"I have commanded the cooks to prepare a feast for this evening," he continued, "with all your favourites."
"I can hardly wait."
...
When they finally got away Oberyn was firstly led to his chambers, where he bathed, a task he involved Ellaria in, and by the time they were done a servant called them down to dinner.
At the table, Oberyn's family were all arrayed, along with the feast. Every type of food, lavishly prepared, served on golden platters and plates. Ser Manfrey sat at the foot of the table, gesturing for Oberyn to take the head. Ellaria sat herself beside that seat, Obella beside her, Obara and Elia sat opposite.
"A wonderful feast!" Oberyn declared, grinning. "But lacking in decoration, I think." He reached down into a sack he'd brought with him from his chambers, and withdrew from within a large skull, meat boiled off the bones, and set it down in the centre of the table. "Compliments of the king," he said as he finally sat.
"The trail," Elia said, eyes gleaming. "Tell us about the trial."
Oberyn chuckled and nodded and complied. He told the tale of his duel with the Mountain that Rides in detail, and all his family listened with rapt attention. He told them of the king's gift, which he then withdrew from it's sheath at his hip and presented to the table, still red with the Mountain's blood, and then of what a close shave that victory truly was. He described each blow and cut. His three daughters all listened intently, faces showing at times excitement and at others fear. Little Obella in particular seemed most excitable, and made a show spearing her meat as she imagined her father had speared the Mountain.
"The king?" Obara leaned over and quietly asked once he was done. "Not the Usurper?"
Oberyn nodded as he dug into a cut of beef. "You heard how he helped me," he said. "My quarrel is no longer with the crown."
"And the Old Lion?"
"The Old Lion's end will come," Oberyn answered between bites. "We just have to be patient."
Obara frowned, confused. "Patience, father? Has defeating the Mountain sated your desire for revenge?"
No, Oberyn thought, the king's agents did that. A serving girl rounded the table, clad in a dress of jewels and precious little else, and poured him a glass of Dornish red, batting her lashes and bending over perhaps a little more than necessary to grant Oberyn a better view of her bosom. Are you one of his? Oberyn wondered as he took a sip and sent her on with a slim smile, her hips swaying enticingly as she sauntered away.
"I was able to slay the Mountain because of circumstance," Oberyn said. "Killing Lord Tywin is an entirely different sort of task, at least if we wish to get away with it. The king is cleverer then he looks, and more dangerous as well. An ill-thought plan could well get us all killed."
"Or start a war," Obara added.
"Or start a war," Oberyn agreed. "I need to see Doran."
"He's still in the Water Gardens," Obara said. "He ordered Princess Myrcella and Trystane back to the Water Gardens after Arianne left, though he himself has not left in what feels like an age. I can't imagine he'll leave anytime soon, and I'd ask you stay a while longer. Still, if the matter is urgent then we can leave on the morrow."
"It very much is," Oberyn said, nodding. The feast went on for a few hours more, and Oberyn only went to his bed once it was late, Ellaria and the serving girl moaning and screaming his name into the early hours as they took turns on his cock. Despite this, he awoke at sunrise and readied his things for the next leg of the journey, Ellaria opting to remain a little while longer in Sunspear with her two eldest daughters.
When they set off, it was Obara and Oberyn with dozen a Dornish guardsmen that Oberyn felt he could no longer truly trust. He watched their backs with a keen eye as his sand steed carried him forwards. He was safe, most likely - the king would not order him killed, but he misliked it nonetheless. Most likely these are loyal men, Oberyn thought as he rode on in silence. Most likely...
The road to the Water Gardens ran beside the sea, so he had a nice breeze to soothe his suspicions as he rode. Only after an hour of silence did Obara draw her steed beside his and venture to say: "Father, I would know what troubles you so."
Oberyn shot more suspicious glances at the guards around them. "Not here," he hissed. "When we are more alone."
Obara frowned as she followed his gaze to the guards. "This matter is so private even our most loyal men cannot hear it?"
"Of course not," he said. "But who's to say who's loyal and who's not?"
Obara's expression changed in realisation at his words, her grip on her horse's reins tightening as she glanced about. "You talk of a turncoat?" she asked in a low voice.
"I told you the king was clever."
Obara stiffened. "And dangerous as well, so you said," she said, nodding.
And onwards they rode in silence, suspicions filling the air, blown across by a gentle sea breeze. Only three leagues of coast road separated the Water Gardens and Sunspear, and yet they were akin to different worlds. The citrus scents of lemons and blood oranges wafted over to them, a sharp contrast to the dust and sweat they'd left behind. The Water Gardens themselves were a shock of pale pink marble and luscious green and a gentle blue in the pools.
In those same pools Oberyn could hear the children laughing and playing and splashing as he dismounted his horse and set off at a fast march through the halls of the Water Gardens, guards all around him bowing their heads as he passed. Obara was close behind, the drumbeat of her boots on the marble floor never too far away. Oberyn clambered up the steps to Doran's terrace, and was confronted at the end of the hall by Hotah.
"Captain," Oberyn acknowledged, even as suspicion again sparked in his mind. What better man than him? he thought. With Hotah the king would have a look into even my brother's most private moments.
Areo gestured onto the terrace. "The prince awaits you."
With a nod Oberyn ventured onto the terrace, Obara grumbling behind him as Hotah barred her entry. "The prince is watching the children at their play. He is never to be disturbed when he is watching them at their play."
And play the children did. Below, Oberyn could see them all, the youngest no less than five, the oldest no more than ten. Half were boys and half were girls. He could hear them splashing and shouting at each other, their voices shrill and sharp and playful. They waged mock-war in those pools, wading in waist deep water and trying to force each other below the surface, throwing up huge splashes of water that flew over the sides of the pool. Out in the distance Oberyn could see some of the older boys swimming in the sea, a row of girls sat on the beach, watching the boys whilst they built tall sandcastles.
The citrus scent came in strong up here, and fat, ripened blood oranges occasionally fell from the branches of their trees and burst on the pale marble floors, splattering their sweet juices all over. Beneath the shade of one tree, conveniently plucked clean of all falling fruit, was Trystane with his new wife, like ivory and ebony. They sat opposite each other at a stone table, a cyvasse board between them.
No, Oberyn thought as he watched her share a smile with her husband, she surely cannot be the spy.
...
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