Oberyn

As Oberyn walked the dark and twisted streets of Oldtown, the city where he had lived for a whole year when he was younger and wanted to become a maester, he wondered for the hundredth time what he was doing. He had asked himself that question the moment he disembarked in the city, and after that, when he bribed the owners of all the brothels he had visited that year in order to get information about the whores he had lain with. He didn't want to leave any child of his to grow up without a father, abandoned. However, he didn't believe it to be his responsibility to look after all the kids every whore he had visited had whelped. They had received money for their services, after all, and the risk of getting pregnant was supposed to be assumed and accepted by every woman in that trade. Besides, if they didn't want to have children, they could very well drink moon tea to prevent it.

But though he knew that, Oberyn sighed and kept walking, following the road that went from the inn where he was staying to the house where lived the only one of the whores he had bedded who had birthed a child that might be his, considering the date of the birth. It was a girl, he had been told. Oberyn already had 2 daughters he loved very much, and he had no need of a third, but the thought of leaving a little girl to grow up in a place like that, without a father to protect her or teach her to defend herself, to become a whore and live a life without love or respect was unthinkable to him. So when he got to the door of the little house he knocked without hesitating and tried not to get anxious while he waited to come through.

The door opened shortly after, revealing a woman of about 30, dressed in an old simple white nightgown that covered her legs just to the knees, with her brown hair loose and slightly disheveled. Oberyn tried to find in that woman something of the lively and sassy girl that had kept him company in more than one night, but couldn't.

"Who are you?" She asked. "If you've come seeking my services, I tell you I only work at night, and seldom at home."

The woman seemed to be in a bad mood: she had evidently been sleeping until Oberyn came, and having to wake up to receive a stranger had annoyed her. There were yet a couple of hours before midday and Oberyn should have known that surely a whore that spent her nights working would normally sleep at that early time, and he should have waited some more time, but the damage was already done and he had to go on.

"I haven't come to seek your services, but I'd like you to grant me your company for a short time, if it gives you no trouble. My name is Oberyn Martell, and I have been your client some years ago. Do you remember me now?"

Her expression went from annoyance to surprise, and then to something that was very much like fear. She nodded slightly.

"Would you let me in?" He asked. She hesitated, trying to find a way to deny him that favor, but she couldn't think of anything to say, and ended up letting him in.

The door led to a little room that was both the kitchen and the dining-room. It had a wooden square table and 2 matching wooden chairs. She sat in one of them and motioned for him to sit in the other one, in front of her.

"Why have you decided to visit me?" She asked him.

"When I first met you, Morya, I was an irresponsible young man; half a boy, in fact. I didn't give much thought to my actions or their consequences, and I didn't think it was my duty to take care of anyone. But now I grew up, and I have decided I won't let any of my children grow up without a father. I have come to tell your daughter that she has one," Oberyn answered, sounding much more confident than he felt. He had already gone through that with Nymeria's mother, but she had seemed more pleased than annoyed when he had asked to take her little girl. Morya on the other hand seemed reluctant to hand him her daughter.

"I am a whore, Oberyn. I've been with hundreds of men in all my life. I don't know what makes you think you're the father of my daughter," she said, and her nervousness was almost tangible in her voice.

"There is no way to prove that I am her father, but there is also no way to say for certain that I am not. I am willing to be a father to her, if the girl wants me to. Let her choose whether she wants to be my daughter," he suggested. It wasn't an idea that had just occurred to him, but he had been planning from the beginning to let the child decide, as she was the reason why he was there. With Nymeria it had been the same, but her mother had agreed to let her go, and she had even helped her daughter make her choice.

"My daughter's got a mother, and that's more than enough for her. She doesn't need a stranger to come after 10 years of ignoring her very existence to claim her as his," Morya said, raising her voice. She was going to keep talking, but was unexpectedly interrupted.

"Mother, what's going on?" A girl asked, appearing suddenly in a corner of the room.

"It's nothing, Obara. Go back to your room. He's just a client that wants to talk to me," the mother intervened.

"Obara? You called her Obara?" Oberyn asked, amused. "If you called her that it's because you do believe I am her father."

"Her name has nothing to do! And it makes no matter if you're her father. She's alright with me!" Morya shouted, red-faced.

"Are you my father?" the girl asked shyly.

Oberyn wondered what he should tell the child. The truth was, he didn't really know if he was her father. Obara looked intently at him, waiting for his answer. But her mother wasn't so patient.

Obara

She was playing silently with her doll. She didn't have much fun this way, but her mother was still asleep, so she couldn't make noises. The girl looked out through the window of her room and saw that it was a sunny morning. In about an hour, she thought, my mother will wake up and we'll have breakfast together. After that I'll go out to play with the other children that live in our street.

That thought made her smile with excitement. She was one of the oldest in the group of children she usually played with and she was also quick and strong, and won in all the games more often than not. Most of them liked her and accepted her, though some of their mothers frowned at her and told them not to go near her. Obara was already aware that most women didn't like whores, or their children.

She was distracted with those thoughts when someone knocked the door. She didn't go out to open it because her mother always insisted in going herself, even if it meant that she had to get up from the bed when she was sleeping. Maybe she feared that some pervert client might want to take advantage of her, or that somebody may try to steal their money, thinking that she wasn't there. The City Watch watched the streets where the rich merchants resided perfectly, but of that backstreet where she lived they hardly knew its existence, so it was unsafe and prone to theft.

Obara kept playing, imagining that her doll was in fact a knight from the Kingsguard, and that he had to protect a princess and her little children from an enemy that wanted to kill them. Though the doll was clearly female, with a pink dress and braided woolen hair, Obara liked to imagine that it was a man, because knights seemed much more interesting and fun to her that ladies that thought of nothing but dresses. But she had just resumed her play when she heard a man's voice. She couldn't make out all the words, but she was positive that he had said "There is no way to prove that…" and "I am willing to be a father to her."

Moved by curiosity, she went to the kitchen. She tried to convince herself that they weren't talking about her, but one part of her couldn't help thinking that, and wishing for it. Obara had never had a father, and she hadn't allowed herself to wish having one, but what if she did have a father?

"My daughter's got a mother, and that's more than enough for her," her mother was saying furiously. "She doesn't need a stranger to come after 10 years of ignoring her very existence to claim her as his."

"Mother, what's going on?" Obara asked, a little scared.

"It's nothing, Obara. Go back to your room. He's just a client that wants to talk to me."

Obara knew immediately that her mother was worried, because it was only when she was afraid that she was so furious and authoritarian. She also knew that she was lying, because what the man had said before made it evident that he wasn't a client, and he was there for another thing.

"Obara? You called her Obara?" The man asked her mother, seemingly in disbelief. "If you called her that it's because you do believe I am her father."

Obara didn't understand why her name was important, or what it had to do with that dark eyed man with black lustrous hair who was arguing with her mother, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that now she was certain that they were talking about her, and that that man could be the father she never knew she had.

"Her name has nothing to do! And it makes no matter if you're her father. She's alright with me!" Her mother screamed, desperate.

"Are you my father?" She asked the stranger, looking into his eyes for the first time.

The stranger was silent, seemingly not knowing what to tell her. She waited for him to answer, but it was her mother the one who did.

"No! He isn't your father! Don't listen to him!" Her mother's voice was loud, but it was on the verge of breaking.

The stranger laid his spear on the floor, at her mother's feet, and without warning he slapped her. She fell to the floor on her knees and started to sob. Nonchalantly, he addressed Obara:

"My name is Oberyn Martell and I am a prince of Dorne. I have fought in many battles, and my favorite weapon is the spear. Your mother, on the other hand, prefers to fight her battles using her tears as a weapon." Oberyn paused, and Obara could hear her mother's sobs, as if to illustrate the point. "It may be that I am your father, or it may be that I am not. There is no way we can know for certain. However, as it is possible that you are my daughter, I am going to give you the chance to decide. Do you want to fight your battles with tears, or do you prefer to come with me and learn to use the spear?"

Obara looked first at her mother, who was looking back at her, beseechingly, still on her knees and with tears running down her cheeks, and then to Oberyn, who was on his feet, confident and not at all upset. After giving her mother a last sad and sorrowful look, Obara picked up the spear and stood up. Her father smiled proudly and said:

"I knew she was mine!"

Author Note: I don't usually like to name unnamed canonical characters, but with Obara's mother I felt I had no choice, because it was just too awkward to write this chapter from Oberyn's POV and call her always "the woman", "the whore" or "Obara's mother." That's why I named her, and I hope you don't mind.