"Eliana Stark is not guilty," The Hand of the King declared, but Catelyn barely heard him, all she saw was her daughter falling through the air in slow motion, and not even the entirety of the Lannister guard could have kept her from her daughter.
She bolted through the crowds, seeming immune to their snide whispers and sniggering at her daughter, elbowing and kneeing men and women to eliminate them from her path, desperately as she tried to weave through.
Jaime caught Catelyn's eyes, spotting the dread and fret flickering across her face, as she nodded in the direction of her daughter.
Heeding her trepidation and haste, Jaime surged forward finding himself unable to retain his apprehensiveness, sprinting and knocking away the men with his armoured chest and pointed elbows, not caring if they hollered in pain at the unforeseen attack upon them from behind. He had not run in such a fashion for a long time.
Bringing up the rear, Tyrion and Pod struggled behind Catelyn as they also attempted their way through the crowd - though Pod was doing the pushing and shoving rather than Tyrion, given his height and weakness when concerning the matter of aggression.
Though when they all managed to part the crowd to see Eliana, all four stopped in stupefaction at the state she'd landed herself in; all bloodied and beaten, not looking at all herself. Her lip was rounded with a pulsating bruise; on her cheek sat ripped skin, torn by the sheer force of Osmund's backhanded business. Then there were her ribs, she sat there wheezing like a dying peasant, meaning her ribs were either cracked or broken.
She was disarray, complete mishmash and chaos, falling into shambles before their very eyes.
Sparing his brother a look, Jaime observed the curt nod and soon he found himself starting forward once more but this time to find himself at the side of his lady. He curled her arms beneath her back and legs, lifting her, cradling her against his chest... enjoying the feel of her against him once again, being reminded all too well of their night at Harrenhal, only that time she wasn't quite as naked.
"Can you carry her?"
Jaime looked around for the voice, surprised as a warm hand gripped his shoulder. He met the cyan eyes of Catelyn Tully once more but no hostile lurked beneath their depths, only worry for her daughter's life. He knew Cersei was watching him as was his father, but he cared not.
He nodded hastily.
"Come on, brother, we need to get her to Qyburn." Tyrion complained, clapping his hands together for him to hasten. "Now."
However, before they could journey any further to take her away from there, horns sounded, followed by the unmistakable sound of marching. "Your Grace!" A small handful of Gold Cloaks shuffled towards where Joffrey stood, though their heavy woolen cloaks slowed them somewhat.
He rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by their sudden interruption considering his recent defeat at adding another head to his growing collection. "What do you want... a treat? It's over, we lost!" He sneered, his face turned violet with discomfort as he regarded his uncle carrying the Stark girl in his arms.
"It's the Dornish, Your Grace... they've sieged the Red Keep."
Despite being incapable of summoning such strength, his words were enough to rouse her from her drunken slumber to release herself of Jaime's arms and drop to the ground. If Oberyn was there in King's Landing, she needed to find him. Steadying her hands, Eliana's concentrated on her balance and breathed deeply before she started in the direction of the Red Keep, knowing that a pride of hungry lions were prowling right behind her.
Caterwauling reached her ears while she barely managed to hold herself upright as she stumbled down the deserted corridors, screams of agony ringing endlessly as she turned another corner to see the hideous, obsolete ungainly doors. However, there stood no guards to greet her and haul open the doors, she didn't know if she herself would manage such a task.
All she could do was try.
Her hands gripped the chilled iron ring, her fingers clenching around it and she sucked in another deep breath before yanking it towards her so she was able to peer inside the room that was lit by the dim glow of the lantern baskets swinging in the faint breeze.
His crimson silk cloak sat flowing across his legs, the colour of fire. He wore a hauberk armoured with overlapping discs of bright coppers, his greaves and bracers were light armoured as were the rest of his armour. Upon his head sat his helm, adorned with a copper sun and his steel round shield decorated with sigil of House Martell laid at his feet while he still clasped his eight foot tall spear with a steel spearhead spike.
He looked like a ruler. Like a King.
Lifting his arms to remove his helm, his dark eyes stilled upon her face as he allowed his lustrous black hair free with the few silver streaks that silvered through, soon feeling his eyes stinging as he continued to stare at her, he gaze lingering upon the scars lacing her face. In realisation, he began to shake with anger, clenching his fists as he rose from the throne
His timing couldn't be anymore perfect as Tywin entered the room, smirking exultantly as he watched the Viper trail down the steps, his eyes trained on the woman before him. "Prince Oberyn..." He called the Viper's attention to him, "Your arrival is most unexpected."
Then the cavalry arrived; Joffrey and Cersei marching through the doors with the small council traipsing behind them just as Jaime and Catelyn, Tyrion and Pod also entered to see Oberyn Martell staring down Tywin Lannister in the centre of the Great Hall.
"I came with haste as it appears you have taken someone from me." He noted, his voice sharp and his jaw clenched, reaching the last few steps.
Jaime froze in his place when his eyes landed upon the Viper stood before him, his heart pranged to see his lady staring at the Viper, her back to him and everyone else apart from the man with the barbed tongue. "What is he doing here?" He muttered, dismissing the look Catelyn gave him as he continued to watch apprehensively.
Gradually, Oberyn neared Eliana, his eyes once again falling upon her to witness Lannister guards encase around her, blocking her from his rightful access. His blood boiled at the sight of his beloved being taken from him and in the clutches of the Lannisters, just like Elia! "Do not deny me of her!" He hissed, his eyes narrowing and gliding to Tywin and then Joffrey.
Tywin thought for a moment; either he'd let Oberyn have what he wanted and prevent a revolt he sourly didn't need or neither want, or, he denied him of Eliana and start a war that would only end in pain and more losses than he would be able to count. Where was his win-win scenario? ... He didn't have one, because either way Tywin would be losing out to a Dornishman and his wrath. "Ever the Viper," He mused thoughtfully, pondering his options still, clasping his hands together and the guards danced away.
Joffrey made a noise, "No!" He declared, pushing past his grandfather, tired of watching his family lose once again - it isn't fair! "... I'll have all your heads on spikes!"
"Not today."
His eyes flew to Tywin, narrowing and flashing dangerously as he regarded his grandfather. Not knowing what else to do, Joffrey glanced over at his mother who looked gormless... they didn't care of the loss of Eliana to the Viper, but Joffrey wanted her head, just like he'd claimed her father's and brother's.
"Come away everybody... Lady Eliana is free, leave her to become re-acquainted with Prince Oberyn." Tywin ordered, turning to face the large crowd rallied behind him, intently watching and waiting for something to happen. As they started to disperse, Tywin looked back to Eliana. "I would break fast would you on the morrow, Lady Eliana... we have much to discuss, I expect to see you."
And with his final words, Tywin followed the crowd out of the Great Hall and began his journey to his tower where he would wait to play his wild card on the morrow and wreck the serenity that had been restored in those few moments that had passed.
Though four stilled remained, Catelyn would never leave her now that she was back and safe and as for Jaime, he couldn't bear to move... and so allowed his chest to ache all the more. Tyrion had found the entire ordeal rather amusing to the eye and soon found he needed to no longer stay, knowing that Eliana was in more than safe hands, tugging Pod along with him.
Catelyn stared, transfixed, as she studied Oberyn's movements - slow and anticipated, like he'd never thought he would see her again. Eliana didn't move, she was frozen to her spot, her eyes glued to Oberyn as he continued towards her, dropping his spear.
They stared at one another, not knowing what to say or how to say it... they had been parted for too long.
She looked so defeated and ready to give up all hope she had salvaged... but the couldn't let her let them win, not the Lannisters. His hands went to touch her face but she flinched and he jolted backwards out of concern yet he didn't stop. "Shh..." He muttered, his hands falling upon her neck, watching her silently. "Oh, my beautiful she-wolf..." Oberyn whispered, tucking the loose strand of hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear before he pressed his forehead against hers. "My winter rose..."
Slowly but surely, he pressed his lips against hers, allowing his warmth to spread through her body, settling her somewhat. He smiled even more when her hand weaved through his long, silky hair and down his neck. He kissed her deeply, drawing her closer, wanting nothing more than to have every part of her against him, near him.
"No..."
Looking to her right, Catelyn frowned when she saw the look upon Jaime's face, he was seething with fury. His fist was perfectly white as he clenched it tightly shut, almost shaking while he observed Oberyn and Eliana. Did he love her? Was this jealousy?
Feeling conflicted between either comforting the man or relishing in the feeling of him knowing what he feels like to lose the one you love... instead, she merely placed her hand around his forearm and squeezed, making him look at her. "You love her." She told him, satisfied with her assessment when he didn't even bother to deny it.
Blinking, Jaime looked at her and bit his lip before turning back to look at them. It hurt, it ached... it was a non-existent pain that he had never been familiar with before, not even when he was with Cersei, this was something new all together. And he already loathed it. Not bothering to reply, Jaime shrugged off her hand and exited the Great Hall.
"Well, the good news is you escaped with minor injuries than you could have sustained," Qyburn started, wiping his hands clean as he regarded Eliana with his beady eyes. "However, that being said you have two or three cracked ribs from my diagnosis, thankfully you haven't sustained any injuries to your lungs - the best thing for you, seeing as that area is rather tender, is to rest for now."
Oberyn smiled, clutching Eliana's hand tightly, his eyes not trailing from her face. He couldn't believe she was right there before him, he couldn't believe she was real and that he'd finally found her again. Thanks to his brother, he'd imagined the worse. "She'll be fine, Maester Qyburn..." He assured.
"Oh, I'm no Maester." Qyburn chuckled, shaking his head.
That made his smokey eyes bolt in his direction, narrowing in perplexity. "Surely- "
Eliana interrupted Oberyn, her other hand falling upon his knee. "Qyburn was a Maester until the Citadel took his chain." She explained softly, watching the strange, little man, though she was thankful they had taken her to him rather than to Pycelle who would only do nothing and dither, allowing his hands to linger upon her skin longer than necessary.
Waving bandages in Oberyn's direction, Qyburn sighed. "Could you?"
Oberyn lifted her carefully as he wrapped bandages around her ribs, tying them taut and secure, saying nothing more... there was pity in his eyes, knowing the pain she'd put herself through all too well.
"Lady Eliana," Qyburn spoke, calling her to him. "This is liniment, to pacify the bruising to some extent." He explained, handing her a small pot of an oily substance, it had a trenchant, herbal smell to it.
"Thank you, Qyburn."
He nodded respectively before fleeing the room.
Almost as soon as he had departed, Catelyn erupted. "Oh, Lia." She fussed, her heart aching as she stared at the beaten face belonging to her daughter. How she wanted to yell at her for being so careless, so stupid to fight in the first place but also, how grateful she was that she was alive. "Why did you do it... you stupid girl."
"Mother." She rolled her, watching as her mother rinsed the soaked cloth before moving to press it against her facial wounds.
The word made Catelyn want to cry; the last word her son had spoken before Roose Bolton put an end to his life, his last word. Mother. "Do not say you're fine, because quite clearly you're not." Her tone was sharp and firm, unwavering.
Eliana was not fine. Blood was drizzling from her head, from the front of her scalp, but Catelyn knew they almost always bled the worst, which was some reassurance and there was another cut across her cheek bone, slowly turning purple but it would most likely scar. Her face was so bruised, it pained her to glance at her daughter.
"This will never happen again," Catelyn warned with such a tender fierceness, next time Lia volunteered herself for anything, she would have to go through her own mother, but she doubted she'd be so stupid to consider something like that again.
"I like your lady mother already, Lia..." Oberyn chuckled, rising and allowing his eyes to meet Catelyn's as he walked around the room towards where she stood, waiting. "Though I do not believe we've met."
Catelyn's lips thinned until they were nothing. She still found herself cautious of the man gliding towards her with a wide smile, she was unfamiliar with the Dornish but she wondered if she could place her trust in Oberyn, if her daughter found trust within such a man, then could she? "No, I don't believe we have."
"I did not discourage nor did I deny the truth in Lia's words when she told me of you and how beautiful you were, but now, I truly know where she's inherits her beauty." Oberyn informed Catelyn, his eyes shining and smile widening.
Catelyn's eyebrows perked in intrigue, "Is this flattery?" She glanced over at her daughter who merely stared at their first meeting, looking rather amused by the situation Catelyn had found herself in after more than fifteen years of marriage, feeling somewhat peculiar with compliments. She looked back at Oberyn, to see him smiling at her. "... Thank you."
Oberyn collected her hand in his own, pressing his lips to the soft, chilled skin sat there before he properly introduced himself. "My lady, I am Oberyn Martell, son of Lewyn, and Prince of Dorne."
"So I've heard." Catelyn commented, her tone strained and false.
He raised his eyebrows and nodded, "And what has Lia told you of me?" He saw the look upon Catelyn's face and decided she knew of their intimacy which he failed to decide whether it was a good or bad. "You will love the Dornish heat." He noted, holding her hand tightly as he switched the subject skillfully enough to make her more comfortable. "It will do your skin well, I doubt there are many hot days in the North."
"We've had our share, don't you worry." Catelyn assured, laughing as his face contorted in distaste at the news of Northern summers.
"No sun is like the Dornish." Oberyn commented wryly, smiling at his words as if it were some victory though his smile soon disappeared into a grim line. "I am sorry for your husband's murder, my lady. Ned Stark was a good man... " He frowned in memory, looking to Eliana with a soft yet distant look. "I met him at the tourney in Harrenhal, he was an honourable man then and I'm fairly certain he hadn't changed until his death - he didn't deserve a death as the one he received and neither was he guilty... but your sons were too young to die."
The sensation was queer; all her boys were dead yet as much as she wanted to, Catelyn knew there was nothing she could do... Robb, Bran and Rickon... her boys, her little boys. Her heart ached, if only she could give her live for their, if only. Her eyes shifted to her daughter's face, wondering if she had informed the Martells of such things that didn't concern them.
Oberyn caught her sharp look. "This is not Lia's fault - she sort comfort in writing to me." Oberyn stopped Catelyn, concerned that she would turn on her daughter for speaking of family matter's to others who were meant to know of such things. "I wished to know who had caused my lady so much pain in order to put a righteous end to such behaviour before another ploy emerged."
Eliana leaned forward, her jaw tensing at the change in subject, "And we need to kill the weed before it infests the garden, before it uproots the bulbs and beheads the flowers." She contended lightly, putting it more politely than she would've liked but she knew Catelyn wouldn't approve.
"No one else will die." Catelyn implored, not looking as though she understood what her daughter and Oberyn were getting at.
"Mother, how certain can we be?" Eliana complained, her eyes zeroing upon her mother, "Sansa and Arya's lives are still threatened, Arya more so... the longer we dither in the Lion's Den, the more danger we are putting them in. We need to act quickly but silently if we are to actually be safe."
He shrugged, "I have a minimal number of troops with me, not enough to do anything dire..." Oberyn stated, moving to pour himself out a goblet of wine and bringing the ridge to his lips. "Though, my two closest companions will gladly help us, it will take more than three."
"Help?" Catelyn questioned, her gaze flickering from Eliana and Oberyn. What is this? "What exactly do we need help with?"
"Your vengeance."
His door was thrown open with such a ferocity that Tywin almost jolted in his seat, disturbing his wax seal as it laid upon a newly written missive. However, thankfully Tywin's hand was as steady as it had ever been, not broken for a second as he met the astonishing iridescent, flashing eyes.
Jaime said nothing as he stalked into the room, his armour wearing heavy upon his body as he entered the room at his father's request. Jaime knew he wasn't pleased about his attempted impulse of honour to aid a Stark, his face said it all but he couldn't care less, he was so conflicted... Oberyn Martell!
Tywin was silent for a long while.
It was unsettling notion as he completed his writing and sealing another two missives before he finally decided to speak. "... You're a fool, never have I ever known such an embarrassment, and what makes it worse is that you're my son." Tywin said, pushing the missives aside to glance up at his son, eyeing him as he paced. "You're lucky you're my son, you should be lucky I haven't had your head mounted upon a spike."
Tywin's eyes followed Jaime as he moved back and forth, noting how agitated his appeared to be. "Did you even think your little outburst through? You've shown a weakness, you've made our House look weak - a laughing stock. You'd be lucky if Joffrey didn't strip you of you cloak just like he did with Selmy, you'd be bloody lucky! You call yourself my son?" He growled, truly disappointed in Jaime's chivalry to Eliana rather than his loyalty to family.
Jaime, however, continued to pace.
"Nonetheless, you will still marry her."
The words shook Jaime both physically and mentally; he'd stopped in his pacing and instead stood staring into nothing as he processed his father's words carefully, careful to not make assumptions... slow rage formed within him while he closed his eyes as an attempt to contain it. "You cannot be serious... I cannot marry her now!" He exclaimed in utter outrage at his father's plan to continue with the marriage despite the sudden complication.
"I can, and I will."
Jaime laughed, finding his father's words amusing but also out of irritation, knowing he wouldn't listen to his needs on the matter. "By risking an open rebellion with the Dornish? Are you deluded?" Jaime pressed, concerned that his father had finally lost all his sense to forge powerful alliances.
Clearing his throat as an annoyed gesture, Tywin closed his eyes and opened them to lay his gaze on Jaime once more. "If we lose Eliana Stark, we also lose the North... which means its land, its army and its people - it means we lose." In the eyes of Tywin, losing was never an option - simply create barriers that stop the opposition, make them firm and constant.
"And you think Oberyn Martell will simply hand her over and all is forgiven?!" Jaime's hands flew into the air out of agitation that Tywin was refusing to listen to him, refusing to listen to his side. "He will kill all of us before that happens, how can you be so shrouded to even suggest such a thing - I won't marry her, not while she's with him - I - I can't."
"Oh Jaime..." Tywin chastised sourly, his jaw clenching and un-clenching as an attempt to pacify his growing vexation. "Please do not tell me what I think I already know - you stupid man. Women are even more dangerous than we will ever be, they know how to manipulate us into getting what they desire most and here I am, sitting and thinking I actually taught you something that would come of use to you, but you've neglected to follow them. You and your bloody honour!"
"I'm in love with her." Jaime confessed, completely and utterly hopeless to prevent the words. He didn't care if it was wrong, he didn't care - he was in love with her, she'd wormed her way into his heart unknowingly and left him aching, he didn't even realise until it was too late... until she was in the arms of another man. Too late.
But Tywin wouldn't have that. "My son will not love a Stark!"
"But you wish for your son to marry one!" Jaime challenged, his own voice rising higher as he neared the desk. "I'd thought you'd be glad to hear such a thing - to put the rumours of Cersei and I to bed for once and all." He concluded, his words guarded but sensible. "... But of course, nothing can make you happy."
"Jaime- "
Jaime was exhausted of listening to his father go on and on, it was his turn to listen and understand how it felt to be treated so lowly. "Ever since mother died you've been a sinful old grouch! You are an indescribably demented reprobate and a revolting heart-sickening parasite, you inept fiend." He raged, roaring on and on, his anger finally bursting through. "You don't love me... or Cersei and absolutely not Tyrion, all you seem to give a second thought about is legacy." He yelled, almost screaming in the face of Tywin Lannister. "Legacy? Fuck legacy!"
Tywin's hands came down upon the wood, the sound of wood against skin clapping through the air, leaving Tywin's hand screaming in agony though he barely took notice as he regarded his son. "You're my son!" He roared, his eyes trained upon Jaime as he held his high as if in defiance. "And you will marry her."