GOT: My Secret Lover is sansa-Chapter 129 Prince Oberyn

The Tyrell pavilion was crowded, but the air felt thin.

Mace Tyrell stood near the center, his chest puffed out so far his silk doublet looked strained. Beside him, Olenna sat in a carved wooden chair, her hands folded over her cane. She didn’t look impressed; she looked bored, which Alaric knew was her most dangerous expression.

Across from them stood a man who didn’t seem to care about the heat or the tension. He wore yellow silks and light armor, a spear leaning casually against his shoulder. His eyes were dark and sharp, jumping from Mace to Olenna, then locking onto Alaric the moment he stepped inside.

"The Mysterious Ward," the man said. His voice was smooth, like oil over gravel. "You’re younger than the stories say. And taller."

"Prince Oberyn," Alaric replied, stopping a few feet away. "I didn’t expect to see Dorne at the gates of King’s Landing. Especially not today."

Oberyn smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Behind him stood a tall, stern woman with a whip coiled at her belt—Obara Sand—and a group of armored guards who looked like they had been riding for weeks.

"Timing is everything in war, isn’t it?" Oberyn said. He paced a short circle, his boots soft on the grass. "We heard the lions were finally backed into a corner. We came to ensure they don’t escape the cage."

Mace cleared his throat loudly. "The Reach and the North have the situation well in hand, Prince Oberyn. We hardly require—"

"I am not speaking to you, Lord Tyrell," Oberyn interrupted without looking at him. He kept his gaze on Alaric. "I have a request. A simple one. When the city falls, the Lannisters are mine."

"That’s a heavy price for a guest who just arrived at the party."

Alaric didn’t wait for Oberyn to answer. He walked over to a heavy wooden campaign chair near the center of the pavilion and sat down. He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, and rested his hands casually on his knee. He looked up at the Dornish Prince, his expression entirely unbothered.

"You show up at the very end of a war," Alaric said, his voice flat and calm. "You didn’t bleed in the Riverlands. You didn’t march through the mud to get here. You just rode up to my camp on the eve of battle."

Alaric tilted his head slightly. "So tell me, Prince Oberyn. What right do you have to request anything at all?"

Oberyn stopped his pacing. The casual, oily smile faded from his lips, replaced by a cold, hard stare.

Behind the Prince, Obara’s face twisted in sudden anger. Taking Alaric’s words as a direct insult to her father and her blood, her hand dropped to the thick, coiled whip at her belt. She took a sudden, aggressive step forward, her jaw set tight.

She didn’t get to take a second step.

From the shadows near the pavilion entrance, a massive figure shifted. One of Alaric’s Blood Knights, clad from head to toe in thick, blood-red plate armor, took a single, thunderous step forward. The heavy clank of metal boots hitting the dirt echoed sharply through the quiet tent.

The knight didn’t draw his weapon, but he didn’t need to. He just turned his blank, red visor directly toward Obara. The sheer size of the armored giant was enough to make the air in the tent feel heavy.

The Dornish guards instantly tensed, their hands dropping to their spears and daggers. Mace Tyrell took a nervous step back, while Olenna just watched the standoff with narrowed eyes.

Oberyn didn’t flinch. He slowly raised a hand, his dark eyes never leaving Alaric. He didn’t even look back at his daughter.

"Stand down, Obara," Oberyn ordered quietly.

Obara gritted her teeth. She glared at the towering red knight for a long, tense second, but she slowly pulled her hand away from her whip and took a step back into line. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Alaric didn’t move. He kept his leg crossed, his eyes locked on Oberyn. He raised a hand slightly, and the Blood Knight stopped moving, standing perfectly still like a red statue.

Oberyn let out a short, dry laugh. He relaxed his stance and crossed his arms. "Fair enough. So tell me. What is the price for Lannister blood?"

Alaric let out a slow breath, his eyes fixed on the Prince. The tension in the room was sharp, but he didn’t let it push him. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

"How about we discuss the price of Lannisters when I actually have them in chains?" Alaric said, his voice flat and practical. "Right now, they are sitting behind the walls of the Red Keep. And until my men break those walls, this conversation is pointless."

Oberyn stared at him for a moment, his dark eyes searching Alaric’s face for any sign of weakness. Finding none, the Prince’s expression smoothed out into a polite, dangerous mask. He gave a slow, formal nod.

"Very well," Oberyn said softly. "We will wait. But do not make us wait too long. The sun in Dorne is hot, but our patience is not endless."

Alaric didn’t smile. He raised his hand and gestured to a guard standing near the entrance. "Show the Prince and his party to their camp. Make sure they have whatever they need."

The guard bowed quickly. "Yes, My Lord. This way, Prince Oberyn."

...

Two days later, the air outside King’s Landing was thick with the smell of dust and woodsmoke. The combined army of the Reach and the North covered the land surrounding the city walls. Tents stretched as far as the eye could see. A ten’s of thousands of men were waiting for an order.

Alaric stood at the front of the vanguard.

Margaery rode up beside him on her white mare. She looked at the high walls, then back at him.

"We outnumber them ten to one," she said quietly. "Cersei only has the City Watch and a few household guards left to hold the city. Why are we waiting?"

"Because breaking a city costs too many lives," Alaric answered, not taking his eyes off the main gate. "And I already have someone on the inside."

Inside the city, the mood was complete panic. On top of the main gatehouse, the Captain of the Gold Cloaks wiped sweat from his forehead. He looked out over the endless sea of enemy tents. His men were terrified. They all knew Tywin Lannister had abandoned them and retreated to the West.