Game Of Thrones : Starting as Tommen Baratheon

Getting some face-time with Oberyn Martell was a surprisingly hard thing to do.

Even though I was a king, I was also a king operating under the pretence of being a child.

As such, making a visit to the city was a move that would almost immediately raise some red flags in the minds of people who's attention I wanted to evade, at least till the trial was over. Conversely, I also wanted to impress upon Oberyn the power of the throne, as a backup in case the offer of Gregor's head on a stick proved insufficient to achieve my goals.

Even worse, Oberyn spent much of his time post-wedding in Chataya's brothel, where he opted to stay in his stint in King's Landing, rightfully suspicious of the Lannisters in the Red Keep.

Ultimately, if I was going to extract the maximum benefit from Tyrion's trial, it was a risk I was going to have to take. It wasn't like Baratheons weren't known for whoring, right? Being a young lad in the midst of puberty, even if a tad young for that sort of thing, I figured a visit to a brothel would be easy enough to explain away.

And so, here I stood, outside the entrance to Chataya's brothel. With me I brought two members of the Kingsguard, in the form of Ser Jaime and Ser Balon, alongside a full guard of a dozen gold cloaks. Venturing inside revealed an intensely unpleasant atmosphere.

The smell of sex was mixed with a strong waft of various perfumes, as well as the characteristically shitty smell of the rest of the city. Given the stench alone, I struggled to imagine how anyone could manage to find the atmosphere erotic. Oh, to be sure, the decor was nice, and girls were pretty, but the whole thing seemed more disgusting than enticing, and the place gave me the same feeling as the one I got from a motorway service station.

Spotting their royal visitor, one of the girls let out a peep and rushed off, Chataya herself emerging from the background to greet me, a tall, slender, handsome woman who wore a surprisingly conservative dress for her profession. Still revealing, but not as much as I had expected. She gave a shallow curtsy with a small smile on her face, "Your Grace, what a pleasure it is to see you here. Come, and I will personally see to it that all your desires are met."

I nodded curtly, "Many thanks, Lady Chataya, but I am not here for a woman, but for a man instead." At that, I spotted some of the occupants of the brothel shooting me strange looks, "I hear Prince Oberyn is currently patronising your establishment. I have business with the Prince, and I would like to see him."

Some of my gold cloaks sported relieved expressions, and Chataya nodded, "You heard right, Your Grace, but the Prince is occupied for the moment. Can I tend to your needs whilst you wait?" She gestured and a slim girl who looked perhaps no more than fourteen came over, "We have many different maidens to suit your tastes."

I pointed to the upstairs, where I knew the private rooms were, "Is he up there?"

"I cannot say, Your Grace."

Chataya looked a tad on edge, and I couldn't be bothered to begin issuing orders. Instead, I pulled out my coin-purse and tossed it at her, "For you to let the prince know I'm waiting to see him, and to keep my men entertained whilst we wait."

Chataya nodded, and one by one, the gold cloaks, many of whom I suspected were reporting to someone other than me, were lured away by the whores. Jaime and Balon stuck close by, as I had ordered them to do, waiting in the room Chataya had seen fit to give me, and I had the two of them search it up and down for hidden doors or hidey-holes or any other means by which someone might be listening in.

Inevitably, Varys would find out about the details of the conversation, and that didn't much bother me, but I didn't want the true nature of this meeting to be revealed to Tywin or Cersei too early, lest they find some way to fuck up my plans.

After a few minutes, Oberyn finally appeared, shirtless. I dismissed Jaime, bidding them to wait outside, and bid Oberyn in, speaking as he sat down and made himself comfortable, "I must thank you for taking the time out to meet me, Prince Oberyn, I hear you were quite... busy."

Oberyn nodded, a smile on his face, "Such is the purpose of a brothel, no?"

"I suppose, though I wouldn't know. Kings can rarely afford such luxuries during such tumultuous times. What with the weddings and wars and all."

Oberyn sniped at me with an amused smirk on his face, "Which one? The one where your brother choked on his pigeon pie, or the one where you will marry his widow?"

"I was rather referring to the one of my sister to your nephew, the Prince Trystane."

"Little Myrcella." He nodded and smiled, "She's taken well to Dorne, and last I saw her, she was playing with my daughters in the water gardens. From what I hear, Trystane is quite smitten with her."

I nodded, "And I hear that she is similarly taken in by him. I expect that means that my request for their wedding to be brought forwards will be granted."

Oberyn tutted, "My brother is patient beyond all good sense, you see. He will not reschedule just because you asked."

I paused for a moment, taking care to meet Oberyn's increasingly curious gaze, "Myrcella's my favourite sibling, and one cannot help but wonder about the health of one's loved ones, and a marriage would help protect her." I leaned forwards, noting that he made no attempt to deny my accusation, "And I don't expect you to do that for nothing. In return, I will grant you the one thing you've always wanted."

Oberyn quirked an eyebrow, "Which is?"

"Gregor Clegane."

He snorted, "Your grandfather already offered me a meeting with the Mountain, King Tommen, provided I act as a judge in the trial of your uncle, the Imp."

"Would that satisfy you? A meeting with the Mountain. I don't think so, I think you want the pleasure of taking his head for yourself. I certainly would, if it were my sister."

Oberyn's eyes narrowed, "And how, pray tell, would you help me do that?"

"Simple. As it is, my grandfather promises to offer my uncle mercy at his trial if he confesses and repents, at which point he will be shipped off to the wall. My uncle, lacking for much in the way of alternative choices, plans to take this offer. If, on the other hand, he could be convinced to ask for a trial by combat..." I smiled, "My mother, possessed by her vindictive fury, plans on using the Mountain to represent the crown should that occur.

Just imagine it, Prince Oberyn, the chance to exact revenge on your sister's killer, the great Lord Tywin Lannister helpless to do anything but watch as you bring his rabid beast crashing to the ground. A spectacular sight, I would imagine."

Oberyn looked sceptical, "You would undermine your own grandfather in such a manner? Free the man who killed your own brother?"

"My uncle is innocent," I insisted, "he is a great many things, but a kinslayer is not one of them. My mother is merely blinded by her own hatred of him."

"You know your mother hinted that she may wed me if I were to rule against your uncle in his trial? Ellaria, my paramour, was practically gushing between her legs at the thought, so beautiful a woman your mother is." Oberyn chuckled, "Then again, Ellaria always was a lusty wench." His expression straightened, "But I have a greater desire than her, greater than even the Mountain's head."

I smiled at the implication, swiftly rejecting his hidden request, "I love my grandfather dearly, Prince Oberyn, even if he and I don't always see eye to eye. If it were up to me alone, I would have Gregor hung, drawn and quartered, and his head delivered to you on a silver platter for his crimes against your family. Alas, it is not up to me alone."

Oberyn nodded sagely, "Hmm, I suppose I must be satisfied with that, for now. And the price for this golden opportunity is the marriage of your sister to my nephew?" I nodded, "And if I say yes, and my brother says no?"

I shrugged, utterly nonchalant, "Then I will find another way to free my uncle. It'll be harder, no doubt, with my mother's desire to see Tyrion's head on a spike, but your refusal is ultimately of little consequence."

Oberyn narrowed his eyes, clearly probing me, "Weddings take a long time to arrange, King Tommen. What if one cannot be arranged in time? And Myrcella is too young to be wed, as is Trystane."

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