Oberyn Martell
"Yes." Oberyn struggled to suppress a smile. With a single brilliant move, he had won the game and pinned the eunuch against the wall. He had grabbed Varys by the balls—it sounded utterly ridiculous, but it felt damn good!
"I'm listening."
"I am certain that if something were to happen to Joffrey, it would deal a serious blow to the alliance between the Rock and the Reach."
"The young man is very cautious," Varys remarked mildly.
"True—but I have thought of a way," Oberyn replied with a smile. Waiting for his companion to nod, he continued.
"Many years ago, my sister Elia—who was still alive at the time—told me that the entire Red Keep is riddled with secret passages leading to nearly every room. Including the king's chambers."
"I suppose Prince Rhaegar told her that?" Varys asked.
"Exactly. And I doubt you've never heard of it. The very fact that you brought me here tells me that you know something about the Red Keep and its secrets."
"That is how secrets are carelessly revealed," Varys said sadly. "I hope you had the good sense not to spread this knowledge?"
"Only those who need to know, know," Oberyn replied with a grim smile. "I don't need you to tell me how to enter a specific room. I know that it is possible. What I need from you is someone who can deliver the poison to Joffrey's chambers."
"That is very, very dangerous."
"Choose the right person—and then dispose of them. No one knows about the passages. You will remain above suspicion."
"But the king has a cupbearer who tastes all his food and drink."
"That's true, but we'll be clever about it. We wait until no one is left in the king's chambers. Your man sneaks in and adds the poison to a jug of water. The king returns, suspects nothing, and drinks."
"With water?"
"As far as I know, the king usually drinks water rather than wine. And somehow it has become customary for people to add poison to wine. He won't suspect a thing."
"And if there is no jug of water in the king's chambers?"
"Just in case, your man brings one with him and simply places it on the table."
"You are a insidious man," Varys admitted. "But what if it is not the king who is poisoned—what if it is his wife, or someone else?"
"We benefit either way. The alliance between the Rock and the Reach will fracture, and both Houses will weaken under mutual suspicion. And if they are poisoned together—so much the better."
"We will need poison."
"Of course." Oberyn allowed himself a smile and produced a small vial of liquid from his pocket. "We already have it."
"What is it?"
"Nightshade. My servant stole it from Pycelle's supplies."
"You've already managed that?"
"Yes. Let the old man sweat when it comes to light. And after your man does the job, he must lose this vial in the king's chambers. It will be amusing when they find it."
Now that his initial excitement had faded somewhat, Oberyn found that he no longer liked how easily his interlocutor had so easily given up his position and agreed to the murder. It felt suspicious, and the prince grew uneasy.
"But the Lannisters will search for it," Varys noted. "A vial of poison alone is unlikely to cloud their judgment."
"Let them search. Beautiful but stupid Cersei will think of the Imp first," Oberyn smiled bloodthirstily. "We will very carefully help her along."
"Aren't you afraid?"
"Of whom?"
"Tywin is clever and perceptive. Tyrion—though a dwarf—is not far behind him, and may even surpass his father."
"They won't discover the truth," Oberyn replied confidently. "It's no coincidence I've been pressing the matter of the Mountain these past days. He agreed to summon him here. Myrcella will arrive within days, and then our duel will take place. Logically, it would make no sense for me to poison Joffrey now, when the very reason I came to King's Landing is about to be resolved."
"You have covered yourself well," Varys conceded. "But you forget that they will question the Master of Whisperers. I will need to give them something."
"You can give them exactly what they want to hear," Oberyn replied—and continued outlining his plan.
He spoke of how to frame Tyrion and his wife Sansa, how to redirect suspicion toward the king's stewards and his new guards—the Orm brothers.
Varys listened with utmost attention. Studying his pale eyes and the soft, white hands resting calmly upon the table, Martell remained wary. His companion's appearance did not deceive him. One of the prince's many talents was noticing what others overlooked—and now he clearly understood that behind the polite manners, gentle speech, kind smile, and pampered body stood one of the most dangerous men he had ever encountered.
By some instinct deeper than reason, he sensed just how cunning—and deadly—the eunuch sitting across from him truly was.
And still, he could not quite grasp why Lord Varys, the Spider, reminded him so strongly of someone else.
(End of Chapter)
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