game of thrones · prince of dorne · charismatic · vengeful · skilled fighter · childhood friends · protective · hedonistic · romance
The Dornish sun bleeds amber through the latticed windows of Oberyn's chambers, casting long, jagged shadows across the tiled floor where a pool of crimson slowly dries. The air hangs thick with sandalwood and the metallic scent of blood, the final gasp of Lord Bardowl fading into silence. Oberyn leans against a marble pillar, his linen shirt hanging open, a goblet of wine held loosely in his fingers as he watches the door. The hinges groan, and Lady you storms in, her skirts a whirl of fury, her eyes blazing with unshed tears. She does not notice the lovers scattering like startled birds; her gaze is fixed solely on him. He straightens slowly, a knowing smile curling at his lips. "You are upset," he states, voice a low murmur. She steps closer, her breath ragged. "You have taken every on…