Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 109: I Will Not Let You Get Away With This

―At King's Landing―

Red Keep ― Royal Gardens...

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger... I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger... I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."

Daveth stood amongst the invited guests that filled the gardens, watching with pride as Myrcella and Trystane became man and wife. The gathering consisted of his children, his brother, his mother-in-law, both his uncles, the Tyrells, Prince Oberyn and Ellaria Sand, and Septon Bryndan was asked to officiate the ceremony. The only person not in attendance was Prince Doran, who was unable to travel due to his gout. He had sent a raven the day before, however, wishing his son and daughter-in-law a life of happiness together.

"My lords and ladies, Your Grace, I now present the Prince and Princess of Dorne, Trystane and Myrcella Martell!"

As the party retired to the adjacent feast, Daveth watched Myrcella kiss Trystane's cheek. He had seen his sister this happy in a long time, not since she was a little girl. But he resigned himself to the fact that she was now a grown woman...and that the newlyweds would inevitably have to return to Dorne. At least they would be staying in King's Landing for a little longer. Long enough for his now-brother-in-law to nominate someone to take his place as Master of Laws.

"Wook, auntie! Fow you."

Daveth turned in time to see Cassana thrust a white lily into Myrcella's hands and a gushing Myrcella warmly embraces her niece, whispering a thank you into the ear of the young princess.

"Welcome to the family, Princess," Oberyn said.

"Thank you all so much for being here on this special day."

"So," Jaime asked half-jokingly as he sat next to Daveth, "is it still Myrcella Baratheon to you...? Or is it Myrcella Martell?"

The thought made Daveth shudder. "That last part just doesn't really roll off the tongue, uncle. But if Myrcella's happy, then I suppose I don't care what she calls herself now."

"If he hurts her, I'll break his legs."

"Break his legs, you piss off Dorne. But I suppose I see where you're coming from."

"Do you now? Are you envisioning a future where some young lad whisks Cassana away back to his castle? Oh, and what will Sansa think when Lyonel comes of age and takes a woman to wife?"

"Hey, that's my son and daughter you're talking about!"

"Seems fatherhood has changed you, Your Grace," Ser Loras chimed in. "For the better, I mean. You seem more... relaxed."

"In a way. When you have a wife and children of your own one day, you'll understand what I mean."

The Knight of the Flowers nodded unenthusiastically. "I understand I've got my own wedding coming soon. Ser Kevan tells me that the bride is quite lovely."

Okay, that sounded very sarcastic – given his... "preferences". Well, best learn to get used to it and make the best of your situation, Ser Loras; even your sister, your father, and Lady Olenna all understand the importance of producing an heir to keep House Tyrell from fading away. "She is. Janei is eighteen and I'm sure she will give you many sons in the months and years to come. Tell me, are you looking forward to your wedding?"

"Yes. Very much."

You are a terrible liar.

The three turned to see Margaery and Tommen sitting together, the former trading gossip with several of her handmaidens. Even from a distance, Daveth could see what was going on; his sister-in-law giggling like a schoolgirl, his brother blushing and scratching the back of his head in embarrassment, the comments about breaking the record. She was bragging about her future husband's libido. "And I said, 'Darling, surely four times is enough, are you trying to set a new record?' And Tommen says, 'Well, what is the record? I'm sure we can break it.'"