Chapter 152: Escape

Creaaak—

The sound of the cell door opening echoed through the silent darkness of the Black Cells.

Prince Oberyn Martell, the "Red Viper," was jolted awake. However, he stayed perfectly still, keeping his eyes half-closed to adjust to the sudden light and discreetly assess his surroundings.

"Prince Oberyn." A soft, oily voice called from the doorway.

"Varys?" Oberyn sat up and saw someone holding a torch, though the figure before him didn't look like Varys.

He quickly deduced that this was another of Varys's disguises and, with a smirk, teased, "You're looking more manly this way—quite the improvement."

Varys ignored the jibe and spoke with a serious expression. "Prince Oberyn, I have some bad news."

Oberyn discreetly withdrew his right leg, ready to spring to his feet at a moment's notice, though he maintained a casual demeanor. "Bad news? I haven't heard any good news since Jon Arryn's death. Go ahead—what charge are they putting on me this time?"

"Ah!" Varys sighed. "You guessed right, Your Highness. Another charge has indeed been added to your name."

Oberyn's eyes narrowed. "What charge?"

"The murder of the Master of Coin, Lord Petyr Baelish."

"Murder?" Oberyn's tone shifted with surprise. "Are you saying Littlefinger is dead?"

"Yes."

"Impossible!" Oberyn jumped up and rushed toward Varys. "He can't be dead! The poison on my spear wasn't lethal!"

Varys sighed again. "If you don't believe me, see for yourself."

With that, he turned and led the way out of the cell.

Oberyn, still suspicious, followed with a wary expression.

"Your Highness, look." Varys opened the door to another cell.

Oberyn moved to the doorway, but instead of entering, he placed one foot against the doorframe and peered inside.

There, lying on the ground with a pallid face and rigid body, surrounded by a pool of blood, was Petyr Baelish.

Oberyn watched closely, waiting, but saw no rise or fall in Petyr's chest. Satisfied the man was truly dead, he finally muttered, "How?"

"He seems to have bled to death," Varys explained. "It appears his wound wasn't properly treated. Poor Lord Baelish."

Oberyn carefully unwrapped the bandage around Petyr's severed arm to inspect the wound. He turned back to Varys, his voice cold. "Who treated his injury?"

"Grand Maester Pycelle."

"Pycelle!" Oberyn spat. "A pet dog of House Lannister, no doubt?"

Varys stayed silent, letting Oberyn draw his own conclusions. After all, the Martells and the Lannisters already had a long history of bloodshed; one more grievance would hardly change things.

Oberyn turned sharply toward Varys, eyes intense. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I didn't want to see you falsely accused," Varys replied with a look of exaggerated sympathy. "I know you had nothing to do with Jon Arryn's death, but now, with Petyr dead… well, even the truth can be twisted."

"So, you intend to help me escape?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Oberyn asked, before Varys could respond, adding, "And don't give me any nonsense about justice or compassion, Varys. Tell me the real reason."

Varys, appearing wounded, shrank back. "Your Highness, I truly wish to save you. Besides, your brother and I have been good friends for many years—surely you know that?"

Oberyn sneered. "Do you know what my brother said about you?"

"What?"

"He called you a sly, deceitful spider. Not to be trusted."

Varys feigned a hurt expression. "I had no idea Prince Doran thought so little of me…"

"Enough, Varys." Oberyn strode out of the cell. "If you're freeing me, take me out of here. I've had enough of playing by their rules—it's time they played by mine."

"Shh! Quietly, please!" Varys whispered urgently, hurrying to keep up.

They took the same route back through the hidden passages. But after a few minutes, Oberyn stopped abruptly.

"What's wrong, Your Highness?"

"I can't leave like this."

Varys thought Oberyn might be worried about the implications of escaping and prepared to reassure him, but Oberyn continued, "My lover, my daughters and nieces, my servants… they're all still in the Red Keep. I'm taking them with me."

"That many people would be far too risky!" Varys cautioned. "Leave now, and I'll arrange for them to follow. By morning, they'll all be safely out of the Red Keep."

"No," Oberyn insisted. "What if someone checks my cell and finds me gone? At the very least, I need Arianne. I can't face my brother without her."

Reluctantly, Varys led him down a side passage.

After about ten minutes, they emerged in a storage room within the Red Keep.

"Just a bit farther," Varys whispered. "We'll cross the courtyard…"

"I know this place," Oberyn interrupted, striding forward with purpose.

But he wasn't heading in the direction Varys indicated.

"This way, Prince Oberyn. Over here."

Oberyn ignored him completely.

"Where are you going?" Varys whispered, nearly panicking, but followed nonetheless.

It took a moment, but soon Varys realized where Oberyn was headed: Grand Maester Pycelle's chambers.

He hurried to intercept Oberyn, but the prince yanked him aside, pressing him into the shadows as a patrol of Gold Cloaks marched by.

After the guards passed, Oberyn continued without a word.

All of Varys's attempts to dissuade him failed. He knew he was powerless to stop the "Red Viper" once his mind was set on blood.

So Varys crouched in a corner, muttering curses.

Moments later, Oberyn returned, reeking of fresh blood.

Varys shivered, realizing another "friend" had just departed this world.

Then, Oberyn spoke again, his tone calm yet unnerving. "Now, show me the passage to Maegor's Holdfast."

"You can't be serious!" Varys paled in terror.

Maegor's Holdfast was where the royal family's quarters were located.

"Don't ask questions. Just take me there," Oberyn ordered in a frigid tone.

"There's no passage to Maegor's Holdfast!" Varys protested, though he was lying. He would never let this madman get near the royal chambers.

Oberyn's piercing gaze fixed on him, a look as venomous as a viper's, sending a chill down Varys's spine.

But Varys held firm, refusing to yield.

After a long, tense standoff, Varys finally spoke, his voice strained. "Your Highness, this is the Red Keep—not your personal slaughterhouse."

Oberyn sneered, "When the Lannisters took King's Landing, they treated it as one! My sister, along with her two children, were murdered here. If the gods have any sense of justice, they would let me kill Cersei and her three children in return. That would be justice!"

Varys trembled at Oberyn's fury, cursing both the Red Viper and the man who had engineered this whole disaster, Samwell Caesar.

"No! I will not let you turn the Red Keep into a bloodbath!" Varys's voice was unexpectedly firm. "Oberyn! If I help you kill the queen, I'm as good as dead. You may as well kill me now."

He closed his eyes, bracing himself as if waiting for death.

Oberyn's voice held a grudging respect. "I'm surprised to see you've got some courage, eunuch."

Sensing Oberyn's shift, Varys tried again, "Your Highness, bravery isn't tied to a man's anatomy. And justice isn't achieved through slaughter. Trust me, House Martell will have its revenge someday, but not here—not by killing innocent women and children. Please, go now. I'll speak with Prince Doran to ensure you aren't unjustly blamed."

Oberyn hesitated, then spoke, "Then take me to the Mountain. He's hardly innocent."

Varys's patience wore thin. "The Mountain is stationed outside the castle walls, in the army's camp. He's not here."

Oberyn fell silent.

Seizing the moment, Varys urged him again. "Your Highness, take Princess Arianne and leave quickly. Dawn is breaking. Soon, it will be too late."

This time, Oberyn did not protest and made his way to Arianne's quarters.

With a sigh of relief, Varys followed, drenched in cold sweat.

Oberyn woke Arianne, along with his lover, Ellaria. Briefly explaining the situation, he urged them to gather their things swiftly.

Though startled by the urgency, the two women understood the gravity of the moment and said little, gathering their belongings quickly to prepare for their escape.

"Where's Tyene?" Oberyn asked, noticing his daughter was missing.

"Uncle," Arianne replied, "Tyene is still at the Great Sept. How will we inform her?"

"What's she doing at the Great Sept?" Oberyn asked, puzzled.

"She took a fancy to a certain septon…"

Oberyn rolled his eyes, knowing all too well about his illegitimate daughter's bad habit, he turned to look at Varys, who quickly patted his chest and assured:

"Don't worry, Your Highness. I will send someone to notify Miss Tyene in a moment. You should leave first, or it will be dawn soon."

Only then did they follow Varys obediently back to the secret passage.

By the time they arrived at King's Landing through the secret passage, the eastern sky was already slightly white.

"Let's go!" Varys said as if he was driving away a plague.

If he had intended to help Dorne when he released Prince Oberyn before, now he has completely given up on this idea.

Prince Oberyn grabbed the eunuch by the collar and warned: "My daughter is in your hands. If anything happens to her, I will come back and kill you!"

What daughter? She's a bastard. Varys complained in his heart, but on the surface he vowed:

"Don't worry, I will definitely send Lady Tyene out of King's Landing safely."

(End of this chapter)