"Mmm…Oberyn, my love," a woman moaned slightly. A man, Oberyn, laughed at the woman's words.
His chuckle was light and full of mirth. "What, my beautiful wife?" he asked, his Dornish accent thick in the otherwise silent air. The tanned man rolled over on top of the smaller woman. His black hair seemed a bit wild, as if hands had been continuously run through it before.
"We…have…duties," the woman, his apparent wife, stated between deep breaths. She then gave a giggle as her husband started planting kisses underneath her jawline, an obviously ticklish spot.
Oberyn smiled against her pale skin, ghosting his lips over her bumpy flesh. "Duties do not concern me as of this moment," he said, trailing his lips up and along her jawline now. "What concerns me is pleasing my wife…"
Oberyn's hands moved to shift away the sheets that covered his wife, but before he could do so, an handmaiden rushed in, her face a wrecked mess. The prince of Dorne did not really care all that much that his wife's maid had caught the two of them in their rather intimate acts. His wife on the other hand, was still far more skittish with those situations.
"My lady," the girl started, breaths coming out almost too quickly, "a raven…your sister…"
Oberyn watched as his wife immediately stood (not caring she was unclothed), worry clear in her oak eyes. "What has happened, Riene?" she said, her voice tight and desperate. Oberyn knew how much his wife's little sister meant to her, and he cocked a dark eyebrow in subtly veiled suspicion.
"The dragon prince," the girl only seemed able to say. Oberyn watched as his wife's eyes turned understanding, a wave of sadness rolling gently into her brown oceans. He leaned up so he could help her sit upon their bed, his calloused hands tight on her biceps. He gave a nod to the handmaiden, the girl somehow understanding to leave them be for the moment.
"My love," Oberyn whispered, knowing his wife's thoughts. He knew what Rhaegar had done to his sister at the tourney of Harrenhal. He knew how he had openly disrespected Elia. However, it was not Oberyn's place to speak against the Targaryen prince. He was only a Martell, and he could only do so much. "You mustn't worry. Your sister must be fine. I'm sure she's-"
"He's no doubt taken her," his wife stated sadly. "Either that or she's fallen for him and has mindlessly agreed to run away with him. I never truly believed that she was swept away by Robert."
Oberyn sighed and rubbed his wife's arms lightly. "We must remain strong and here, in Dorne. One can't possibly understand what could befall them should they leave to King's Landing. You must insist that your family nor Robert does anything rash," he said, his self-preservation switch flipping. He wanted his beautiful wife to be safe firstly, and then he could worry about her family. However, with a Stark, it was always family first.
"Brandon and my father, I fear, will provoke something. Brandon has always felt strongly about protecting little Lyanna. However, because they're dealing with his wedding to Catelyn, I believe he should be somewhat rational," she said, turning her face towards Oberyn.
"But," she started once more, "I have no recollection of Brandon ever being rational in difficult situations that threatened our family."
Oberyn pulled his Stark wife against him, her body curling into his warmth and chest. He ran his hands through her tangled brunette curls, his fingertips lightly caressing her scalp. "Katerina, my love," he started, placing his chin upon her head, "you must stay strong. Everything will run its course. We mustn't interfere." He then looked across the room with those Martell eyes of his, focusing on the steady cradle. It held the product of their love. "We have a daughter to worry about my dear."
Katerina chuckled then, "Yes, her and three others."
"Amirina is but a babe still, my beautiful wife," Oberyn smirked, knowing their fourth child had been born only a few moons ago. She was already growing and mumbling sounds. However, their oldest, Elios, was recently seven name days old. He had been conceived the night of their marriage, a rarity among couplings. The other two had been born as twins: Eliana and Doran (the second after Oberyn's older brother). Those two were approaching their fifth name days in a couple of weeks.
He then smiled and joked, "The other three can fend for themselves."
Katerina laughed, putting on a fake serious chalance, "Ah yes. Elios has the skill of a Kingsguard, or better perhaps. And! Eliana and Doran can wield spear far superior to yourself, my darling husband."
Oberyn chuckled lightly before pulling his wife's head towards his own. He planted a firm kiss upon her soft and small lips, pushing passion from his soul unto her own. Her lips curled into a smile against his, pushing her love towards him. The two has been awkward at first, much due to their age gap when they married. Katerina had been ten and three when she married the ten and eight Dornish prince. It had been very awkward. They were preforming duty, that was it. It was normal, and Katerina was thankful her mother had convinced her father to marry her to Oberyn Martell, and not some vassal lord three times her age. That was the norm in fact. Now, however, they fit like gloves upon one another and their ages did not particularly matter.
And right now, their worries did not particularly matter. Everything would be fine at that moment. They would be fine.
For the Prince Oberyn Martell loved his Lady Katerina more than life itself.
He would do anything to keep her in his life.
Oberyn sat in his room, his fifth goblet of the best Dornish wine in hand. His eyes were concentrated on his bed. The bed he had shared with his wife. The memory played before him, taunting and teasing him. It was as if his mind kept asking, 'Was it enough? Couldn't you have done more?'
In truth, Oberyn Martell could not have done more. His wife. His first three children. All four. Dead. Dead as dirt. And it was all because Oberyn had been played. Played like a game of chess by an expert. He had trusted the wrong people. He had paid for that mistake with his family's lives. The only one that had not perished in the rebellion was his daughter. His frail and young daughter. The child that he and his beautiful wife had feared would succumb to illness early on in life. Their beautiful and innocent Amirina.
The child of Stark and Martell blood had just reached her fifth nameday a while ago. A few moons really. Oberyn couldn't really remember. He remembered acting calm and happy for his child. Then, when alone, he had torn his room apart. A teary and hurt mess. A silhouette of what he once used to be. He would never be angry nor hate his daughter. She was his last piece of Katerina. Instead, he would celebrate his broken heart by seeing his dead wife in his daughter everyday.
Amirina was a pale tan, however, she colored easily like Oberyn. Her hair was a dark oak coloring, curly like her mother's luscious locks. And her eyes. Oberyn saw his wife in her eyes. The little chocolate orbs that held a hint of blue and green around the entire iris. Some days her eyes would appear hazel, but mainly brown. Freckles dotted her cheeks but were barely noticeable. A child that many would consider a gift.
Elios had not been particularly gifted in looks, even as a four year old. Oberyn remembered that the boy's nose was too large for his skinny face and at points, he had noticed the left side of his son's face would sag a bit. The Martell had contributed it to his wife's early pregnancy, as she had only been ten and three name days when pregnant with him. They had to wait another year before trying for more, as Katerina's body took a while to recover from Elios.
Doran and Eliana had been cute babes. Dark hair and tanned skin with dark eyes. The two of them looked so much like Oberyn himself. He supposed it was only fair though. The ones he lost would look so much like him and the one that lived would be the one who could pass for his wife's twin when she grew older.
Oberyn chuckled a bit sarcastically at that thought and downed his goblet. He slammed it down on his desk, standing as he did so. The gold clobbered upon the wooden piece of furniture. He raised a hand to his face and stroked down his cheeks a few times. He wasn't feeling the effects yet. He had nearly drank himself to death a few times following Katerina's death, but now, he could hold his wine quite well. Too well.
Before Oberyn could do much, a small child burst into his room, a woman following close behind.
"Papa! Papa!" the child exclaimed, her dark curls bouncing behind her.
Oberyn smiled mournfully as he took in his daughter's happy face. Her cheeks were still fat from her babe stage. They pulled up to her hazel-toned eyes (which meant the weather was heating up) and crinkles like cat whiskers formed next to those oceans.
The Dornish prince held out his arms and grasped onto his daughter, lifting her into the air. She gave a squeal of excitement, receiving a real smile from him.
Turning away from his daughter, his dark eyes caught sight of his frazzled paramour. Ah, his darling Ellaria. She would never fill the hole left by his wife, but she would suffice. She kept his mind off of things.
"She is quite the handful, my love," the Sand spoke, her voice slightly betraying her emotions. Ellaria was usually not the jealous type, Oberyn had noted in the past year or so. She would gladly share their bed with more than just himself. However, when it came to Amirina, she was not so keen as to sharing. Ellaria wanted her daughters put first. Not Amirina.
Oberyn simply smiled and looked back at his daughter, the girl ecstatic to be in her father's arms. "She's very much like her mother and I," he said, ensuring that Ellaria knew her place. His paramour often neglected the fact that Amirina was not her's to raise. She was only Oberyn's and Doran's responsibility.
"Yes, well, she needs to be taught some form of discipline, Oberyn," his paramour stated, a glint in her dark eyes. He knew how the woman held their bastard daughter above his legitimate heir. Ellaria wanted their daughter, Elia, to be his focus. And while Oberyn loved Elia dearly, she would never be his Amirina and guilt riddled his heart because of that thought.
"No," Oberyn stated, bringing his daughter in front of him, bouncing her a little bit into the air. She gave a shout of childish laughter, her curls bouncing lightly. He smiled at her innocence and spoke without thought, "She is far too much like her mother and I. She's untamable."
Ellaria rolled her eyes and gave a scoff. Oberyn paid her no mind though. He set his daughter down and watched as she held his ring finger. His eyes caught sight of the onyx stone band that Katerina had made for him for their wedding. He looked up at his paramour and used his right hand to stroke her cheek. He leaned over and pressed his lips to her forehead and smiled lightly.
"I promised her the day, my dear. You have me when the moon is high in the sky," he whispered to her, a smirk curling upon his lips. Oberyn heard the tanned woman give a sigh. His dark orbs caught sight of a somewhat defeated smile on his lover's red lips.
Ellaria nodded and pulled away, leaving his room in almost a hurry.
Oberyn sighed and looked down at his daughter, the child giving him a confused look. "What is it, my flower?" he asked, kneeling down so that he could be closer to his child.
Amirina cocked her head to the side for a second before looking at her father. "Why do you treat her like mama? She is not mama. Papa, you told me mama was with the gods."
"She is not treated as I treated your mother, my sweet," he sighed, rubbing the top of her dark curls. He then gave a small smile and patted the top of her curls, standing. "You'll learn when you're much older."
The girl seemed satisfied with that response and gave a bright smile. "Alright papa!" she exclaimed, happy. She then grabbed his hand as much as she could and started to lead him out of his room. "Let's play with the horses, papa!"
Oberyn gave a chuckle and let his young daughter lead the way.
"Again."
The sound of dirt shifting and heavy breathing filled the open area. Waves crashed against rocks as two people sparred. One was a man of lean physique and dark features. The other, a girl, probably barely past her ten and two name day. Her hair was pulled back from her face, her long dark tresses roped into a long tail at the top of her scalp. The man carried a long spear, the deadly ends taken off of it. The girl carried the same weapon choice, however, her's was much smaller and lighter.
"But papa…"
"Again," her father cut her off. His voice was stern and definite. There was no questioning him at the moment.
The girl gave a huff of exasperation and exhaustion. She picked her spear up and held it tightly, her knuckles turning white against her tanned skin. Her left hand curled and clenched at the top of the staff. A look of determination in her hazel eyes signaled her inability to give up quite yet. She couldn't. She wouldn't. Not when Oberyn Martell was her father.
Amirina Martell gave a cry and lunged, her fatigue showing in her sloppy start. She jabbed her spear left, trying to catch her father off guard. But he was the Red Viper. He was far too experienced to be thrown off by the likes of his young daughter. Oberyn blocked her jab easily, absorbing the brunt of the impact close to his chest so he could counter and hit her low.
Without much thought, the young girl stepped back, barely avoiding the strike towards her knees. Deciding she needed to switch tactics, Amirina placed her right hand atop the spear, shifting dominance and forcing her father to stay on his toes. If there was one thing the small Martell had learned, it was that she could use both hands interchangeably in fights. Normally, her right hand was dominant, but a gift had been bestowed upon her to fight with both.
Amirina ducked low, feinting a leg sweep with her spear, wishing to catch her experienced mentor off guard. Once again, the man was not fooled.
He had taught her the trick.
Oberyn stepped back and lowered just as his daughter stood to strike. He used her spear to knock her legs from under her, a painful 'oomf' resonating throughout the area. A cloud of dust flew into the air when Amirina's back hit the ground, displacing dirt from the ground and into the warm air.
The waves of the Summer Sea crashed lightly now, as if sensing the sparring to have finished. Gulls cried up above. The sand below the overhang sat soundly and without a disturbance in the world. Everything seemed perfect in Sunspear. Everything seemed…calm. Ten and one years since the end of Robert's Rebellion. That was the time in which little Amirina Martell grew. Yes, she was still a child. But she was aging. Growing up.
And as she laid in the red dust beneath the summer sun, the Martell girl closed her eyes and breathed in the salty air. Dorne and Sunspear were her home. Nothing would change that. Nothing would. But somewhere, deep within her, a spot never before seen or traveled to by her, something was stirring. It was as if that something knew that peace could only last for so long.
So, instead of throwing a tantrum for her father sweeping her onto her back and in the dirt, Amirina Martell smiled lightly and drank in the sun's rays.
All Oberyn could do was watch. Watch the girl, of who he knew to be his daughter, bathe in the sun like her mother did every single day until the days leading up to her death. If Katerina had loved the warmth as much as she had, Amirina surely would too. And that she did. Amirina loved the sun and never wanted to leave its sight.
Amirina huffed in annoyance as she crossed her arms. They had been traveling for months and the girl was tired of it. They had had to sail from Sunspear all the way up to White Harbor. Then they had to ride from White Harbor to Winterfell. A couple of months on the sea during a good season. Thankfully, it had been a good season…unlike the last time she and her father had sailed to the port city. That had been five years ago, when they made their trip to Winterfell to see the birth of Amirina's cousin, Brandon or "Bran" as he was apparently called. She had been eight name days aged, going onto her ninth. Now, she was ten and three years old, going on ten and four.
She didn't really care if another cousin of her's had been born a month or so ago. She wanted to be back in Dorne. She wanted to be back in Sunspear. Her bed was waiting for her tired and aching body from sparring. The sun was waiting to envelope her with its inviting warmth. The sand was waiting to kick up into her eyes with a vengeance. And the sea. Oh how Amirina Martell missed the waves crashing against the rock walls at night.
"Fix your countenance, Rina," her father scolded lightly. He looked out of place in the grey background of the North. His dark eyes then rolled at the sight of her not holding the reins of her mare. "And hold those reins, girl."
Amirina rolled her oak brown eyes and grasped the boiled-leather reins. "I can't believe we're seriously visiting them again, papa," her Dornish accent was thick, matching her father's in consistency and smoothness.
"Your cousin was born shy a moon ago, you will visit them as you have for each birth of that family. They are your kin and blood. Your mother would have made you commit to nothing less."
Amirina sighed and nodded her head. She knew not to argue with her father too much. He was Dornish. Those men did not give up on arguments. However, Dornish women were the exact same. But Amirina knew better and simply kept her mouth shut.
Especially since they were approaching Winterfell's front gates.
The Martell girl watched as people seemed to appear in front of her eyes. They had entered in the east gate, which connected to the kingsroad. They had traveled down that wretched way for a month and it was finally at its end for them. To their front was what looked to be a covered walkway. To their northeast was the armory and to the northwest was the great keep, if Amirina remembered from the last time she had been here.
Standing in front of all of it, however, stood the Stark family. Her cousins and aunt and uncle. Servants, guards, and anyone of importance stood around the area. The girl had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the formal sight. Apparently her father being here meant that her extended family had to appear proper.
But that annoyance disappeared quickly when she locked eyes with her Uncle Ned.
"Uncle Ned!" Amirina cried out in happiness as she jumped from her mare's saddle. She ran to the Warden of the North and wrapped her arms around him, sucking up the warmth his furs and leather offered.
Eddard Stark chuckled and hugged his niece. Her height had increased in the past five years, but she obviously was taking after her mother in that department. Oberyn was around six feet tall, an average height for his Dornish heritage. However, Katerina had only reached a little over five feet and half of that. Amirina seemed that she was going to be a few inches short of her mother, as the top of her head came up to Ned's shoulders. She used to only come up to the upper half of his chest.
"Hello Amirina," the Stark lord said happily. In all reality, Ned was ecstatic to see his niece, his only extended family. The best part was that she looked so much like Katerina, his late older sister. However, it could end up being the girl's downfall as well.
Katerina Stark had been beautiful. Many thought her to be lesser in looks compared to Lyanna, however. Eddard thought his two sisters, one older and one younger, were beautiful in their own ways. Lyanna was beautiful in many ways: she had a fierce nature unrivaled by any, soft features that could break any man's heart, eyes of the bluest winter, hair like the darkest night, and red lips that so many wished to touch. Katerina had not been fierce, nor had she been strong. Her beauty was gentle and often went unnoticed by many. She had freckles that scattered her face. Eyes that were like that of a chocolate wood. Hair in wild and often frizzy curls. And small lips that often gave way to a dazzling smile as white as snow. Lyanna was too beautiful and Katerina was too sweet. It was what led to his sisters' deaths.
"You've grown, my dear," Ned said affectionately, pulling her away by the shoulders and scanning her growth. Her dark hair was pulled to the nape of her neck and roped into a braid that fell to her hips. Eyes that rivaled her mother's own stared at him with adoration and respect. Cheekbones that seemed much like her father's own. Skin that was lightening from her time out of the sun and in the grey coverage of the North. Freckles that dotted her flesh like wildflowers in grassy plains. And eyebrows that arched softly but held enough darkness to be prominent against her skin.
"And I've managed to grow stronger, uncle," she smiled, pulling her arms up to flex their muscles.
Ned laughed and clapped Amirina on the shoulders. "Somehow your mother's nature did not reach you," he chuckled, receiving a laugh from his niece.
"Not completely true, my dear uncle. I am still a lady!"
"A lady who is just like her father," the voice of her aunt called out to her, receiving a smile from both Martells.
"Oh, come now Aunt Cat, ya know I'm just like my mother," Amirina teased, walking over and hugging her aunt tightly. The contrast between Eddard and Catelyn was stark (no pun intended). The Stark man had chin-length brown hair and a closely shaven beard to match with oak eyes. The Tully woman had red hair like berries and eyes like that of a brooke with cheeks that could cut. Amirina loved them dearly, despite the awful travel seeing them entailed.
Now the children…
To say the least…Amirina did not get along with her cousin Robb. She was only a year and a half older than him and he pestered her the last time she had been visiting like a lost pup. She found him annoying at best and frustrating at worst. She didn't detest him, no. He was her blood, but that didn't mean she couldn't be annoyed with him. The ten and two auburn curly-haired boy with brooke blue eyes stared at her as if seeing something strange for the first time, and she huffed at it. He was a strange boy.
Next was Jon Snow. Amirina rather liked her uncle's bastard, finding the shy and somewhat meek boy interesting and sweet. He never bothered her (as Aunt Cat wouldn't allow that). He kept to himself and only spoke when spoken to. His dark curls matched Amirina's own and his grey eyes that could almost be black at points always looked at her with kindness. Of course, they had only truly met once. The first time, they were far too young to remember.
Then there was Sansa. The child was an exact copy of her mother; she had the same red tresses and sharp blue eyes. She was approaching her ninth nameday soon and Amirina hoped to still be here to see it. Sansa had only been four when the Martell last saw her cousin and the child had taken a liking to her. Despite her annoyance to Rina, the Stark girl grew on her and she only hoped that was still the case.
Then there was little Arya. Arya had passed her sixth nameday by now, Amirina believed. The girl was rambunctious and loud for a child, much more than Sansa ever was. All Arya could do as a one year old was scream and cry at whatever time she wanted. It had not been fun for anyone. That spirit was still probably in her and wouldn't leave soon. The girl looked just like her father now; she had shorter brown hair (in comparison to her sister) and was oak eyed.
Lastly, for the kids she knew, was Bran. He was starting to look like Ned as well. The last time she had seen the Stark boy was when he was but a babe. As a baby, Bran had tufts of brown hair upon his pale head and big brown eyes that Amirina had been creeped out by slightly. Of course, she had been almost nine so she was creeped out by everything that looked at her weird. Now, he had the same features but with eyes that only showed confusion.
Amirina's eyes searched for the newest addition to her extended family but could not find him. "Where's the babe?"
Cat smiled at her niece and nodded back towards the keep, "He had to be put down for a nap; he was far too fussy to stay up to meet you."
The Martell gave a huff, "I come all this way and my cousin can not even have the decency to not fuss and stay happy, as babes should!"
Oberyn rolled his eyes at his daughter's antics, while Ned and Catelyn chuckled lightly.
"I suppose I'll settle for greeting the rest of you instead," she said, giving a sigh of exasperation before turning to her cousins who stood to her uncle's right and her left. They stood in order of their age and Amirina realized Bran stood to her right, next to Catelyn. She opened her arms and rolled her eyes, "Come hug your cousin."
It was like that command took ahold of each child's mind and set them loose upon her. Robb and Sansa reached her first, wrapping their arms around her. Robb was as tall as her, his arms snaking around her neck. Sansa was a bit shorter, probably coming up to her chin. Her arms wound around her chest. Then came Arya and finally Bran. Arya wrapped around her hips and Bran around her legs. She chuckled at her cousins and slightly bent over to encircle them all in a hug as best she could.
"I am reluctant to say that I somehow missed all of you Starks," she joked, kissing each of her cousins on the forehead. Amirina detached herself from the kids and kneeled upon the soft dirt. She wore brown leather trousers and a yellow tunic that split into three columns: one to her front and two to the back sides. A Martell necklace hung around her neck and a Stark brooch was pinned to her left breast. She looked severely out of place in the North.
Bran used the opportunity to jump onto his cousin and wrap her arms around her neck. Amirina was slightly surprised but guessed that his mother or father had placed amazing thoughts about her in his little mind. "Hello Bran," she laughed, holding the Stark child to her chest, "how have you been, dear cousin?"
Bran smiled at her and showed off the teeth of his babe stage in life. "Good! Mama told me you're from the farthest South! Is that true, Rina?"
Amirina smiled and nodded her head, "Your mama speaks true, little pup. I am from Dorne. My mama, however, was from right here. She was your aunt."
Bran gave a childish gasp and smiled even wider. "I wanna see auntie!" the child innocently exclaimed. Amirina gave a small smile and shook her head.
"Auntie is sleeping in Dorne, Bran, she did not make the journey," she said, trying to be as happy as possible.
In all reality, Amirina Martell still did not know what had happened to her mother. In truth, she didn't want to know what had happened. Her father's eyes had shown too much pain whenever she brought up her Stark mother. She only knew that her mother and three siblings had all died during the rebellion. It had made Amirina much more mature for her age and often a little bit more understanding.
"Oh, okay! I will see her soon though! I will come to Dorne to see her!" Bran stated, as if making a promise.
"Of course, little one. You are always welcome to Dorne," she giggled lightly, knowing full well that his parents would not allow such a thing.
Eddard and Catelyn Stark did not like Oberyn Martell. Ned had been furious when he had found out his sister was to marry the infamous Red Viper, who had three bastard daughters before the marriage. Amirina was not blind to the mutual dislike the three of them threw to one another. However, they kept up appearance in front of the children. But the young girl was a child no more and she saw the looks. It was why her father stood back and did not approach the family.
Amirina smiled and set her cousin down, standing up. Her eyes then caught sight of Ned's ward, Theon Greyjoy. The boy had been taken in by Ned after his father's rebellion right before Arya had been born. The kraken had not spoken to her the last time she had been here but it seemed as though he was comfortable with his place in the family. He stared right back at her with a strange gleam in his storm cloud grey eyes. Amirina shivered lightly and searched for the bastard.
She found him behind his father, standing meekly and quietly. His head was turned down and his dark grey eyes were turned down to the ground. Amirina wanted her cousin to look up and meet her eyes but he did not. And before he could, she felt herself being dragged away by Robb and Sansa. But more than anything, she wanted to give her bastard cousin the hug he so desperately needed and wanted.
For Amirina Martell did not care if you were a bastard or a cripple. Kin was kin and everyone deserved love.
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this! It's a prologue/chapter 1. I have been wanting to write this for a while and was going to originally write a prequel for Katerina and Oberyn but I have put that to the side for now. I will perhaps start it when this is further along. Not sure yet. I hope I did well with this and I hope you can catch some things that I subtly set in there. Thank you so much for reading and I'd love any form of constructive criticism or praise or thoughts on it. Love you all and thank you!
Update: Fixed Elio's age
~ P
