The dinner took place in one of the less formal halls of the Red Keep. The Prince of Dorne had adamantly refused to let Vlad invite them outside the palace. According to him, the best cooks were already there, and it made no sense to complicate something that was already working.
The hall, spacious and adorned with carved columns, was lit by a large window that let in the light of the setting sun. Oberyn had chosen it for convenience and privacy. There were no musicians or jesters, only the sound of wine and the quiet murmur of servants.
At that moment, Vlad was not Vlad Drakul. His appearance had changed completely, becoming almost a reversed shadow of himself.
His hair and beard, once blond, were now black, and his yellow eyes had turned a pale blue. His name was Lukard Tepes. He had chosen it more out of whim than necessity, he simply couldn't resist the irony.
According to the story he had crafted, he was a knight from Volantis who had won several tournaments in Westeros before becoming a mercenary. And the best part was, all these events were properly documented for anyone who cared to look.
At first, he had planned to attend the wedding as a bodyguard to one of his progeny, who had dealings with the Lannisters, but the encounter with the Martell's had given him a better excuse to move closer to the center of power.
Oberyn and Ellaria were surprised at first by his change in appearance, but they understood the secrecy. After all, Vlad was officially an enemy of the Crown.
And still, the dinner proceeded without incident.
Ellaria spoke freely, sharing anecdotes from her travels along the Rhoyne. Oberyn added details and laughed with that lightness so characteristic of him. Vlad remained silent at first, but eventually joined in with brief, sometimes blunt remarks that brought smiles to Oberyn's lips and glances from Ellaria.
They talked about wine, music, pleasures, and wars, always wrapped in a thin veil of irony. Vlad firmly rejected the couple's suggestive hints for a more intimate encounter, but rather than being offended, they seemed amused by his refusals.
They treated it like a game they still believed they could win.
The dinner was peaceful, without the stiffness of official banquets.
Everything was going well. In fact, Vlad was enjoying the couple's company. As a monarch, he rarely found people he could call friends, but Oberyn just might be one, if circumstances allowed it.
But unfortunately, peace never lasted long in King's Landing.
Just as they were calling it a night, a sharp knock echoed through the double doors of the hall. A visibly flustered Tyrion Lannister made his entrance, his face flushed and hair disheveled. He had spent the entire day tirelessly searching for the Prince of Dorne.
—There you are, Prince —he said, bowing his head with a mix of exasperation and relief—The Crown has sent envoys all day to welcome you formally. I even began to fear something had happened to you.
Oberyn raised his cup in a gesture of false sympathy.
—My humble apologies, Lord Tyrion. The distractions in this city are... irresistible.
Tyrion's eyes landed on Vlad on Lukard with curiosity, but he asked no questions.
—The king sends his regards, my lord. And the Lannisters as well.
—How kind —Oberyn replied, pointing to an empty chair with the tip of his dagger—Join us. The wine is Dornish, but I promise it won't bite.
Tyrion shook his head.
—I only need a moment of your time. In private.
An awkward silence followed. Ellaria brought her cup to her lips to hide a smile; Vlad remained impassive, enjoying his wine with feigned indifference.
—As you wish, my lord —Oberyn conceded, rising to his feet with deliberate grace—But don't keep my new friend waiting too long —he emphasized the words as he guided Tyrion to the door—Lukard has fascinating stories; he spent years working in Essos.
Tyrion cast one last look at Vlad before following the prince.
The door closed softly behind Tyrion, who walked alongside Oberyn through the corridors of the Red Keep, away from the hall where Ellaria remained waiting. As their footsteps echoed against the cold stone, they headed for a small study, where the light of a single lamp illuminated the walls. Once inside, Tyrion turned to face Oberyn, his eyes fixed, awaiting the prince's words.
—Very well —said Tyrion with a sigh, taking a seat and trying to relax—Sorry for tearing you away from such pleasant company —he added in his usual mocking tone, but the prince only stared at him in silence.
Tyrion nodded, uncomfortable at seeing Oberyn unwilling to exchange jests. So he decided to follow protocol instead.
—The king greatly appreciates your long journey to attend his wedding —said Tyrion in a flat tone.
—We'd best speak plainly —replied Oberyn with a grimace—Joffrey feels insulted. After all, I'm only the second son.
—Well, from one second son to another... —Tyrion let out a bitter half-smile—I grew up used to being the family's disgrace.
Oberyn laughed without humor. Seeing that his attempt to ease the tension had failed, Tyrion grew more serious.
—Why have you come to King's Landing?
—I was invited to the royal wedding —Oberyn replied with a shrug, feigning indifference.
—Weren't we going to speak plainly?
Oberyn remained silent for a few seconds, staring out the window. When he spoke again, his voice dripped with venom:
—The last time I came to the capital was many years ago —he began, his voice heavy with restrained anger—For another wedding. My sister Elia's... to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.
He paused briefly, just long enough to regain control.
—My sister loved him. She bore his children, dressed them, cradled them, nursed them. Elia wouldn't let the wet nurse touch them. And the handsome and noble Rhaegar... —he spat the words with contempt—Left her for another woman. Started a war. And that war ended right here, when your father's army took the city.
—I wasn't even present —murmured Tyrion quietly.
—They butchered those children —Oberyn went on, eyes fixed on some invisible point, as if reliving the scene—My dear nephews, hacked to pieces and wrapped in Lannister cloaks.
He slowly turned to face Tyrion.
—And my sister...? Do you know what they did to her?
Tyrion lowered his head, unsure whether out of shame or respect.
—I asked you a question —Oberyn repeated, his voice burning with anger.
—I've heard rumors —Tyrion replied, not looking up.
—So have I —said Oberyn, and this time his voice was as sharp as a dagger—There's one I hear again and again: that Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, raped Elia... and cut her in half with that great sword of his.
—I wasn't there —Tyrion repeated, weakly.
—I know what happened —Oberyn said with conviction—If the Mountain killed my sister, then your father gave the order.
Tyrion remained silent. The tension in the air was palpable, but he couldn't find the right words. Oberyn's rage was so raw and direct that he couldn't contradict it, especially when he knew it was true.
Not firsthand, of course, but he didn't doubt for a second that his father was capable of such a thing.
Oberyn decided it was time to end the conversation.
—Tell your father I've arrived —he said, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes—And tell him that the Lannisters aren't the only ones who pay their debts.
Tyrion nodded, saying nothing more, and rose slowly from his seat. He knew there was nothing else he could add.
A few minutes later, when Tyrion returned to the dining hall, Oberyn offered one final courtesy:
—A cup of wine? —offered Oberyn, though his tone made it clear it was mere formality.
Tyrion returned a slight nod in recognition of the gesture, but his reply was quick and firm:
—No, I must take my leave. The night is wearing on, and I have other matters to attend to.
With one last glance at Oberyn and Ellaria, Tyrion withdrew again, leaving Vlad alone with them. The door closed softly behind him, and the atmosphere in the room returned to its earlier calm.
Oberyn had lost his good humor, but the wine and Ellaria's presence seemed enough to soothe him. As for the conversation with Tyrion, Vlad had heard every word, one of the perks of vampiric senses.
Besides, he had no doubt a full transcript would be delivered to his bed that very night, courtesy of one of his progeny.
They continued drinking and talking for a few more hours, until darkness overtook them, and it was time to end the evening.
Before parting, Vlad offered to accompany Ellaria on her walks through the castle and gardens as her personal bodyguard, a cover, of course.
Oberyn gladly accepted. It was the perfect excuse for Vlad to move freely through the Red Keep and spend the entire day with them.