Writer's note: Probably who I've found to be one of the most fascinating and exciting (and kinda badass) characters in the ASOIAF books described in barely a few paragraphs and who appeared in only a couple of chapters. I've decided to write out his story before the events in the books, of his many travels throughout Essos after being forced into an alleged exile to explore the lands across the Narrow Sea. It starts with his first stop in Oldtown from which he travels to Lys and then to rest of the Free Cities where he will meet characters fans of the series might be familiar with. The story is mostly canon and will depict events from 274 A.L. – 280 A.L., undecided on how many chapters.
Chapter 1: First Light
(274 A.L.)
The way to Oldtown was short but treacherous throughout the varied land of sandy paths and stone roads winding their way through the Prince's Pass with the Red Mountains looming on both sides. They were few in numbers, a small company of thirteen joining Oberyn Martell on his journey out of Dorne though only two would truly remain at his side when he sailed for the Free Cities. An exile they called it even if his older brother Doran told him otherwise. It was for the good of House Martell, he said, to appease their allies of centuries for the insult brought to them. Lord Edgar Yronwood was a liege lord to the rulers of Dorne, a man who stood taller than most and twice their size in girth, with a fierce reputation and a short fuse of a temper. It had not bode well on him when his paramour had been found abed with Oberyn and immediately challenged the second son of Dorne to a duel. It did not end in his favor.
Both endured cuts, but the fight stopped when the Lord's pride was satisfied and no death ensued from the duel of honor. At the very least, no immediate death. The Prince's wounds had healed but Lord Yronwood's had festered horribly and painfully, burning away at him until he passed on and rumors arose. Poison on the blade, they whispered. Rumors on how Oberyn embed liquid death on his sword began to spread, intent on killing his challenger with it and so had succeeded. The Red Viper of Dorne was now a name they called him. House Yronwood was enraged, calling for justice to the Martells for this trickery and to soothe their pride, Doran had to promise payment. He sent his son Quentyn to be fostered at Yronwood in show of good faith and sent his younger brother in exile yet he called it a temporary departure. Oberyn did not protest, but only offered that if Lord Edgar had had the courtesy to announce his presence before bursting into his chambers, perhaps he would have not found the Prince still abed with his young paramour and thus still be alive. Lack of courtesy killed the man, not poison, Oberyn insisted. The remark was not well received.
From astride his horse, Oberyn's black eyes looked forward as him and his small party were approaching Oldtown after four days worth of travel. He could see Hightower clearly now, the massive lighthouse standing far above any other structure even from the distance. Winter has come with its snows and cold winds, but the southern lands always stood as the least affected. The sun was milder and the breezes still weak. The further south they rode, the better he could smell the salty air of the Sunset Sea on the wind. It brought a fleeting comfort of home, of the place he would soon be leaving. Oldtown carried the scent in abundance and it only grew more poignant when the fourteen riders passed through its gates. It was a city of narrow canals and twisting rivers, bridges gapping the spaces in between the cobbled streets and high stone mansions edged along the banks. Its beauty was not new to him so he spent little time taking it in as they made their way through the labyrinth of stone and water.
"I have spoken to a trading galley's captain and arranged for a ship to be in port waiting for you, my lord."One of the guard addressed him, a burly man with full armor on as if they were going in battle. It made the most irritating clink and clatter of steel Oberyn had ever endured for three days straight at every move. "I was assured your journey will be of the utmost privacy and your name of secrecy. Your brother believed it would be best to move on with caution and not have anyone know of your intention. Ship captains are often not the most trustworthy sort and will bargain for their last breath if they could."
"You would be foolish to believe we can go unnoticed in this city. Your plan of disguise has failed since Horn Hill." Oberyn smirked faintly after he spoke, glancing at the nine horsemen approaching his party. Eight of them were armored knights with the sigil of House Hightower embed on their chest, a lonely white tower on a field of grey and a red flame at the top. Lord Leyton Hightower was at the head of the riders, brown-haired and brown-eyed with a hint of a stubble on his chin. He seemed a plain man to Oberyn's eyes.
"Prince Oberyn, I expected you would be arriving to Oldtown's port soon enough. Your brother has always been a cautious man." The Voice of Oldtown spoke as he reined his horse to a stop.
"You may call him 'predictable' freely, I'll take no offense. Did my brother send you to make sure I will reach port instead of venturing through brothels?"
"I simply thought it a courtesy to escort you. The city has been known to confuse travelers who do not know their way around the safe paths. Men have lost more than their coin passing through the Thieves' Market."
The second son of Dorne glimpsed at the man of his guard with a smug look before he rode forward, allowing the party of Hightower guards lead the way with Lord Leyton riding next to him. "I trust that is true. I've been to Oldtown before and left with little of my coin. A whore named Mara had more success in relieving me of it than thieves, so I would say it's the pleasure houses you should to be warning of." Oberyn said as they rode through the narrow streets and over short bridges.
"I will consider your advice, my lord. I remember the last time you've passed through the city with your lady mother and sister, heading for Casterly Rock. The Lannisters must have been a disappointment given that I heard of no betrothals between the Lion and Sun."
"The Lion wants fire, not heat, even if his receiving of us was as cold as the Wall itself." He would say no more of that as he was in no mood to speak about the useless ride he had taken to the Westerlands with Elia and their mother.
"You might have to forgive Lord Tywin. His lady wife had just passed on and his children were all that remained of her. It's a great responsibility to choose whom you entrust them with and I am speaking as a man who failed in that respect. I have made a mistake I cannot take back and now I can do nothing to fix it." Lord Leyton looked in distress for a flash of a second, a slight downturn of his lips and tightening of his hands around the reins proving it to Oberyn's eyes. He knew the man had daughters, some of which must have taken more after their mother as they were quite comely. However, he couldn't be said to give importance to the fate of one of Lord Hightower's children so he asked no more of it. The sun was setting and he was bound to be out of Westeros by the next day's first light.
They rode through the city of cobble stone pavements and narrow streets until they reached the famous harbor of Oldtown. Hundreds of ships lined the docks and further out into the sea, painting the horizon in the various colors of their sails. They crowded around the harbor, trading galleys from all over the Free Cities and the Summer Isles, all shapes and sizes with intricate carvings into the wood and strange statues whittled into their hull serving as figureheads. The harbor was bursting of life, but Oberyn decided it could have smelled better. The Lord Hightower left him with his company of thirteen and they rode among the crowd until they found the ship meant to sail him to the Free Cities, a trading galley of worn state with dark purple sails and small dents into its curved edges, likely made by knives and arrows. What drew his attention more was the golden hints streaked across the wood which upon further inspection showed no trace of being painted on. The wood itself was of golden color though no tree he had ever heard of made such a thing possible. He dismounted so he could take a closer look.
"Are you admiring my ship or planning to steal it? Men have tried to carve into the wood for the gold they wager is inside and only ended with their eyes carved out instead. Yours could continue the collection." The voice of a woman spoke out over the indiscernible chatter of voices, making his black eyes look up to its source. A tall, dark-haired young woman stood there with an eyebrow perked waiting for his answer with an impatience as if his fate depended on it. A Summer Islander, he guessed in a moment, with ebony skin, deep brown eyes and full lips to top off her hard features into an exotic beauty. Her garb was nothing like a lady from the Seven Kingdoms would wear, with worn leather boots, breeches, belt and a loose cotton white shirt with its sleeves folded up. Modest at first sight, but he could see how the shirt was cut down the middle to nearly the center of her chest, showing only the supple curves of her neck and bits of her shoulders, taunting as if it would only take a strong breeze to leave her bare. A hint of a smirk showed around the corners of his mouth at the thought.
"Only admiring. My eyes have sights left to see and I have room ready for me on your ship already paid for. Though I suspect the captain's quarters would be of greater comfort."
He watched as she weighed his words with another perk of her slender brow before she smiled a devious smile as he had ever seen. "Depends on how you would rate comfort with a dagger against your throat."
"Now that would be one of the sights I have left to see." The second son of Dorne walked further up the wooden platform until he stepped onto the ship and glanced around at the crew of mostly men getting it ready to set sail. He was supposed to be a commoner, unknown of identity to anyone else but those he brought with him. His name and family were to be kept to himself. "Name's Etain Sand and my two companions are Gilas Dalt and Lutor Naldyniss, a maester of the citadel. I've been told I have a voyage across the Narrow Sea arranged for the three of us, one of which assured me he has already paid. The man fully clad in armor and as dull as a wooden blade. Perhaps you remember him."
"Aye, he paid in Stags and wine." she agreed with a stern nod.
"An honest merchant. Interesting." he mused in thinking she could have denied ever receiving payment. "I now have one less sight left to see thanks to you, captain. I'm quickly finding myself in your debt." A faint smirk edged on the corners of his mouth as he caught her eyes looking over his features. Like his sister Elia, Oberyn shared traits with their mother. He had a handsome face with sharp features and jet black eyes, dark short hair to match, a lean built and near olive skin shaded by the sun of Dorne. His jaw was well defined and narrow, clean shaven and thin eyebrows that only drew more attention to his eyes, deep and determined.
The company of thirteen broke onto the shore, loading what little he had brought with him before the two men assigned to leave with him boarded as well. The Summer Islander returned to her wicked smile before she spoke. "Captain Ila Xsys. We set sail and my word is your god, adhered to and feared."
"Adhered to." he agreed.
A slight perk of an eyebrow greeted him again. "And feared."
"I'm afraid not. Perhaps that counts as fear?"
"Not quite, but it's close enough for a start. I'll judge how you listen to commands first."
"Poorly." A nearly proud smirk showed over his features as it was very well true. Oberyn was quite incapable of listening to orders barked out at him, more so than most of noble birth. For the voyage, at least, he would have to adjust and attempt at seeming like a lowborn.
She took on an amused look that she tried to conceal with a cross of her arms, but he could see it in the corners of her brown eyes and soft curve of her full lips. "Very well. I'll see how you handle directions first. I trust you can find the captain's quarters on your own." she said before unfurling her arms from under her chest. "Welcome to the Feathered Kiss, Prince Oberyn." Her voice trailed with a smug, knowing last glance at him before she walked away and across the deck to tend to her ship. In those few moments his expression remained impassive, giving nothing away, though it faltered a split second after she left with a slight narrow of his brow at her knowledge of his real name and true identity. So much of a secret, he thought to himself and looked out toward Oldtown.
For a long time, this would be his last glimpse of Westeros, a harbor full of drunken men, sailors, smugglers, whores and thieves, but the Hightower stood tall and watchful over it all. The sails will rise and they would depart for Essos. He would not see his family, not his brother Doran nor his beloved sister Elia, and he would venture into a foreign land with strange cultures, unknown people and different gods. And he was not afraid.
5