Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

POV: Tywin Lannister

Lord's Solarium, Casterly Rock.

Year 289 A.C., the 26th day of the ninth moon. Some twenty-one days before the True Queen of Westeros thanked a knight...

It was just under an hour before sunset. Soft orange glows filtered through the balcony. The trio never ceased working and discussing designs, negotiations, price and percentage negotiations, delivery times, construction schedules, and plans of action against the common enemy.

Now Tywin was certain. It was no longer a pipe dream; the West and the Kingdom could genuinely achieve a Golden Age.

Although the man was in his late forties, he continued undaunted without showing any sign of fatigue for four hours straight.

Tywin was bursting with energy, ready to explode at any moment.

He felt the strength and the will to wield the new Sword of Damascus and face a hundred enemies.

They had just finished discussing the renewal and expansion of the basalt road network. House Tallhart would lend the best civil engineers responsible for the Northern Network.

More than a thousand miles of basalt road. A material more valuable than the granite and quartz used in the North, though less resistant to cold and water infiltration, on the other hand, smoother, more malleable, and better suited to the climate of the West.

His standard-bearer Lord Sebaston Farman of Fair Isle, would soon receive a large order for black volcanic stone. An ore that would overflow to the beaches of his island.

The streets of Lannisport, on the other hand, would be replaced from the current typical pavement with the costly and shiny veined marble of the Vale.

If the Lannisters were to make their enemies believe that they were in open competition for pomp and grandeur against the North and Dorne. They should have spared no expense.

With the increase in the commercial and war fleet,

the concessions of facilitated crossings on the future route of the river Fever and access to the markets of Essos,

the rights to trade in the Sea of Shivers on a variety of Northern products (Mormont glass was the golden egg of the brood),

the construction of dozens of inns all along with the road network with new unique culinary recipes,

the new census registration and tax collection systems,

the implementation and improvement of fields and crops,

new training schools for handicrafts, commercial and criminal law, architecture and construction engineering, naval engineering, and numerous other trades helpful in increasing the productivity of the lands of the West,

all of these projects and improvements made the golden veins in Tywin's eyes glisten.

But the new gold mine of House Lannister would become the shiny new city of Lannisport.

The long battle to restore Castamere's mines finally came to an end...

"The debt of 1,081,700 gold dragons forgiven, 8% on the mining rights for House Tallhart and 5% on the treasures of House Rayne found to be bestowed upon House Manderly and the Clans. This is my final offer. Don't bite off more than you can chew, Great Lion.

We are the only House capable of draining the mines of Castamere without spending decades and millions of golden dragons.

I am well aware that the Casterly Rock mines will be depleted before long. You haven't found a new mining vein in over two years..."

Tywin eyed the disarming face of his younger brother. Gerion gave him a roaring look of [I didn't tell him anything, I swear!].

The enraged Lion gritted his teeth at how deficient his counterintelligence measures and safeguarding of absolutely Top-Secret information might be.

"Agreed... But it will drop to 5% if you fail to make the excavations on at least the first four levels of the mines viable within a year of today." The feline pretending to be dead, hurled the last claw treacherously.

If the builders of House Manderly and the Clans of the Northern Mountains had succeeded in that first feat on schedule, House Lannister could have returned their investment before the third year.

Tywin clearly remembered when the late last Lord of Castamere, Robert Rayne, boasted before the entire court of the West how bountiful of gold and silver the mining veins of the early levels were.

[House Rayne collects over 2,000 golden dragons a day from those first levels alone, my lord. And what of House Lannister, Lord Tytos? How much gold is left to mine from Casterly Rock?! Ahahaha!]

The Lord of Casterly Rock recalled that confident, arrogant voice at the banquet his father had called to celebrate his latest birth...

Tywin had not smiled in front of anyone in over sixteen years. Only the twins' first wails and Johanna's loving glances could break that adamantine curse.

But if he was alone at that moment with the gods as his only witnesses, who could say if those facial muscles in his stone face couldn't crack?

"Deal." Bloody Snow and The Great Lion nodded at each other, sealing and sealing the deal with a single glance.

"What about improvements on war strategies and militia training promised?" The ravenous Lion took advantage of the concession to snag the juiciest and most prized prey in the herd as best he could.

"You know the price...I want Jaime, Cersei, and Tyrion," the boy fired the three names for the second time without heeding the earlier warning roar.

That bloodthirsty Demon wanted absolute control over the fate of his progeny!

"Now you're pulling Lion's strings too much, boy! I warned you before!" roared Tywin fiercely, peering at him with hate-filled eyes.

"Without them, the Great Show won't be credible. Cersei detests me and Tyrion. Jaime is the best sword the West has seen in the last century!

All the North and Dorne, including House Tallhart, are betting their future on the table, heirs included!" So screeched the Demon in the same tones and looks.

"You want me to give up the heir of Casterly Rock! You want me to disgrace the Lannister name in front of the Seven Kingdoms! And not only that, you want me to allow that 'Libidinous Little Monster' to... "The second roar was silenced.

"Jaime was born to be a Knight! He could cast a shadow even on Aemon the Dragonknight. He will be the brightest and sharpest sword in the Seven Kingdoms for all the World to cast its gaze upon.

Cersei is the master of chaos and disorder. She will be the one to create the most believable theatrical spectacle that will pull the wool over the eyes of our enemies and deafen them with false songs.

And Tyrion...he is the key to our success.

The invisible dagger will strike in the blind spots of any threat from House Lannister.

The Lion in the Shadows will contribute most to the development and control of the entire operation.

Three years! That's all I ask. So watch and monitor the course of events in this short time frame, and you will have confirmation of my predictions and promises.

Put it to the test, and it will prove it to you." So sang the great puppeteer to the puppet merchant.

Tywin's anger reached dangerous limits. He couldn't bear the thought of the nobles of Westeros laughing at the Lannisters' good name again. Not after the chaos and instability, his idiot father had created in the past, sending the House to the brink of ruin!

Gerion seemed to read his brother's thoughts and anguish.

"Let them laugh, brother. The longer the World laughs, the more certain our victory will be. I support Lord Duncan's plan." The Smiling Lion rested a gentle hand on Tywin's trembling shoulder.

After an incredible effort of lucidity and processing objective thoughts, Tywin sentenced the verdict.

"...Three years since the tournament began. Not a day more."

"Deal," Bloody Snow initialled and a formal assent with his head.

The boy pulled out a miniature in the shape of an old woman from his trunk and placed it on the map of the two known continents lying on the table.

The miniature was placed over the free city of Pentos.

"Fortifying House Lannister's army and network of counterintelligence agents will be the first step.

You have already gained fear and respect from your loyal bannermen, Lord Tywin. Now you will have to procure their goodwill and favour.

After your militia has achieved a power that even the Golden Company will fear from facing, and you have earned the gratitude of your bannermen, only then can you extend that knowledge to all the other militias of the West.

The Ten Golden Claws and the Rock Guard will have to take priority.

Only The Watcher is capable of forging such an army in this short amount of time. And to do so, you will have to pay homage to and gain permission from the woman my master fears, loves and respects the most...

The only living entity can physically injure the Guardian of Love with impunity.

The mastermind behind the Fourth Organization in the World hierarchy, the creator and curator of the most complex and intricate network I have ever seen, the most powerful woman in Essos and Zick's stepmother...

Madame Zishua Zhao Urat, 'The Spider Queen of Pentos'."

End POV.

-----------------------------

POV: The Red Viper of Dorne.

In an isolated mansion on the only island in the Bay of Pentos.

Four days after a lofty name was spoken at Casterly Rock....

Oberyn continued down the mansion corridor holding tightly to the smooth, warm arm of his one true love, Ellaria Sand.

The Viper's attentive eye did not miss the subtle and intricate archaic symbols in each inch of white marble with obsidian-black veins.

Oberyn Nymeros Martell was one of the few academics on the Citadel who forged a ring of Valyrian Steel. Proof that he had successfully achieved the 'High Mysteries of the World'.

Archmaester Marwyn, aka, 'Marwyn The Mage', was the only maester that suited the Dornian in the midst of that cesspool of lofty gray rats.

Oberyn's memory did not deceive him-those were magical runes. All of the veins in the whole joined together at several points between the walls. In the center of those points sat a plate of metal as dark as his ring with a black stone in the center engraved with a conspicuous red rune...

The Viper's senses of danger were going crazy with every step as he got closer to the indicated antechamber.

"Honorable Prince Oberyn, Lady Ellaria, please take a seat and enjoy the refreshments offered by the House. Madame Zishua will be with you immediately as soon as she is able." The pair nodded politely to the gorgeous maiden of Lys who had offered herself as a guide.

The indicated wall was filled with cushions and fine Dornian-style tables. A real touch of class and thoughtfulness towards the guests in Oberyn's opinion.

Two young servants: a handmaiden and an apparent twin offered drinks, spiced cheeses with honey, and fresh fruit of every season.

The laws of hospitality in Pentos were slightly different than in the culture of Westeros. A noble guest was considered such only after tasting a fruit from the lands grown in the lands of Pentos.

Oberyn opted for candied cherries and Ellaria for diced melon wrapped in thin slices of salted ham.

After a few minutes of refreshment, Ellaria whispered in Oberyn's ear:

"I thought this was supposed to be the safest place in Pentos. Haven't you noticed that there is no sign of any kind of weapon or guard posted throughout the mansion?"

"Do not be fooled, my beloved. Every servant in this villa is a well-trained professional assassin. Those twins are armed 'only the Gods know' with how many hidden weapons and blades. They could easily prevail against me." Ellaria stiffened for a moment, but Oberyn soothed her with a simple caress, relaxing Ellaria's tense muscles.

"What makes you think that?" the woman asked.

"They don't make a single sound of footsteps. The fluid gestures, the guarded and confident eyes, no, we definitely wouldn't get out of here alive if they didn't want to....

The mansion hides countless unknown traps or passages hidden from view." Oberyn moved the Dornian's delicate chin in the direction of the wall with two fingers.

"Look... can you notice those indentations in the walls? A very deadly mechanical trap. I don't even know if I could neutralize the substance imbued in those, almost certain, poison darts.

My instincts suggest that not even the entire company of Second Sons led by a dozen Faceless Men could harm a single hair on the mistress's head." Ellaria's face changed from fear to wonder. The woman seemed to get excited by the danger.

It was one of the reasons Ellaria might be the only favored Goddess in his heart. Oberyn would have given up all his wealth for a chance to take her here and now.

And he would have if the fate of Dorne, his family, and their lives hadn't depended on that crazy, impulsive gesture.

But nothing stopped him from kissing his Goddess passionately.

Her tongue tasted like the sweet wine of summer... That spicy, tangy aftertaste, those warm fluids and soft mouth. No... she couldn't continue, or she'd lose control.

The lips parted and Ellaria caught her breath, pleading with her gaze for her beloved to continue.

"No, my beloved... Duty and anticipation make the hoped-for moment more sublime." Oberyn's hand caressed Ellaria's silky raven black hair.

"Yes, my beloved. You are right. I have been greedy and mischievous... I deserve punishment. You will have to punish me tonight. That's an order..." It was a good provocation.

Yes... the Goddess would suffer the pains of pleasure that night.

The doors opened and an old, fat man dressed in sumptuous light white robes with red streaks and flashy gold jewelry stepped out with a dark, frightened face.

Oberyn did not recognize the face, but the robes did. He had been a guest of the Magisters of Lys many times during his elysium.

A companion came out of the room after him. He gently pointed to the exit of the villa. The fat man snorted for a second but then bowed, showing a gesture of forced etiquette.

He didn't even seem to notice the presence of the Dornian guests at the corner of the antechamber for the discomfort he felt.

Then the old man with the haughty look noticed Oberyn's clothes and showed a signal of curiosity and surprise, turning with celerity to head for the exit.

'He recognized us... Could he be a threat?' reasoned the Viper calmly, thinking back to all his efforts to make this trip a secret one.

"Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell, Lady Ellaria Sand, Madame Zishua Zhao Urat apologizes for the wait and is ready to receive you both." The man with Ghiscarian features in his fifties was well-proportioned, graceful and educated in manner, common language and tone of voice.

"No wait has ever been more hospitable and pleasant among all the free cities I have needed to visit. Praise and honour to every member of Madame Zhao Urat's Noble abode." Said Oberyn as he paid tribute to the twin servants.

The pair seemed to appreciate the compliment by giving a warm bow of thanks.

It was one of Bloody Snow's lifelines.

{Never show unwarranted discourtesy to any member of the estate}.

"This way, please." The Chief Steward pointed the way.

"Thank you... Ser?" Ellaria asked.

"You're welcome, my lady. I am not a Ser, my name is Barudh Gruz Rad. I am merely a Chief Attendant of Madame Zishua's estate at your service." Said the man, offering a bow.

"And I am not a Lady, Ser Chief Attendant Barudh. I will address you as Ser as long as you bestow undeserved titles and honours." Ellaria replied in a jovial and courteous tone.

"As you wish, Lady Ellaria." Barudh surrendered to the small but dignified defeat by bestowing a slight smile.

Oberyn and Ellaria entered with elegant and confident steps.

A bright room, simple but pleasing to the eye, elegant but not ostentatious, refreshed by the smell of the Bay's spring sea breeze, welcomed the couple.

Oberyn's long-awaited figure was less than thirty feet away from them. The elderly woman with partial traits of Volantis was engaged in embroidery depicting two yellow hawk eyes on black cloth.

The symbol Bloody Snow warned him about was more cautionary than a royal seal.

Only the students still developing and growing carried that piece of silk embroidered personally by the Spider Queen.

Nightmares, pain beyond imagination, affliction and death awaited any peasant or King in the Known World who dared to break the only Taboo of the Guardian of Love.

"Fear not, Prince of Dorne. The rude Magister of Lys will not go far after he leaves the bastions of the rights of the host...

Once before, I begged him to pay due respect to my associates.

Alas, wealth and influence are the banes of good manners."

End Chapter.

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