Chapitre 14: GOT : Chapter 14
( Arianne II )
Arianne turned her back to the courtyard, her fists clenched, as if she had gotten a public humiliation.
Although that wasn't the case, it wasn't far from it. The cheers from the crowd beyond the walls of Sunspear had made her uneasy, but the sheer confidence that radiated from her brother made her feel even worse.
As she made her way to the gardens, Nymeria and Tyene followed suit, with Nymeria hiding a grin as she turned to face them.
"What do you make of him?" she suddenly asked.
"Of who?" Nymeria answered nonchalantly.
Arianne rolled her eyes.
"Quentyn, of course!"
"Right." Nymeria chuckled. "I don't know."
"He isn't what I expected to be." Tyene just shrugged.
"Thanks for your valuable comments." Arianne growled in return.
"What do you want us to say?" Nymeria asked. "We've barely seen him. Sure, he changed physically, but I didn't expect him to stay chubby forever. Nor did I expect him to be completely dense considering what we've heard."
"Nym is right, Ari. A physical change doesn't mean much considering it has been eight years or more since we've seen him." Tyene added.
Arianne sighed. They were right. Yet, something didn't sit right with her.
"What about his surname?" she asked. "The Frog has to mean something?"
"Mayhaps it has something to do with the frog in his pouch." Nym shrugged. "Nevertheless, I shall leave you here. There is a feast tonight, and a tourney tomorrow. And I intend to not get humiliated by our dear Obara again. Time to train, get my belly full, have a good fuck, and go to sleep."
Arianne just waved her off as she left.
Turning towards Tyene, she then asked her:
"Don't tell me you have a tourney to prepare for?"
"No, I'm right here if you need me, cousin."
"Good." She nodded. "We need to talk about Quentyn's friends. If we are to get to him, and potentially weaken his position at Sunspear, it is through them that we must do it. Go to them, and find their weak spot. I will deal with him myself."
Tyene's face lit up.
"As long as I can get a turn…"
"Do what you must, Tyene."
She nodded happily, and went on her way.
She collected herself for a moment, watching the palm trees of Sunspear's gardens rustle as a gentle breeze passed through the courtyard, before heading back towards her rooms.
Yet, when she reached them, something was off. The door was open.
She quickly peaked inside, and saw a lone figure, waiting, seated.
She clenched her fists in rage as she barged into the room, slamming it behind her.
"What the FUCK are YOU doing here?"
Quentyn acted surprised for a moment.
"Hmm?" he smiled. "Oh yes. Right. Well, I wanted to talk, you know, since we hadn't met in ten or so years, and the door to your rooms was open, so I entered and made some tea. Care for some?"
He handed her a cup, which she accepted, growling all the while.
"Come on, sis, please sit."
"I'll sit when it pleases me to, brother." She hissed back. "These are my rooms and I could just as well throw you out of them."
She then proceeded to empty the tea Quentyn had given her on the floor, as Quentyn sighed.
"Shame." He shook his head. "It took me a while to make. And it tastes quite good."
Quentyn took another sip, as Arianne saw the rage build up inside her.
The sheer audacity of her brother to just come in and act like he owned the place.
"Did you receive my gift for your nameday? I hope it pleased you. They were some of the first fragrances I made." He smiled.
How could she forget? Her brother had sent her a couple of bottles of perfume for her nameday. At that time, these items were extremely rare.
She would have emptied them down the drain, but it made her the talk of the castle amongst the ladies of Sunspear, so she decided to keep them. With the labels ripped out, of course.
She snarled as she didn't answer and instead locked her eyes with her brother's, before being interrupted by a croaking sound.
Looking around, she saw Quentyn's tree frog roaming around the room, claiming it as his own.
"Quentyn, please control your drool creature or I will chuck it out the window this instant."
To her surprise, he nodded and turned to the frog.
"Achilles, please behave. This isn't your room and my sister will be very unhappy if you make a mess."
The frog looked at him, tilted his head, croaked and jumped to the window, where it laid in a spot of shade and closed its eyes.
"Now that there are no more…distractions." She hissed, looking back at her brother. "I will ask this of you only once, brother. Do you want Dorne?"
"Yes."
"I don't…" wait…what?
Did he just say "yes"?
"What did you say?" she continued, shaking.
"Yes, I wish to one day rule Dorne." He shrugged. "Does this answer your question, sister?"
"Do you know that Dorne is MINE?" she yelled out. "By right of birth!"
"I'm aware." He answered. "And I don't deny your claim to it. I support it as a matter of fact."
"You just said…"
"I know what I said." Quentyn raised a finger in the air to stop her. "If father declares you to be his lawful heir, then I won't oppose it. If, however, there are circumstances leading me to be promised Dorne, then I shall press my claim to it."
"You think you can steal my birthright?" she shuddered with rage. "You think you can take Dorne from me?"
"Again, if I am declared to be the lawful heir to Sunspear, there will be no need to steal or take." He sighed. "Although if you were to be declared heir, I do still think I'd do a better job than you."
"What?" she growled.
"I think I'd do a better job than you, simply put." He answered. "I am going to be honest for once, Ari. I think you'd be a terrible ruler."
"And what makes you think that, Quent?"
"I think that you have ideas, I won't doubt it. You have ambition, and that is all well and good, but your mind is clouded." He pointed straight at her. "You have no vision, Arianne. No vision for Dorne's future. No vision for anything that glooms on the horizon right now.
Your sight is clouded, Arianne. For years you've been stuck here, laughing with your ladies and seducing men left and right, thinking about when you'd get Dorne. I've been studying, Arianne. I know our history better than anyone, and I know how military tactics work. I've cured diseases thought uncurable until now.
I've secured my position in the Western marches, and I've made the life of the smallfolk much more bearable. But most of all, Arianne, I have a vision. A vision for what is next for Dorne, to prepare for what is ahead, and what comes after that. What is your vision for the future, sister?"
"My…vision…you…dare…" she hissed. "Revenge! Revenge for Elia, or have you forgotten already?"
"DO NOT PRESUME TO TELL ME THAT I FORGOT ABOUT OUR KIN!" Quentyn stood up and yelled out, making Arianne freeze for a moment, before Quentyn sighed and sat back down. "Apologies, I got carried away."
He took a deep breath, and continued.
"I fully intend to get justice for the murder of our aunt Elia, and our cousins Rhaenys and Aegon, that you can be assured of. Justice. Not Vengeance."
"Dorne cries for vengeance, brother."
"No, Dorne cries for justice. A justice we have been denied, and I will agree that the ones responsible should pay." He answered calmly. "Amory Lorch. Gregor Clegane. Tywin Lannister. Robert Baratheon.
These four, and only these four. I do not intend to get any innocents killed. Then it will be justice. But I can assure you that these four will die screaming."
"Justice…" Arianne scoffed. "You talk about our kin as if you knew them. As if you weren't loyal to the Yronwoods…"
"Are you really that dense, sister? Did I overestimate you?" Quentyn looked at her, disappointed.
"I am loyal to House Nymeros Martell, never forget that. Everything I do is in the interest of myself and our house."
"You lie through your teeth, Quentyn." Arianne chuckled. "You are an Yronwood through and through. Not a true Dornishman, not one fit to rule."
"Believe it or not, the Yronwoods are actually Dornishmen. As much as the Daynes, the Ullers, the Fowlers or the Tolands." Quentyn replied, calmly.
"And need I remind you it was never my choice to go to Yronwood? Or have you forgotten that our dear uncle Oberyn put me in that situation? And are the Yronwoods not true Dornishmen? What makes a true dornishman according to you?"
"A true dornishman is your opposite, brother." She spat out.
"A true dornishman knows how to handle a spear and a sword, not flee combat. A true dornishman knows how to please a woman, not run from one. A true dor…"
"So, Uncle Oberyn, then?" Quentyn laughed. "Oh boy, if he is the picture of a true dornishman then we're all fucked."
"Uncle Oberyn is more of a dornishman than you ever will be."
"And why is that?" Quentyn laughed. "Because he is better skilled in the ways of combat than I? I don't think many are better in Dorne. Because he is handsome? I don't think looks matter to make a good ruler.
Because he fucked more women in the past month than I will in my lifetime? In that case this would make Aegon the fourth and Robert Baratheon true dornishmen."
"Neither of these scum were worthy of being dornishmen…"
"And yet they fill every one of these requirements." Quentyn thought for a moment. "Well maybe Aegon the fourth wasn't a talented swordsman, but Robert Baratheon certainly filled all of these requirements in his youth."
Arianne was fuming. How dare he pretend these two men would make good dornishmen…
"And if you rate how good of a dornishman one is by the number of sexual partners he had, I can see why you think you're more entitled to having the Sun throne." He smiled, before sighing again.
"Although that is your concern, not mine, do not think I judge you or think less of you for it, sister."
She clenched her fists again, but quickly calmed down, looking for an opening where to strike her brother.
"You are still a maid, then, brother?" she smiled widely. There might be her opening. "As, I thought, you are no true Dornishman."
Quentyn sighed deeply, his head stuck between his hands, before removing them and laying them on the table.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Why does this matter so much to you?" he shook his head.
"What does it have to do with anything? I've already told you that if you have these standards in mind, then Robert Baratheon is the best king we've ever had since Aegon the fourth!"
"Did I strike a chord there, brother?" she sheepishly laughed. There was his weakest point, considering how defensive he got. "Neither a swordsman in the field or in bed, then?"
Before Quentyn could answer, Tyene entered the room, and her eyes widened as she saw Quentyn's presence.
"Oh." She exclaimed. "I'll come back later."
"No need." Quentyn said, his voice cold as ice. "We were just finished. I am not having a conversation with a child that thinks the value of ruling Dorne is counted by the number of sexual partners one has.
I'll be back when you've decided to be more mature, Ari, have a nice afternoon. And you too, Tyene."
And with that, he stood up from his seat, picked up his frog, and ran past the door.
"What just happened?" Tyene asked, confused.
"It seems I have struck one of our dear brother's weak points." Arianne grinned. "What news have you?"
"The young Yronwood is your best bet."
"The young Yronwood? How about the others?"
"The big man is a big softie but his mind is stronger than you think. The Drinkwater boy is easy to get, but he is fiercely loyal, while the Qorgyle boy is not easily swayed. The young Yronwood however…"
"There are worst options, but the fact that he is our enemy…" Arianne sighed. "I'll think about it. In the meantime, can you send me Daemon? I need to talk to him."
"Only talk?" Tyene asked with a small smile.
"For now."
Tyene nodded and left.
Tomorrow, there will be a tourney, and it will be the perfect time to start breaking Quentyn's small influence in Sunspear. He had the love of the people and rising popularity? Good, then everyone should see how weak he really is.
It didn't take long for Daemon Sand to present himself in her rooms. He knew the way, after all.
"Princess, what can I do for you?" he asked with a small smile.
Arianne reciprocated that smile.
"I told you to not call me that when we're alone."
"How can I be of service, then Arianne?"
She grinned.
"As you know Daemon, there will be a tourney tomorrow, to celebrate my brother's return." She sat down on the bed, eyeing him. "The tourney will be dornish combat, one on one till the other yields. There will be a draw, and that draw will be rigged. You will face my brother in the Round of eight."
"I don't understand, Arianne."
"Simple, Daemon." She grinned. "Quentyn's first adversary will not make it through, I can promise you that. You should face him, and for the tourney, I will grand you my favor, as is tradition."
She rose from the bed, and approached him seductively, touching his right elbow, and making her way around him.
"I want you to break him." She whispered in his ear.
"Arianne, you want me…"
"I want him annihilated, Daemon." She smiled. "Accidents happen."
"You can't mean…"
"Of course not!" she shook her head. "I want him properly humiliated and broken, but alive! I am no kinslayer."
"What do you have in mind?"
"I don't care how you do it." She answered. "But I want him sprawling on the ground. With pain aching everywhere. I want you to break one or two bones.
A leg or an arm, mayhaps. Do not give him a chance to yield until he is properly defeated and there isn't a single cheer or word of encouragement for him. If you do that, then I can promise you a reward at the height of your achievement. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly, Arianne."
"Good." She smirked, and moved to kiss him square on the lips. "Better prepare yourself then. I shall see you at the feast, and then tomorrow."
"Not tonight, then?"
"Not until you've completed what you've promised, Daemon." She smirked back. "Then you and I will have a lot of time together."
Daemon nodded, and left, leaving her alone in the room.
She felt bad manipulating her childhood friend like that, but it had to be done. And all of what she had said to him was true anyhow. She had never broken a promise to Daemon Sand, and she wouldn't start today.
Her mind wandered off to the sight of her brother, an arm broken and bleeding from his lips, chest and legs, sprawled out on the courtyard ground, her lover pointing his sword triumphantly at his throat, calling him to yield, as she watched jubilantly from the stands.
But this was only the beginning. To completely break him she would need to cut his friends apart from him, and that beginning with the Yronwood boy.
It hurt her that she would have to start with that son of a traitor, but as Tyene pointed out, he was the better-looking of the bunch. And if she could have some fun while driving a wedge between Quentyn and his friends, why not?
The show would start tonight, and she would play her part to perfection.
Watch me, Quentyn. You will never rob me of Dorne. Never. And this is what happens when you mess with a Viper.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone