Guest Chambers ,Eyrie - Vale Of Arryn, Westeros
Sansa was lying on the bed while her eyes were looking at the rooftop above her head. That had become her usual routine almost every night when she was unable to sleep. Because, just like that night, Littlefinger and her aunt chose to have sex and by the Seven Gods was she a screamer.
She had often tried to cover her head with a pillow or sing to herself but it did not always help. Sometimes, she would close her eyes and try to think she was far away and back to Winterfell.
She was glad to be out of King's Landing, glad to be closer to the North than before but she was still a prisoner; no matter how much Petyr tried to persuade her she wasn't. Seeing the snow plains and being surrounded by animal pelts only made her more nostalgic for her home.
In addition, she was often deep with guilt for what she had done. Tyrion had been nothing but kind to her and tried his best, respected her and did not force her to sleep with him even when his father pressured him to. Now, he was facing trial and most likely death for poisoning Joffrey; when in the end it was Petyr, who had planned it all.
She would not deny that she was partially responsible because it was her hairnet that carried the poison in the first place, even if she did not know about it back then.
Then, there was Trystan. More than once would she look at her door and imagine he would knock with all his manners, his little awkwardness and grace her with his charming smile. He had been, perhaps, the best part of her stay in King's Landing.
She smiled faintly upon remembering how he brought her his handkerchief after the Battle of Blackwater Bay and tried to make a joke of his bloodied appearance. Her smile remained as her thoughts went to their walk in the Gardens. How he had given her that rose flower that was most likely laid forgotten somewhere in her room back in King's Landing. She thought of how comfortable she felt, the smiles they shared with one another as they enjoyed the view and each other's company.
Realizing she was not going to find some peace of mind, Sansa kicked off the covers made of animal pelts and walked towards a small chest where few of her belongings existed, those at least she had hidden and managed to smuggle with her during her escape.
She opened the chest and started to look between the fabrics of the clothes until her hands touched something cold. She gently pulled it back and held it under the candlelight, observing the magnificent Valyrian steel blade with the black leathered handle.
She held it carefully in her hand, her eyes falling on the inscription on it that was written in a foreign and old language. As she did, she remembered how she obtained that dagger and why.
It was not long after their discussion at Godswood that Sansa and Visenya got up, knowing they had to return rather soon. The sun was slowly setting, time for supper was just around the corner and they could be missing only for that long before someone would grow anxious or suspicious.
Sansa was about to walk away first but the Dragoness placed her hand on the girl's shoulder, stopping her from taking another step.
"Before we return, I would like to give you something," she said and pulled a knife from somewhere within the folds of her dress.
It was a beautiful dagger with a unique pattern on the blade, one Sansa had seen on Joffrey's latest sword. The dagger was very light and seemed to be balanced nicely while the leather handle looked expensive and comfortable.
"My lady," she exclaimed with a small shock at the weapon. "I... I cannot take this from you."
Visenya smiled and turned the weapon in her palm so she was holding the edge of the blade and the handle was pointing at Sansa.
"Consider it my late wedding gift," she said with a reassuring smile, urging the teenager to take it. "It's something to have on you and feel safer when you don't have Trystan or me around you to protect you."
Hesitantly, Sansa grabbed the leather-bound handle and held the dagger in her hand. She observed it under the setting sun, feeling its light weight and how beautifully the Valyrian steel reflected the light.
Just holding it, something so sharp and dangerous; made her feel uneasy but also more confident. Sometimes, she truly looked back to what she had suffered and wished she had something to help her feel better; less useless and weak and defenceless.
Now, she had it. She was not sure if she would ever need it but she was thankful for the gift either way. It was an odd gift, definitely, one Arya would enjoy more if she was present as well.
As she observed it better, she took notice of an inscription by the base of the blade, right where the handle started. It was a language she had seen before but could not truly read or recognise fully.
"What language is this?" she asked, eyes not once leaving the blade.
Visenya smiled.
"It is High Valyrian and that there," she placed a finger on the inscription, "it's the dagger's name; Tessarion," she explained.
"Tessarion?" Sansa repeated, looking at her.
She nodded.
"One of the 14 Gods of Valyria. She is the Goddess of a lot of things but most importantly, arts, healing, beauty, poetry, knowledge and even prophecy," Visenya continued as she bent one knee to be closer to Sansa's height. "The story says that she would share her visions of the future and bless those she deemed worthy."
Sansa looked back at the blade, suddenly the weapon feeling much heavier than it was a few seconds ago. Yet, her grip on it remained strong and confident as she processed the information in her mind.
"Do you think... she would deem me worthy?" she asked the older woman, looking once again at her.
Visenya's gaze softened.
"Perhaps not of prophecy but gods do bless in general, those who they seem worthy of their gifts."
Sansa passed her fingers above the blade before taking notice of the finger marks on her wrist. Just yesterday her crazy aunt had squeezed her wrist so tight that she thought she would break it. Because her aunt was crazy enough and jealous to think that her own niece was sleeping with Petyr, a man at the same age as her father.
She was so scared at that moment and she realized she might not be as safe as she thought she would be. She gripped the handle of the blade and realized she better start carrying it with her. She didn't know if she would ever have the courage to actually harm someone but just having it on her, she felt a little safer; knowing she could defend herself for the first time in her life.
Oberyn's Chambers, Red Keep — King's Landing, CrownLands — Few Hours Before the Trial by Combat
The Dornish Prince was enjoying some wine and tested the balance of his spear with one hand, his light armour waiting for him on top of the bed. On one of the chairs by his desk, Visenya was sitting and watching him.
She had come into his chambers from a secret passage, one that had surprised Oberyn when she first showed up in his room like that.
However, he quickly dismissed it and offered her some wine; always glad to have her company around.
Ellaria was not with him present, having chosen to visit the brothel again to clear her mind. She was not happy when Oberyn volunteered to be Tyrion's champion in the duel after Bronn refused because Cersei was paying him.
However, Visenya did not blame the woman. She loved Oberyn and she knew that the Mountain was dangerous and her lover was fully focused on getting his revenge for his sister.
"Is this all you are going to fight with?" she asked, motioning both for the spear but also the light armour.
She was never fond of that weapon, because it had a lot of setbacks in her mind. It was rather long and a fast, swift enemy could somehow avoid it and come closer to you. At the same time, only the blade at the tip was sharp and the rest was made of wood; easily something one could break with the right force or weapon.
"It sounds like you are worried about me," he said with his usual cocky smirk as he turned to face her.
She rolled her eyes.
"Firstly," she lifted one finger up. "If you die in the combat, the whole plan goes to ruin."
She then lifted a second finger.
"Secondly, if you die then Dorne will most likely come for revenge and if not Dorne then all 7 of your sand snakes," she explained, referring to the famous 7 daughters of his.
He chuckled in amusement and drank some wine.
"And here I thought you personally cared about my well-being," he said with sarcasm and walked her way. "I assure you, I do not intend to lose or die for that matter."
He handed her the spear.
"The length will allow me to attack him without getting too close and I will make sure to draw a confession before I finish him off."
Visenya took the spear from him and inspected it but an odd faint smell seemed to come from it. She turned it so the blade was facing her and she brought it closer to her face, eyebrows forming a crease between them as she took in the scent.
"Poison," she pointed out, impressing the Dornish Prince. "You plan to torture him during combat."
She connected the dots as she looked at him.
He smirked and saluted her good nose with a small movement of his goblet.
"You have a good nose, Princess," he complimented her and drank some wine.
She arched an eyebrow in his direction.
"What poison did you use? Demon's dance? Basilisk venom?"
Oberyn lowered his goblet.
"Demon's dance is too weak for my cause and too cowardly in my opinion. Basilisk's venom? Why would you suggest that?" he asked, intrigued by her knowledge of poisons.
"It induces a violent madness in any creature with warm blood. The Mountain is already mad enough, this would drive him crazy. It would make him reckless, short-tempered and most likely easier to draw a confession from," she explained.
His smirk remained.
"Well, I do not believe I am saying this but you are indeed full of surprises. Where and when did you obtain such insight on poisons?" he asked as he took the spear from her and walked to place it where it should be.
"A woman has hobbies, no one forbids that," she replied rather innocently, drinking from her goblet.
Oberyn chuckled as he placed the spear in its place and then turned to face her.
"And does your dear Lord Husband know of your... hobbies?" he asked, clearly interested in this new piece of information.
She swirled the red wine in her goblet, looking at it for a moment.
"Not to the full extent, he doesn't," she explained and looked up at him, seeing him pleased and also amused by her secrecy. "It's not what you think. Some things are simply more personal and he wouldn't understand."
He grabbed his chair and pulled it towards her, before leaving it right in front of her. He sat down and rested his one ankle over his knee.
"I truly thought you intended to poison him one day and save me the trouble," he joked, earning an I am not amused look from her. "May I ask where such a hobby came from?"
"You may and I may not answer," she said and remained quiet for almost a minute but let out a sigh in the end, debating and losing a quick internal battle with herself. "You are not the only one wishing revenge on Elia; I believe I told you that."
Oberyn was not stupid; he could connect the dots rather quickly.
"You study poisons to use them on the Mountain?" he asked, although he was certain that was the right answer.
She chose not to deny it.
"The Mountain, Robert and anyone that has chosen to harm my family or thinks they can harm them," she confessed. "Although I will not lie, Ser Gregor has proven to be... tough when it comes to my tests. I guess it is the size or I don't know which curse the gods gifted him with but he is not easy to take down."
He nodded his head and this time, he did not smirk nor mock her.
Instead, respect could be seen in his dark eyes; something rare.
"I understand and I will not lie, it is an admirable thing. However, you can rest assured; that the Mountain won't survive the trial. I will finish him off before the poison, once I have my confession."
"And what poison did you use?" she asked again, wishing to fill her curiosity.
Some of the poisons she used were rather common but also very subtle. She could not directly kill Ser Gregor with something strong or Tywin would get suspicious. However, milder poisons seemed not to work that effectively on the inhumanely big man, who worked for them.
"I have chosen manticore venom."
"That's a fast poison. The moment it reaches the heart, the Mountain will drop dead. I doubt you can get a confession before he dies," she said, mostly voicing out her thoughts and opinions on the subject.
He smirked.
"Ah, that's what most think but few truly know that one can temper with any poison if sorcery is involved," he explained, earning a surprised but also intrigued reaction from her.
Her white eyebrows shot up and she took a moment to remain silent and process what he had just told her.
"Sorcery?"
He kept smirking and winked at her.
"You are not the only one that is full of surprises, Princess."
She shook her head, not able to withstand his cocky expression but she would silently admit; that he did surprise her. She was, of course, not going to admit it out loud because she refused to feed his ego.
"Then I guess I should handle the guard," she pointed out.
"What guard?"
"There will be a guard to check the weapons for poison or anything that might be considered cheating," she informed him, smirking upon realizing that the cunning Red Viper did not think of that possibility. "I will put one of my people as a guard and you will be able to pass your spear undetected."
She stood up and placed her goblet on the study. He did the same, his eyes twinkling with mischief upon hearing how she would help him and how she would use her resources for it.
Her people.
A statement that proved she had more aces up her sleeve and more power than her husband truly knew. This pleased him, knowing that despite the marriage and the circumstances; she remained the formidable woman he had met all those years ago.
No wonder Mother was so fond of her; he thought in his mind and led her towards the passage she came from.
She stopped before it and turned to face him, their bodies in a rather close proximity. He felt tempted to try and corner her, just for the fun to get under her skin and tease her but he knew he would end up with a new scar if he dared to repeat that plan.
Instead, he watched her as they were now looking at one another; two unusual partners, who started as something more, became related by marriage of relatives and now worked together as sort of friends to take down a big threat.
Who would have thought?
"I hope you do not mind but I will add my own touch to your plan, to ensure that you win this battle and don't die," she said.
"I thought this battle was up for the gods to decide. Now where would the fairness be during the trial?" he joked.
She rolled her eyes, something that she found doing often in his presence.
"If that was the case, the Gods would have interfered in every combat but I do not see them doing that. Sometimes, one must simply do things on their own," she commented. "You might notice the Mountain be a little bit... slower, during the battle. It should give you better openings to strike with your spear but do not drop your guard either way."
He arched an eyebrow.
"What are you planning to do to him?"
"The Mountain has frequent headaches and does request often to drink milk of the poppy," she started, a sly smirk forming on her lips. "One might never know the true quantity of his obsession with the milk of poppy. Some to help with the headaches and a little bit more to reduce his reflexes."
To her surprise, Oberyn chuckled and then graced her with his pearly white smile.
"Are you sure you are not Dornish portraying to be a Targaryen?" he asked, sizing her up and down.
"Only in your dreams would that even be a scenario," she commented and pushed open the passage by the wall before taking a few steps inside.
"Oh, a lot of things take place in my dreams; I assure you," he said, his words reaching her despite the distance between them that was growing.
She waved her hand above her head, faintly dismissing him.
"I will see you at the Combat Grounds, Oberyn," she said and continued walking, letting him watch her retreating figure with a smirk on his face.
He shook his head as the passage closed. He walked away but came to a halt upon noticing something reflecting the sunlight from the window, something positioned on Visenya's chair.
As he approached, his smirk turned into a grin upon seeing one of her Valyrian steel daggers; the message behind it was clear as day to him.