GOT: Reborn as a Martell

"Then, Nymella it is, my friend." She smiled. "You've gotten better, Doran, what has gotten into you?"

"I've never felt so alive." The prince of Dorne confessed. 

"A few moons ago I could barely walk. Now, I only use my cane because I still need it to keep my balance, but the pain has gone."

"I'm glad to hear it." She nodded, as two figures came forwards.

...

One she instantly recognized as Prince Oberyn, but it took some time for her to recognize the other as Prince Quentyn. Indeed, the gash on the prince's face had made him unrecognizable for a moment, before noticing the short, dark, hair and the Martell looks.

"Prince Oberyn, Prince Quentyn." She nodded. "I hope you are well. I am sorry the news came so late."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Lady Toland." Prince Quentyn shook his head. "I should thank you, instead. If it weren't for you, we'd still be looking for the men who did this. 

My uncle told me…the lengths to which you went to find out who was involved. You needn't have gone that far."

"Nonsense." She waved him off. "The Tolands are thankful for all that you've brought us. We're loyal, and anything I did, I did out of my own volition."

Prince Quentyn nodded, although he still seemed uneasy. She could see why, considering the lengths she had gone to get the list of conspirators.

"How has Ellaria been taking the news?" she finally asked.

"Not very well." Prince Oberyn admitted. "She feels disgusted and betrayed by her father, who thought that he'd be able to coerce her into pushing me to reinstate Arianne as heir. This trial will be hard for her."

Nymella nodded. She felt pity for the Sand girl, who had been close to being dragged into something a lot bigger than she'd have expected. But now, her father was likely going to see his head roll.

"We need to go." Prince Doran cut their conversation short. "The trial is about to begin."

Prince Oberyn and prince Quentyn nodded and took their seats on the side halls, as the Gardens had been transformed into a makeshift courtroom, with the judges standing on an elevated ground, in the middle of a courtyard where palm trees would usually stand.

The pool in the middle of the yard had been drained, and made way to a makeshift rack where the accused would be presented.

Nymella took Doran's hand, and sat on the chair to his left, as the ruling prince of Dorne took the centre. Ser Myles sat to his left, with elder Symon sitting next to the Manwoody knight. As for her, she would have to contend with Sunspear's septon to her left.

Meanwhile, quite the attendance had filled the halls to the left and right of the gardens, with half a hundred people sitting under the arches. She noticed prince Oberyn on the right, holding his paramour's hand, while Lord Symon Santagar sat to his left.

A little further was prince Quentyn, who was flanked by Cletus Yronwood and his younger brother, Trystane. 

In front of him, on the hall directly in front of him, sat his sister, Arianne, who was flanked by the blonde daughter of prince Oberyn, who in another world could very well be sitting on the accused's bench, and Ser Manfrey Martell, as solemn as ever.

Then, the accused were brought in.

They trickled into the courtyard one by one.

Harmen Uller, Mors Gargalen, Andrey Dalt, Garin of the Greenblood, and, closing the march, Gerold Dayne. All dead men walking.

The Martells didn't forgive an attack on their blood.

If by some miracle they were found innocent, or Oberyn Martell lost his trial by combat should the accused ask for one, then accidents would happen. Just like the one that befell Nymor Allyrion.

Prince Doran stood up, much to the shock of the assembly, without his cane.

"Lord Uller, Lord Gargalen, Ser Andrey Dalt, Ser Garin of the Greenblood and Ser Gerold Dayne. You stand accused of hiring an assassin to kill Prince Quentyn Nymeros Martell. Who will stand in your defence?"

"I will." Said the lord of Salt Shore.

"Very well, Lord Gargalen." Prince Doran nodded, and sat down, motioning for his brother to take the stand.

Prince Oberyn stood up, and went to take the stand in the middle of the courtyard. All he did was to list the accusations once more, and explain how he got the information. Nymella knew all of this, and only half-listened.

What she did listen to, though, was then the accused's response to these accusations.

"Lord Gargalen." Prince Doran motioned. "What have you to say against these accusations?"

"They are false." The lord of Salt Shore vehemently protested. "The evidence presented is a lie. The list of names is false and the ship that linked Salt Shore and Tyrosh only contained the usual payments in gold for spices and silks. 

This is a plot to get rid of those who still support the princess Arianne's claim to the Sun throne."

"Princess Arianne has no claim." Doran answered simply. "By my word."

"As you say, my prince." Lord Gargalen. "But this is certainly not our doing. We are being framed by someone wishing to silence our voices."

"Have you someone in mind?" Elder Symon asked.

"Lord Yronwood no doubt wouldn't mind see his influence grow at court…" Nymella rolled her eyes.

"These are serious accusations, lord Gargalen." Nymella cut in, smirking. "I hope you have proof of this."

Lord Gargalen mumbled a few words as the rest of the accused grew uneasy. They clearly hoped to have the support of the people, but every time that the lord of Salt Shore took the stand, he was jeered and booed so much that prince Doran himself had to stop the crowd.

"My prince…" Lord Gargalen mumbled. "We understand that two people have pointed to us. However, one isn't here."

"Lord Trebor Jordayne is currently overseeing the launch of the new Dornish fleet and as such has sent Ser Yarnys Muskgroove to stand in his place." Prince Doran continued. "And Lady Nymella Toland is here should you wish to ask any further questions."

"As a matter of fact, I do." Lord Gargalen grinned. "Lady Toland's testimony relies entirely on the information given to her by a dead man. Do you deny it, Lady Toland?"

"Well, that and the raven from Lord Uller asking me to join in a conspiracy to restore the true heir to the Sun throne and get rid of Prince Quentyn, yes." She snapped at him. "And a dead man, who had the time to sign and seal a confession."

Nymella reminded lord Gargalen that Nymor Allyrion had signed a confession. Under duress of course, and possibly hours before his death.

"Yes, a man signs a confession, and then dies only a day afterwards…" Lord Gargalen mused. "It's very convenient, isn't it?"

"If it makes you feel any better, I do have this letter." She smiled as she pulled out a parchment. "Ser Nymor wanted to send it to Lord Uller but never got the time. Shall I read it?"

Lord Gargalen went pale.

"I'll do it whether you like it or not, to be fair." She smiled. "It reads:

Lord Uller. You will be pleased to hear that I have managed to sway Lady Toland to our cause. I have explained to her the details of our plan and arranged for her to transfer gold to our cause. Prince Quentyn's days are numbered. Signed, Nymor Allyrion.

Now, it seems that everything he confessed to was the truth."

"That letter and his confession were done under duress!" lord Gargalen continued to attack.

"Trust me, lord Gargalen." Lady Nymella smiled. "Nymor Allyrion was most definitely not under duress when he told me everything."

"Explain." Ser Myles raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it's amazing the things you can get men to say when you suck their c…"

"Alright, lady Toland, no need for such details." The septon to her left blushed.

As laughs were heard in the halls, lord Gargalen was fuming.

"You turned your back on the sanctity of marriage for…"

"I did my duty for Dorne, which you have evidently failed to do, my lord." She ripped into the lord of Salt Shore as if he was made of paper. 

"What happens between my husband and I concerning these matters is no concern of yours, and my husband would have voiced his disapproval publicly if he had any problems with my methods, which he didn't. 

While he was abed with a very expensive Lysene whore I had paid for him to do whatever he pleased with, I sucked the information out of your pretty Allyrion pet.

In the future, should you have one at all, I suggest not committing treason against Dorne, and I promise you, lord Gargalen, it will go much smoother for you."

By then, the whole crowd was snickering and lord Gargalen was blushing furiously, trying to keep his composure as his restraints stopped him from trying to strangle her.

Not that he'd get within two feet of her without getting a dagger in his eye, of course.

"Erm…after this, my prince…" elder Symon stood. "I too have a witness to call up."

"Please do so, Elder Symon." Prince Doran acknowledged.

Ser Symon bowed respectfully.

"I call to the stand, Garin of the Greenblood."

The crowd went silent, as the accused's faces turned white.

The Orphan slowly slid away from the accused and stepped forward. Nymella frowned.

So, this is the man that the Martells would spare, then. Well, perhaps a life at the Wall would be better than no life at all.

"Speak, Ser Garin." Elder Symon pressed on. "What do you know of this conspiracy?"

"I did not know of it until fairly recently." The boy confessed. "It was only a few moons ago that Ser Andrey here told me of the plan to get rid of prince Quentyn."

"Traitor…" Ser Andrey whispered under his breath, but loud enough for Nymella to hear.

"Silence." Prince Doran ordered. "Please continue, Ser Garin."

"Ser Andrey told me that a conspiracy was slowly making its way through the kingdom and that most lords had agreed to get rid of prince Quentyn and restore princess Arianne as heir. He told me that since lord Uller was the leader, that getting prince Oberyn to reinstate the princess would be easy."

"Why did you agree to such a conspiracy, ser Garin?" the Septon asked.

"Ser Andrey told me of their plan to remove Quentyn using an assassin. They wanted the Faceless Men, but they were too expensive, and that they had been in contact with the Sorrowful men in Tyrosh. That they would never be able to link us to them, and he asked me for my support."

"What did you answer?" Ser Myles asked.

This was tricky territory.

"I answered that I would join because of my past friendship with princess Arianne, and I did not wish to see her get her inheritance stripped away." He admitted.

Nymella turned her head to see the princess, completely stoic as the revelations kept coming.

In fact, Garin had not told the whole truth. He was supposed to approach Tyene Sand and ask for Arianne's blessing, but prince Oberyn had forbidden any investigation on that front, claiming that his daughter had no knowledge of this plot. No doubt that erasing Tyene's involvement with this plot was a factor in Garin keeping his head.

"And did you know of any other participants in this plot?" Ser Myles continued.

"Yes." Garin nodded. "Lord Gargalen and Ser Gerold here, as well as the deceased Ser Nymor. 

I was supposed to ferry the gold from Godsgrace down the Greenblood towards Lemonwood, and then into one of the islands on the Greenblood's mouth where the Sorrows would collect the payment.

Once two thirds of the sum was paid, a ship was sent to pick up the assassin, whom I ferried to Lemonwood, while the ship sailed from Salt Shore to Tyrosh with the last part of the payment."

Gasps could be heard in the audience.

"For this testimony, my prince." Elder Symon rose once more. "Ser Garin asks for clemency in your sentencing."

"Granted." Prince Doran acknowledged. "Ser Garin will be given the option to take the Black."

"Thank you, my prince." Elder Symon nodded as he sat back down.

"Alright, you're all useless." A voice cried out amongst the accused.

"Yes, congratulations, you caught us." Gerold Dayne stepped forward. 

"But it seems to me that the judges do not have fairness in mind here. The traitor's father, a lackey of the faith, an old man who knows nothing of Rhoynish law, a savage from the mountains and a traitorous whore. It is obvious that we will find no justice here. We demand trial by combat, by blood of one."

Nymella shook her head. This was to be expected.

Trial by blood of one meant that one champion could represent all of the accused, provided he be part of the accused party, and be a part of the nobility. The duel would be to the first blood, although it rarely ended that way.

"Granted." Prince Doran acknowledged. "Who will represent you all?"

"I will." Gerold Dayne smirked.

"Very well, prince Oberyn would you…"

"No."

A gasp went through the crowd as prince Quentyn stood up.

"I will not have my uncle fight my battles for me. These men are traitors to Dorne, and shall die like traitors. They have been craven and sent an assassin after me, but I am no craven. I shall represent the accusation, and I will face their champion, despite them not having the decency to face me themselves."

The audience went silent as a few gasps were heard amongst the arches.

She could see prince Doran panic slightly, searching for a reaction from prince Oberyn, but found none. Soon enough, he would be forced to agree.

With a sigh, prince Doran relented.

"Very well, the trial by combat shall take place tomorrow at midday." Prince Doran acknowledged. "The court is adjourned."

As the accused were let go, and the crowd slowly dispersed, she could see the anger in prince Doran's eyes as prince Quentyn joined them.

"Have you gone mad, Quentyn?" the prince asked. "You should have let your uncle represent himself."

"It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't send the right message." He shook his head. "They tried to take my life. It is only fair that I take theirs."

"I admire your bravado, prince Quentyn." Nymella cut in. "But is it wise to face Ser Gerold? He is a talented swordsman after all."

"I wouldn't have made that choice if I wasn't completely and utterly sure of my victory tomorrow." The prince cut in with a smile. "I have no intention of making this a fair fight."

Doran and Nymella shared a look.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Well, father, you did tell me that it was better to rig a game to be sure to win."