A Vow Without Honor

The Trial

Chapter Fifty-Seven
The Trial

Oberyn

He had been to trials before, even presided over a handful, the obligations of a prince of Dorne. As of late, he had attended when his brother could not, although sometimes he suspected Doran requested it more out of his personal entertainment over the need. Arianne was more than capable, but what sort of sibling would Doran be if he did not pester his little brother?

They had never been large affairs. Trade negotiations, border disputes, taxes, the most outlandish being the parentage of the bastard of a lord's daughter - a rather disastrous meeting that almost resulted in an accusation against him (a prince he may have been, but his humor was an unstoppable force). However, none of them felt like the parade of fools he was witness to at the capital. A king had been murdered, and every lord and lady had been turned into a simpering fool.

Oh, it was delightful.

His tongue was beginning to hurt from the numerous times he had to bite it in order to keep from bursting into laughter at these ridiculous testimonies. They were less about getting to the truth of things, and more about insulting the man accused to the point of bringing the audience to tears. It was a farce his brother would have never tolerated, but Tywin Lannister, despite his stone-like exterior, clearly enjoyed watching his most-hated child insulted. Only when it went too far did he finally call for order, but it took great leaps to reach that particular line in the sand.

As an esteemed member of the judges, Oberyn was under obligation to question the testimony as he saw fit, but for the most part, he allowed Mace the courtesy. Incensed by his daughter's close brush with death, he played into the theatrics well, asking the obvious questions and adding fuel to the fire beneath Tyrion. Oberyn only chimed in when there was an obvious flaw in the witness's story. He liked to explore it for all to see and watched as the clearly coached individual faltered. He never failed to notice Cersei's gaze when he did so.

Mostly, Oberyn watched those in attendance. Ellaria did not have the stomach for this 'inhumane sport,' as she put it, but Trystane was there, unwilling to leave Myrcella's side. His nephew had fallen hard for his little princess. How fortunate he was that she did not take after her family. She was, in fact, watching the trial unfold with a look of utter disgust. She refused to hide it, only allowing it to deepen with every bit of laughter that came from those around her.

Nymeria had been in and out a few times, and even Tyene had shown her face once, but Syrena was nowhere to be seen. Oberyn had not come across his daughter since that evening in the tunnels, and he worried. She had the blood of the viper after all, and they did not take well to being told they were wrong. It would make her brash. He knew that all too well.

The only other members of the gallery clearly uninterested in the spectacle were Jaime Lannister and his young wife. They were normally quite a fine pair, matching as all couples were wont to, but on that particular day, Myra had broken away from appeasement. She wore the colors of her father's house, and had stared down any would-be foe as they had entered the throne room. Jaime, in contrast, looked about as Lannister as one could, reds and golds and tacky lions. It was a funny little sight.

Oberyn leaned back in his seat, watching as the Grand Maester droned on, parroting the same words the last several witnesses had spoken: Tyrion hated Joffrey, he wanted him dead, if Margaery died in the process, even better. After all, the aid from the Tyrells overshadowed his work, and what was Tyrion Lannister but an attention seeking imp who demanded a hero's welcome?

"You used to have a beard, did you not?" Oberyn asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tywin turning toward him. Yes, how the Old Lion hated when he made a mockery of things. "Not that piece of cotton on your chin. A longer one. You were very proud of it, I recall."