Chapter 4: Martell

Chapter 4: Martell

~o~

"What are you doing here, Oberyn?"

"I'm helping out with your combat practice."

"Of course, of course," I said. "But really, what are you doing here?"

"I just told you," Oberyn said in a chiding tone as if he was speaking to a child. Which he was, but it was still annoying since I wasn't really a child—in mental years. "I've volunteered to help you and your brother and your sister gain more experience fighting spear users."

"When are we ever going to need that?" Cersei asked in an arrogant voice. "Only smallfolk use spears."

"Oh, am I a smallfolk?" Oberyn asked in a playful manner.

"Well, no…"

"Hm? I hear hesitation. Do you think me a desert savage?"

"No! I-I mean, no, of course not."

"Then what do you think of me? Am I not charming?"

"Ah, that's…" Cersei blushed. Nope, nope, I wasn't having this. Go die in a fire, harem protagonist.

"Oi, are you done with the teasing?" I asked as I swung my wooden sword a couple of times to get used to its weight once again.

"Of course, my lord. Whenever you're ready, my lord. We can start anytime, my lord. As soon as your instructor allows it, my lord."

"Go lord yourself to death."

The master-at-arms, our sword instructor, took this time to step in. "None of that now. We're starting."

The lecture this time was different than usual. Instead of talking about swords, he went into length about spears. How to fight and counter them. The dangers of fighting a formation of spearmen from the front and the weaknesses of such a army. I knew what this was leading to, especially when Oberyn was allowed to demonstrate for us some of the basic moves that men-at-arms would likely use, though he had to use a wooden staff instead of a regular spear. Of course, in the end, it led to the practice spars against Oberyn, a guy a decade older than us.

"I'll only punish you once for every ten attempts," Oberyn said cheerfully. He didn't even try to say it in a nicer way. If you only looked at the provocation at face value, you wouldn't see the importance of those two words. By "punish," he meant that he will absolutely, without a doubt, strike without missing. By attempt, he meant—of course—that we wouldn't even be able to touch him. My conclusion is: he is an asshole.

Jamie, the most hot-headed of us all, went up first. I doubted my brother found the hidden insult, otherwise he would be bursting into flames. Despite the skill that I knew he had, his round was still pretty much in line with expectations. By that, I meant that he wasn't able to touch Oberyn at all and was nursing his bruises by the end.

Cersei went up next. The results were relatively the same, though the punishments from Oberyn weren't the welt-inducing strikes that he gave Jamie; instead, it was simply gentle taps which served to further enrage Cersei. We had to restrain her after she threw her practice sword at Oberyn and lunged at him.

The one to fight last was me. I wasn't idle throughout the two matches against my siblings; I had put my observation skills to the test. It was now time to see if it paid off. I wasn't confident, but how could I be? I didn't have the skills in swordplay that Jaime and Cersei had, but I had my own tactics. If Jaime was the razor wind and Cersei was the raging fire, then I was spiraling water, drilling my way to the heav—okay, that wasn't going to work.

I placed my trap card on the field, face-down.

It's time to du-du-du-duel!

"Why did you stutter?" Oberyn asked.

"Trust me. It was necessary."

"You're a most confusing boy," Oberyn said as he readied his staff. "But I don't dislike children like you."

"Do I need to worry about protecting my chastity?"

"Not today, but just for that insinuation, this wooden staff will become acquainted on your behind. Sitting shall be a chore for you."

"I'd very much like to avoid that."

"A man must face the consequences of his decisions bravely."

"You do realize I'm still on my seventh nameday, right?"

"It's never too early to start becoming a man."

As I began to circle his still form, setting up the battlefield, an errant thought came to my mind. References. I had been using a lot of references to my old life these days. I didn't really do it back then, in Japan, but now that I didn't have access to the source material—couldn't ever watch, read, or play them again—I felt a longing nostalgia. Even the worse of them seemed better now that I was deprived of them entirely. Maybe I kept saying these references because I wanted to be reminded, wanted to keep that memory alive. If I closed my eyes, I could still remember the plot, the characters, their personalities, and vaguely their faces. However, I knew that wasn't going to last. Seven years had already passed me by. Would I forget completely in seven more years? What about two decades down the line? Three? Forgetting was letting go of that life, and I didn't want to do that.

His staff struck out, hitting my chest. It wasn't a hard strike, but it still stung.

"Keep your mind on the fight, or you'll have already lost, little brother."

"I'm not your brother, and I thought you weren't going to retaliate until I tried ten times." As I move around him, I tried to spot his weaknesses. With the powers of my discerning eye that I may need to get an eyepatch for, I found none.

"Missed opportunities count. Time is not your friend, my friend."

"I'm not your friend either."

"Then how would you classify our close relationship?"

"Acquaintances."

"A cruel blow. A cruel blow indeed. Worth ten attempts." He struck out with his staff, but this time, I was ready. I sidestepped out of the way and knocked the shaft aside with my practice sword.

"You're not even trying to stick to your own rules, are you?!"

"Rules are made to be broken. Especially if they're your own."

"If you can't follow your own rules, nobody's going to trust you."

"Who needs trust? All one needs is strength, wit, and charm."

"You'd fit right in with a Dothraki horde," I said even I continued to circle him. I subtly kicked a pebble onto his path.

"No," Oberyn said with a shake of his head. "Too many rules there."

"You're pretty twisted, aren't you?"

"We're of a kind, you and I."

"Don't group me with you."

"No, hear me out, you and I are—" Oberyn slipped on a pebble.

You just activated my trap card.

I rushed in to bring my wooden sword to bear on his throat and end the fight. However, before I could do so, he swung his staff while lying on the ground, catching me by the ankles. I crashed down to floor, losing my grip on my sword. He rolled over onto me and pressed the shaft of his staff against my collar bone.

"Yield?" When I nodded, Oberyn rolled off of me. His annoying smirk was stuck on his face. "That was clever. I didn't notice you leading me onto that small rock, but don't think that a fallen opponent is a helpless one."

"I'll keep that in mind." That hadn't work out quite like I thought it would. I pushed myself up and got up to my feet, taking a few seconds thereafter to brush myself off. Picking up my sword, I saw Oberyn get up. "Another round?"

"You'll hear no disagreement from me," Oberyn said as he readied his staff.

I couldn't fight Oberyn in a fair fight, plain and simple. He was older than me, meaning that he packed more trained muscles in his arms than I had in my entire body. He was stronger and faster than me, and I very much doubted I could even reach that point even if I was the same age. The graceful way he moved showed how much practice he put in, making it become an instinct in his body rather than a thought-out skill. Any conventional strike I could do, he would counter using instinct long before his mind would catch up. Most people would admit their loss and take this chance to improve their skills.

I wasn't like most people. I wanted to win.

Like Hayama, Oberyn was the type of person that I couldn't get along with. I could name a number of reasons why. His charisma, his good looks, his flippant personality. Yet, in the end, it was all of those and none of those. I couldn't pinpoint it down, but I knew that there was no recourse.

So I fought with everything I had.

~o~

And I still lost horribly.

I was lying on the ground, covered in bruises and welts. Every time I was put down, I kept coming back to try again. Again and again. I honestly didn't know what was keeping me going. I suppose, if anything, it was pride and hate.

"That was dirty," Oberyn said as he stood above me.

"History is written by the winners," I replied.

"As the winner, I say it's dirty," he said. "But I like dirty moves like that."

"It didn't gain me victory."

"If I had been a lesser man, then maybe." He crouched down beside me. "You've a bright mind, thinking up so many tricks from dirt and rocks."

"That's all there is." It was a training arena within Casterly Rock after all.

"Yes, I imagine if you ever come to know a forest or a desert, you'll be worth your weight in gold."

"Maybe."

"Are you planning to ever get up?"

"Not today," I said. "Not today."

~o~

Eventually, I got carried to my room and nursed the whole day by the maester.

I had spent so much effort, but I still lost in the end. The thing that bothered me, however, was the fact that I didn't really feel much about it after the fact. I didn't feel the burning desire to improve nor did I see a real reason for using so much effort except for spite. In fact, what I felt was resignation.

This, more than anything, showed that I wasn't the protagonist.

I disliked him, but not nearly enough to put him in my book of grudges. He wasn't malicious in anything he had done so far so I couldn't find it in myself to begrudge him. That could be considered a good thing, in a way. If I really hated him and committed some secret heinous acts against him, I would probably be relegated to smallfry status, especially against a harem protagonist like him. The only fate a smallfry had was to be stepped on, and I didn't plan on becoming a masochist anytime soon.

I sighed as I flipped the pillow so I could lay my head down on a less warm spot. That was right, wasn't it? He had the harem protagonist conditions mostly met so it wouldn't be surprised if Cersei was to be engaged to him by the end of this visit or if they used a pinkie promise for some destined reunion. Of course, if there was such a promise, Oberyn would just give it to please the child and soon forget about it, while she would remember and pine for the day. Probably a decade would pass before she would return to his life and actively pursue him in spite of any obstacles like a pesky wife and kids from a previous or current marriage.

…on second thought, I really did need to put a stop to this.

For that, I needed a plan. It didn't take long for me to think of one.

Unfortunately, it was a painful one.

~o~

Later on, when people looked back on this period of time, they would say that I followed Oberyn everywhere when I was younger, like a chick following a mother hen.

Of course, the reality was that it was actually a painful experience to me. Worse was the fact that I suspected that Oberyn knew that it was painful for me, though I doubted he knew for what reason I was doing it for. A couple of days after our match, I asked him to teach me the art of spear-fighting. Of course, I realized now that it was a mistake, but at the time, it seemed like the best reason for me to stay close to him. As long as I was there and carefully watching, there would be no time for a clandestine meeting between Oberyn and Cersei. They didn't really seem that interested in each other, but I knew—from Japanese mass media—that all it took was one event. One moment in time for the effects to butterfly out into a lifetime.

Since I was pretty much glued to Oberyn, that by extension meant that I was stuck with Elia as well. The girl was shy and timid, so much so that she constantly stuck by Oberyn even though they were teenagers already. That meant that I spent a lot of time with her as well, even though she didn't really speak too much. Well, even that much was a big difference, I found out, since she was actually even more shy around the older nobles in the household. I supposed she was more comfortable with me since I was much younger than her. She was a nice girl, but this "nice" front was used for everyone, and that became pretty obvious to me after spending this much time with her. Like I said before, I hate nice girls.

On the more fortunate side of things, it turned out I have a knack for spears. With sword fighting, I always got more pressured the closer I was to my opponent, a bit of a habit that I kept from my previous life. However, the increased range of the spear helped to alleviate much of that for me. It relied a lot more on position and spacing, a more of a hit and run style if you were to solely use piercing strikes. The shaft was used for more skillful maneuvers or to simply just bash your opponents. I wasn't up to that level, but I was improving with the spear far faster than the sword. Perhaps, I could become Lu Bu and star in my own Dynasty Warrior game.

In any case, after a month, the visit finally drew to a close. In only a few more days, they would be leaving along with their mother for Dorne.

"Hachi," Tywin said as he approached the three of us standing in the courtyard.

"Father." I nodded to him.

"A word, child." He walked off to the side, and I followed him. Only when we got to a suitable distance did he began to speak again. "I heard you've been following them around for weeks."

"I have my reasons," I said stiffly. He nodded in response.

"Anything I should be made aware of?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"What do you think of them?"

"They're nice people, I guess." I knew where this was going so I decided to stop it. "Father, I don't think it's a good idea for Cersei to be paired with Oberyn. It won't work out."

"She won't be."

I nodded in relief. That was easy.

"You, however, will be," Tywin said. "You are to marry to Princess Elia to establish an alliance with the Dornish."

What the fuck.

~o~

"So…I'm to be engaged to you, I guess," I said awkwardly to the tanned girl in front of me. A slim and slender girl with a cute face and no chest at all.

"Ye..yes…" Elia looked down at her clasped hands. It was obvious she didn't want this marriage; she was probably disgusted at the prospect of having to spend her whole life with me.

Oberyn was leaning against the wall of the hallway, looking fairly amused at our plight. I closed my eyes.

For a reincarnated life, I skipped the dating phase and went straight to marriage. Granted, it was an arranged marriage that wasn't of my choosing. If it had been my choosing, I wouldn't have chosen a nice girl like her. Nice naive girls were the type that were easily suckered into committing NTR with some bastard like Oberyn. Bastard in the cursing sense and not the fathering sense. Of course, in the Seven Kingdoms, a noble woman performing netorare was equivalent to a death sentence. Well, not necessarily death death, but I wouldn't be surprised if the woman was forced into becoming a silent sister or worse. The ways of medieval society weren't forgiving.

I opened my eyes.

"Elia."

She looked up nervously at me.

"Tell me about yourself."

~o~

After that, I learned nothing about her. She had covered her face and ran off with Oberyn chasing after her. It wasn't like I didn't understand her feelings. She was probably thinking something like: "Why do I have to marry dead fish-eyes?" That bitch. She couldn't say it to my face, but I knew that, in my heart of hearts, it was what she was thinking.

I could see it now. She was the type that would say, "Let's exchange letters," but when it came down to it, I would send out letters diligently while her replies would take longer and longer until it took a year for a single response or something like that. I had experience in this matter except it was with smartphones and text messaging. The conclusion came faster as well, in a matter of days rather than the years that I predict this would take. She would be doing all of this drudgery out of obligation and her nice nature at first, but she would eventually get tired of it and stop responding altogether. This was the horrible nature of nice girls; they would not reject you outright, but string you along because of their inability to be decisive. Eventually, those feelings you cultivated out of misunderstanding her kind acts toward you would rebel on you from your own stupidity, causing you to hate yourself with more fury than before. I would know since I had firsthand experience in this.

The worst part of it was that I couldn't not send reply letters. If she sent me them, I had to send one back. It was just in my nature, as if deep inside, I was hoping that it would work out despite the wisdom of my past ancestor—aka past me.

Nice girls were the number one reason that people got waifus. They were the reason that Japan had a declining birth rate. When the 3D could destroy us like this, why not go for the 2D? That was the kind of reasoning that gave birth to Zaimokuza and his kind.

Not to mention that these so-called nice girls would probably be dead fishes in bed. Their first times would be different, but after that? They would just be flopping around and enduring. Enduring, enduring, enduring. Just insert an occasional artificial moan, and that would complete the set. I had seen enough of certain materials to know that this was the result. Was that fun? No, it wasn't! That would be the reason for there being very few children born from these kind of unions. If my marriage was going to be like that, I would eventually have to go out and conquer all the brothels in Lannisport. What a disastrous end.

My conclusion? Nice girls are the reason that Japan would soon become depopulated. They are the harbingers of the end-times.

"Hachi." I was brought out of my thoughts by Oberyn who had returned to the hallway.

"Yes?"

"Let her have some time alone. She's not used to the idea of marriage," Oberyn said vaguely. "Trust me, she's a nice girl."

Case in point.

"She'll come around. Trust me, I saw her blushing when she ran off."

"I suppose," I blankly said. However, I was thinking the opposite. He was saying "Trust me" one too many times already. He was trying to warm me up to her, warm me up to the type of woman who could potentially ruin my life. I wasn't going to buy into that.

"You…don't like the match?"

"Oberyn, you already saw how it is." I frowned and crossed my arms. "It's not going to work out."

"She's just nervous and shy. She really does like you."

I didn't respond as I turned around and walked away.

There was no point in arguing since he was denying what was right in front of his eyes.

~o~

I looked down at Tyrion's cradle. The baby giggled at the sight of me. It had been awhile since I visited, distracted as I was by the Martells. Even though I was here, my mind was partially floating away. Marriage. I didn't mind the concept, but the fact that it was an arranged marriage wasn't exactly an exciting prospect. I knew it was expected of me, being a noble, but at the same time, it triggered my sensibilities. Still, an alliance with Dorne was not necessarily bad or worthless. As it was, trade with the eastern continent had to either go through the Stormlands, Crownlands, or Dorne to reach the Westerland. The Stormlands was dangerous with Shipbreaker Bay, making it an undesirable trade route. Going through the Crownlands required merchants to pay the travel tax of Dragonstone before having most of their goods sold in King's Landing, leaving only the drudges left for the Westerland. Dorne was in the middle of the sea route between the eastern continent and Lannisport, so with protection as well as a certain level of discount for travel supplies, it would make it a more attractive route for merchants. Lannisport was already a flourishing port, but this would booster trade with the eastern continent and certain portions of eastern Westeros that couldn't easily travel here by land. This would benefit Dorne as well. All in all, it was a good deal for everyone involved. I just never expected a marriage would be needed to seal it.

Especially since I was the one who made this analysis to Tywin and urged him to put away his prejudices in the first place. In the end, it came back to bite me.

It was at this point that someone who I wasn't expecting walked up to the cradle besides me. Meryl Martell.

"So this is little Tyrion," she said. "May I touch him?"

"I don't think that is a good idea. He has only been born recently so he's still frail." It wasn't a lie, but not necessarily the whole truth.

"I see." She gave a small smile. "Elia was the same way, born a little softer than most."

"Some things are out of our control."

"Have my children come to see him yet?"

"They did." Nothing notable happened during the visit. It seemed that they heard a lot of rumors of how Tyrion was a monster, but after they saw the truth, they didn't pay him much attention after that. "Nothing really happened."

"That's good." Meryl nodded. She waited a little bit, letting the silence settle before speaking again. "I heard from my son that you find the arrangement disagreeable."

"I dislike naive kind girls," I bluntly said.

"How strange that you already know the type of girls you like at this age," Meryl said. "But I think you're being unfair to her."

"Unfair?" I sighed. This was going to be a hassle. "Let me explain."

She politely nodded and waited for me to continue. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts.

"Kind to the beggar and kind to the king. She holds them both at arms length, stringing both along to think that they are special to her when they're not. This is unnatural. People care more about those they know far more than those that they don't, giving preferential treatment to the former in that respect. That is human nature.

"They aren't necessarily liars, but in their folly, they deceive themselves to treat everyone with kindness. Someone like that will have a difficult time letting anyone into their heart because they hide their true feelings deep within. Their frailty, their insecurities, their darker urges. All hidden behind a wall of their own making. How can someone who has never known themselves be able to learn to love someone else? One day, she might wake up and find out that the truth is that she hates all of this. What do you think will happen then?"

"That's…" I raised a hand to stop her.

"You ask me why I don't want this marriage, but let me ask you this: do you care about your daughter's happiness?"

"Of…of course," she said in soft, quiet voice.

"Then think about what she really wants," I said. "You'll only find out for sure once you strip the layers away. Don't rely on others to do it for you."

Don't rely on me to do it for you. That was the unsaid message I wanted to send.

"You are disturbing for a child of seven namedays."

"That's not the issue here."

"You're right; it's not."

"The issue here is that your daughter's real feelings are a mystery, and I'm still too young so my feelings may change in time. I don't know what kind of man I will become in the future."

"I think I do."

"Hm?"

"A exceedingly kind man."

"…why do you say that?"

"You're pushing others away too, aren't you?" She smiled. "Those that are kind are those that have suffered. In one way or another."

I clenched my fingers into a fist.

"It's not a bad—"

"Stop!" I gritted my teeth and reigned in my anger. "Stop. I know who I am. I know my true feelings. I'm not going to change for anyone or anything."

"I did not mean to offend."

"You didn't," I briskly said. "Is there anything else, Princess Meryl?"

"I do not believe so."

"Then have a good evening, princess."

"You as well, my lord."

~o~

In the end, Princess Meryl didn't get rid of the arranged marriage. She probably listened to all I had to say, and then threw my words away as a child's ranting. It was annoying, but I couldn't do much about it. I would have liked to have watched their farewell procession from one of the towers in the castle, but since I was heir to Casterly Rock, I had to be there in person. The first of the Martells to come and give me their last words was Oberyn.

"Well, Hachi, if you had been female, I'd have married you."

"Then I'm glad I'm not."

"Therefore, I'll give you my sister instead. Take care of her."

I held in the urge to facepalm. After that, Oberyn told me to keep practicing my spear. I nodded, but I didn't say any more than that; I didn't know if I could keep up with the spear anyways since I didn't know anybody else proficient with a spear.

As for Elia, she told me that she would write me letters, to which I politely nodded as well. I knew the ending of that chain of events, but I couldn't exactly deny her, especially not in front of everyone. The last to talk to me was Princess Meryl.

"If you can't find happiness, make your own," she told me with a gentle smile.

It would have been profound words in this era, but for me who had come from modern Japanese society, it was a drop in a bucket. I nodded my head and said that I would consider her words. She smiled in response before she boarded her carriage.

The train of carriages and wagons began to slowly make their way out of the castle.

Tywin's hand landed softly on shoulder.

"You did well, Hachi."

I didn't respond as I watched the carriages and wagons leave the gate.

~o~

A/N: The picture on the cover image is what I think Hachiman would look like in the future. Credit to the unknown artist. I only did some recoloring. Well, technically, it was just slapping on some overlays with color instead of washing it out with greyscale and actually coloring it. I would show a bigger image of the picture, but unfortunately, this site doesn't allow links.

With that out of the way, I would like to admit something. The entire style of this story is kind of like my weakpoint. The type of writing that I actually gravitate towards is action and fighting. It is a bit of an aggression that is partially from my history in rp forum fights. Most of what I wrote before this story was pretty much action adventure with a few endeavors into the grotesque. I wouldn't say my strongest point is action, but it is the point that I enjoy the most. Don't check into my previous stories though; most of my writing including original stories are posted on other places or sitting on my hard drive, collecting dust. I suppose that this story is meaningful to me in that it is my attempt to overcome my weakness. Dialogue, drama, interactions. These things honestly are hard for me. I find myself doubting what I write. I'm thinking that's because I'm rather unfamiliar with this. I'm hoping it lessens with more practice. You can imagine how I was baffled at the initial response to this story. Felt too positive for what it was because I don't think I am that good at it. Well, I'm just talking about it because I have nowhere else to do so. I have never gone this long without violence. It feels odd all around.

Well, enough with my insecurities which I probably shouldn't be putting in an author's note, but whatever. I have gone too far into the author's note to go back now.

Gregor Clegane and Sandor Clegane. I have been thinking about them lately, and I do want to involve them because they are one of the iconic figures of the Westerland. I admit that I absolutely adore what Gregor did to Oberyn. It's a type of brutality that I love from Game of Thrones. Does that make me strange? Well, though I want to involve them, it would obviously change their characters drastically, even as cardboard cutout as Gregor's personality is. Is that a good or bad thing? I'm not too sure. I'm also not really sure how I can involve them, being as low status as they are until Gregor makes his claim to fame that causes the Clegane family to rise in status. Then again, should I really? It kind of feels like putting a delinquent bully next to Hachiman, resulting in some cliche children hierarchy drama. Or will it? His status is pretty low. I really just don't know.