As the letter had said, the Martells arrived at King's Landing barely a day after the letter was sent to them. However, when Tyrion tried to welcome them, he found out that Doran Martell could not come due to sickness and instead his younger brother; Oberyn had taken his place.
The famous Red Viper had left the dwarf standing as he had already chosen to visit the famous brothels of King's Landing. Eventually, he was found and after a small talk; Tyrion left and Oberyn searched for a new brothel to spend his time.
Chataya's Brothel, Road of Silk - King's Landing, Crown Lands - A few hours after the arrival of the Martells
The sun had started to set above the city of King's Landing, the sky changing into a colour combination of red, orange, pink and yellow. The Road of Silk was not that busy yet since most customers chose to come after the sky had turned dark.
A few did choose to visit earlier than others, taking advantage that the brothels were not that full and most of their favourite girls were not taken by others.
One of them was a hooded figure covered by a pitch-black simple cloak that covered their head and almost their full body. Their brown horse was left to a stable boy to take as the hooded figure entered one of the brothels, their head lowered to avoid any recognition.
The sign of the brothel read Chataya's and many common folks and residents knew that it was one of the finest, most expensive and most popular brothels existing in the Capital; some saying it was one of the best across Westeros.
The figure entered and drew the attention of the owner, who started to walk their way with her hips swaying faintly. The owner, Chataya, was a tall, elegant, dignified and handsome black woman from the Summer Isles.
She had ebon skin and sandalwood-coloured eyes, easily standing out against the usual and common whiter and slightly tanned skin tones existing amongst citizens of King's Landing. Her green feathered gown was gracefully framing her curves and her body.
"Welcome to my brothel, stranger. How my girls can be of help to you?" she asked with her smooth voice, her accent resonating as she spoke.
The customer moved their hood back to expose their face and partially their white hair while a pair of amber eyes met the woman, who was slightly shorter than her.
"Hello old friend," Visenya greeted, a small smile on her face.
The brothel owner offered a pearly white smile, arms extending in a welcoming manner. "Dragoness," she purred. "It has been too long."
"Far too long, indeed."
Chataya used to be a prostitute when younger and was one day even paid a visit by Aerys when he was King, only to be rejected due to her skin colour. However, to her luck, Visenya found out and approached her; realizing that she could be a good ally.
For the right amount of price, she could keep an eye on whatever woman Aerys and other Lords slept with; keeping that information for later use. Her money had helped Chataya to become more independent and eventually open her own brothel, where she treated girls far better than she had been treated.
Visenya often used her charm, talk and her connections to send Lords to her brothel thus helping her make more money while in return Visenya was informed of anything important that would leave their lips.
She even had the idea to use one of the more secret passages and tunnels to connect the Red Keep with the brothel, eventually agreeing with Tywin that the access should only be from the Tower of the Hand. It would allow her to visit the brothel in secret to learn what she had to, without risking going outside and someone seeing her.
"I heard of your return, but I did not expect you. May I say your son..." Chataya smirked in pride. "What a fine tall boy you made. Handsome, too. My girls love him," she informed, making the Dragoness arch an eyebrow.
"Trystan has been here?" she asked, since she did not know.
"Oh yes. The dwarf had brought him a few times but each time your son refused. Too modest and mannered to accept any 'favours' from my girls."
This amused Visenya, who shouldn't be that surprised considering Tyrion's nature. She scoffed upon hearing of Trystan's manners and she shook her head faintly. That boy, sometimes, was something else.
"That is reassuring. However, I am afraid I am not here on a social visit. I picked up word that you have our latest guest here," she said, having learnt from her own 'connections' or 'gossipers' as one would say that a certain Dornish man had been seen entering the brothel.
"You speak of the Dornish Prince? He has been here for a while, he seems pleased and has asked for a private room; paid handsomely for it too."
"I would like to see him," she said, earning a conflicted look from her old acquaintance. "Trust me. Once he finds out it is me, he will accept me."
"Very well, Dragoness," Chataya said and Visenya fixed her hood again before following her.
The brothel was quite big, with a narrow hall leading to the common room. Carpets and tapestries decorated the room, showing many acts between two people and the gender combination varied in each one.
Colourful couches and pillows were placed as wine was served. Girls entertained customers there but there were also a few private rooms, away from prying eyes for all those who were willing to pay something more.
Visenya followed Chataya, passing by some of her girls and eventually was led to a wooden door. She knocked and entered, speaking her tongue to the girl inside that was none other than her daughter; Alayaya.
Oberyn was sitting on the couch, Alayaya and one more girl sitting at each side of him while they fed him cherries and they shared a goblet of sweet wine; their hands brushing against the open V of his jacket and his exposed chest.
Upon hearing Chataya, they pulled their hands back. Sending a few giggles and blown kisses to Prince Oberyn, they exited the room with her while Visenya in disguise entered the room and closed the door behind her.
"I apologize for interrupting but I did wish for some privacy," she said and pulled down her hood a second time.
The black eyes of the Dornish Prince opened wide in surprise upon recognising her and then a smirk formed on his lips as he stood up.
"Well, I certainly did not expect to see you here of all places, princess," he said, using her nickname like he did the last time they met all those years ago.
"Don't you remember, Oberyn, I am full of surprises. I believe I taught you that the last time you visited King's Landing," she said in equal friendliness.
He chuckled and took her hand, placing a kiss on the back of it like a gentleman and then pulled her gently towards him. "Hard to forget, I will not lie. I still bear the scar, you know," he said and used his free hand to pull his jacket to one side and expose a small scar left close to his right nipple.
Visenya did not fight him nor did she react to his charming talk as he led her to the same couch he was sitting on just a moment ago. She sat gracefully, her back straight while he leaned back on it with carefreeness and even opened his legs to be more comfortable.
"Good, or I would have been disappointed," she said and grabbed the jug, filling his goblet and then one for her.
"Not as disappointing as finding out your marriage to that Lion," he spat, evident hatred for Tywin. "You had such a bright future in Dorne."
Visenya did not comment and barely drank any wine while he enjoyed his. "Speaking of marriages, I do find it odd that we were not informed of you replacing your brother. Especially considering you were not that keen on coming to King's Landing."
He smirked and chose not to hide his intentions; there was no reason for it. He would openly even tell it into the face of the Old Lion itself should he ever be given the chance. "I would eventually come and I have now, because I want justice for Elia and her murder," he said, his face serious as he lowered the goblet and looked at her in the eyes. "I am here to get revenge on the Mountain and the one that gave him the order in the first place," he confessed, not caring if he openly admitted that he was present to kill her husband.
Immediately, Visenya went into the defensive. She feared this would be the case but she refused not to speak up and explain because people truly had only seen one side of that story, and it had started to tire her.
"Tywin did not order her murder or her rape," she said back with an equally serious tone, looking back at him with determination. "The Mountain acted on his own. He is a bloodthirsty monster and he has raped more women because he knew he could. The only thing Tywin is guilty of is keeping him around when he is clearly a danger to a lot of people, women especially."
Oberyn scoffed at her words, clearly not believing her or simply not caring. "You expect me to believe you? You are quick to defend him because it was your life he saved when he took theirs," he accused, bringing up Elia's children and the horrific way they perished.
Something snapped within Visenya, hearing him accusing her as if she planned to have the children killed. She would never harm a child, that was a line she never crossed; no matter what. In the moment of a heated argument, she grabbed his goblet off his hand before he could drink.
Some of the wine spilled on her hand and the floor but she did not care as she moved her body a little bit. Her one knee was pressed against the couch, between his two legs and her free hand was supporting her body on the back of the couch.
She hovered above him, not caring about this new position that was so far beneath her status and her upbringing. She locked her amber eyes with his dark ones, challenging him to repeat his words. Her jaw was tense, her breathing pattern changing as she could feel the blood pumping through her veins and echoing in her ear. She was tired of people accusing her without knowing the story, of being everyone's venting doll.
"Do not ever accuse me of that. You want your revenge on the Mountain, fine," she said and brought her face a little closer to him. "I will help you get your revenge on him."
Oberyn was quiet for half a minute, merely staring at her and their sudden close proximity. She was a dominating presence, wild and dangerous. She could easily attack him like an animal, snap her jaws around his neck and end him if she wished to be so extreme. He was not going to lie; he did find it attractive; he always did ever since she gave him that scar.
Such powerful women were rare in Westeros and sometimes even in Dorne, which was why she was so unique in the first place. She was holding herself back but Oberyn knew she could truly snap if she wanted. The scar on his body seemed to jolt with an acute pain as the memory was triggered but he did not react to it.
He was merely too focused on this side of hers that he did not expect her to have after all those years controlled by Tywin. He also thought of her words and he could not help but ask, "Why?"
Visenya took a deep breath and sat back down, placing both goblets on the table. She then wiped her hand on her black cloak, although she could still feel the stickiness coming from her fingers.
"Elia and her children were my family, no matter who Rhaegar chose in the end. I saw them as family and I never forget who harmed them. I do not rest until I know that the one that dared to harm them has faced justice, one way or another," she confessed, leaving a heavy sigh but never took her eyes off him.
After a full moment of silence, a smirk formed on Oberyn's lips. "Is this a confession for what happened to that fat asshole Robert?" he asked rhetorically, having quickly connected the dots. When she did not answer him, he knew he was right. "Bravo," he said, using his fingers to tilt her chin higher and then let them slowly trail a path towards her jaw and down her neck.
However, she did not let him do that for long for she grabbed his wrist and pulled it away from her skin. She did not use a lot of force, the move and action being more of a warning and a 'You cannot seduce me into your bed' answer.
He smirked and quickly grabbed her wrist in return, enjoying this small game between them as he was clearly not demotivated by her rejection of even the most playful of his antics.
"But there must be something more you wish. You wouldn't so openly volunteer to help me get my revenge," he pointed out, proving that while short-tempered and often bloodthirsty, he could be intelligent enough to see through people's masks.
She looked at her own captured wrist and when he let her go, only then did she let go of his. "I want revenge on what the Mountain did and I want his reign of terror to end. We can help each other with that and draw a confession from him, bring our own justice upon him right after," she started, clearly drawing his interest. "What I want from you, as well, is this feud to be over. Myrcella is to be married to your nephew and long has been bad blood between our houses."
"You want me to drop my revenge on your murderous husband," he concluded and she nodded her head. She earned another scoff but his interest had remained. "Fine. If you manage to carry your end of the deal, then I will keep mine."
The Hand's Study, Red Keep - King's Landing, CrownLands — The Next Day
Jaime was surprised when his father did not come to see him but he was so tired after the return that he did not bother. He suspected his father would be like that and he was ready for it.
So when he received the invite to meet his father in his study after almost two days of being back, he was surprised. But he was not as surprised as when his father presented him with a magnificent Valyrian steel sword.
"Magnificent," Jaime commented and used his single hand to wield and inspect it under the sunlight. "It looks freshly forged."
"It is." His father replied, standing not that far away with his hands behind his back.
Jaime at last looked from the sword, at him. "No one's made a Valyrian steel sword since the Doom of Valyria."
This made Tywin smirk. "There are three living smiths who know how to rework Valyrian steel. The finest of them was in Volantis and he is the one that made your good-mother's daggers," he explained since all of the Lannister siblings knew that Visenya had 14 daggers specially made for her. Well, 12 if one would consider that two had been given away. "Came here to King's Landing at my invitation."
"Where did you get this much Valyrian steel?" his son finally asked him, arching an eyebrow since Valyrian steel was hard to get by, let alone enough to forge a sword of this length.
"From someone who no longer had need of it." Was his father's cryptic reply, not going into details on how he took Ned's huge sword and made two new ones out of it.
His son nodded and did not ask any more questions. "You've wanted one of these in the family for a long time."
"And now we have two." He told him.
"The original weapon was absurdly large. Plenty of steel for two swords."
"Well, thank you. It's glorious." Jaime beamed with the same pride and arrogance he always had, only that this time it was mostly a fake he had to keep around his father.
"You will be pleased to know that Vargo Hoat has been taken care of," he told his son, who looked at him in surprise.
"What do you mean?"
"We found him near the woods of Harrenhal. Ser Gregor took care of him. Vargo spent the last few days of his life having parts of his body being cut off and will keep feeding them to him until he perishes from the wounds," he summarized, bringing up the torture as if it was nothing.
For it was one day before the Martells would arrive that Visenya came to him with news, having a good location from where that bastard mercenary and his men were hiding. With Ser Gregor still being around after he lost Harrenhal to Robb Stark, Tywin ordered him to take care of the problem and the Mountain did not disappoint.
Now, the man who had dared to harm his first son and heir would suffer a slow and torturous death. Tywin truly felt he deserved more but he would get what he could now, as long as the man was severely punished for the crime he committed.
Jaime felt relieved to hear that and even satisfaction, knowing that his tormentor was now the one being tormented. After all the shit he had to pass through because of him, he felt better knowing justice was being served.
The description alone while vague was enough to create a mental image in his mind and if the Mountain was behind the torture, Jaime knew Vargo would have better chances of surviving on the other side of the Wall.
The younger Lion in the room nodded and attempted to sheath the sword into the cover lying on the table, but failed awkwardly. He kept trying as his father watched, unimpressed but slightly annoyed as well by the embarrassing scene in front of him.
"You'll have to train your left hand," he pointed out, seeing that his son was clearly not accustomed to using his left hand when handling a sword.
"Any decent swordsman knows how to use both hands. You use both if I am not mistaken and I do think the same goes for my good-mother," Jaime reminded him as he finally managed to sheath the sword.
"You'll never be as good," Tywin said, trying to make him feel less confident and cocky, to prevent him from remaining in the Kingsguard and make it easier for him to accept what he had in store for him.
"No. But as long as I'm better than everyone else, I suppose it doesn't matter." His son replied in the same cocky manner he always did and shrugged his shoulders.
His father felt his patience running thin and started to become more aggressive with his approach. "You can't serve in the Kingsguard with one hand."
"Where's that written? I can and I will. The Kingsguard oath is for life."
"The war is over. The king is safe."
Yet his son, like the rest of his children, had taken his stubbornness. "The king is never safe. How many people in this city alone would love to see his head on a pike?" he argued, bringing up what he had heard while walking towards the Red Keep.
"Other knights protected the king while you were a prisoner. They will continue to do so when you go home."
At last, Tywin exposed his first card and Jaime started to understand why his father was suddenly being so critical and why he had suddenly given him such a gift. "Home?" he repeated, letting him open all of his cards on his own.
Tywin, realizing that he had no other choice; stopped trying and said it as it was. "You'll return to Casterly Rock and rule in my stead," he said, bringing up a decision he had made recently and had not even told Visenya yet.
"You are the Lord of Casterly Rock and right now Uncle Kevan is ruling it," his son argued.
"I am the King's Hand. My place is here. I don't expect to see the Rock again before I die," he confessed with some bitterness.
He truly doubted things would get better or at least enough that he could retire once again. The realm was in chaos and his grandchildren were unfit to rule, especially with Cersei around.
Someone had to take control of everything and that someone was him. As much as he truly disliked the idea of just working until his eventual meeting with the Stranger, he knew he had no other choice. It was up to him and Visenya to ensure their family name would remain even after they would both be dead.
Jaime, however, did not wish to do so. He knew that if he accepted, he would have to leave everyone behind; including Cersei. He had spent more than a year as a prisoner, away from her and he refused to leave her again now.
All this time he spent with Brienne had also changed his views. The Kingsguard vows still had some meaning behind them, an honour that a knight should not break. He had broken enough oaths by now, why should he add another one at the least?
On top of all, if he was to become the new Lord of Casterly Rock; that meant he would have to marry and have children. He did not wish to settle or marry another woman; he did not wish to be a Lord behind some castle walls that grew fat when he could still do far more; when he could still protect his family.
"You know what they call me? Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. A man without honour. Now you want me to break another sacred vow," he pointed out, hoping his father would see why this was a bad idea. "Plus, you have Trystan. You always went on and on about how he is the next heir. Why don't you send him back home?"
"Trystan is young, inexperienced. He doesn't know how to rule, he barely has tasted real battle. He is not ready and he is not my firstborn son, either," he explained, although Jaime did not truly believe him.
"You won't be breaking anything. There is a precedent to relieve a Kingsguard of his duties. The king will exercise that prerogative."
At last, after so long, Jaime found the courage and strength to stand up to his father. All those times his good-mother had been telling him to defend himself against him when he truly should, had finally prepared him for this.
"No."
"No?" Tywin exclaimed, narrowing his eyes in warning.
"NO." His son repeated with the same confidence.
Yet, the Old Lion was not going to take it. His other children tried to stand up to him and failed. He was not going to let Jaime be the exception. "I don't believe I asked you a question."
"There's my answer."
Tywin started to see red and he took a few steps forward, so close to grab Jaime by the base of his jaw and force him to stare into his cold green eyes. "If you think your bloody honour comes before—"
"My bloody honour is beyond repair, but my answer is still no. I don't want Casterly Rock. I don't want a wife. I don't want children," he interrupted him. "You have Trystan, go pressure him," he continued, feeling bad for throwing his brother under the bus like that but what else could he do?
Their father wanted his son to rule Casterly Rock. Then why not take the son that was young, unmarried and apparently smarter than his siblings; his favourite golden boy and just send him back home?
Why was he so persistent in suddenly making Jaime so important and bringing him to Casterly Rock? Wasn't Trystan born just to be his replacement due to his oath as a Kingsguard?
"What do you want?" his father finally asked, his voice calm but his temper was flaring; about to be unleashed.
"Supper would be nice." The younger lion joked, an annoying trait that both he and Tyrion had obtained from Visenya's influence.
This seemed to be the final straw, the drop that overflowed the glass. Tywin eventually snapped and said words that no one would ever truly know if he ever regretted them. "For years I've tried to teach you. If you haven't learned by now, you never will," he said with hatred. "So, if serving as a glorified bodyguard is the sum of your ambition, go serve—and since you insist so much; I will train Trystan instead for he at least understands that his role in this family is above his selfish needs."
Jaime did not say anything else and merely glanced at the sword. "I suppose you want the sword back. Give it to your new heir..."
To his surprise, Tywin did not answer the way he expected him. "Keep it."
As he grabbed the sword, his father chose to throw one last insult that cut him deeper than anything else. "A one-handed man with no family needs all the help he can get."
He said nothing about that and merely left the room with his new sword in hand.