GOT: Reborn as a Martell

This chapter is more than 3500 word.

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( Oberyn )

The road to the Water Gardens wasn't a long one. Located to the west of Sunspear, the Gardens were within a day's reach on foot, and even less on horseback.

Located along one of the most pristine beaches of the Summer Sea, the Gardens were certainly the most marvellous sight in Dorne. Raised as a gift from Maron Martell to his wife, Daenerys Targaryen, they had stood the test of time and had been the pride and joy of House Martell for generations.

Covering nearly six acres, the Gardens were quite a sight to behold, and for an outsider, they would seem far larger than usually thought. These were not two palm trees and an oasis. 

No, these were an extensive array of gardens, pools, fountains, houses and barracks, enough to host about two thousand people if need be.

Children from all over the country would come to foster here, may they be highborn or lowborn, a tradition honored since the day of Princess Daenerys. And with a Martell generally residing in the Gardens at all times, there was a permanent garrison of three hundred soldiers working to protect the Gardens and its inhabitants.

While they hadn't been the seat of Martell power, instead serving as a retreat for princes and princesses during their downtime, they had sometimes fulfilled that role when Martell rulers decided to enjoy the autumn air in the pools and gardens of the retreat.

Oberyn's own brother had kept the Water Gardens as his own seat of power. Far from the busy Sunspear, he could stay in peace and enjoy the sea breeze and the calm, relaxing pools of the Gardens, which helped him deal with the constant pain that gout would cause on his legs.

Oberyn himself visited the Gardens quite often, since his daughters would reside there till the age of four-and-ten, sometimes even more, accompanied by Ellaria, where they would cause mischief for their uncle to deal with.

And now he was returning to these Gardens once more, but this was no friendly family visit. Well, it would be in name, at least. But the stakes of this visit were high, in fact, he could say that the future of Dorne would be decided here.

As Oberyn leaped off of his horse, he shared a look with his nephew, who had stayed silent during the whole journey, accompanied by both Yronwoods.

Quentyn looked around, as if admiring the gates of the Water Gardens, and hid a smile as they passed through the imposing gates and into the heart of the Gardens. However, an unlikely sight greeted them at the second set of pools.

In front of them was a large, tall man, whose identity was no secret.

"Areo, aren't you with my brother?" Oberyn asked.

"The prince asked me to escort you to him." The Norvoshi answered bluntly.

Oberyn just nodded, as the small party was escorted through the Gardens to an inner courtyard.

"These two can go no further." Areo said, pointing to the two Yronwoods.

Both of them shifted their gaze to Quentyn, who just shrugged.

"It's fine, I'll be back soon enough. Enjoy the Gardens."

The two nodded, and left Quentyn and Oberyn alone with Areo, who lead them straight towards an inner courtyard, surrounded by small houses and palm trees, with a large pool in the middle.

Overlooking that pool stood a marble promontory, which stood completely covered, with several chairs underneath. And of course, in the middle, stood Oberyn's brother, the prince of Dorne himself, Doran.

Age had not been kind to him, and he was confined to his chair, but Doran did do his best to look as regal as possible as he welcomed the both of them.

As Oberyn introduced himself as usual, he could hear Quentyn draw a deep breath as he moved towards Doran.

"Quentyn." Doran smiled as the young prince approached. "You've grown into a fine man."

"Father." Quentyn bowed respectfully. "It's a pleasure to see you again, after all of these years."

Doran nodded.

"I trust Lord Anders Yronwood was kind to you."

"He was just and kind, indeed."

"Good, good." Doran smiled. "I always knew I could count on him."

He gestured for Oberyn and Quentyn to sit.

"As you may be well aware, this is not only going to be a friendly family visit." Doran said. "We have much to discuss."

Doran took a deep breath.

"I have to say something, Quentyn." He looked him dead in the eyes. "I am sorry, truly."

"Sorry?" Quentyn raised an eyebrow.

Doran nodded.

"I am sorry that you had to be raised far from your family, at the other side of the country. Had it been any different, I would have had you raised in the Water Gardens, along your sister and their friends, with your family." 

Doran looked towards the pools and gardens in the distance. "And I'm sorry for what happened to you."

Quentyn touched his scar, which had since healed somewhat.

"I hardly think you need to apologize for Uncle Oberyn's actions."

Oberyn flushed but Doran shook his head.

"One word and I could have had Oberyn more severely punished than just mere exile for a year or two." He said, his voice cold as ice. 

"Instead, I chose to punish my own son for deeds that were not his. 

One word to Lord Yronwood and I could have had you brought back to Sunspear. But I didn't. And now you may think of Lord Anders as more of a father than I was to you."

"That much is true." Quentyn replied simply. "But the apologies you may give me weigh little."

Doran nodded.

"Deeds, not words, as Oberyn is fond of saying. What action would I need to make things right?"

Quentyn stayed silent for a moment, so Doran instead took his stand again.

"Is it justice you seek? I will have Daemon executed if that is what you wish."

"Leave the boy alone." Quentyn sighed. "He did try to have me killed but he was acting under orders. I will not have someone killed for that."

Doran sighed.

"Your sister…"

"My sweet sister has greatly overstepped her rights." Quentyn growled. "I accepted the jests, the insults, the spies and her constant branding of me as the arch-traitor. 

What I cannot accept however, is that she tried to have one of my friends killed then decided to let her dog have a go at me. That I cannot forgive."

"Your friend?" Doran asked.

"Arianne had a serving boy pour poison into my friend Gerris Drinkwater's wine." Quentyn said. "Both Nymeria and Gulian identified the mixture as one of Viper's fangs and Sandstone bite. A mixture of which could very well have turned fatal."

"And where is that serving boy?" Doran asked.

"I've kept him under guard in Sunspear should you have need of him." Quentyn replied, before turning to Oberyn. 

"I did try to warn you, but you refused to listen to anything I had to say until Daemon had confessed. Speaking of which…"

"Oberyn told me about Daemon, yes." Doran replied. "There will be consequences for your sister's actions, but you must…"

"Forgive her? After she tried to have me killed?" Quentyn scoffed. "I might. Since this is all your fault anyways."

"My fault?" Doran questioned.

"Yes." Quentyn continued. "Your fault. Arianne is trying to remove me because she believes that she has been thrown out of the line of succession for Dorne, and that I would receive it instead. Pray tell me, father, why didn't you tell her of her marriage pact to Viserys Targaryen?"

Oberyn couldn't hide his surprise, as for the first time in so many years, Doran looked shocked.

"How do you know of this?" Doran asked.

"You aren't the only one with informants on the other side of the Narrow Sea, father." Quentyn simply replied. 

"Since you promised me Dorne, I had to know why you had set my sister aside, and this could only mean you had betrothed her to someone of equal or greater status than her. And such people are few and far between in this world."

"Your sister is indeed promised to Viserys Targaryen." Doran conceded. "But I could not tell her for she might reveal this information to one of her lovers."

Quentyn burst out laughing.

"Really, father? Really?" Quentyn dried the tears from his eyes. "Did you really think Arianne would be stupid enough to reveal it to whomever she was bedding? 

Do you not trust your daughter with such a crucial information? You do realize that she took lovers precisely because she thought she was spurned in the first place, right?"

"Quentyn, you have to understand that whenever you take someone to bed, you might…"

"Oh please." Quentyn scoffed. "I have known of the Braavos pact for two years or more, now. And during this time, I have taken women to bed. While doing so, I haven't once let slip this secret. If I am capable of holding my tongue, Arianne would have been more than capable as well."

"You do not understand, Quentyn." Doran sighed. "Arianne's lovers include people very close to her. She might have been able to confide in Tyene and…"

"And I haven't told a word to Nymeria and yet we've been sharing a bed for some time now." Quentyn fired back, causing Oberyn to recoil. "We're close, but that does not mean I will go around telling her that my sister is betrothed to Viserys Targaryen. 

If I was betrothed to Daenerys Targaryen or some other foreign queen, I wouldn't say a word for I know how sensitive that information is. 

You could have told her, have her sworn a vow of silence, anything. Instead she continued to think you hated her and that Dorne would never be hers. And I was the one to pay the price for it, once more."

Oberyn tried to forget what he had just heard, and instead just focused on the main bit of information that had made its way up to his brain.

"Hang on for one moment." Oberyn interrupted. "If you knew that your sister was acting the way she was because she thought she was spurned, why not tell her that she is betrothed to Viserys Targaryen yourself?"

"Fair point." Quentyn replied. "Because I believed this marriage had as much chances of it occurring than Rhaegar Targaryen coming back to life."

"How so?" Doran asked.

"Because the boy is as mad as his father." Quentyn sighed. "And recently, he had the bright idea to wed his sister to a Dothraki khal, which is honestly the worst idea anyone has ever had and that includes Uncle Oberyn's idea to continue the rebellion after the Reach switched sides."

Oberyn looked at Doran, who stayed as silent as ever.

"Is this true, brother?"

He didn't have time to wait for an answer as Quentyn took his stand once more.

"Which is honestly not surprising. Seriously, father, you let the last Targaryens run the streets of the free cities like beggars ever since Ser Willem Darry died." Quentyn continued to push where it hurt. 

"Did you not think that any harm could come to them. Tell me, did you think leaving them wandering the streets of Qohor was a good idea?"

"I had agents watching their every move." Doran replied simply. "I…"

"Then why, why, why, WHY!" Quentyn slammed his hands on his face. 

"Why did you leave them in their misery and poverty, with Viserys having to sell his mother's crown to survive! You could have just brought them back to Dorne once Ser Willem had died. You said it yourself, you had agents to track them down."

"If the Usurper thought we were hiding Targaryens…"

"Aye, I grant you that the Usurper has spies in Dorne, but I know you, father. You are meticulous in what you do. Even here, you surround yourself with the most trusted people, people that wouldn't betray you." Quentyn continued. 

"Why not bring the Targaryens here, under your protection, in the Water Gardens, or in some forgotten keep somewhere along the Red Mountains, the Torrentine or the Spice Isles or the Isle of Tortoises? They were still young when Willem Darry died. 

Dye their hair and send them here, away from everything. A prison with gilded bars would have been better for them than whatever they suffered in the streets of the Free Cities.

No one would have known, and Arianne and Viserys would have met much younger. The marriage pact would have been intact, and Viserys would have been educated instead of the man he likely is now."

"It was too much of a risk..."

"Risk, risk, risk..." Quentyn sighed. "I feel like organising a marriage pact between a Martell and a Targaryen is a greater risk than telling your own daughter about the pact. Are we just pieces on a board for you to play with? Are we not your children?"

"Quentyn, you will always be my children." Doran said calmly. "I love you all, you, Arianne and Trystane and..."

"Then why don't you trust us?" Quentyn cried out with tears in his eyes. "Why don't you care about us? In all of the years I've spent at Yronwood I've recieved ONE letter from you, and that is because I wrote to you first! 

Why did you not care about Arianne's woes about not being your heir? Why did you not care about my fall at Yronwood? Why did you not care about me being stranded at Yronwood while Uncle Oberyn enjoyed his freedom? You've never cared."

"I cared...I taught..."

"You taught me naught but the fact that I cannot trust my own family! Lord Anders taught me everything I know. 

And honestly, if you taught Arianne, you did a horrendous job at it. Did you not arrange to have Arianne taught in the ways of ruling Dorne should your agents fail in protecting the Targaryen children? Because although she does read and is somewhat versed in our history.

All she reads are the deeds of Nymeria and our glorious predecessors and not the intricate web of alliances that fill Dorne and the Seven Kingdoms. 

She is fit to be a consort, perhaps, but not a princess of Dorne.

Right now, father, Viserys Targaryen is as mad as his father, and I will not allow history to repeat itself. I will not have Arianne meet the same fate as Elia. And I will not let Dorne fall into the hands of an incompetent either.

I know that patience is a virtue, and that the game will require us to wait for the right moment to seize our revenge, but you need to make a decision right now concerning Arianne and I, father, lest you doom us all."

Doran stayed silent for what seemed like an eternity, as if calculating his options, before finally nodding.

"Thank you, Quentyn." He said simply. "Please leave us, your uncle and I have to talk in private."

"That's it?" Quentyn scoffed.

"That is it, for now." Doran replied, voice cold as ice. "As you say, there are important decisions to make, and my brother and I will need to take them together. Please, leave us."

"Very well." Quentyn nodded, but reached into his pocket first. "One more thing."

He placed a vial into Doran's hands.

"This is crocus extract." Quentyn said simply. "One teaspoon per day. Not more. Until the pain stops."

"The pain?" Doran asked.

Quentyn nodded.

"This cannot cure your gout, but it will certainly take the pain away." Quentyn replied. 

"No matter how much you feel pain and how much this will help bring it away, keep it to one teaspoon per day. Should you take any more, the toxic extract will take over and bring you unpleasant side effects such as nausea, vomiting and stomach pain. 

Once you stop feeling the pain, stop the treatment, and if it ever comes back, start taking one teaspoon per day once again."

"Have you tried it?"

"It helped Ser Lennox deal with his pains, at Harpy's Nest."

Doran nodded in thanks, and Quentyn left the courtyard, escorted by two guards.

Meanwhile, Doran looked at the vial, and placed it on the small table in front of him, and turned to Areo.

"Have Arianne summoned to the Water Gardens under escort." He told the Norvoshi. "Have the guards leave us."

Areo nodded and left along with the few guards, leaving only the two Martell brothers in the vast courtyard. Both of them stared at each other in silence, before Doran drew a deep breath and finally let out:

"What a mess."