Part I: The Viper Prince that stole the Princess of Winter
Lyanna Stark wanted to be something more than a princess; she wanted to use her immortal life to travel through Westeros, and she wanted to be known for who she was, not for her family name. Not wanting to be used for breeding, she wished to be seen as an equal to her brothers, for her powers surpassed theirs. But apparently that wasn't what a royal princess was supposed to be.
It was a dark day for House Stark when their lord and father informed them of Lyanna's marriage to the King of Storms, but if Rickard Stark had noticed he had said nothing. And yet the winds of winter raged upon their home and when the day awoke Winterfell was surrounded by snow caused by the silent rage of the only she-wolf of the castle. Most immortals knew how to control their powers, and Eddard was often worried when Brandon and Lya were not able to do so. Their father had never been worried about it, though, saying that it was something that happened often in their family, for their powers, as their very essence, were as strong and untameable as the northerner winds.
"We are riding south soon, aren't we?" Lyanna asked her older brother, even if she did not turn to him.
Ned was sitting on one of the biggest roots of their Heart Tree and his sister was in front of him, giving him her back, with one of her hands inside of the pool, the warm water of it running through her fingers.
"Yes." He didn't elaborate, but both of them knew what that meant.
Ned loved his sister and knew that she didn't like the idea of marriage, but he also knew the man she had been betrothed too, and wanted to believe that they'd be happy. The King of Storms and head of House Baratheon had been after all Eddard's best friend for centuries, and the quiet wolf knew him to be a good man who had been madly in love with Lyanna from the moment he had laid his eyes on her years before, and the indifference that the princess of winter had shown him hadn't seemed to stop him from pursuing her.
"Are Bran and Ben coming?" Lya turned her head slightly to look at him and Ned shook his head, giving her a bitter smile. He hated to leave their brothers behind as much as she did. It was odd for a wolf to leave half of his pack behind. But he understood why she was so silent, because if Robert Baratheon had his way and married her it could be a long time before she set foot on their family home again. And, being immortal as they were, a long time could mean several centuries, which would seem insane to any mortal of all those who lived on their land.
"There's a meeting at Harrenhal on the Riverlands," Ned added. "Many of the lords are already there. So are Robert and some of the other Kings. We'll meet him there."
She giggled, a cold and empty sound, and yet when her grey at meet his, he could see the fondness in them and the love his sister bore him. He wondered if that love was the reason why she had agreed to meet Robert.
They left a fortnight later, and some of the lord's heirs joined them. Among them was Maege Mormont, the lady of Bear Island, who had inherited the title from her brother when he had decided to join the Night's Watch. She was one of the few true friends Lyanna had, the other being some of the lesser immortals that served at Winterfell and humans from some of the nearby villages, and the princess was always happy when she was around. Lya was sure that Ned had invited Maege for that very reason, to keep her company, because there was no way he would bring the she-bear to a southern court otherwise. The truth was that Lyanna didn't want to leave her home and her family, not just because she didn't want to marry Robert, which she didn't, but also because she didn't like the idea of having to change, and she knew that she'd have to if she were to stay in the south. She smiled at her brother through the crowd as they set camp and he smiled in return, before turning to look at their surroundings.
The North was one of the constituent regions of Westeros and was a sovereign nation ruled by the Kings of Winter. It was also the largest region of the Seven Kingdoms, and extended from the border of the New Gift, controlled by the Night's Watch, an ancient folk of warriors that held the most dangerous places of the whole land, to the southern edge of the Neck far to the south, were it met the Riverlands, ruled by the King of Riverrun. Their home, Winterfell, was the capital of the north and had been the seat of House Stark for eons, ever since Brandon the Builder, one of the first immortals of their blood, had built it. Truth be told, even if Brandon had been to Riverrun, Lyanna and Benjen had never left the North. Ned, on the other hand, had travelled to other kingdoms, having spent some time at Riverrun, with King Hoster Tully and his family, and several centuries at the Valle in the East, under the protection of King Jon Arryn of the Eyrie. He had not seen a meeting like the one they were attending before, though.
The Lord of Harrenhal was hosting a party to celebrate the birth of prince Rhaegar's and princess Elia's son and all of the important courts of Westeros had been invited. The Starks were not usually fond of such things, preferring to stay in their beloved North, but Rickard had known that at least his children would have to show up. It wasn't every day, after all, that two members of the Great Houses had a child, and the Martell princess had already bore two children to the Targaryen prince.
The Great Houses were the rulers of each kingdom and towered above the other immortals on the land because, a part from having ancient souls that allowed them to live for centuries, they were connected to the earth on different ways. The Tullys of Riverrun, with their bright blue eyes and auburn hair, had power over the waters and the tides. The Tyrells of Highgarden, who lived in great palaces full of windows and surrounded by labyrinths of roses and trees, could make plants and flowers bloom and grow with a touch of their fingers. The Greyjoys, who lived on the Iron Islands, could make the wind blow on their favour. The Baratheons, who had short temper and great strength, could summon storms whenever they pleased. The Targaryens of King's Landing and Dragonstone, with their purple eyes and silver hair, had dragon wings and were the fastest predators in the sky. The Lannisters of Casterly Rock had the ability to turn their hands into talons, and some could even shift their shape to turn into lions. The Martells of Dorne were said to be able to summon a fire so alike the sun's that it burned through stone and to shake and bend the sands to do their will, often burying their enemies under them. And the Starks of the North had power over the ice and the snow.
That meant that when two members of any of those houses got married, their offspring had the possibility of inheriting tremendous power. It didn't always happen, of course, and most times the baby would inherit the traits of just one of their parents, but that didn't stop the families from trying to have powerful heirs. Rhaegar and Elia's firstborn, for example, had been a girl with dark hair, brown eyes and no wings. Time would tell what their baby boy could do.
They reached Harrenhal a month later and were greeted by richly decorated walls and people dancing and celebrating. The massive castle was a ruin, it had been ever since the first Targaryen king, a man called Aegon the Dragon, had laid waste to it, purring wildfire from the sky and letting the castle, its lord, and all of his heirs burn. Lyanna, who had always admired the tales about the first Tagaryens, who had been great warriors and fierce Kings and Queens, was marvelled when they crossed the castle's gates. She barely noticed people kneeling as they walked inside the palace and were escorted to their solar.
The northern lords that had travelled with them were given rooms along the corridor, and Lya and Ned shared a common room that had two doors at each side of it, one for her and the other one for him, and a big balcony from which they could see the gardens from the back side of the castle.
"We'll be expected at the feast tonight," Ned informed her, walking into her room as she got settled in, and looking at the black walls with a frown. He didn't like the place at all.
"You don't like southern courts, do you, brother?"
"I've been in many of them and they all tire me," he admitted, sitting on her bed. "The members of the Great Houses like to play a game in which I do not desire to take part, and the others just want to be on their good graces."
The princess sighted, looking at him. She knew Ned have had to endure the games of the Valle for years, even if it was just as a spectator, for he didn't like politics at all, and knew also that he wouldn't have ridden south for this great meeting if their father hadn't insisted.
"If you want to leave, we'll leave," he swore suddenly, his voice solemn, and the she-wolf gave him a bright smile. "I mean it, Lya. Say the word and we will damn all of them to the Seven Hells."
"My brother, the great politician." She kissed his cheek fondly. "It is our duty to stay." And it is mine to meet my soon-to-be husband, she thought bitterly, but didn't say it.
Eddard left not long after and Lyanna changed into more comfortable clothes. She put on leather pants and boots, and a white tunic made to fit her frame, before putting on a leather vest on top on that one and braiding her hair back. It wasn't appropriate for ladies to dress like that, not even in the North, but Lyanna's grandmother had been Arya Flint of the mountain clans, and the clans did not follow the rules imposed by the Great Houses, even if they were loyal to the Stark Kings. It had been Arya who had first given her a sword, much to her father's dismay, and it had also been her who had allowed her to train herself for the fight. In consequence, Lyanna felt as comfortable wearing her battle clothes as her eldest brother did and was a match to most of the generals under her father's command. She braided her long dark hair back and got out of the room, ignoring the knowing glare that lord Glover gave her when she walked pass him on the stairs. King Rickard Stark's men had long before learnt not to be surprised by the princess' actions.
It was easy for Lyanna to walk around the lesser immortals and the mortal servants, and most of them didn't even pay attention to her, busy as they were with different kinds of tasks. It wasn't until she got to the training yard on the left wing of the massive building that she regretted ever getting out. Robert Baratheon was sparing against Loras Tyrell and the knight seemed to have trouble hitting his opponent, for the King of the Stormlands, even if he was not as disciplined as other lords, was all brute power and strength, which made him way stronger than Loras. Her brother's best friend's bright blue eyes found her amidst the crowd of people and he smiled at her. She was handsome, Lyanna would give him that, but she had never loved him, and doubted she ever would. So, instead of smiling back, she pretended not to have seen him and started walking fast toward the stables, aware of the King of Storm coming after her.
She got into one of the opened stalls not paying attention to the man who was currently taking his horse out of it, and squatted behind the wooden panel of it, making sure to contain her essence, knowing that other immortals could sense her powers and recognise her if she did not take a hold of them.
"Baratheon," a voice that Lyanna assumed belonged to the man standing out of the stall said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Mind your own business, Martell," Robert replied. "I'm looking for my betrothed. Have you seen her?"
"No. It's just me here, no ladies." His accent was thick, but Lyanna wasn't surprised for she had already seen that he was dornish. Before continuing, he laughed. "But if you speak at her as harshly as you speak at me it is no wonder she runs away from you."
The air shifted when Robert displayed all of his power but it didn't last long, which surprised the she-wolf, who had not felt the other man answering and there had been no indication that said the head of House Baratheon wouldn't win. After a moment of silence, she heard Robert walking away.
"You can come out now. He's gone."
Lyanna stood up and walked out of the stall, aware of the stranger's eyes on her as he kept on brushing his sand-steed's mane. They were dark as a starless night, just like his hair, and he wore a yellow tunic adorned with little golden suns. Beneath it, his skin was dark as cooper.
"Thank you for your assistance," she said, and made to leave when he spoke again, his words making the princess turn her head toward him, the leather of her vest cracking under the movement of her body.
"So, betrothed, do you have a name?"
She rolled her eyes at him.
"Lyanna."
"I didn't know the King of Storm's End was promised to a member of King Rickard's army." Before she could ask him how he knew she was from the North, ignoring the commentary he had made about her being a member of an army even if it flattered her, he smirked at her. "I have an ear for accents."
His steed neighed and he had to turn to calm him down, caressing its face and humming a low tone. Once the horse had soothed, he looked at her again.
"Your name, my lord?" Lyanna asked, even if she was starting to imagine who he was.
"Oberyn," he smirked, and his ebony eyes seemed to brighten up, "at your service."
She had heard tales about the Prince of House Nymeros Martell, of course, and new that both friends and foes called him Red Viper, even if she was not sure of how he had gotten the nickname on the first place. She knew also that he was one of the best warriors of Dorne, and surely of Westeros, and that he was mostly known for his battles and for the companions that he decided to take to bed which, if the gossips and stories were to be believed, had not been few.
"I must leave," she replied.
"To keep on hiding from Robert?" He laughed. "Well, if you find the time someday you could seek me and tell me how such a beautiful lady ended up serving at one of the most ruthless armies of the Seven Kingdoms." Despite his flirting tone and his roughish smirk, he sounded genuinely interested, which was almost enough to stop Lyanna from rolling her eyes. Almost.
"If I find the time," she just said before turning around, making sure to leave the stables through the opposite side than Robert, and didn't turn to look at the Red Viper of Dorne again even if she could feel his dark eyes watching her every step until she was out of his sight.
Oberyn watched her leave and frowned once she was gone. He had not seen at first that she had been holding back her essence the entire time, but it seemed apparent that there had been something there as soon as she left, which only made his curiosity grow. He had met many warrior women during all his years, and knew that most of them wanted nothing from men but to have a good time. This one didn't seem to be one of those, or else she would not have been running away from Robert Baratheon, who was notorious for impregnating young and naïve women. The King of Storm's End was handsome, he'd give him that much, but he was too much of a brute for Oberyn to like him. He thought, way too late, that he should have asked her how she had come to be betrothed to him if she didn't even want to talk to him. Shaking his head, the Prince of Dorne kept on brushing his sand-steed's mane, humming at the horse to keep him calmed.
He went to his chambers to get ready for the feast not long after and decided to put on an orange tunic that had red vipers along the sleeves, instead of the golden suns he usually wore. The truth was that he hated all those social meetings, he always had. Elia was the one who had been born to shine, and Doran the one who had been made and built to listen and play. He was the fighter, the shadow that loomed in the dark, the spear that cut through their enemies. Making alliances and breaking deals over wine and lies was not the way he liked to spend his evening. He'd rather drink the wine and hear the lies on a comfortable bed with some pretty lad or lady.
His sister joined him on the way to the Great Hall and Oberyn couldn't help but smile at her when he saw that she looked much better than the last time they'd met. Elia had not been well after Aegon had been born, for her body had been so damaged during the birth that it had needed some weeks to heal. But now, as she walked toward him, she was as radiant as sun, with golden cuffs on her wrists that shone when the light of the torches hit them, and a beautiful yellow dress with sleeves made of myrish lace.
"I'm so happy to see you." Elia hugged him tight and her brother kissed her forehead when she pulled away, offering her his arm to escort her.
"And I you," the prince smiled. "I was starting to think that your gentle husband had locked you up at the Red Keep."
Elia snorted and he could feel the power coming off of her in waves. It was alike his own and yet it felt so different. He knew that she had not intended to release it when she hid it as soon as she noticed it was unbound. Back in Dorne, centuries ago when they were younger and didn't have to care about court business, she would spend time riding and playing and laughing with him and their friends, unafraid to show her powers. Seeing the sadness that danced on her eyes now made him want to let his power burn that whole castle to the ground.
"You are welcomed to visit, you know." She squished his hand. "Rhaenys will be happy to see you again and I want you to meet Aegon."
Oberyn nodded, turning to her and trying to ignore all the people around them, which proved to be a rather difficult task seeing as all of them wanted to congratulate Elia for Aegon's birth.
"Your husband?" Oberyn asked her, half-hoping she would say he wasn't there, even if he knew he was, even if he had seen him flying around the castle the day before.
"He will arrive soon enough," Elia replied, before smiling at Willas Tyrell, who waved at them from across the room. "Ashara is somewhere around here too," she added.
But Oberyn was not listening, because his eyes have moved behind Willas, to where Robert Baratheon laughed with a group of his friends. One of them he recognized as a friend of his, someone with whom he had seen him that morning, and the others he didn't know. But the girl…
She was no longer wearing her leather clothes and he was not sure if he liked that fact or not because, if she had looked wild and intriguing at midday dressed like a warrior, she looked as good now. She wasn't facing him, focused on talking to the man next to her. Her hair was no longer braided, instead, most of it fell down her back, resembling a waterfall of dark waters, and some of it was placed on little braids at the back of her head. She was wearing a heavy, dark blue gown, simpler than those the other ladies in the room wore, tight enough that he could see her slim waist, with fitted sleeves that covered her arms. Her breasts were more generous than he had thought at first.
"What is it?" Elia inquired next to him, and Oberyn looked away to place his eyes back on his sister's, so full of cunning and power, almost as if they could read through him.
"I'm certain I've never seen them before." He pointed toward the group he had been staring at with his head and Elia nodded.
"No wonder you've never met them, they never attend social gatherings," she explained, and seeing that her brother still looked lost, added, "Those two are King Rickard Stark's children."
Oberyn wanted to laugh. He had known that she was of the North as soon as he had seen her but he had just assumed by her appearance that she was nothing but a member of the northerner army, nothing but a bastard-born nobody. And she hadn't even tried to tell him he had been mistaken. He should have found it odd, he thought, that Robert Baratheon would marry below his station, especially since they were rumours that said he liked to father bastards all around Westeros but denied that he did and never took care of them.
Across the room, the man that Elia had pointed to be Lyanna's brother bend a little to whisper something in her ear, making her laugh. Her laugh had not yet died when she turned her head, finally seeing him across the room. Oberyn smiled, his power coming out of him in waves, warm and strong. Her grey eyes lingered on his for a moment longer before she looked back at her brother.
"Oberyn," Elia whispered. A warning.
The Red Viper was still smirking when he turned to his sister, accepting the cup of wine she was offering, and seeing the alarm inside her eyes.
"Sister," he purred.
"She's betrothed to Robert Baratheon. He's been bragging about it all day, apparently."
Oberyn nodded.
"I know. Lyanna told me."
He was delighted when he saw the surprise that decorated his older sister's features. Taking a long sip of her cup, Elia pressed her lips together.
"You know her name?"
"We talked," the prince said, knowing that not knowing details would set off Elia's imagination. He was sure that the things she would imagine would be much more fun than what had truly happened.
As Rhaegar Targaryen entered the room, the rubies that decorated his fingers shining under the light just as his wife's golden jewellery did, and his clothes as dark as the wings that he tucked in tight so they wouldn't rustle anything or hit anyone, the whole aura of the place seemed to change under his power. Targaryens really loved making a spectacle of everything. The silver prince smiled when his violet eyes met his wife's black ones, and he bent to place a soft kiss to Elia's lips. Oberyn looked away, draining the contents of his cup, and forced himself to greet his brother-in-law politely when he addressed him.
To say that she was bored would have been an understatement. Of course, Lyanna was excited to get to see and meet members of other houses, ladies and lords, princes and princesses from other kingdoms, but, after a while, the party tired her. Ned was a great company but lords and ladies alike demanded his attention, and he had no option but to talk to them. And Robert tried to keep her occupied, but he just didn't seem to know what to talk to her about. So she spent most of the night with Maege, who had walked in the Great Hall of Harrenhal wearing her battle clothes and had broken the nose of a lord from the Riverlands when he had laughed about her. But after a while, even her best friend had gone away, and was busy playing a drinking game with some lesser immortals she didn't even know.
"You look miserable." A voice said behind her and the princess of winter didn't have to turn to know that he had claimed the seat that Ned had emptied hours before, right next to her.
"Do I now?" She rolled her eyes before turning to look at the dornish prince. She shouldn't have been surprised to find him smirking at her. "Are you here to make me company then, your grace?"
"If that's what you wish, princess. Because that's what you are, isn't it, Lyanna Stark?" He purred her name, grabbing a jug of wine to refill her empty cup. She didn't thank him. "I must admit, you fooled me. Would have never thought you were a princess."
"Because I was wearing men clothes?" She seemed outraged all of a sudden and Oberyn could have sworn he felt the air around them turning colder. "If it is a lady you want, viper, go find one, and stop bothering me."
The coldness in her words made him stare at her with curious eyes. He could see that there was something behind them, some kind of story she didn't want to remember. Some kind of frozen anger. And anger – anger he knew way too well.
"Was that wicked tongue of yours the one that won you Robert's heart, I wonder."
Lyanna closed her eyes for a moment, containing herself, not wanting to lash out at him. There were too many people around them and he was not worth her anger, even if the way he stared at her, as though he could see right through her, made her wrath.
"That's something you should ask Robert, don't you think?" she answered after a moment of silence.
"Maybe I will," Oberyn nodded. "As soon as he stops staring at me like he's going to smash my head, that's it."
Lyanna followed his gaze, taking another sip of her wine, and found Robert staring at them from another table, as he spoke with a golden haired man that she assumed was a Lannister. Oberyn had been right, the King of the Stormlands was staring at them even as his companion spoke to him, his blue eyes fixed on the prince sitting next to her, as though he was ready to jump and kill him at any moment. As though she needed to be protected, controlled, defended like she was some kind possession or a piece of land. She didn't notice the frozen cup that she now held between her fingers until she heard Oberyn's little gasp. Setting it down on the table, she pushed herself back, muttering an excuse and not even turning to see if the viper answered her. She managed to get out of the room easily and walked down a corridor until she reached a balcony, and leaned against the railing. The sky was dark as a wolf's mouth, and there were no stars to be seen. When the princess rested her hands on the railing, frost covered it and she bit her lip.
Warm arms wrapped around her waist suddenly, and it startled her for a moment before she noticed who it was.
"Are you alright?" Ned asked, moving to stand next to her and kissing her brow.
Lyanna smiled at him.
"I'm fine." Half a lie. "Robert's stares were making me uncomfortable and I needed some air."
Eddard nodded, pressing his lips together. And they stood in silence for a while, staring at the blackness in front of them as the ice from Lyanna's hands drifted away, hiding itself again inside of her, and she relaxed.
"He wasn't the only one."
"Mmm?" Lyanna frowned and her brother looked down at her.
"Robert wasn't the only one staring," he explained, making a face. "You were talking to the Red Viper of Dorne, Lya. The whole room was whispering."
The princess rolled her eyes, moving a lock of hair that had set itself free from one of the braids behind her ear, and then placed her grey eyes on her older brother.
"I was telling him to mind his own business." Frustrated, not at him but at the whole situation, she groaned. "But even if I had been really talking to him or even inviting him to my bed..."
"Lya!"
"It wouldn't have been their bloody business, Ned!" she finished, raising her voice slightly. The air around them shifted, turning colder, and the stone under their feet froze, not that Eddard noticed it. "I don't know if I will ever like Robert, but I know that I don't like this place. I don't like the south."
Ned's smile was as sweet as a peach when he nodded at her, raising his hand to stroke her cheek.
"I was starting to think you'd lost your fire," he giggled. "I will not see you married to anyone you don't want to be married to. Besides, we have an eternity ahead of us, if Robert loves you, he shall wait for you, and if he doesn't…well, then at least you won't be bound to him forever."
Lyanna made a face. She knew that wasn't what their father wanted, and even if her heart melted at the love and concern her brother felt for her, she didn't want that stupid little thing to bring war upon her home and her father's court.
"Robert will be wrath."
Ned raised an eyebrow at her, and placing an arm around her shoulders, he stared back at the starless night before them.
"I will handle him," he swore, kissing her forehead, and Lyanna rested her head against his shoulder.
"You know I can help you if it comes to a fight, right?"
Eddard laughed.
"I hope it doesn't. We don't want all those lords and ladies to end up turned into ice cubes."
"We don't?" She joined his laugh.
They spent some more time at the balcony, enjoying the quietness of the night, before walking back in and joining everyone again. Lyanna didn't stay long, though, for Maege looked like she had drank every barrel of wine from the castle on her own and needed someone to help her find her chambers. Once her friend was settled, the princess went to her own chambers to retire for the night.
Robert broke his fast with the Stark siblings the following morning, but he said nothing about the engagement and treated Lyanna as he always had, but the princess knew that her brother had spoken to him, telling him that she did not wish to get married any time soon. Lyanna didn't know if Robert expected her to change her mind and marry him some time in the future, but she didn't dare ask.
The princess of winter joined Maege at the courtyard after bidding farewell to her brother and his friend. The she-bear had challenged some of the southern lords to fight the previous night. And they had laughed at her, of course. Lyanna couldn't wait to see her friend make all of them bite the dust. She was already at it when she got there, with an axe in each hand, and laughing despite the healing cut that she had on her cheek.
"You are teaching him our ways, I see." She smiled and stood not far away from where the fighters were standing.
The Tyrell lad, one whose name Lyanna didn't know, groaned at Maege and the lady laughed playfully.
"You know me, Lya. I just can't help myself." She smirked before her opponent launched himself at her.
But Maege whirled away. As the Tyrell struck nothing but air, she slammed his butt with the back of one of her axes, whistling at him. Red with anger, the male turned and charged after her again. She took the blow with a sigh, stopping his sword by crossing her axes when it descended on her.
"Can she turn into a bear?" Oberyn Martell asked, and Lyanna tried not to jump. She hadn't heard him approaching her, but he now was standing right next to her, so close that their arms brushed slightly when she moved to look at him.
"What?"
"Your men," he said, "They call her she-bear."
Lyanna frowned at him. "And yours call you red viper," she pointed out. "Can you turn into one, your grace?"
He laughed, but the princess' had already turned her eyes back to her friend, only to find that blood was trickling from her nose. Maege used the axe from her left hand to block another attack from her opponent, and then moved it, making the Tyrell's sword go flying away from his hand. Before the poor boy could react, the visibly angered lady of Bear Island used the back of her other axe to struck him in the face. And he fell right next to his sword, coughing blood.
"Your friend is really a force to be reckoned with." Oberyn was still smiling. "It has been a while since I saw Loras lose."
Lyanna answered his smile, proud of her friend. Maege had found a new opponent and the princess turned her eyes from her to look around the courtyard. After a moment of silence, she turned to the dornish prince again. Her grey eyes were as cold as the North she came from when they met his.
"Is this how you have decided to spend your days?" she asked, "Stalking me?"
Oberyn shook his head, and his smirk left as quickly as it had come, his glare turning serious. Had he thought she was really offended?
"I must apologize for whatever I did to make you angry yesterday night."
Before she could help it, Lyanna snorted and then let out a laugh, shaking her head and making her long braid fall down her left shoulder.
"It takes more than a pompous prince to make me angry."
Oberyn stared down at her as she looked away from him once more, deliberately ignoring him, and he couldn't stop the smirk that once again decorated his features. It still worried him, of course, the way she had reacted the previous night, both because he was intrigued by the magic she had displayed and because he hadn't intended to do nothing but flirt with her.
"What do you mean by pompous?" he asked, slightly outraged, and she laughed cheerfully.
Across the yard, Oberyn met his sister's eyes. She raised her eyebrow at him but the red viper just rolled his eyes.
"Would you care to go riding, my lady?" he asked the northerner princess and was delighted, and slightly scared, when a wicked smile decorated her beautiful face.
"I'd put you to shame," she stated.
His dark eyes burned as if he could see into her soul, and he licked his lips before answering. "I don't know about that, princess, I've been told I'm an excellent rider."
It took her a moment to understand the meaning of his words, but when she did heat rose to her cheeks and she blushed, even as she gave him a glare that could have frozen him were he stood.
"Let's go, then, viper." She turned around and started walking toward the stables, her boots hitting the gravel hard.
Oberyn followed.
To say that she surprised him would have been an understatement. They rode for a while, and her horse –Winter- proved to be faster than his steed. Lyanna reached the lake long before he did, beating him mercilessly, something that very few could manage. She had tied her horse to a tree and he did the same with his. She was sitting next to the water and the prince joined her before he spoke, aware of the victorious smile dancing on her lips.
"An immortal princess who doesn't brag about being a princess, a warrior that fights for her people, an amazing rider…You are not what I expected from a northern lady, Lyanna Stark."
She snorted though her noise. "I'm under the impression you don't know much about northerner ladies."
He nodded, letting her know that she was right. "I've been to many places, but never the North."
And just like that, he was telling her about Essos and about all those places in the Seven Kingdoms that she was yet to visit. She marvelled at his tales of Volantis and Braavos, and heard without moving as he spoke of the different and exotic cultures he had seen while travelling through the Free Cities. After a while, Oberyn discovered that, even if she had seen so little of the world, she was well read, and loved art and history, and enjoyed dancing and fighting in equal measure. And he found himself telling her about his daughters, both because he adored talking about his girls and because he wanted to see her reaction, half expecting her to snarl at him. But Lyanna didn't seem to have a problem with bastards, and encouraged him to tell her more about them. By the time he was done, Oberyn was certain Lyanna was already half in love with his daughter Nym.
"It must be really amazing to feel that free." Lyanna muttered when he was done talking, and he suspected that she was taking more to herself than to him.
They spent some more time in silence, just lying on the grass, until the prince spoke once more, genuinely curious. "Your powers," he said, "What can you do with them?"
Her grey eyes studied him as though she was trying to deem him worthy of sharing her secrets. After a moment, Lyanna moved her hand to caress the water's surface, and Oberyn didn't understand was she was doing until he felt it. Her essence. The red viper had known she was strong, for any member of a Great House would be, but he hadn't expected the power that he felt coming out of her in waves. It overwhelmed. How she could contain all of it inside of her, he didn't know.
Under the prince's gaze, the water of the lake turned to ice at Lyanna's silent command, and the air around them turned so cold it was hard to remember it was spring. Barely seconds later, there was no drop of water that hadn't solidified. The she-wolf turned to him, shaking her shoulders, and Oberyn laughed.
"Impressive," he smiled.
"I probably shouldn't have done it, though." She concealed her powers, her essence, again, hiding it somewhere deep inside of her soul, and yet the dornishman could still feel some of it, maybe because he had already been allowed to witness it.
"Why? Your strength doesn't scare me, princess."
Lyanna shook her head. "No. I mean, it should, but that's not what I meant." There was a shy smile on her lips. "The problem is I can't undo it."
Oberyn roared with laughter and, much to her surprise, Lyanna joined him. If anyone could see him...The Red Viper of Dorne laughing like he was a little child. Not so much of a mighty, deadly, fearless immortal warrior, that one.
"Maybe we should leave it that way and see what kind of trouble you get into," he smirked at her and she rolled her eyes.
Tearing his eyes from her, though, the red viper let his own power run free. The moment his essence filled the air around them, he felt her stiff next to him, but didn't dare look, knowing that if she were looking at him the way he was guessing she was looking at him, he wouldn't be able to pretend he had not been trying to court her. Instead, he moved his hands toward the now frozen lake, and rabid flames galloped through the surface, slowly melting the bitter ice beneath them.
"How do you do that?" Lyanna asked, her left hand reaching to rest on his forearm as her grey eyes turned to his obsidian ones.
"Same way you do, I guess." The ice was gone, and he summoned the flames back, extinguishing them. "It comes naturally."
The she-wolf stared at him for a while longer, and Oberyn found her unable to read, so he just stared back. But then Lyanna shook her head, moving a lock of hair that had gotten free from her braid behind her ear, and stood, gracefully walking away from him.
"Ready to lose again, viper?" She was already near the horses and he was quick to follow.
"Not a chance, princess." But Lyanna was already sitting on Winter's back and laughed at him before making the horse turn back toward the forest and trotted away.
Even as he went after her, Oberyn knew he wouldn't win.
Lyanna couldn't help staring at the red viper as they walked out of the stables. If she hadn't promise herself not to let him know that she was actually enjoying his company, she would have let her excitement show. The prince of Dorne had turned out to be quite a good company, and she tried to tell herself that was the only reason why she felt like she wanted to spend more time with him. Deep down, though, she knew there was something else. Shaking her head, the princess tried to forget the way his power had made her shiver from head to toe.
"Is there any chance of seeing you spar any time soon?" Oberyn asked her as they walked into the palace and she shook her shoulders.
"If you are ready to lose against me again," she answered, the shadow of a smile dancing on her lips. She knew it was impossible for her to win a fight against the red viper, though. And as he smirked at her, his dark eyes shining with a light that Lyanna was sure had made a thousand foes tremble, she was certain he knew too.
It looked like Oberyn was going to say something, but two other immortals joined them before he could. One of them, Lyanna knew was his sister, for she had seen her with him during the feast the previous night. Even if she hadn't, the princess knew she would have guessed it anyway, because both Martell siblings had the same dark eyes and hair, and resembled each other as much as Lyanna and her brother Ned did.
"Sister, Ashara," Oberyn saluted before Elia could speak.
"Oberyn," Elia smiled, "Who is your friend?"
Not willing to let him speak for her and introduce her as though she wasn't even there, Lyanna smiled at the princess. "I'm Lyanna Stark. It's a pleasure to meet you."
The dornish princess returned the smile, and there was something calculating in her eyes, even if her features were warm and welcoming. The lady next to her bowed her head at her, also smiling.
"Don't do that, please," Lyanna asked, "There's no need."
The lady's violet eyes rose to meet hers and the princess of the North was certain she had never seen a female so beautiful. It was a mystery she didn't belong to any of the Great Houses.
"I thought Daynes of Starfall were supposed to bow before a Stark of Winterfell," Ashara replied with a playful tone.
"I'm just Lyanna," the she-wolf smiled. "And I hate people bowing to me. So don't do it, please."
Ashara laughed cheerfully, and the princess was certain she had never seen a lady look so lovely or be so breathtakingly beautiful.
"If you will excuse us, ladies," Oberyn interrupted them, "I intend to return Lyanna to her brother before he comes searching for her and calling for my head." He walked past them, obviously expecting Lyanna to follow.
"Return?" she repeated, "What am I, something you borrowed?"
He laughed as she caught up with him. "She-wolf," he muttered, shaking his head, and the princess of winter, behaving as the princess she was, punched his arm, but she was smiling when Oberyn looked down at her as they strode down the corridor. Behind them, Princess Elia Martell and Ashara Dayne exchanged a knowing look.