GOT : Chapter 86

( Oberyn POV )

"Sometimes rumors have a part of truth…" Oberyn mused in response.

"Speaking of rumors, I must ask something of you, uncle." Quentyn pressed.

"Oh?" Oberyn looked surprised. "Do tell."

"If at the council, there is talk of Dayne forces coming to reinforce Lord Fowler in the Prince's Pass, let me know." He asked with a malicious eye.

...

Oberyn could hardly contain his surprise. He knew his brother had deployed two hosts. One in the Boneway with forces from Yronwood, Wyl, the Tor and Ghost Hill; and another at the Prince's Pass with forces from Blackmont, Skyreach, Hellholt and Godsgrace. But no mention of the Daynes.

"Where did you get this from?" Oberyn asked. "Did Lord Dayne order such a deployment?"

"Eight thousand men." Quentyn smiled sheepishly.

"Starfall doesn't have eight th…oh." Oberyn suddenly stopped, realizing his nephew's schemes. "Smart boy."

"What can I say, uncle? Sometimes it's better to be sure…" he smiled innocently.

"Right…" Oberyn didn't know whether to be impressed or surprised by his nephew's little trick. "I shall give you my answer when the council finishes. I trust I can find you here?"

"We won't budge for a while." Nymeria nodded. "There isn't much to do here, and we're fine staying away from the Reachers and close to our own bannermen."

Oberyn nodded at that, waving all three of them a small goodbye.

Indeed, with the multiplication of incidents between the Reachers and the Dornishmen, the Lannisters were trying harder and harder to separate the two factions. Oberyn could almost laugh. The flowers were the last of his worries! But bad blood between certain houses leads to a lot of friction, especially with so many Dornishmen around, and so many pretty Reacher girls coming for the wedding…

Bah! Oberyn washed those thoughts away. For now, there were more pressing issues. Namely first and foremost: who tried to poison his nephew, and nearly his own daughter by the same occasion!

He had looked at the beverage his daughter had brought to him, and voiced his concerns. Harming a prince of Dorne like this…it was unheard of and incredibly risky. It didn't seem like something Tywin Lannister would do.

No.

When Tywin Lannister had someone killed, it wasn't through poison. He would make it known that it was him, or at least have it done brutally or coldly. An assassin with a blade? Yes, that he could believe. Poison? That seemed almost too soft for the man Tywin Lannister was. If he wanted Quentyn dead, there could be no doubt that it was him.

The Tyrells then? But what would the Tyrells have to stand to gain from this? Sure, Arianne was now all but betrothed to Willas Tyrell, but she had been publicly disinherited, and should harm happen to Quentyn, there is actually a good chance that his claim might pass on to Aliandra instead of Trystane! Something he doubted would happen, but could be possible. 

And if the crown came to Trystane, then Myrcella Baratheon would be her consort, bringing it back to the Lannisters again…

And Margaery Tyrell seemed to like Quentyn well enough, such that if they had their differences before, they certainly were friends now. 

Although one had to be careful with being friends of the Tyrells, he could attest to that. But indeed, since they had an agreement, why waste it all away by having Quentyn killed… Although, Oberyn had to admit there were peculiar roads leading back to the Tyrells.

Cletus Yronwood told him that Varys had told him that the Reachers were planning an attempt on Quentyn's life. Then there's the fact that the wine itself was Arbor red, something Oberyn knew the Reachers liked to drink in large quantities, the Westerlanders preferring other Reacher wines, but not that type. 

And finally, there was the serving girl who went to deliver the wine in the first place, saying that a man clad in Tyrell colours had come to her saying to bring that wine up there and that she had not noted anything wrong with the flagon when she had carried it up the stairs leading to Quentyn's rooms.

Although this seemed to paint quite a pretty picture for the Tyrells being to blame, Oberyn didn't want to trust the Spider. His allegiance was too fickle, he only needed to be reminded of the days of the Mad King for that. And then it was the other set of circumstances, it almost seemed too clean. 

That's why he shared his doubts at the previous council meeting. Let the Lannisters and Tyrells see where their investigation takes them and what happens.

Oberyn, therefore, walked into the Small council chambers with a hint of curiosity. He was the last to arrive, of course. He was certainly curious, but that didn't mean he wouldn't take any opportunity to be a nuisance. He would piss on the Small council table if it ticked anyone off.

There were seven people in the room. The first, who dominated the assembly, was of course Lord Tywin Lannister, in his resplendent red coat bearing the arms of the golden lion. Tywin Lannister, Warden of the Westerlands, Lord of Casterly Rock, and Regent for Joffrey Baratheon, the little shit, who didn't even bother showing up to any Small council meetings.

It showed how much - on this case, how little - power Joffrey held.

However, there were only two other of Tywin's creatures in the room. The old grand maester Pycelle, and Lord Tywin's own brother and chief lackey, Ser Kevan, master of laws.

Ironically, they were both to Tywin's left. To the right were the Tyrells and their dogs. Mace Tyrell, Hand of the king, the puff and plump Lord of Highgarden, whose naming as Hand was quite a farce, since Tywin Lannister effectively was both Regent and Hand. Next to him were Lord Paxter Redwyne, master of ships, and Lord Mathis Rowan, master of coin.

Oberyn was surprised that the little rat Petyr Baelish had been removed from that position, but all the better. 

After all, Oberyn didn't like him much. And to complete this assembly, on Tywin's left but further back, almost in the shadows, the mysterious Lord Varys, master of whisperers. 

He would complement their numbers as master of…master of something. He wouldn't be sitting on the council if there wasn't a position for him, no? Oh well.

Oberyn noted that the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Mandon Moore, was absent. It's true that the Valeman commanded little respect, and had little regard for the affairs of the realm anyways. 

And after the dismissal of Ser Barristan and the death of the Kingslayer, the Kingsguard looked more like an assembly of sellswords and cut-throats than anything else: Ser Mandon Moore, Sandor Clegane, Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Boros Blount, Ser Alyn Stackspear. 

For fuck's sake … at least Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Balon Swann were good, honorable, and knew how to use a sword. 

Almost a wonder how they got into this mess considering their company.

"Prince Oberyn." Lord Tywin noted with his usual cold voice. "You're late."

"Ah, I am a busy man, Lord Tywin." Oberyn smirked and took a seat opposite him.

"So are we all." Ser Kevan noted. "We must always be on time here. The affairs of the realm can hardly wait."

"Oh, is that so?" Prince Oberyn. "Then care to say why his grace the king isn't here?"

"The king has urgent business to discuss." Mace Tyrell cut in, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, which was too small for him.

"I see." Oberyn nodded, crossing his feet as if he were attending a play. Actually scratch, that. He was much more respectful when attending a play. "So, what are we here to discuss? The wedding, I suppose, like last time? How many dancers and singers to bring? How many courses to serve? The cost of it all?"

"Not exactly." Lord Tywin seethed slightly. "We are here to discuss the future movements our new alliance will make with regards to the Riverlands and the North."

"I wish you good luck." Oberyn tilted in his seat.

"Are our Dornish allies not willing to come to help us get rid of the last of the rebels?" Mathis Rowan inquired. "It wouldn't surprise me as…"

"Mathis." Mace Tyrell frowned.

Lord Rowan's face went red, but he stopped his speech before it could get anywhere risky.

"Our forces have been placed on high alert in the Boneway, but they were only placed there in case the Stormlands attacked us." Oberyn toyed with another lie. "It will take months for our forces to even be ready for battle."

"What about the eight thousand men Lord Dayne has sent to the Prince's Pass?" Mace Tyrell grinned from ear to ear. "They could instead cross it, get to Ashford or Bitterbridge, and then join our forces at Harrenhal!"

"I know nothing of such movements." Oberyn made sure to feign ignorance. It seems Quentyn's plan had worked; a little fish caught the worm. "Lord Fowler only has two thousand men stationed to guard the pass, while Lord Dayne hasn't levied any forces."

"My sources are very well placed, prince Oberyn." Mace Tyrell's eyes narrowed.

"So well placed they're aware movements even I, brother to Prince Doran Martell, am unaware of?" Oberyn chuckled. "Come now, Lord Hand, you must get better sources."

"You Dornishmen lie like…" Mathis Rowan shot up.

"MATHIS!" Mace Tyrell immediately reacted. "Sit down."

"Sorry, Lord Mace, I…" Lord Rowan was slightly sweating now.

"Yes, yes…see that you control your emotions, drink a cup of wine…" Mace Tyrell offered.

"Speaking of wine…" Oberyn dangled the poisoning incident in front of their heads.

"A most regrettable incident." Lord Tywin stated bluntly. "An investigation is underway, of course. We shall keep you immediately informed when we have new information."

"See that this investigation of yours is a little more efficient than the one you did into Elia and her children's death." Oberyn hissed, his eyes narrowing. "Six-and-ten years later, I am still waiting for answers and justice. I'm not a very patient man, Lord Regent."

"If it is justice you desire, you shall have it! Lorch has been properly…" Tywin started to spill his poison but Oberyn got a dagger out and slammed it into the table, interrupting what the Old Lion was about to say.

"Don't take me for a fool, Lord Tywin." Oberyn darkened his gaze. "You'll find I'm not willing to dance at your convenience."

"Be careful, Prince Oberyn." Lord Tywin's eyes met his. "You'll find that my own patience has its limits as well."

"In any case." Ser Kevan tried to calm everyone down. "Our Dornish friends won't be able to help us with the upcoming battle against the Tullys. Just bringing their forces to the capital would take months, that we don't have."

"With every month that passes, Lord Edmure is reinforcing his defences, growing his army, and perhaps even letting the Northmen reinforce him." Paxter Redwyne stroked his auburn beard.

"Speaking of the Northmen, do we have any news?" Lord Tywin asked.

All eyes turned to Varys now, the master of whisperers sitting in the shadows, silently.

"I fear that my little birds have sung nothing about the North since the last time we have talked, Lord Regent." Varys shook his head. "Robb Stark is dead, and his crown went to his bastard brother, Jon Snow. Since then, we have had no news other than rumors that the wildlings have perhaps breached the wall."

"Good." Ser Kevan smiled. "That should draw them away from the Riverlands."

"Quite." Lord Tywin acquiesced. "Lord Mace will lead our army and…"

"If I may, Lord Regent. I have a proposition to make." Mace Tyrell cut in. "I think that I shall be much more useful to his grace in the capital. Naming an acting hand would deprive you of my very wise and very just council."

"Regrettable, but you are an experienced battle commander." Lord Tywin cut in.

"Yes, yes, quite…" Mace nodded. "But I think that such a command should fall on my son, Garlan. He is a great warrior, and it is time he earns his spurs in battle, as I did."

Oberyn scoffed. That he sure did, if feasting under the walls of Storm's End counted as earning his spurs, he was the most experienced man of all. 

At least Randyll Tarly could boast a victory, and Forrest Oakheart could have boasted to have led the Reachmen at the trident, if he had not fallen there along with other Reachmen, leaving lady Arwyn a widow. His hatred for the Dornish was not unknown, but still, he fought side by side with them, and he lay his life along with them.

What did Mace have to show for his troubles? A few stomach aches from eating too much-stuffed pig at the bottom of the walls of Storm's End?

"Ser Garlan will lead more than forty thousand Reachmen after the wedding. We will crush the Tully boy whose forces have surely depleted and we shall take back the Riverlands in the name of King Joffrey Baratheon!" Mace boasted.

Oberyn smiled slightly. To be sure, the fat man of Highgarden wasn't as dumb as some people thought. A Tyrell would still lead the armies and he would stay in the capital, preventing a cornered Lord Tywin from evicting him as Hand and getting some control back over the capital.

"And how will you get Lord Edmure to give battle?" Ser Kevan asked dryly.

"He will put the Riverlands to the torch." Lord Tywin said, inflexible. "I shall give you five thousand men led by the Hound to sally with you, and set the rest of the Riverlands ablaze."

"It didn't go well the first time," Oberyn noted, half-smiling.

"The first time, the knights of the Reach weren't here!" Mace puffed. "We shall take every castle between Harrenhal and Riverrun, and force Lord Tully to come to meet us lest his bannermen abandon him to try and retake their keeps on their own, or protect their lands."

Oberyn noted that he made no mention of burning or pillaging anything. At least Mace Tyrell still entertains the notion of Reacher chivalry, but Oberyn knew that Tywin would leave little choice to Mace in that matter.

"They shall be crushed by numbers." Lord Mathis proudly announced.

"Riverrun can still hold." Lord Tywin grimaced. "But alone and without support, they will have to bend the knee. In addition, I shall reward any lord that swears fealty to the crown, this should drain a few more supporters from the Tully cause. 

We will worry about the North later on, once we have a clearer picture. But in the winter, and with wildlings on their doorstep…come spring they will be crawling back to us, begging for our forgiveness."

After you took Ned Stark's head and scarred his eldest daughter? I highly doubt it.

"You are sure that your son is the best idea for a command in the field such as this?" Ser Kevan tried to push once more. "It would be better to have an experienced commander…"

"Nonsense!" Mace waved him off. "You shall find that Ser Garlan is an incredibly capable warrior and leader, and he will prove it for you once and for all."

Lord Tywin knows he is cornered. He can't dismiss Mace Tyrell or outright order him to take charge of the troops. Flattery didn't get them very far…

"In this case, it is settled." The Old Lion reluctantly frowned. "Ser Garlan shall lead the contingent to Harrenhal, where he will link with the Westerlanders still there and the Hound's five thousand men. Together they will force Lord Edmure to battle and crush him and his host.

Very well, you are dismissed, my lords. I believe we have many preparations to go over for the wedding."

Everyone silently nodded, with Oberyn stepping out with a great smile on his face. Let them and the Tullys fight it out, it will only weaken them. They will have to take Riverrun, and such a castle take is not an easy affair. Then there will be Seagard, the Twins, and the North…perfect to distract the attention of the Old Lion.

And his precious wedding? Oh, Oberyn couldn't wait till he saw what the Tyrells and him had in store for him there. His vengeance was now right within his grasp…he could almost touch it.

Soon, Elia. You will be avenged, I promise you. Very soon.

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