"Do we have any news from Illyrio Mopatis?" Arianne asked. "Did you send anyone?"
Arianne and Oberyn had gathered in the hall for breakfast at their inn. After arriving yesterday, bathing, and having a hot meal, they had decided to call it a day. They had been utterly exhausted, and their bodies desperately needed a comfortable night of sleep. Sleep and rest was all that they had been able to think about.
Today would be the day they attempted to meet with Viserys Targaryen And to meet him, they needed to visit the mansion of Illyrio Mopantis. And they could not simply barge straight into Illyrio's manse.
They needed to send an envoy to announce their arrival and formally request an audience. There was a good chance Illyrio was already aware of their presence in the city, but it did not matter. Protocol had to be followed.
"Yes," Oberyn replied. "It has been quite some time since I sent him. He should be on his way back."
"Why did my father choose Viserys as my betrothed?" Arianne questioned, out nowhere. "The only thing he has to his name is his claim to the throne."
"He has no means, no resources, no armies, and certainly no dragons like Rhaenys to take the Iron Throne back."
"Do you not think a legitimate claim to the throne is a big deal?" Oberyn asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I think it has its own worth," Arianne drawled.
"But that worth is decided by what the legitimacy actually brings to the table," she said. "Does his claim have the power to draw supporters willing to fight for him? Does it have the power to pull in noble houses willing to bend the knee and commit their armies to his cause? Does it have the power to call in the smallfolk and make them reserve their grains for the supplies to his armies?"
"And I do not think Viserys Targaryen has any of that," she continued. "He has no supporters left in Westeros."
"Even if he somehow manages to gather a band of mercenaries and invade Westeros, can you name a single noble house that would raise their banners in his support? There might be some that may support him but that would not be because of loyalty. But because they would think of Viserys' invasion as a chance to further their own interest."
"Your betrothal to Viserys was an idea your father exchanged with Ser Willem Darry immediately after the rebellion," he said. "There had been a prevailing thought in Westeros that Robert's victory had depended largely on luck."
"If men like Mace Tyrell had played their cards properly, the Targaryens could have crushed the rebellion with very little effort," he continued. "Tywin would have never committed his armies for Robert and sacked King's Landing."
As Oberyn mentioned this, a trace of pain and agony crossed his voice. Arianned noticed this but she did not say anything. Over the past few weeks, she had attempted quite a few times to make Oberyn talk about what had happened in his meeting with Rhaenys in detail. But Oberyn had never told her anything. And she had almost given up on that.
"This caused a hope, a suspense to simmer in Westeros that Robert would never be able to stabilize his reign," Oberyn continued. "That there would soon be a counter rebellion, and Viserys was the natural choice to serve as its figurehead. In the initial few years, Viserys was a prize possession, a valuable entity for a lot of people in Westeros. To many, he was the key to their influence on the Iron throne. For us, he was the key to our revenge and influence on the iron throne."
"Therefore, a pact was made. Your marriage to Viserys. It was an alliance meant to bring great benefits to both our houses."
"But as you can see," Oberyn sighed, "nothing like that happened. Just as you said, apart from his claim to the throne, he has nothing of worth to his name."
"And now, even his legitimacy is in question," he continued. "With the emergence of Rhaenys, she has a far stronger and more legitimate claim than he does."
Before Arianne could respond, the door to the hall was pushed open, and a couple of men entered inside. These were the men Oberyn had sent to Illyrio's manse.
"My lord," they bowed in greeting. "My lady."
"What did Illyrio say?" Oberyn asked.
"We were not able to meet with Magister Illyrio, my lord," one of them answered.
"Not able to see him?" Oberyn asked with raised eyebrows. "Then who did you meet? Some advisor of his?"
"Not exactly, my lord," the man responded hesitantly. "We cannot be sure, but the person we spoke to was likely just a guard or their supervisor."
Oberyn raised his eyebrows higher. He had never met Illyrio in person, but he knew enough about the man. And in no way did the magister have the guts to intentionally insult Oberyn Martell in this manner.
"Tell me in detail what happened," he commanded.
"When we reached the manse, everything was entirely chaotic," the man answered. "Everyone working on the estate was busy. Some were scrubbing and cleaning the floors. Others were making sure the plants and gardens were trimmed to perfection. All sorts of frantic preparations were being made."
"We told the guards outside that we were from Dorne and wished to speak with Magister Illyrio. The guard was hesitant at first, but when we revealed that the request came directly from you, he finally yielded. We do not know who he went to, but a moment later, he returned with another man. This person was also dressed in a guard's uniform, though likely of a higher rank."
"He said that our request had been delivered to Magister Illyrio, but due to certain circumstances, he could not see us immediately. He will obviously see us or you but it will only be possible tomorrow."
Oberyn did not respond immediately.
"My lord," the man continued, "I think they were preparing for the arrival of a guest. Likely a very important one."
"And yes," he added, as if suddenly remembering a crucial detail. "There were a lot of men dressed in the uniform of the Golden Company roaming around the manse."
"Probably, a few dozen," he concluded.
Oberyn barely had any time to process this information before a deafening burst of roars shook the entire city.
The ripple and echo of the sound were so violently strong that Oberyn felt as if the entire inn quaked under its weight, nearly throwing him to the ground. But his body barely registered the tremor. His mind was entirely fixated on the sound he had just heard, his eyes bulging in sheer shock.
"Dragons!" Arianne screamed, voicing the very word that was stuck in his throat, as she dashed toward the window.
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