Day 7
Oberyn frowned as he looked around the dusty street that the Ghost of Christmas Past had brought them too. "I remember this place… Blackglass, they called it, because Aegon's dragon burned a path right through the center of town, turning the sands to ebony glass." He chuckled. "Foolish silver haired twit. The people came out of hiding when he was gone and sold the glass to the Warlocks across the Narrow Sea."
"That is not the day though we have arrived," the Spirit said, pointing to a small brothel with only a few whores waiting in the doorway and leaning out of windows, trying to entice weary travels to visit them.
And standing in front of the building was a young Oberyn, only 11 or 12 at the time, and his mother.
"Merry Christmas, my dear prince," she said. "I give you your first whore!"
Present Oberyn watched his past self as he happily ran into the brothel and shook his head. "No more, Spirit… I wish to see no more."
"But there is so much more to see. Christmases not spent loving your fellow man but-"
"Oh, I love my fellow man… and woman… and sometimes groups of five or six." He chuckled at that before looking back at the brothel. "This though… it's a disgrace."
"Your mother thought she was doing you a favor. But you see now the truth, don't you?"
"I do… I was a piss poor lover."
"Christmas is-wait, what?"
Oberyn waved his hand in annoyance. "I lasted only ten minutes. And I was only focused on one part of her. I hardly even played with her nipples and stuck a finger in her asshole. And missionary position? How disgraceful."
"That isn't what I was getting at."
But Oberyn squared his shoulders. "I have seen enough, Spirit! I promise that on this day I will keep Christmas in my heart… by licking every box I can find till its very wet and then stuffing it with my own presents."
"…right."
"And my presents I mean my semen."
"I got that."