Sansa woke up to the sensation of being enveloped by a comfortable warmth. Oberyn's arms were around her, her head tucked under his chin. Silently, she looked at her husband and found that despite his apparent age (she could not get over the fact that he was several years older than her father), he was exceedingly handsome. There were flecks of silver in his otherwise dark hair, lines upon his face that only seemed to build... character. He showed no weariness nor willingness to be slowed down...
"What are you thinking about?" he asked her through half-opened eyes, interrupting her from her thoughts. Clearly, he was only half-awake, but managed to pull her closer to him.
"You're like the sun," she blurted, before widening her eyes, internally chastising her for her audacity and forwardness. "I'm sorry, I..."
"I have been called many things, Sansa, but never the sun," he told her with a smile, and smiled even wider when he saw her mimic his expression. "How is your back? Might I see it?"
Sansa hesitated for a moment, and relented. Turning away from him, she undid a portion of her night-gown's laces and allowed him to push the fabric downwards so he could see her back. Her fresh wounds were healing well, thanks to the salve that Varys had given her, but he could see that there were many more than he had thought to see. When Sansa sensed that he had been quiet for too long, she tried to turn, but he gently stopped her from doing so. "Oberyn?" she asked.
"They will pay for what they have done," he hissed, kissing her shoulder and resting his head on the arch of her neck, his arms wrapped around her waist. "I will have one head for every lash they give you."
"You will absolutely not," she told him, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "Only Joffrey is responsible, but no one's as stupid as to wanting to kill the King head-on. Even if you do kill him, they'll put his younger brother on the throne. They won't stop as long as they're in power." She had been in the yoke of the Lannisters for three years, she knew how they functioned. More importantly, she was able to know how they maneuvered because she had been the receiving end of their movements for far too long. With the Lannisters, it was an uphill struggle with no hope of ever reaching the top.
Oberyn however, understood her reasoning. He kissed the back of her neck and simply replied, "I'll simply kill Tywin Lannister then," he said. "That would be the end of all the troubles of the Seven Kingdoms, I think." Sansa deliberately ignored his suggestion. Even a fool knew that it was impossible, although it was technically viable. "Come now, would you be angry at your husband on the first day of your marriage?"
"I would want my husband to survive," Sansa stressed. "My father died for something so little as the parentage of the Queen's children. I don't want you to perish for an even lesser cause."
For those words, Oberyn had kissed her fiercely. "You would prove yourself a greater Wolf than any Northerner yet, Sansa," he told her when their lips parted from one another. "Don't worry. I won't do anything... too rash unless you allow me to." In the very least, those words seemed to have calmed her down. She stopped frowning at him and was content laying her head on his chest, to have him comb his fingers through her hair. It was strange to her, that such a simple act could bring her so much comfort.
Sansa knew better than to trust any such promise, but she held her silence. Her husband was famous for being everything that Dorne was. Fire, passion, hatred, anger and a fierce love towards his family. She was sure that he would have jumped into another spot of trouble before long. "Can I ask you something?" she almost cooed, meeting her eyes with his. She had never seen eyes as dark as his were. Coming from the North, she had her fill of blue eyes, green... grey, but never ones so dark that they seemed almost black. Taking his raised eyebrow as an affirmative answer, she continued, "How is Robb in battle?" She had always known that Robb could fight, that he was one of the few fighters that could give her late father a run for his money, but she did not know how another warrior would see him.
"He is a cunning general," Oberyn recounted. "The world thinks that your brother has rashly gathered your late father's bannermen to rise in rebellion against Joffrey, but he has more bite in him than anyone expects." He went on to tell Sansa how Robb and Grey Wind led the Northern Army in their charge against Casterly Rock, how man and wolf mowed through enemy lines without fear. He told Sansa how he had effectively tasked the Dornish spearmen that they had brought to him to break line after line of Lannister soldiers trying to bar them actually taking the fortress itself. "He deserves the title the Young Wolf," Oberyn praised. "However... as a king..."
"He is too honorable," Sansa completed his sentence for him. "He'll only do what he thinks is right, like father did."
Oberyn nodded. "Perhaps one day, when all this is over, you should be your brother's advisor," he told her. "Before long, you will learn to outmaneuver even Queen Cersei."
"I have no interest in politics," she dismissed him.
"Are you sure?" he asked he, his eyebrow raised again. "You show much talent for it, you know."
"You're teasing me," Sansa bluntly returned.
"Of course I am," Oberyn replied. She was still unsure of herself. He would help her find her strength if need be, and then, she will be shocked at what she would be able to accomplish. But not now. At that point of time, she was still struggling to find her own footing. He looked at his wife, and he did not find a caged little dove like Cersei did. Nor did he find an easily molded prize like others would have thought her to be (for if Varys was to be trusted, Littlefinger desired Sansa in a manner that could not be fathomed). She was a Wolf like her brother was, and he would do everything he could to give her the strength to one day carry that title.
Soon, their time on the marriage bed was cut short. After three curt knocks, Ellaria entered the room. "The sun is already shining upon your arses and the two of you still haven't woken up yet?" she asked gently, crawling onto the bed, settling herself next to Sansa. "Usually, I would enjoy going to tea with all the ladies at court," she proclaimed sardonically, rolling her eyes while reaching out to caress the side of Sansa's cheek, "but the Queen wants to see you, my love."
"Whatever for?" Oberyn asked Ellaria, who merely shrugged.
"The handmaiden she sent in as messenger did not say why," Ellaria answered.
Sansa knew the answer to that. "She wants to know about the marriage bed," she guessed. She had no doubt that she would be correct though. Such was the way of King's Landing and such it would be always.
"That's barbaric!" Ellaria exclaimed, aghast. In Dorne, whatever happened in bed stayed in bed. While the identities of those who were in the bed were in open knowledge of others, what actually transpired on the bed was never talked about. It would be between oneself and one's lover, or lovers, depending on the situation. It was never a subject to be known by anyone else out of the bed, not even the Queen.
"Sansa, you don't have to go," Oberyn offered. "I will personally -"
"No, I'll go," Sansa said, her voice clear with resolve. It was time to show Cersei Lannister that she would not be so easily cowed. "Ellaria, would you please help me with my hair and dress?"
Ellaria smiled. "Of course, my love," she replied, finally understanding Sansa's intent. "We shall present you as Sansa, Princess of Dorne to the lion-Queen."
Cersei Lannister looked at Sansa and was not pleased. The girl had been shaking, frightened stiff at the bedding last night. She remembered the particular shade of white that she had turned before a Martell bannerman quickly spirited her away from the other men. No one had ever seen Sansa after that, but she had emerged from her marriage bed almost glowing, with a spring in a step that Cersei swore she had never seen before.
"Hello there, little dove," Cersei greeted Sansa as per usual. It had been a term of endearment or oppression that she had given to Sansa ever since they first met in her home in Winterfell. When Sansa came into full view, she could see that she was wearing yet another Dornish dress. It was voluminous at the bottom, but the neckline of the top was so low that she could see hints of fabric used to hold her breasts together. No doubt, there was still some Northern sense in her to stop her from completely copying the style of Prince Oberyn's Dornish harlot.
"Good morning, Your Grace," Sansa returned the greeting. The girl was actually... smiling. It was not a full one, but there was a sliver of one. Cersei had not remembered the last time she had smiled.
However, she knew that all her joy would pass. As her own maids set up tea for Sansa, she said, "You must know why I have summoned you here, little dove. The marriage bed must be..."
"My husband is a gallant prince, Your Grace," Sansa replied. "He was kind to me." There was some amount of truth in her words, though. Nothing could ever deny that Oberyn was kind to Sansa. Not all men were brutes to their wives. She had known that her parents had a happy marriage bed, and Oberyn had promised her one when she was ready to receive him.
Cersei smirked. "And what of his little whore?" she asked, clearly wanting to provoke Sansa. Highborn ladies would never tolerate their husbands having other lovers, not on the surface, at least. "Did she join the bed as well?" Although she had never personally spoke to the woman before, she knew who she was by the amount of deference the Dornishmen gave her during Sansa's wedding. It was a sick display that no lady would ever allow to happen.
Sansa knew that it was a barb aimed mainly to hurt her. "No, she didn't," she answered, which was also the truth. Taking a sip of tea to pause the conversation, Sansa knew that if she appeared to be pleased with the whole arrangement, Cersei would find any excuse to add to her barbs in the long run. "But... he did visit her after we..."
Cersei then looked pleased although she tried to hide it by gingerly eating a pastry. "Oh, you poor thing," she cooed vapidly. "But, such is the way with Dornishmen. They take lovers, one or two, man or woman... Imagine your shock when you find yourself losing the affections of your husband to a man..." Dornish princess now or no, Sansa was still Sansa. Her eyes bulged into the size of saucers at her words and Cersei swore that she could see the glaze of a tear forming. Now that, pleased her.
"I would do my duty to my husband no matter what happens," Sansa said, picking her old self up to use as a shield against Cersei. Cersei thrived upon seeing chaos being inflicted on others. It made her feel strong and clever.
"Oh, I am sure you would," Cersei returned. "But, little dove, you will give him a son, won't you? He has had a veritable army of daughters, I hear." The Sand Snakes his daughters were called. The oldest in her late twenties and the youngest only four. She knew little of them apart from this.
"If the Gods bless me with one, I would, Your Grace," Sansa returned, making her voice shake slightly.
Cersei moved in for the kill. "You must, little dove. With so many daughters and a whore wedged between you and your husband, a son is a must to affirm your position," she advised. "Else, you would grow old and dry in the Dornish desert with no one to protect you." Sansa kept her silence after that. She only looked at the Queen quietly. There was the Sansa Cersei had always known. "You must heed my words, dear Sansa. You are a woman now, and we women have to look out for each other in this cruel world."
Sansa nodded timidly. "Thank you, Your Grace," she thanked.
"That will be all, little dove, you may go."
"Sansa must have been a bride by now," Catelyn mused when she was having her mid-day meal with Robb and Talisa. It was a habit that they had fallen into since taking Casterly Rock, to have at least one meal a day as a family. She might not have approved of Talisa as a good choice for a daughter-in-law, but she was the only one that she had. Grey Wind would join them as well, sitting beside the table, waiting for Robb to throw it scraps of food as treats.
"Prince Oberyn will be a good husband to her," Talisa replied sweetly. "He is a good father to Obara and Nym, is he not?" In the brief time that she had seen Oberyn and his daughters together, she knew that he was a wise and doting father. Even a blind man could see that father and daughters were extremely close. Their family must have been one filled with love and light.
Robb heaved a heavy sigh. "I just hope that he does right by her," he muttered. He might have great trust in a great many things, but he wasn't so sure about him when it came to Sansa. There were too many rumors and too many of those rumors were proven true. He knew that men were beasts and some beasts could not be tamed at all.
Catelyn put a hand on Robb's shoulder and said, "If Prince Oberyn values this alliance, he will treat your sister like the princess she is." A murderous, half-mad and sometimes ingenious person Prince Oberyn may be, but Catelyn had always trusted her gut and her gut told her that he was a good man. However, anything was on her mind. "Talisa, you haven't really touched your food. Are you well?"
Talisa seemed to have frozen up for awhile but she soon said, "Yes, mother, I am but..."
"What is it?" Robb asked almost immediately, taking hold of her hand. He touched her forehead with his other hand, and touched his own. "You don't have a fever..."
"The smell of red meat puts me off," Talisa said, causing Catelyn's face to brighten up.
"Why?" Robb asked again, "Is it because it isn't cooked right?"
"Robb, calm down!" Catelyn almost shouted. Her oldest son could be such a slow-minded person at times. "Your wife has something to tell you."
He then cast a worried look at Talisa. "What do you have to tell me?" he asked her.
"I'm with child," Talisa proclaimed, and watched Robb's expression turned from one of concern to one of utter joy. He gathered her in his arms despite his mother's presence and started to ask her lots of questions. He wanted to know if she was certain. "Robb, I'm a healer," she chided gently, reminding him of her occupation.
"Oh... sorry," her husband apologized. "I'm just... so happy," he explained. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect that he would be a father.
Catelyn beamed. "The first pregnancies are always the hardest," she told Talisa, holding her hand in hers to give it a gentle squeeze. Her daughter was wedded and now she was going to be a grandmother. These were blessings that no other woman would have in those dark times. She knew that she had to be grateful.
After lunch, Robb and Talisa returned to their chambers so that they could talk to about their unborn child, leaving Catelyn alone with Grey Wind as they wandered through the halls of Casterly Rock. She could never get used to the sheer ostentatiousness of the Lannisters' ancestral seat. She had never seen the use of so much gold in her life, and often wondered how much better the lives of those living in the Westerlands would have been if the gold was put into better use.
She then spotted the two Sand Snakes, talking to one another. They did not giggle or cackle. There was something about them, something dangerous... Obara was the older one, she had gathered, and she had often chosen to clad herself in Dornish leather armor even as her younger sister Nymeria chose to wear those revealing Dornish tunics with breeches and boots. The Sand Snakes took as the viper as their personal sigils, hidden amongst their armor and weapons and hers came in the form of her serpentine spear, while Nymeria's in the form of her whip. They must have loved their father.
Yet, there was something that she did not understand. These girls were half-sisters, bastards or not. They all had different mothers, so why were they so close? They looked to be no different than her Sansa and Arya back during peaceful times, although they would often fight and argue, even she and Lysa did when they were children. But...
"Oh, Lady Catelyn," Nymeria greeted her as she and Obara stood from the bench they were sitting on.
"We were just talking about our father... and Princess Sansa," Obara added. "My father sent word, I'd meant to deliver it to you just now, but you were having your meal with the King and Queen."
Catelyn smiled. "What did your father say?" she asked them.
"He has already wedded your daughter in the Great Sept," Obara recounted, because Nymeria was a woman of fewer words. "But... he took a vial of his own blood and faked evidence of any consummation to the Lannisters."
Her eyes widened. Catelyn did not understand. The marriage had to be consummated during the wedding night. "Why? Is it not a wife's duty to..." What had Sansa done?
"Lady Catelyn, we Dornish do not force those who are unwilling into the act of intercourse," Obara said bluntly. "If Princess Sansa couldn't... perform her duties as a wife, she must have had her reasons, and at the hands of those monsters, I'm sure that there are many."
At those words, some part of relief washed over Catelyn. She had been so sure that Oberyn, famously amorous Oberyn would have wanted his fill of her daughter the first opportunity he had. She had heard so much of Sansa's growing beauty from the capital, how other men had desired her...
"Our father would not touch her until she is ready, my lady," Nymeria added gently, unwrapping her whip from around her waist. "If he does..." She cracked her whip and cocked a smirk towards Obara.
"Well, Grey Wind and I won't disturb you any longer," Catelyn told them and decided that she should make a move towards the sept in the Rock. "Thank you for telling me all this, the two of you." She had since known that the Sand Snakes did not like to be addressed to as ladies, even as a common courtesy.
"The pleasure is ours, Lady Catelyn," Obara replied, and Catelyn made to move away from their company, and she continued to converse with her sister.
Catelyn could not help but smile at their antics. It was clear to her then that what Talisa said was true. Oberyn loved his daughters and they loved him back in their own way. At least she would have one less worry about Sansa, that she would be well-protected in King's Landing with her husband's company.
HAN: Don't ask me how Oberyn is able to send word from capital all the way to Casterly Rock so quickly. I don't know, just accept it, heh heh.
I also want to put Cersei's strategies to your attention. This woman has no poker face. She will put all her cards in one hand, wait until they are full and use them all at once. She'll suffer when she no longer has any to play with.
Maybe Oberyn is right. Catelyn MIGHT just be easier to handle than Robb.
Enjoy!