The Provenance || Jon Snow | Game of Thrones

4.03

She's rather stuffed into her corset when she finally wanders her way back to Oberyn and Ellaria, who've spent a rather good deal of time watching the contortionist perform in lacking clothing.  Honestly, Gabrielle finds it far too amusing than it is, though that's likely because of the amount of sugar she has in her system, all in due cause of the chocolate that proved to be too good for her self control.  She steps up beside them and grins at the girl who worked at the whorehouse, remarking to the two, "She's very good."

    They only then seem to notice the Baelish beside them, her rather cheeky smile a pleasant sight at such endless festivities.  Oberyn responds with a grin, "She is, Lady Baelish."

    "Please, it's Gabrielle to friends," the girl responds with a smirk of long-term friendship that Oberyn would not deny wanting.  But beside her, the wolf begins to whine as he stares at the Dornishman and Gabrielle laughs, introducing him as well, "Oh, and this is Trident."

"I've never seen a wolf that big," Ellaria mutters in awe of the beast she cannot help watching, the wolf rising to Gabrielle's waist, and she is not a short woman by any means.

"Oh, that's because it's a direwolf," Gabrielle responds with an air of nonchalance at the supposedly extinct animal south of the Wall, though her eyes shine mischievously with wrongdoing.

Oberyn grins as he notices it and connects the dots, stepping forward, "They say the King in the North's direwolf got loose before they beheaded Robb Stark."

"Oh—" Gabrielle mutters with a wide-eyed, innocent expression, "I sure hope so.  No animal should face death for the actions of its owner.  Isn't that right, Trident?"

The direwolf has the gall to whine and twist its head in question of Gabrielle, its golden eyes piercing her green ones as she smirks widely at the intelligent animal.  She hands the animal a bit of her food before turning back to gaze at the dancers, all while Ellaria and Oberyn watch her, the latter of which grins as he recognizes the loyalty this girl hides.

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    Tywin strolls with Cersei at his side as she bares a grin of great amusement and equal amount of victory.  Her watches her from the corner of his eye, and though the man is known to be well-informed, he cannot begin to understand why she's so content all of a sudden, remarking bluntly, "You're in rather a good mood."

"I suppose I am," Cersei smirks.

And Tywin knows better than to ask when she's in a devious mood as this, "I won't ask why."

"Small pleasures," she shrugs without any more information, not faltering in her steps even as she notices the rather obvious group heading in their direction from further into the festival.  Indeed, the two Dornes would be radiant enough, but with the blonde target and massive wolf, the trio and mutt make up a scene that draws the attention away from Joffrey and the royal wedding.

"Your Grace!  Lord Tywin!" Oberyn Martell greets with a happiness they all know to be fake, especially if rumors are true.

But Cersei's father knows how to play the game, nodding in greeting, "Prince Oberyn. Lady Baelish."

"I don't believe you have met Ellaria," Oberyn gestures to his scandalously-dressed paramour who just grins dangerously, "This is the Lord Hand, Tywin Lannister, and Cersei Lannister, the Queen Regent. I suppose it is 'former Queen Regent' now."

The paramour curtsies slowly, "My lord.  My lady."

"Charmed," Tywin responds shortly, just as Cersei rather bluntly barks, "Can't say I've ever met a Sand before."