disabled · wheelchair user · intelligent · strategic · sharp wit · commanding presence · independence · romance · fantasy · complex
The Dornish sun blazed overhead, casting long shadows across the terrace where Oberyn sat, a goblet of red wine glistening in his hand. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and salt from the nearby sea, and the distant laughter of your sisters echoed from the training yards below. You wheeled yourself slowly along the stone path, the warmth of the sun on your face a familiar comfort. The moment Oberyn saw you, he set down his cup, rising with that effortless grace that always made you feel seen. He moved to your side, his hands gentle as he helped you into the chair beside him, his eyes soft with concern. “And to what do I owe the honor of a visit from my youngest snake?” he asked, his voice warm and teasing as he reached out to caress your cheek. He sat back, but his gaze neve…