The first time in many moons which Oberyn allows himself to reminisce about his dear friend is the day before his sister's wedding to the Bard Dragon of the Red Keep. Lost amidst the trailing gowns of noble ladies and bulging belling of the lords, he splays across a chaise in the garden sipping on Arbor Gold. Ignoring the passing flirtations and wandering eyes of the more uninhibited guests, he sits alone. Wary of his famous temper and forlorn of a missed chance of pleasure the looks begin to cease and eyes shift to easier prospects.
Of the rare times spent in silence bereft of the warmth only a lover can give, Oberyn doesn't give it a thought, his warmth comes from the searing sweetness of fine wine and moments long past. His mind is a whirl of long wavy black locks cut so oddly and choppily that she must have cut it by hand, her short stature and curves were not marred by the scars they carried on her sun-kissed copper skin, yet the feature that stood the test of time in his heart and mind were her eyes. Brown eyes that are seen every day in Dorne, not only did they appear orange in her anger save for the gold when they gleam with happiness, but the age they held was what surprised him most of all. As if they took in the end of days and lived to see the world beyond. Eyes that beheld the dangers of the world as well as the joys.
It was little more than past his twentieth nameday, after his return home to Sunspear when he was graced with her presence. A few moons past his exile in Essos and five years barring the Yronwood incident he was meet with a sarcastic, feisty woman the same age as he, not that he knew it at the time.
Leisurely walking the bazaar and taking in the spices wafting in the heat of summer, he was relishing in the sensation of seducing a fair-haired noblewoman off the merchant-ships hailing from Volantis. They left port that very morning, heated kisses were shared before he took his leave from her bed after a sennight of passion.
The soothing cadence of chatter from the stalls was interrupted by the screech of a child. Halting in his steps, Oberyn turned to see a child of six running from a incensed fruit merchant with only the glee and swiftness a child her age beheld, cradling a single blood orange. In one fell swoop, he gathers her in his arms with a laugh, before introducing himself. The merchant comes to a full stop recognizing his Prince, who gives him a few coins for his trouble and takes his leave.
"Greeting little one," he says to the squirming girl in his arms, "I am Oberyn, and what can I ask is your name?" Her tiny face scrunches, her nose oddly familiar. Shaking her curls she states, "Aunty Apple says not to talk to strangers."
Shifting his stance to sit her higher upon his arm, he looks over the crowd walking to and fro from the bazaar, not voicing the oddity of the Red Viper carrying a toddler in his arms, "She sounds like a wise woman, I wonder if she knows where you have gone? Hmm? A girl as small as you might be mistaken for a melon or fireplum." He teases and taps her nose. Giggling she squirms from his arms to the ground, Oberyn releases her gently. She dusts herself off and straightens her tunic. Her black curls bounce in the sunlight, a guilty grin appears on her lips.
"You're silly," looking around as well, she gestures for him to kneel then whispers in his ear, "my Apple tells me to sit still, she's asking the man with the shiny clothes where to find my father. But I saws a puppy and an orange. My Apple loves oranges. She always smells like them."
Oberyn keeps that thought in mind, wondering why a girl has her aunt searching for her father. Was he a sellsword or a lusty, swarthy traveler? Or mayhap her aunt has some secrets of her own, besides smelling of sweet citrus.
"Truly?"
She nods happily, "Do you think she will let me keep the puppy?" A small pout appears on her lips as she sees the pup is no longer in her sight if he didn't adore her before he is completely enthralled by her now.
"Should we go see where your Aunt has gone off to? I am sure she is very worried, a precious girl like you must be such a treasure to her."
Not caring that dust and grime coats the hem of his silk ornate robes, Oberyn holds out his hand, letting the child decide whether or not to take it. As a boy, he found that patience is the key to gaining what he wants—trust.
Without an ounce of hesitation she grips his fingers, he stands to his full height while she leads him in the direction of her Apple.
They have walked past a few Dornish spearmen, when questioned by the Prince they point down the path towards the inns. The child is babbling about her travels and people she's met along the way. Chirping just like the birds in the trees.
"You sailed in from a ship from Oldtown? I imagine that was quite the adventure." Slowing his stride to match hers he ponders her words.
"Yes, but my Apple kept me by her side the whoooole time," she says throwing her arms out as if she's about to take flight, "I didn't mind, I like staying with her. Only…" she trails off, her brow furrowed.
At this he stops and bends down, her words give him pause. "Only what, little one?" Thinking the worst he starts to speak before she interrupts.
"There was a mean man, he always looked at me, he kept trying to come closer, I didn't like it. So I told my Apple, she said 'not to worry, Obie, I'll talk to him." The small fist twisting the hem of her tunic suddenly grasp his hand to continue walking, the orange clutched firmly in the other hand. Her solemn mood long forgotten.
A frown twists his handsome features, a dark look burns in his eyes. "So did she? Talk to him, I mean?"
Bobbing her head and skipping alongside him, she agrees. Obie likes how this Oberyn talks to her like a grown-up just like her Apple does. "Oh yes, the next day he wasn't there no more. Aunty Apple said he decided to swim with the fishies insteads of staying on the ship. Do you think he found a mermaid? My Apple says mermaids are real, but not to call a merman a maid or else they might cry."
Her words soothe the anger in his heart, quick to calm his storming thoughts. Swim with the fishes? More like a dagger to the heart and tossed out to sea. His interest in her aunt grows more by the second. He hums with approval.
"Your Apple sounds like Nymeria reborn, little one," she squints up at him with a few teeth missing, and nods. Coming to a stop at the first inn, he asks her if she recognizes where she is staying. Before she can answer she is running into the open arms of a petite woman, dropping her prized fruit. She is much younger than he thought, closer to his age if not a few years behind. He retrieves the lost orange and walks towards the pair.
"Oh my Gondor, Obie! Where have you been?! I've been looking everywhere for you? You scared the fluff out of me!" The woman squeezes the girl so hard, Oberyn flinches in sympathy before coming to a stop a few feet from them. Observing the near-suffocation of the girl, Obie his mind supplies, he looks over her Apple.
He instantly notices that she carries herself differently than other maidens her age. More sure of herself and less meek. Like a jungle cat from Yiti not a butterfly from the Summer Isles. Her wavy black locks are shorn into uneven layers to her shoulders, from her outfit of a once-white tunic and black leggings he can make out a much more feminine figure befitting a paramour rather than an adventurous aunt Obie makes her out to be. Scars of all sizes are scattered on her arms, in a pattern that bears a resemblance to a spider's web. Her skin as tan as his, a traveler's tell. A pack is on her side, most likely carrying the little valuables they own.
"With Oberyn!"
Her eyes flash in recognition at the name as she catches sight of his looming figure. Interesting.
Quickly rising from her crouch, she makes to hide the child behind her, a good idea if only the child stayed there. Obie smoothly pulls away before standing next to Oberyn, holding onto his robe. Smiling at her aunt, she reintroduces him.
"This is Oberyn, he saved me from the pirate," at this declaration both adults' eyebrows raise in surprise, "we gots you a treasure, here!" She elbows his hip, eyes pointedly staring at the orange in his hand, which he hands over, fingers softly grazing. He plays along.
"Yes, this little adventurer surely knows her wares when she sees them. A fearsome pirate we defeated, no?" Looking down at Obie, he is happy to hear her squeal with joy.
"Yes! We used our spears to get the treasure, my Apple! I rescued Oberyn from the mean pirates and we founds the treasure!" Obie mock fights in front of the pair, swinging her imaginary spear in an arc before finding its mark in the pirate's skull. Obie supplies the squelching sounds for greater effect. Oberyn smiles in surprise, wondering how the girl knew the movements of spear-fighters.
"Oh really? And does this make Oberyn your damsel in distress, Obs?" He dismissed the similar nickname his Elia calls him, finding it oddly enticing on this stranger's lips. She cocks her hip, one hand full with the fruit and the other falling away from the hidden dagger behind her back. Recognizing that he wasn't an immediate threat, trusting in the intuition of her beloved charge. She boldly holds his gaze.
Scratching at his scruff, Oberyn clears his throat, a touch embarrassed. "A damsel, she says? If the savior in this story is Obie, I will gladly be the damsel," he smirks at the woman, who's cheekbones flush a light peach. Her eyes light up to a rich brown, almost golden in color. "Does this fair maiden have a name?" He questions, "Or shall I call you Apple as well?"
"Gods no, only Obie calls me that. Given that she was a babe when she said it, it's a name that's stuck." She puts the orange in the pack, grabbing her charge's hand before she can run off again. "It's Apollonia."
"Apollonia," He drawls out her name with his accent, "a name a unique as the one who bears it." Her cheeks flush again, Oberyn is beginning to like making her blush.
Shaking her head, she thanks him. Seeing the sun begin to make its way slowly across the sky to strike noon, she starts to leave. "I thank you for returning Obie to me, not many would do that." A dark look clouds her face, her grip tightens on her charge reassuring herself she is there. "We really must get going, we have to meet someone important." They begin to make their way into the inn.
The smooth sandstone walls reflect the heat of the sun and amplify the echo of the gulls.
The thin wooden slats do little to calm the sun's rays. Oberyn can't help his curiosity regarding these two females. He must know where they are going, to see the girl's father maybe? Elia always tells him not to pry into others' business, 'what else is there for him to do when they discuss it in front of him?' he tells her.
"Wait."
Turning around at the entryway that is remarkably less busy at this time of day, as most people are at the bazaar or inside cooling off, Apollonia tilts her head. "Yes?"
"If it pleases you two, I would like to offer my assistance in guiding you to your very important someone." Bowing dramatically, he winks at Obie who giggles. Glancing down at her little treasure hunter, who is completely smitten with the kind and handsome well-dressed stranger, she kneels down to ask her opinion.
"So, Obs, do you think we should have our damsel be our guide now? I'm sure we'll be just fine either way, albeit a little slower."
Oberyn finds it fascinating that Apollonia treats Obie as an equal. Most people outside of Dorne often dismiss children as less. He can see how much love is in both of their eyes, and how happy the girl is to be asked her opinion and have it matter.
Biting her lip, Obie blatantly glances at Oberyn as if seeing him for the first time. "Do you pinky promise to take care of us?"
"What is a pinky promise, dear one?" He has never heard of this type of oath, because it sounds exactly like one. Seeing his confusion, Obie sorts it out.
"My Apple says it's a promise you can never break no matter what." Lifting her chin, Obie dares him to deny her explained. With a chuckle, he agrees, "Very well, if it's a pinky promise you require, a pinky promise you will receive." Crouching down as well, so they are all at the same height makes for an amusing scene. Especially for the innkeeper who observes her prince being less princely and impulsive with his affections. She dearly hopes he does settle down. Her two customers have become very dear to her in the two weeks they spent in her lodgings. It appears that they have finally found what they've been searching for, given that the room has been emptied and paid off.
Once they entwined their pinkies, promises made, they make their way uphill. Obie runs ahead, making sure to stay close while the remaining two pick their way through the alley leading past the bazaar.
"As we are headed back, may I ask where you intend to go? Obie tells me you are here to find her father?" Oberyn questions, his boots softly clicking on the cobblestone path, robes swishing with every step. Apollonia peers down at the gold belt glinting low around his hips. Tiny suns linked together.
Releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding, she answered, "To the Sandship, the Tower of the Sun or maybe a study, I'm not sure at this point."
Freezing for an instant, Oberyn quickens his stride to catch up. "To House Martell? What matters call you there?" His mind whirling, surely the child must be one of the servants or squires get? Natural born children are just as cherished as their legitimate siblings.
"Yes. Are you familiar with the Martells?" She turns to look at him, her face questioning. She grips her bag, no doubt learning from others the ways of pickpockets and thieves.
"Some might say that, yes. Do you have an audience with Prince Doran?"
"I thought the ruling monarch was Princess Elvira, his mother? She is well is she not?" Brows furrowed in mild confusion, she calls Obie over as they make their way closer to the palace. Once she's in her Apple's grasp, Obie grips Oberyn's left hand too, as if it he was always there.
Seeing Oberyn scratch at his well-groomed beard at her slight interrogation, a tell he makes when he's nervous she thinks, he answers.
"Well yes, she is, but recently she has stepped back to let Prince Doran have run of the Palace to prepare him. He was always the most well-suited for management, had a head for numbers and people."
"You know him well, I take it?" Shrugging his shoulders, an informal gesture for a formally dressed man. Apollonia can't help but find it endearing.
They make it to the gates before they get the chance to thank Oberyn and bid adieu, the Palace guards bow.
"Greetings, Prince Oberyn, your brother, Prince Doran requests your presence in his study upon your return."