A Vow Without Honor

The Trial

Pycelle gaped at him a moment, looking like some fish he'd pulled from the Greenblood once. But he knew there was a calculating mind beneath that façade. The Grand Maester had only ever served himself. It just so happened that aligning his interests with the Lannisters often worked in his favor.

"I...I don't see what that has to do with anything," the old man stammered, looking between him and Tywin.

"Well, clearly you never would have cut it. So, tell me, how did you come to lose it?" Oberyn continued, growing impatient with Pycelle's role as an idiot. "Was it when Tyrion locked you away in the dungeons for not fulfilling your duty to the Crown?"

There were murmurs in the audience. Pycelle's chains began to jingle as he sputtered on the stand.

"I have served the king and the Hand faithfully for years, and I will not have my station besmirched by false accusations brought on by traitors!"

Oberyn leaned forward in his chair, smiling as his prey cornered itself. "Would you say then that you hold a grudge toward the former Hand, and that it would bring you great pleasure to see him suffer as you have?"

Pycelle turned a hilarious shade of red.

"Are you questioning the validity of the Grand Maester's testimony?" Mace Tyrell sputtered somewhere to his left. The chairs were positioned so that they could not quite see wone another when they looked over. A rather intelligent decision on Tywin's part. He would give him that.

"I am merely questioning the anger of a wounded man. That is all," Oberyn replied, not taking his eyes off the man in question. "He was here simply to testify to the poison used, after all. We do not require the commentary on Lord Tyrion's disposition. I only need so many people to tell me that he is an angry little man."

Someone laughed, though it was quickly covered up by a cough.

"I must admit, though, I find it curious that you possess such a rare poison as the Long Farewell."

"I am a Maester of the Citadel, tasked with keeping the knowledge of the land and expanding it if I can."

Oberyn nodded. "An honorable position. Indeed, I attempted the discipline in my youth, but I've not the patience for it. Still, the knowledge of such substances has always fascinated me. I am actually quite familiar with the poison used on the late king. It has an antidote, though it is only effective to a certain point, early on, before the liquid has saturated the blood. But it is difficult to procure, far more so than the poison itself."

"Is there a point to this, Prince Oberyn?" Tywin asked, turning to him. The man was growing impatient with his antics. Truth be told, he was surprised it had taken him this long.

"I had the opportunity to walk the Grand Maester's chambers the other day, and I found it strange that you do not possess this antidote. Surely, Grand Maester, if you are to keep such a vile poison in close proximity to the royal family, you would want to have it on hand."

Pycelle started to play with his chains, hunching over a little more. "It is possible that Tyrion took the dosage as well, so as to foil any attempt to save the king, should he have been exposed."

"So, it is only possible that Tyrion took the antidote, but certain that he took the poison. Is there someone else in the keep looking to take from you? Could they not have taken the poison as well?"

"It is...I suppose...many have access to the chambers..."

Oberyn grinned. "You have my thanks, Grand Maester, for your honesty. Might I suggest next time you keep spare vials. These are dangerous times we live in."