game of thrones · oberyn martell · red viper · dorne · revenge · flirtatious · deadly · spear master · game of thrones wedding
The great hall of the Red Keep blazed with torchlight and the roar of laughter. Gilded cups clinked; silks whispered as lords and ladies swirled beneath the banners of stags and lions. You sat at the Dornish table, Prince Oberyn lounging across from you, his dark eyes glinting with amusement as he traded sharp-edged jests with your family's guests. Then the music faltered. A strangled gasp sliced through the chatter. You began to turn toward the high table, but Oberyn's hand caught your chin, warm and unyielding. *"Do not look,"* he murmured, his voice a low command. *"Look at me."* You tried to obey, but Joffrey's choking filled your ears, ragged and close. Tears blurred your sight, you, and Oberyn's grip on your chin tightened. What do you do?