Sorry I haven't posted in forever, I had to move from my old apartment, and the last week or so has been hectic. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Also, side note, Jon's a girl. It's more dramatic this way. Sorry ;))


Was this some kind of joke? Oberyn dryly thought upon receiving the letter from the Lannister Queen. If it is a joke, the person who sent this has the worst taste in humor that I have ever had the displeasure to stumble upon.

Despite his pondering, he started to walk from the maester's chambers where he was summoned to receive the letter; to that of his brother's, where Doran Martell lay sick in bed.

On the walk there, Oberyn thought of his sister and how both the gods and men had forsaken her and her children in their final moments. He thought of the soul wrenching hatred which he bore for the man who they had once called The Mountain. His mind wandered far, thinking of tens upon thousands of what-ifs that could've happened.

He spared a smile towards his lover who was pregnant with his child as he walked on past. The letter in hand and the mood in his eyes convinced her not to approach him.

What if they'd sided with one side in the beginning? What if Elia hadn't borne children? What if he'd sailed across the sea to kill the Mad King himself?

He himself was halfway down the road to insanity from thinking about the ways that things could've turned out- when he finally reached the room that housed his brother.

Doran, at this moment, was unwell. He had a spell of nausea when he finished his breakfast earlier this morning, and chose to return to bed to get some rest.

Oberyn found him at his desk, with the curtains pulled wide open and the sun casting the red-and-orange theme of the room ablaze like a fire in the middle of a summer day.

The young prince was busy reading, drawn into a volume regarding the climate and their courses of change and irregularity over a full turn of the seasons. As Doran had given up the gods of the Faith, R'hllor and all other gods that people might be devoted to since Elia's death. Instead, he'd since begun searching for other explanations on the ways of the world. Most of them were ridiculous words written in a ridiculous fashion.

One traveller from Volantis once gifted Doran such a strange book. The styling of it was based on old Valeryan texts, slices of thin, bending wood tied together with string on one end. When opened, it looked like that of a fan.

The contents theorized that the world on which they were living in was in fact, a sphere-like shape. It itcluded observations of how things that were far seemed to disappear; ridiculous things like that.

The older Martell had recently begun funding such expeditions from young explorers wishing to make a name for themselves; giving them the resources needed to travel around the known lands two to three times round. Even so, none of them have found anything worth noting quite yet.

And as for Oberyn, he personally couldn't care less on matters like the meaning of them existing on this world and the reasoning behind how everything works. He could care less if there wasn't a higher being (or beings, for that matter) who sought to create, destroy, help or curse us throughout our lives.

The things that he did in fact care about included just a few things. He cared about the people whom he loved; as would anyone who was right of mind. He didn't care if the person was noble, common, or a bastard. If his heart was drawn to them, he'd protect them in any way he could until his last breath.

Of course, he cared about sex as well, but he preferred to call it as making love. Anyone who knew the young man, or even heard of him, for that matter- would know of his many trysts with a seemingly unlimited number of people; gender didn't matter.

Nobody who truly knew him could fault him for that.

You see, Oberyn Martell was born to be loved.

Doran sat there with his book in hand in his seat that hung from the ceiling. Oberyn took a breath before walking up to him with the letter with the Lannister and Baratheon seals.

"Brother of mine, a letter has come from the Queen."


Elysa and Robb were playing with their wooden practice swords when they spotted old maester Florence walk out of the Ravenkeep with a letter in hand.

The pair had always loved to see what was inside the letters that House Stark received; and knew tricks to make the letter seal look like it had never been opened. Not only that, but they also loved to play tricks on the aging maester who has long since passed the age which he was supposed to retire.

With a glance and a grin shot at each other, they dropped their swords simultaneously and bounded after the poor man.

"Good afternoon, maester Florence!" Robb called out, making his way to step out in front of the man, blocking his path.

"What are you doing walking around on a fine day like this?" Elysa continued, catching up and stepping to stand beside Robb.

The dreadfully oblivious old man gave a soft smile towards the two children. "Hello Robb, Elysa. I'm bringing this letter to Lord Stark, it just arrived earlier this afternoon. What about you young spirits?" He asked in friendly conversation.

"Oh! A letter for our father, is it?" Robb asked, feigning interest and shock. "We we were going to see our father as well! We wanted to see him due to our deep respect and love that we bear for him, and tell him our hopes and dreams of becoming like him when we're old." Robb clutched at his chest and gazed wistfully into the distance.

"Say, maester, why don't you give us the letter instead, I'm sure we can deliver it safely into my father's hands." Elysa spoke out, coating her voice in a sugary tone.

"I mean I would, but it's not really responsible of me to do that." Seeing the two of them acting crestfallen, however, he had a change of heart. Passing the letter to Robb, he waved the young ones off and turned to walk back to his chambers. Besides, he was feeling a bit too tired to wander around today.

"Thanks, Florence!" Robb called out before running off.

"Have a nice afternoon, maester." Elysa bid the retreating figure who threw a hand in the air, still walking away.

Elysa quickly bounded after her half-brother, who slowed down to wait for her to catch up.

"What do you think the letter's about?" She asked, inspecting the dual seals on it.

"Not sure, maybe it's another letter from house Frey; inviting father to another one of Walder Frey's weddings." Robb jested with a smirk.

With a laugh, Elysa answered, "Yes, I suppose it very well could be. But the coloring of the seals are different from that of the Frey's."

Peering closer, she noted, "A black stag and a red lion."

"Wait a minute El, aren't those the houses of the king and queen?"

Face yellowing slightly, Elysa muttered, "Maybe we shouldn't have taken the letter from the maester."

"Nonsense, we will do what we intended to do in the first place." Seeing Elysa's discoloration, he assured her in a softer tone, "Don't worry. Nothing will happen. We will deliver the letter and be on our way."

Elysa snapped at him, "Nothing will happen to you, sure. You're the heir to Winterfell and house Stark. You're allowed to take letters from maesters addressed to a lord and sent by the King; cause that's what you're going to have to do in the future when you're lord! I can't cause I'm your father's bastard." Elysa yelled, panic stricken.

"There's no need to whine so much, you're my sister. Nothing will change the fact that we are related by blood, different mother or not. It's okay, El. I'll protect you from the king, hells, I'd lay down my life for you. You know that." Robb defended.

Elysa's breathing settled a bit, "Sorry, Robb. I'm just- your mother told me last week that if I put another toe out of line, she'd drag me down to Flea Bottom's orphanage herself."

"Don't worry," Robb assured him, "it's too far for my mother to bother to take you there, and if she sends someone to take you there, I'll run away from home and save you."

Elysa let out a shaky grin as she stared recovering from her miniature panic attack. "Sorry I lashed out like that, Robb." She said sheepishly.

"It's alright." Robb said with a nudge at his sister's chest with his elbow. "Siblings fight, it's normal. Now c'mon, let's go throw stones at the ravens. Race you!" Robb said before dashing off.

"No fair, you got a head start, Robb!"

The letter was delivered to Lady Catelyn Stark that evening by her handmaiden. It was found in Robb's clothes that he changed out of in order to get ready for bed.

She gestured at the handmaiden to take her sleeping child out of her arms before glancing at the seals. Looks like she'll have to have a word with the maester about who to entrust letters from the king to.


There's a reason for Frey and Tarly being mistaken as paramount houses, though I have to thank the following users for pointing that out, and here's the reason why:

medon | Et Dux | narufnatic144 | Gooest | Eman