoness was seeing in this man, going as far as to work behind his back to protect him. He could see no charm, no beauty and he doubted a man of his age could truly satisfy her in bed; like she truly deserved.
Yet, she was so willing to defend him and stand by his side. Oberyn could easily get rid of him for her and take her back to Dorne but she would refuse.
Their marriage was a political one, that's what everyone said ever since it became known. Somehow, Oberyn did not believe it and started to suspect that at least one of the two parties had feelings for the other. He doubted it was the Old Lion that could feel anything for that matter, so that left Visenya.
"Here I stand unarmed, unguarded. Should I be concerned?" Tywin asked him with a rhetorical question and showed no fear of anything.
His cockiness had started to annoy the Dornish Prince. "You are unarmed and unguarded because you know me better than that. I am a man of reason. If I cut your throat today, I will be drawn and quartered tomorrow."
"Men at war commit all kinds of crimes without their superiors' knowledge."
"So you deny involvement in Elia's murder?"
" Categorically."
Oberyn did not comment on that nor did he say anything else. Instead, the Viper and the Lion stared at one another despite the height difference. There was this intensity in their eyes, both passively challenging the other to act but none made a move, none looked away.
They stood like that for a full minute, both at very close proximity that easily they could try to stab or harm one another without much trouble.
Truth be told, Oberyn was tempted but then remembered what Visenya had told him. He was not sure how she would help him get his revenge but he was not going to wait for her if he could get his chance right now.
"l would like to speak with the Mountain," Oberyn said as he walked towards the table to grab some grapes.
This amused Tywin, the idea alone being comical enough in his mind.
"I'm sure he would enjoy speaking with you."
"He might not enjoy it as much as he thinks he would," the Red Viper commented back, eating a grape.
At last, the Old Lion saw an opportunity and he could stop with this unnecessary chit-chat.
"I could arrange for this meeting," he said, drawing the attention and interest of the foreign Prince.
Of course, Oberyn was not an idiot and saw right through him.
"But you want something in return," he pointed out as he sat by the edge of the bed.
Tywin started to walk towards him but continued ahead while he explained the original plan of his visit. "There will be a trial for my son. And as custom dictates, three judges will render a verdict. I will preside. Mace Tyrell will serve as the second judge. I would like you to be the third."
The Lion turned to face him. "Not long ago, the Tyrells sided with Renly Baratheon. Declared themselves enemies of the throne. Now they are our strongest allies."
"Well, you made the Tyrell girl a queen. Asking me to judge at your son's trial isn't quite as tempting." Oberyn commented and stood up, walking towards the jug to drink some more wine.
"l will also invite you to sit on the small council to serve as one of the new king's principal advisors."
This amused the Dornish Prince. "l never realized you had such respect for Dorne, Lord Tywin." He turned to look at him as Tywin closed the distance between them.
"We are not the Seven Kingdoms until Dorne returns to the fold. The king is dead. The Greyjoys are in open rebellion. A wildling army marches on the Wall. And in the East, a Targaryen girl has three dragons. Before long, she will turn her eyes to Westeros. Only the Dornish managed to resist Aegon Targaryen and his dragons."
"A Targaryen girl that is your niece by marriage, from what I hear" he commented with a smirk, seeing Tywin's lip twitch in annoyance. Seeing the opportunity, Oberyn took it without hesitation. "And what does your Lady Wife think about this? Ready to openly go to war against her last living relative? Her niece none the less"
Tywin's composure was slowly fading, getting too tired with this discussion and now that Oberyn had brought Visenya into the picture; his patience was running rather thin. He placed his hands behind his back and stared down at the cocky younger Prince.
"She knows her place is with her family. She will act accordingly and choose the proper side in the upcoming war, as it is expected of her," he said.
"Hmm," Oberyn exclaimed, clearly doubting him.
Visenya was the last Dragon until her niece would return. She had lost all of her family and Oberyn doubted she would openly face against her last relative for a family of Lions that she was forced to marry.
A part of him wondered if Tywin had threatened her to do so, considering the boy that somehow they had created. Oberyn was still suspicious of how Trystan came to be but did not sit to question it much.
Seeing that he had bypassed Tywin's defences and had drawn enough reaction from him, he decided to continue by changing the subject.
"So, you're saying you need us?" he asked, waiting to hear the proud Lion saying those exact words.
Of course, Tywin opened his mouth to argue, clearly not going to give him that satisfaction.
"That must be hard for you to admit."
Another twitch of his lips, this time he tried harder not to snap and keep his composure. The Dornish Prince was getting under his skin too easily and too fast, something he did not like at all.
"We need each other." He corrected him. "You help me serve justice to the king's assassins and I will help you serve justice to Elia's." He extended his hand for a shake, a professional way to seal the deal.