Northern Sun | Robb Stark

Chapter 9

Prince Oberyn hadn't returned.

It was clever of her grandfather to offer for him to be a judge at her uncle's trial. He'd act as if he trusted his ability to judge fairly while really only keeping him close to watch what he'd do, perhaps toy with him to see if he could make him angry enough to lash out.

Prince Doran told her that Oberyn had always been sympathetic toward her Uncle Tyrion. He might be the only judge on that council who would rule fairly, but it didn't mean he was innocent or that the others would feel he was even if it were true.

But he also seemed to think his brother might know what really happened.

Eidalya blinked several times when he told her. "What do you mean? You think he knows who poisoned Joffrey?"

He considered how to word his thoughts for a second, then asked, "Do you know why Quentyn has been fostered at Yronwood?"

"To pay a debt because of something Prince Oberyn did." She knew the story, but she imagined he'd remind her of the facts, and it brought a sick feeling to her stomach when she realized why he brought it up.

"Yes. When my brother was six-and-ten, Lord Edgar Yronwood found him abed with his paramour. They dueled, each received a cut. But Lord Edgar Yronwood's wound festered until it took his life. My brother became known as 'The Red Viper' as it was believed he poisoned his sword. Quentyn has repaired the relationship between our two houses."

"And you think... Oberyn poisoned Joffrey?"

"He wanted to kill the Lannisters. Because of this alliance he likely would stop himself from going after the man he truly wants to kill. The other lions were up for the taking. Your grandfather likely believes that, too. But he is a desperate man, and he likely believes he can keep Oberyn from marrying you, if he's even aware it's a possibility. Oberyn will not fall for it. Though, he may be swayed by the idea of being closer to Tywin so he might eventually act on his impulses."

Eidalya stood. "Then I won't let him." She went to her desk, retrieving a piece of parchment and her quill. "My mother will be mad with grief at the moment. She'll want to find Sansa Stark. We need to make sure we're ready to launch an attack if they try anything. He needs to be ready for us to ride up to White Harbor now."

Prince Doran put his hand under his chin. "And what, precisely, do you intend to do?"

"I intend," she said as she wrote, "to demand that he goes to Dragonstone and waits for me there. My Uncle Stannis will host him and his men while I travel there with a septon that will wed us immediately. We will sail to White Harbor; surely by then Robb will have met with Jon Snow and I take it he'll decide to supply men to fight off the wildlings, just as I suggested he do."

He laughed, "You have courage, Princess. No one makes demands of Prince Oberyn."

She stared at him, not finding this funny. "I do. Because I know my grandfather, how he can push the buttons of everyone who has a grudge against him. You yourself have told me much of your brother's near-inability to contain himself once he has an idea in mind. As much as it pains me to think of leaving my Uncle Tyrion with a less kind judge, Oberyn must return if we're going to make any progress in preparing for what comes next. They're vulnerable now and we must prepare to strike. If my uncle did not kill Joffrey, the gods will prevail and he will live. If he did... then my mother will have his head just as she's always wanted to. I will weep for him, not for my brother. And then I will move on and make sure that we remove my family from power before anything happens to Tommen."

Prince Doran watched her without speaking, a small smile of admiration tugging at the corner of his lips. She would have gotten Quentyn out of his shell if she'd married him. But maybe, just maybe, she'd manage to tame Oberyn even slightly.