AN: This was supposed to be a super short fic, but it ended up becoming something longer. It features a meddling Uncle Oberyn, a stalkerish Aegon, and an exasperated Trystane, and it's probably the weirdest thing I've ever written, so you've been warned :)

The first time his cousin came home with a stupid, moony grin on his face, Trystane only shrugged and went back to his thesis. After all, he was familiar with that look – it was the same look he had on his face when he first saw Myrcella at one of her parents' annual fundraiser parties three years ago – and though he found the whole thing intriguing, he didn't think there was anything unusual about it.

The way Trystane saw it, it was about damn time that Aegon – the only guy he knew who had been unlucky enough to spend the majority of his teenage years trapped in a secluded island with nothing but his father's guardian, Jon Connington, for company – finally found himself a girlfriend. But had he known how seriously his cousin would pursue the woman of his dreams, he would have immediately retracted that statement and done something about it. But as it was, by the time he realized Aegon's obsession with the Stark girl, it was already too late.

At first, it had started with harmless hours spent stalking the girl on various social media sites, a fact that Trystane first discovered when he walked in on his cousin one night and found him hunched over his desktop computer, the expression on his face so glazed that Trys initially thought that he was in the middle of revising for finals.

In fact, Aegon was so engrossed in his task that he didn't even notice when Trystane perched himself behind his cousin's shoulder and exclaimed, "Hey, I know that girl!"

At the sound of his voice, Aegon jerked in his seat, looking so surprised and horrified at being caught red-handed that Trystane found it impossible not to laugh at him.

"Isn't that Arya Stark? I think she's in one of my classes," Trystane remarked in a tone so innocent it immediately made Aegon suspicious. "I didn't realize you guys were friends."

Aegon turned an alarming shade of red and shrunk farther in his seat, looking as though he would rather die and be reincarnated as a roach than continue the conversation. "Err, we're not, actually," he said in a choked voice. "She doesn't know I exist."

Trystane, who knew perfectly well how many girls his oblivious cousin can attract with one smile alone, stared at him, both eyebrows raised. "Well, why not? Have you tried talking to her?"

The traumatized look on Aegon's face was answer enough.

Trystane usually liked spending time with his Targaryen cousin. Granted, he was younger than him by a few years, but Trys had always been mature for his age while Aegon behaved like a total child, so they pretty much balanced each other out. But today though, once he caught his cousin pining after the elusive Arya Stark yet again (after that unfortunate incident with the slushie several weeks ago, during which Arya nodded at Trys in greeting and stared at Aegon for a total of five seconds, startling him so much that he ended up spilling his drink all over Trys' new khaki pants, Trys stopped trying to keep count), even he had to admit that things were starting to get way out of hand.

He stared at Aegon, who looked ridiculously shady in dark sunglasses, his face all but hidden in his hoodie, and snorted. You're not fooling anyone with that getup, Egg, he mentally noted. Trystane felt torn between weeping silently in a corner and shaking his head in sympathy. His cousin was so awkward around girls, it wasn't even funny.

He sighed. "Dude, just talk to her already, will you?" he muttered impatiently as he watched Aegon surreptitiously glance at Arya out of the corner of his eye.

Said girl was standing just a few feet from them, looking effortlessly cute in a simple white tee and running shorts, an enormous Siberian Husky glued to her side. Stark girls were notorious for being blessed with good genes – just look at the stunning redhead Willas Tyrell was currently dating – and this girl proved to be no exception. There was something dangerous and wildly captivating about Arya Stark, with her devil-may-care attitude and her love for all things unconventional, and so Trystane can sort of see why Aegon felt so attracted to her.

"God, Trys, keep your voice down! Do you want the entire neighborhood to hear you?" Aegon hissed, looking on the verge of a panic attack as he ducked his head and hid himself behind the nearest dumpster.

Trystane rolled his eyes. "You know, some people would call this stalking," he pointed out.

"I am not stalking her," Aegon replied hotly, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "It doesn't count as stalking if all I do is harmlessly watch her from time to time."

Trystane shot him a disbelieving look. "Uh, I'm pretty sure that counts as stalking, but whatever." He shrugged. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Aegon crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at him.

In the end, pity won out over amusement, and Trystane sighed. "Look," he said, running a hand through his hair and surveying Aegon with a critical eye. "If you're really serious about this chick, then let me help you out. I'll give you her number, and from there you can –"

"That's not necessary," Aegon interrupted him, clearing his throat and looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. He fixed his gaze on the sidewalk and in a small voice, confessed, "I already have it."

Trystane raised one eyebrow in disbelief. "Are you serious? You actually found the guts to ask Arya Stark for her number? Wow, who would have thought you had it in you? Congratulations, man!" he exclaimed, thumping Aegon enthusiastically in the back.

His reaction, however, was short-lived. "Technically, I didn't ask Arya for her number," Aegon reluctantly admitted.

Trystane looked suspiciously at his cousin. "What do you mean?" he asked him, certain that he was not going to like this next part.

"Well…" Aegon's voice trailed off. "I kind of bribed her fat friend with a box of Cella's homemade donuts so he'd give me her number."

"Dude, you got my girlfriend involved in this? That is not cool," Trystane exclaimed, annoyed that Myrcella hadn't told him about this latest development and more than a little disappointed that Aegon didn't bother asking him for help. After all, he already knew Arya Stark's number and email address, among other things. All his cousin had to do was ask.

Aegon raised his hands apologetically. "Sorry, man," he said. "I wasn't thinking straight."

"Damn right you aren't. Ever since you met Arya, you've been acting more of a moron than usual," Trystane complained. "Seriously, if you don't make a move on her soon, I'm going to disown you as a cousin."

"I can't talk to her!" Aegon cried out, looking aghast at his suggestion. "I tried it before and it wasn't… Oh god, let's just say it wasn't one of my best shining moments."

Trystane winced in sympathy. He'd seen Arya on a rampage once, and it had not been pretty. But on the other hand, he knew that Aegon was capable of being charming, even though he'd practically been raised as a monk all his life. So maybe if he tried hard enough, if he stopped being such a goddamn coward and tried acting more like himself and less like a stalker, he might just have a shot with her.

But if that was true, then why did Trystane get the feeling that Aegon was about to get slapped with a restraining order in the very near future? Trystane frowned. Well, hopefully things won't come to that.

The final straw for him came one day when he was rummaging around Aegon's room in search of loose change but came across something else instead.

"What the hell is this, Aegon?" Trystane yelled, waving the photos in the air before throwing them at his cousin's feet.

Aegon only stared guiltily at him and nervously picked at a loose thread on his sweater. "Wait, I can explain…"

"You're collecting Arya's pictures now? Jesus, that is so creepy I don't even know where to start."

Aegon's face turned red at the accusation. "Hey, they're just two pictures, okay? One from her high school yearbook and one taken last year at her uncle's wedding. It's not like I actually followed her around with my camera like some goddamn paparazzi, so can you just, like, chill?"

His cousin narrowed his eyes at him. "And how exactly did you get them? Did you sneak into her house in the middle of the night and search through her stuff?" he accused him, crossing his arms over his chest and staring him down in a way that reminded Aegon of his Uncle Doran.

"No," Aegon responded immediately, looking horrified. "Of course not. God, Trys. I'm not that low."

"Well, how did you manage to get these pictures then?"

Aegon looked around the room in desperation, avoiding Trystane's gaze, but he could find no escape. He was well and truly trapped now. "Uh, let's just say I got them from someone," he said in a rush. "Do you know Theon Greyjoy, Arya's foster brother? Well, one time he kind of caught me staring at his sister, so he came over with this scary, devilish smirk on his face and offered to give me photos of Arya in exchange for three hundred bucks."

Trystane gaped at him. "Wait, let me get this straight," he exclaimed. "Her own foster brother sold you these pictures? Wow, I don't know what's creepier, his offer or the fact that you accepted it." Trys groaned and shook his head in despair. "Why am I the only sane person living in this neighborhood? Why?" he shouted to the heavens.

Aegon looked at him with wide, pleading eyes. "I really, really like her, Trys," he said.

"Yes, of course you do. Anyone within a three-mile radius can see that," Trystane griped, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

But this has got to stop. Something needs to be done.

So the very next morning, Trystane called Arianne who, of course, could not resist so she called Tyene. Tyene, in turn, told Nymeria, who told Sarella and Elia, until eventually the news reached Obara. And naturally, being the eldest of the Sand Snakes and knowing that it was her duty to keep her father informed in all things (that, and the fact that she was bored), she called Oberyn.

After that, it was only a matter of time before shit hit the fan.

Oberyn Martell looked up from the cards on the table and was greeted by the rather amusing sight of his silver-haired nephew being dragged into the room by Doran's youngest son and several of his own daughters. By the look on his face, you'd think the poor boy was visiting a gaoler, not an uncle, and for a moment, Oberyn almost felt sorry for him.

Beside him, he heard Tyrion chuckle. Oberyn narrowed his eyes and smirked at his nephew. "Well, well, well. Look who the cat dragged in," he drawled. "Do you know why you're here, dear nephew?"

Aegon gulped and tried to shake off Nymeria and Tyene's tight grip on his arms, but the girls held him firmly in place. In the end, he was forced to give up and face his uncle. "Hi, Uncle Oberyn," he said dully. "Did you call me because you missed me?"

"Ha! Now don't be cheeky, Aegon," his uncle admonished him, that same self-satisfied smirk still plastered on his face. He appraised Elia's son with calculating black eyes and rested his chin on both hands. "My daughters told me you've been having some girl troubles lately. Well, worry no more, because you've come to the right place."

Aegon looked like he wanted to object. After all, to say that he came here out of his own free will was a bit of an overstatement. In truth, it had taken the combined forces of Elia, Obara, and the rest of the Sand Snakes to drag him out of bed and all the way to his uncle's infamous casino. But one look from Oberyn immediately shut him up.

"I'm sure you already know Tyrion," Oberyn said casually, gesturing to the short man sitting next to him, who raised his glass of whiskey in salutation.

"Professor Lannister?" Aegon looked at him in surprise. "I didn't know you and my uncle knew each other."

Tyrion Lannister grinned at him. "Ah, yes. Fortunately for your uncle but unfortunately for me, we're rather close friends," he quipped, his gaze sweeping over Aegon in a way that made him feel as though he was slowly being dissected. "Nice to see you again, Aegon Targaryen. A pity you dropped out of my history class last semester. What's your major again?"

"Arya Stark," Trystane gleefully answered for him.

Tyrion blinked. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Aegon elbowed Trystane hard in the ribs. "Please ignore my cousin," he said through clenched teeth, his face turning pale from mortification. "What he meant to say was that I'm still undeclared. But I'm thinking maybe Political Science or Business. I'm not yet sure."

"Interesting choice," Tyrion remarked, then shared an amused look with Oberyn. "Anyway, let's get down to business. What's this I'm hearing about a girl?"

"Aegon is in love with a girl several years younger than him but he's too shy to talk to her," Tyene cheerfully announced.

"Tyene!"

"What?" Tyene said, batting her eyelashes innocently at Aegon. "It's true. Would you rather I told Dad that you were stalking her?"

Aegon sputtered and looked like he was about to have a seizure, so Tyrion took pity on him and asked, "Who's the lucky lady?"

"Arya Stark," Nymeria told them, an evil grin on her face, and all at once there were two things that happened. One: Oberyn let out a dramatic little gasp, looking as though just he'd heard the most delicious piece of gossip in this side of town, and two: Tyrion's eyes widened, and unconsciously, he reached for the bottle of whiskey on the table. He had a feeling he needed to be properly inebriated for this conversation to continue.

"Aegon, let me give you one useful piece of advice," Tyrion started to say. "Stay away from Stark women."

Aegon frowned at him. "Why? Do you know Arya well?"

"Know her? Boy, her sister pushed my nephew off a rooftop right after they broke up. Granted, it was only a two-story building, and I can't exactly say I blame the girl for trying – half of the time I'm convinced my nephew was sired by the devil himself – but Uncle Kevan and I had to deal with the lawyers for weeks, and let me tell you, it was a real nightmare," Tyrion said, his face twisted into an awful grimace. "And don't even get me started on their mother. That bitch got me arrested because of some huge misunderstanding with their son and I had to spend an entire night in jail before my brother Jaime managed to bail me out. God, can you believe it? The whole thing was so traumatizing, I don't think I'll be able to look at a red-haired woman the same way ever again."

"It's true," Oberyn said, nodding solemnly. "He refused to fuck his favorite redhead whore for weeks, so the poor girl was forced to seek solace in my arms."

Trystane gave his uncle a disgusted look. "Seriously, Uncle Obi? You really had to say that in front of me?"

"Oh, grow up, young Trystane," Tyrion said with a grin. "How on earth do you expect my niece to put up with you for long if you keep acting like such a prude?"

"Hey!"

"And as for you, young man," Tyrion went on, this time addressing Aegon. "There are plenty of other fish in the sea. Why don't you catch yourself a nice, pretty one instead?"

"I don't want anyone else," Aegon declared, his jaw clenched stubbornly. "I want Arya."

Tyrion sighed in exasperation. "Aegon, that girl's not a fish. She's a fucking shark," he told him matter-of-factly.

"Well, shark or not," Oberyn said, "If she's the girl my nephew wants, then by all means, he shall have her."

Tyrion chuckled at him. "And how do you propose to do that?"

Oberyn cracked his knuckles and motioned for his nephew to come closer. "Listen carefully, Aegon," he whispered. "This is what you're going to do…"

Three days later, Aegon stormed into his uncle's casino, looking as though the world was about to end. Tyrion, who at that point had already made himself a familiar fixture in the establishment, winced and patted him sympathetically on the back, while Oberyn looked at his nephew with dawning horror.

"It didn't work?"

Aegon shook his head, looking so shocked he could barely even speak.

"Fuck!" Oberyn exclaimed, one hand resting on his temple. "Do you know what Mace Tyrell will say to me if word of this gets out? That fat fool will never let me live it down! Damn that Stark girl! She must be even more of a challenge than I thought!"

"Of course she'd be a real challenge," the guy beside Tyrion piped up. "She's my niece, you morons. What did you expect?"

Oberyn rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to hit Brandon Stark on the head with the bottom of his wine glass. How he happened to be friends with such a sleazebag, he will never know. "Do shut up, Brandon," he growled. "If you don't have anything good to contribute here, feel free to leave."

Brandon snorted. "And pass up the chance to drink free booze? No way," he said, linking his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair. "Besides, Ned keeps dropping by my apartment and bitching to me about taking on more responsibility at the company, it's driving me insane. If I didn't think I'd miss you sorry bastards so much, I'd be halfway around the globe by now." He turned towards Aegon and whispered conspiratorially to him, "Trust me, my man, you do not want Ned Stark as your father-in-law. Save yourself while you still can."

"Too late for that," Tyrion pointed out. "The guy's half in love with your niece already, and they haven't even been on a date yet."

Brandon Stark stroked his chin with one hand. "Oh. Well in that case, allow me to help you," he said. "Advice number one: Play the Cancer card."

"The Cancer card?"

"Yeah, you know, the Cancer card. Pretend you've only got seven days to live and tell her you'd like to spend the rest of your miserable existence here on Earth fucking her senseless. Oh, shit. Wait, I forgot. That stuff only works on Sansa. Sorry, my bad."

Tyrion whacked his friend on the head. "Great advice, Brandon," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And while you're at it, you might as well tell Arya to sic her dog on poor Aegon. That'll help."

"Wait, she has a dog?" Oberyn asked them.

"Yes. A huge, beastly thing that would sooner bite your hand off than let you pet it."

"All of my brother's children have Huskies," Brandon volunteers to tell them. "Those kids are so bonded to their dogs, it's almost unnatural, if you ask me."

But Oberyn was no longer listening to them. Gears were turning in his head, and all of a sudden, he knew exactly what he needed to do. He turned to face his nephew, an odd gleam in his eye, and said, "Aegon, why don't you go downstairs and check on your Aunt Ellaria? Let's continue the brainstorming session later. I just remembered something important that I have to do."

"Nymeria's missing," were the first words Aegon blurted out as soon as he made his way to his uncle's usual place at the poker table.

Oberyn arched one eyebrow, pausing just long enough to show Tyrion his winning hand, and then casually said, "What are you blabbering on about now, Egg? She's right upstairs, playing pool with Arys Oakheart and the boys."

Aegon let out a soft, frustrated noise at the back of his throat and shook his head. "I'm not talking about my cousin, Uncle Oberyn. I'm talking about Arya's dog, Nymeria," he told them impatiently, all but shoving a huge flyer at his uncle's face.

Oberyn snagged the thing with one hand and hummed under his breath as he surveyed its contents. It showed the picture of an enormous, wolfish-looking beast with golden yellow eyes and a black studded collar, and right underneath the picture were the words, "Have you seen this dog? If so, please contact Arya Stark."

"So?" Aegon prompted, a hopeful look on his face. "Maybe you've seen her dog wandering around here somewhere? Arya walks around this block sometimes with Nymeria, so it's possible that she might have passed by here."

Oberyn laughed at him. "Aegon, I hate to break it to you, but this is a casino, not a fucking kennel."

"Oh," Aegon said, sounding disappointed. "Well, it was worth a try. I've already searched everywhere, but there's still no trace of Nymeria. If Arya doesn't find her soon, she'll flip. She's had that dog since she was a child."

"Why am I not surprised that you know that?" Tyrion muttered under his breath, looking entirely too amused for someone who had recently just lost all his chips.

"Look, are you sure the dog isn't just off somewhere chasing cats or something? Maybe it'll come back in a few hours," Oberyn suggested.

"No. It isn't like that," Aegon told them, shaking his head petulantly. "If it wasn't serious, I'm sure Arya wouldn't have bothered sending out missing dog posters all over the neighborhood."

Oberyn surveyed his nephew coolly. "Well then," he stated. "You better get a move on and find the damned dog first before some other knight-in-shining armor beats you there, yes? I've heard that Stark girl has a lot of admirers lining up to ask her out."

That was all the incentive he needed. Aegon gasped, and without even waiting to be told twice, dashed out the front door, leaving a laughing Oberyn Martell and an equally entertained Tyrion Lannister in his wake.

"Uncle Obi! Oh my god, are you alright? What's wrong? What's the emergency?"

Oberyn Martell cracked one eye open and almost recoiled at the sight of his nephew's face hovering just a few inches from his own. Beside him, Ellaria stirred in her sleep and surveyed them with bleary eyes. When it became clear that Aegon would not leave the room, Oberyn sighed and forced himself to get up from bed.

"Aegon, my dear boy, haven't you heard of knocking?"

Aegon squinted in the darkness, his face set in a worried frown. "You called me in the middle of the night and said there was an emergency, Uncle," he pointed out. "So? What is it? What's wrong?"

Oberyn blinked at him, looking so much like Tyene – sweet, pious Tyene who can make even the most painful death look like an accident – in that moment that it immediately sent alarm bells ringing in Aegon's head. "Oh, that," his uncle said offhandedly. "I must have been dreaming. Sorry to make you come all the way here, Egg, but really, everything's fine. Nothing to worry about."

Aegon shot his uncle an incredulous look. He did not look sorry at all. "Seriously, Uncle Obi? That's your excuse?" he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

Oberyn shrugged, then put his sleeping mask back on. "Shut the door on your way out, will you?" he muttered, already turning his back on Aegon and snuggling deeper under the covers. "Good night, nephew! Drive home safely. Connington will have my hide if something bad happens to you."

Aegon swallowed back a scream and left, slamming the door so hard it almost broke.

When they finally heard Aegon's angry footsteps recede, Oberyn burst out laughing.

Ellaria rolled her eyes at her lover's childishness and looked at him with a mixture of reproach and amusement. "Was that really necessary, love?" she said. "The poor boy has suffered enough already."

Oberyn grinned at her. "If you want to blame someone, blame the Stark girl. It's her fault for resisting my nephew's advances and making things difficult for him," he told her. Then he held out a hand and said, "Now wait for it. In one… two… three…"

At the count of three, the door to their bedroom burst open and Aegon walked in.

"Uncle Oberyn!"

"What now?" Oberyn snapped, trying his best to sound impatient and annoyed.

"I found her! I found Arya's dog!" Aegon exclaimed, practically bouncing up and down in his excitement. "I was running down the front door and then I saw her, right there in the middle of the street. Can you believe it?"

Oberyn suppressed a smile. "Wow, what a coincidence," he said. "Did you tie her up?"

"I – Yeah," Aegon replied, already sounding distracted. "She was wearing a collar and a leash and everything, which was really weird, come to think of it. Anyway, I managed to tie her to a nearby tree but every time I try to get her inside my car, she just growls at me and refuses to go. Err, she's a little scary, I think."

"Try giving her some meat," Oberyn suggested. "I think I remember Brandon mentioning something once about the Stark dogs and their love for meat."

Aegon nodded enthusiastically. "Okay," he agreed.

"Oh, and Aegon?"

"Yes, Uncle Oberyn?"

"Don't even think about knocking at the Starks' residence at this time of the night. I highly doubt they'd appreciate being disturbed at one in the morning. I suggest you take the dog home with you first, and for goodness' sake, get some sleep."

Aegon opened his mouth to argue. "But –"

"Aegon," Oberyn said sweetly, his tone implying a swift death should Aegon ever attempt to voice his objections again. "Run along now and listen to your Uncle Oberyn if you know what's good for you."

The sidewalk was empty save for two people – a slender, dark-haired girl with high cheekbones and wide grey eyes, and a tall, nervous-looking young man holding a large dog on a leash. The camera followed them, silent and unseen, zooming in on the surprised but pleased expression on the girl's face as she rushed headlong to meet her dog.

"Nymeria!" the girl cried out breathlessly, crouching down to the ground and wrapping her arms around the large creature, her face buried in its fur. "Oh, you silly dog! Where have you been? I've been searching for you for days!"

"I found her near my uncle's house," the boy with the leash said in a shy voice, his gaze wandering to a spot just a few inches from the girl's face.

The girl looked up and tilted her head to the side as she surveyed the man in front of her. "Hey," she exclaimed, a spark of recognition suddenly lighting up her face. "Aren't you the guy that I –"

"Ah, yeah," the man replied, blushing furiously and rubbing his neck in a gesture of awkwardness. He cleared his throat several times before continuing. "Umm, hi. I'm Aegon."

The girl blinked at him before shooting him a tentative smile. "I'm Arya," she responded. She stared at him for an inappropriately long time, as though she was trying to determine whether or not he was a danger to her, until finally she said, "Sorry I was rude to you before. I'm not exactly the friendliest person in this neighborhood, to be honest."

"Oh. That's alright."

Without warning, the girl stood up and shot him a brilliant smile, looking like she was one step closer to throwing her arms around him in gratitude. "Thank you so much for finding my dog," she said sincerely. "I don't know what I would do without Nymeria, so really, thank you."

The man's cheeks turned an even brighter shade of red. "It's no problem at all," he mumbled. "Your dog's a bit wild, and she tried to bite my fingers off several times, but you know, after a while, she kind of…. grows on you."

The girl laughed and ruffled her pet affectionately on the head. "Is that what you've been doing all this time, Nymeria? Running away and bewitching boys behind my back?" she cooed to her dog. Then she turned towards the stranger and nodded at him. "Thanks again for everything. Let me go back inside the house so I can grab my wallet. I promised a thousand dollar reward for the person who can find Nymeria so it's only right that I –"

"No!" the man suddenly blurted out, waving his hands in the air and looking embarrassed. "Seriously, it's fine. I don't want your money."

Arya Stark gave him a dubious look. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," the guy insisted.

Arya frowned at him and bit her lip. "Well, if you say so," she said with a shrug. Then all of a sudden, an idea came to her. "Tell you what. Do you wanna come inside the house for a bit? My sister makes the best lemon cakes in the world. Maybe you'd like some? It's the least I can do after what you did for me and my dog."

Aegon was so startled by the offer that when he tried to open his mouth, no words came out.

Arya laughed and linked her arm with his. "I'll take that as a yes," she said, and without much fanfare, dragged the shell-shocked young man up the front steps of her house, Nymeria loping excitedly after them.

Once they were safely inside the Stark residence, Elia Sand crawled out of the rose bushes she'd been hiding from and grinned into her camera phone.

"Did you get all that, Dad?" she said, shaking off the stray leaves that got tangled in her hair and looking down at the screen, where her father's face stared back at her.

Oberyn Martell flashed his daughter two thumbs up. "Great job, darling," he yelled back, looking like the cat that just swallowed the canary. "I'll make sure to get you that Vespa you've been coveting for months."

Elia saluted him in response, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Thanks, Dad!"

"What about me, Daddy?" someone beside Oberyn exclaimed. "I've got bite marks all over my furniture, and my apartment smells like fur. You owe me big time for this."

Oberyn smiled affectionately at his daughter. "Don't worry, Nym. I'll take you gun shopping some other time," he promised her.

"And what about me, you crazy bastard? Where's my reward?" an obnoxious voice whined to his right.

"Oh, shut your trap, Brandon," Oberyn snarled, pushing him out of the camera's range so that all Elia could see was a blurred mess of tangled dark hair and long limbs. "You barely even helped."

"Are you kidding me? I told you how to tame the beast, didn't I? Come on! At least have the decency to buy me a bottle of Arbor wine."

He ignored his friend's crazy ramblings and winked once more at the camera. Oberyn Martell was a lot of things – charming lover, wine connoisseur, and master gambler – but above all else, he was a good uncle.

AN: On a scale of one to Cersei Lannister, how crazy was this thing? Lol.

Note to self: Do not drink large amounts of coffee at one in the morning. It will make your sanity leave the building.