The Provenance || Jon Snow | Game of Thrones

4.06

Gabrielle finds that time moves faster when she's escaping assassination attempts--if that's the only thing she's learned in the past weeks.  Indeed, after the small council meeting a week prior, Cersei had stepped up her game in attempting to murder Gabrielle.  First by poisoning--did she truly think she could poison the potioneer?--then by 'accident'--thank god she could swim--and then by physical force--the assassin had not lived to see the next day.  And though it obviously wasn't Cersei's intent to foster as much, Gabrielle thinks that she far prefers this lifestyle, if only for the challenge it poses to her mental and physical strength.  She wonders what Cersei will try next.

Feeling more at ease with the amount of times she's saved her own life, Gabrielle is not so inclined to lock herself in her chamber any longer, but finding herself prowling through the halls in search for entertainment.  And though rather mundane, she finds that today it is best found in the throne room, with Varys at her side as they sidestep around secrets in their conversation.  Around them, the final builders of the stands vacate the room, marking the first day of the trial with the early morning sunrise.  She'd always been an early riser.

Gabrielle leans into the bench behind her--where Tyrion will soon be chained--as she hears familiar footsteps from the edge of the throne room.  Encroaching quickly, she's not surprised to find Oberyn's arm wrapping around her shoulders as he too leans into the bench, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head--adorned heavily in her role as Mock Queen.

"Prince Oberyn," Varys nods in subtle greeting.

"Lord Varys," the warrior returns with a look of curiosity.

But Varys shakes off the title, "Only Varys.  I'm not actually a nobleman.  No one is under obligation to call me lord."

"And yet everyone does," Oberyn grins and Varys shrugs with a true sense of humility.

"You seem quite knowledgeable about the Unsullied," Varys comments as his eyebrow quirks in question, "Did you spend much time in Essos?"

"Five years."

"May I ask why?" Varys petitions, and Gabrielle has to grin as these two men try to discover the other's loyalties and intentions.

"'Tis a big and beautiful world.  Most of us live and die in the same corner where we were born and never get to see any of it," Oberyn responds with a grin.  "I don't want to be most of us."

"Most of us aren't princes," Varys reminds him of the hindrances most men face.

But Oberyn's not so inclined to respond to the taunt--however true--as he remarks, "You are from Essos.  Where?  Lys?"  Varys's eyebrows jump in shock of the man's correct guess, obviously wondering how Oberyn knew.  Oberyn grins, "I have an ear for accents."

"I've lost my accent entirely," Varys rebukes suspiciously.

And yet Oberyn only grins like the true seducer he is, "I have an ear for that as well.  How did you get here?"

"It's a long story."

"One you don't like telling people."

Varys's eyes sharpen slightly upon the prince, responding, "People I trust."

"Like Gabrielle?" Oberyn asks, pulling slightly away from the goddess to gesture to her.

"She's one of the few," Varys responds without a thought and Gabrielle grins, almost victoriously.

"My paramour Ellaria, she would find you very interesting.  You should come to the brothel and meet her.  We brought our own wine, not the swill they serve here.  We have some lovely boys on retainer, but...You did like boys before?"  Varys just shakes his head at the man, proving to shock Oberyn for the first time.  "Really?  Girls?  I hope you won't be offended when I say I never would have guessed.  Gabrielle, here, I knew she wouldn't like girls...because she grew up around many of them.  Didn't mean I didn't try."  Oberyn laughs at his rather bland joke before pausing and reverting to confusion at all the signs pointing in one direction, only for the opposite to be true.  He makes sure his ears are working, "Really, not boys?"