“Wyl.” I muttered as the pointer tapped against a symbol in the book I was looking at.
It was the day after the arrival of Prince Oberyn, and I found myself in Cordin’s quarters reviewing the banners of the houses of Dorne. After a few years of learning this, I was rather fucking bored of it.
The meal when Oberyn and his daughters (Obara, Nymeria and Tyene) had arrived was a tense affair. Or it was for mother, her family, and the prince. I was ‘too young’ to appear interested in such things. The presence of uncle Benjen caused issues as soon as he was introduced, with Oberyn's mood quickly turning sour.
I'd been seated to my mother's right while Oberyn was to her left. This meant I was able to catch a fair bit of what the prince said. His tone and gestures made it clear he was unhappy to find a Stark in Starfall. While generally diplomatic, Oberyn did make a few attempts to rile Benjen up. Unfortunately for him, Benjen was more like Ned than Brandon and didn't outwardly react to the comments. Either he had a better handle of his 'wolfsblood', or it wasn't as strong in him as in Brandon.
He also seemed to wish to speak to Lord Aldric privately and danced around the purpose of his visit when pressed. A few semi-subtle hints had me realising he knew that Viserys and Daenerys had escaped to Essos and that he wished to strike back against the Usurper. He didn't mention the two Targaryens by name, but the hints were easy to pick up when one had outside knowledge. Nor was it hard to understand his reasons for wanting to support a Targaryen restoration. His sister, niece and nephew had been raped and butchered by the Mountain and Robert had failed to condemn it.
Both mother and Benjen had spoken of how Ned had been infuriated by Robert’s reaction to the death of Elia and her children. That did go some way to calming Oberyn's anger at Lord Stark, but not enough that he was comfortable with uncle Benjen's presence. Things may have improved once mother had removed me from the room, but I rather doubted it.
“Fowlor.” I said as Cordin’s pointer moved to another banner. Yes, I'd said it wrong, but I frankly didn't care. Even getting the names and words of each house correct for a month hadn't brought these lessons to an end. Thus, I was bored out of my mind with the monotony of the last eighteen months of lessons.
My new ability to remember everything I saw, read, or heard clearly meant I'd gotten the houses and banners down years ago. Yes, it had taken time for me to get the correct pronunciation for most of them, but other than that, the lessons had lost their purpose almost instantly. The only strange part of this ability was that memories of my old life lacked any emotional weight. All that remained was the memories and knowledge from back then, without any baggage attached to them.
Because of this perfect recall I already knew some of the basics of swordplay from watching the guards training. I might not know the names of the moves, nor did I have the trained muscle memory for them, yet I knew how they should be performed. That would, hopefully, make it much easier to learn to fight in this world: once I was allowed to train. The same held true of fighting styles and moves I knew from my older life. The knowledge was there, but the body was too weak to use them properly.
“Fowler, Cregan.” Cordin corrected tersely before sighing. “I know that you think you know all the banners and words, but you will continue to learn them until your mother says otherwise. Making mistakes out of boredom will do nothing to expedite your mother’s decision.” He remarked before tapping his pointer against another Dornish house. “Now this one.”
“House Yawnwood.” I muttered.
I knew Cordin was right in saying that my intentional mistakes wouldn’t make my mother decide that I didn’t have to learn these lessons (and allow me to move onto something new) anymore. However, I’d already proven I knew them, yet I was still stuck in these classes. Something told me there wouldn’t be a change in my studies until I was five, at least. Thus, if I had to endure them, I might as well annoy Cordin while he ‘taught’ me.
A chuckle drew my attention before Cordin could correct me. Turning my head towards the door to the Maester’s quarters, I saw Prince Oberyn. He was leaning with his shoulder against the wooden frame. His posture was relaxed, and his smile appeared friendly. Yet the way his fingers were drumming against his arm, and the slight tapping of his toes on one foot suggested something was on his mind.
“Yawnwood.” He began as a shift of his shoulders pushed him off the frame. “I must remember that one the next time I visit Lord Anders.” He walked towards us, making Cordin turn and bow.
“My Prince, does Lady Ashara know you are here?” Cordin asked as Oberyn came close to the table I was seated at.
The prince’s smile grew, though there was a slight twitch at the corner of one eye at Cordin’s question. Languidly he waved a hand in the Maester’s general direction. “There is no need to fear, Maester. Your lady was most… descriptive in what would happen to me if I made any move against her son.” He chuckled as he shook his head. “I didn’t realise she could think of such imaginative punishments.” His eyes drifted to me, and his smile grew. “And I have no wish to learn if she would truly carry them out. What I do wish though, is to meet her son and see if he is as… impressive as she claims.”
“Hello there.” I said as he sat down beside me. His eyes stayed locked on mine and I realised this was a test. Not one most children would understand, but a test all the same. Ignoring what I know about the man, I could tell he was dangerous. Even if I was in my former body, with all my training, I’d have still been wary around him. Yet a feeling had me thinking this challenge of his would be important for my future.
Backing down now would likely have him dismiss me as someone unimportant. Even trying to play it off as a child wouldn’t work as I’d already held his gaze too long.
Yet Oberyn had always been one of my favourite characters from the show, and I’d planned to read the books to see if that characterization held true there. Earning the man’s interest, and maybe a touch of respect, felt like the right thing to do. Especially as I was a Stark bastard in Dorne, and he was a prince of the region.
Plus, there was also the fact that my mother had spoken highly of me to Oberyn, and I didn’t want to disappoint her.
Our stare lasted for several minutes – I thought since telling time was hard to do without a clock – before he broke contact. A chuckle escaped his lips as he turned and looked at Cordin. “Hmm, so she was right.” He moved closer and slid onto the bench beside me. Cordin had opened his mouth to comment, but the prince had been quicker, and I now found myself right next to the prince. “You are smarter than you look.”
“Me a baby. All think I’m stupid.” I replied, intentionally dumbing down my words to emphasise my point. That drew another chuckle from him.
“Very true.” He commented as his table-side hand moved towards the book on banners that I’d been learning from. “I was away for the war. The one your father’s and aunt’s actions started, and I returned… angry. However, when I learnt that your mother was with child, yet not married, I was surprised. I thought that the… courtesies of King’s Landing had made her forget she was Dornish.” He chuckled and glanced towards the book. While I heard the pages flicking as he turned them, I kept my focus on the viper.
“Then, as I’m making my way here, I hear rumours. Eddard Stark had spent time at Starfall before returning north with a bastard girl." His eyes took on a dangerous glint as he spoke, and I wondered if he suspected anything about Alysanne’s true origins. “Then I hear that his younger brother, and one of the only two adult Starks left in this world, was now staying at Starfall. Such an unexpected development, even in the best of times.” He paused, and the sounds of the pages turning stopped. “Now tell me young one, whose banner is this?”
I managed to keep a smirk of my own from my face, but it was a close thing. I didn’t have to look at the book to suspect where he’d turned it – the rough number of pages turned helped me guess as well. Yet, even without that knowledge, I could guess the answer with some ease. “House Stark; my father’s house.”
“You didn’t look.” Oberyn said as he pulled his hand back from the book, then leaned back to establish some distance between us. “How can you be so sure?”
“My father was a Stark. Dorne fought them. And you said my uncle’s name.” I replied as he crossed his arms. I paused and tilted my head to one side to relieve the growing pressure at the back of my neck. Straining it to look up at Oberyn was, in another example of the problems with a bairn’s body, tiring as fuck. I let a smile creep onto my face as I continued. “You want to see if I'll be bad. For you, for your house.”
“And will you?” He leaned forward until all I could see was his face. Cordin’s chain rattled as he moved around behind Oberyn.
“My Prince…”
“Hurt my family, I will be.” I replied, cutting off Cordin's words. “If not, then no.” Dumbing down my words was a chore, but I couldn’t risk overplaying my hand. Certainly not with someone as dangerous as Oberyn Martell while stuck in a baby’s body with only a Maester to defend me.
Another long moment passed between us, until, suddenly, he threw his head back, laughed. He then slapped his non-table hand against his thigh.
“Excellent. Most excellent!” He called as he returned his attention to me. Years of training kicked in and I moved to grab Cordin's pointer, before stopping myself mid-motion. From the wide smile dominating his face, he seemingly had noticed my action. “Such passion, such fire…” He barked out another laugh. “Your mother was right. You are a wolf of Dorne.” He shook his head as he continued to chuckle. “Yet the sands of Dorne are no place for a lost cub.”
“He is not lost, Prince Oberyn.” Came Benjen’s voice from the doorway, drawing my attention from Oberyn. “Nor is he alone.” My uncle continued as he walked purposely into the room. One hand was close to his dirk (which I’d never seen him without, even at more formal affairs). The other was clenched and his body was tense as if expecting a fight.
“Ah, Ser Benjen, how nice of you to join us.” Oberyn said as he stood slowly. His whole demeanour changed as he slipped off the bench and faced my uncle. In a mirror of Benjen’s stance, his hand had drifted to the dagger at his waist, though the other hand stayed open and away from his body. “I was simply speaking with your nephew here. Lady Ashara spoke so highly of him last night that I felt I had to meet him.”
“And your comment about being a wolf in Dorne?” Benjen asked slowly with a half-closed mouth.
“I was simply warning him of the dangers one can face in Dorne if unprepared, or alone.” Oberyn waved his wandering hand in a dismissive gesture – even as I saw the other drift closer to his dagger. “I was simply warning him of the dangers one can face in Dorne when unprepared and alone, Ser Benjen.”
“I am no ser, Prince Oberyn.” Benjen responded as he took a step towards the prince, leaving them barely a metre apart. “And while Cregan may not carry the Stark name, he is a member of our pack.”
The air grew tense as the two men focused on each other, and no one else. Quickly, I grew concerned for Benjen. I'd seen him spar with some of the guards, so I knew he was a competent fighter. However, Oberyn was... far more dangerous and a step or two beyond anyone Benjen had fought before. It might still be a decade before Oberyn fought the Mountain, but I knew the prince was a dangerous and cunning fighter.
Suddenly, taking me by surprise, Oberyn took a step to the side. That took him away from me, which helped me feel safer, and he chuckled as he lifted his hands from his belt. “Good, good. Family is what is most important.”
Benjen’s shoulders slumped, and his hand fell away from his dirk. “I… You have my condolences for what happened to Princess Elia and her children.” His face shifted, though I couldn’t work out all the feelings he was displaying as he continued. “When my brother told me of King Robert’s actions… I…” He sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair. “What happened to begin the war… I can never forgive the Mad King’s actions. Yet most of my anger is aimed at Prince Rhaegar. And my sister's behaviour towards him. Yet, I find myself... torn. Supporting any man who’d encourage and enjoy the slaughter of innocent women and children is... unsettling.”
I watched Oberyn clench his fists at the mention of his sister and her children, then turn white at their fate. Silence engulfed the room as we all waited for the prince’s response. Cordin moved over, protectively coming between me and Oberyn. Even from behind, below and to the side, I could see the anger as it boiled inside Oberyn. The ways his muscles tensed as if he was fighting to not lash out in anger. To not attack Benjen for Ned's part in the war that led to their deaths.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“I did not…” Benjen began, only to stop when Oberyn raised a palm towards him.
“I know you did not. However, your brother helped place… Robert on the throne.” Oberyn’s words were coming out from behind gritted teeth and the pain in his voice was easy to hear. “Even if Lord Eddard… is angered with that monster for what happened to my dear Elia. Even with him returning the bones of Ser Arthur and Dawn to Starfall. Or you being here to protect your nephew... It will be many, many moons before I feel I will be comfortable stomaching the mere mention of him.” Oberyn took a step towards Benjen, who tensed at the prince’s approach. “However, know that I don't blame you for those events. Like myself, you were far from the fighting. Thus, so long as your presence here doesn’t threaten the safety of House Dayne or Dorne, I can… tolerate you being here.”
With that, he marched past Benjen so quickly the younger man barely had time to move to avoid begin hit.
As I watched the prince leave, it was easy to imagine the pain and anger that had just been uncapped within him. I was, however, impressed that he'd managed to not direct that anger towards Benjen, or at least, not act on it against an innocent man. I doubted I would be so restrained in his place.
Which proved I was right about him being here; things were going to be interesting.
… …
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… …
While I was banned from the training yard by my mother, nothing prevented me from sitting just outside. From the bench that I was currently on I could see and hear the clashing of swords, spears, axes, and shields as the castle's guards trained inside. All under the watchful eyes of the master-at-arms (a local man named Bradyn who'd fought at the Trident.) Currently, Bradyn was putting the newest recruits through their paces, but from what I was seeing, none of them would ever amount to much. Oh, they'd get better and be serviceable guards, but none stood out as having a real knack for combat.
Now there was a chance I was wrong about the recruits. After all, my training was from a different era and world. Plus, if someone committed enough training to a discipline they could almost always become great. However, none of these recruits struck me as being ready, willing, or able to take that step. Then again, there was always the chance I'd never be able to.
Oh, I knew the very basics (a perk of watching others train paired with my perfect memory), but I hadn't reached an age where I could begin my training. Yet I felt I'd be able to take most of the recruits before I was a teen.
“Hah!”
A cry of excitement drew my attention from the recruits to another part of the yard. There, I could see Obara Sand (Oberyn's eldest daughter) sparring with the prince's squire, Daemon Sand. Obara, like her father, favoured the spear, though it was easy to see she had a long way to go to be on his level. Yet, against the younger squire, this wasn’t a big issue. Daemon was a moon or two over ten and was a long, long way away from being a good fighter. Though, unlike the guard recruits, it was clear to see he had the potential to be.
Obara had driven Daemon back – likely why she yelled out – though the boy’s shield was still able to defend. Which was about all I’d seen him do in the three spars the pair had held since arriving in Starfall a week prior. He just didn’t have the height, strength, or ability to counter Obara so spent much of his time defending. A good strategy, if you could outlast an opponent or knew you could escape the fight soon. Sadly for Daemon, neither of these were an option in the yard.
Obara began a lunge, aiming to reach over the top of Daemon’s shield.
The boy countered this by altering the angle of his shield, likely to try and force the spear tip away from him. Apparently, Obara had been hoping for this as she flicked her shoulders and the spear angled down. That allowed her to take advantage of the movement of Daemon’s shield. Daemon reacted by bringing the edge of his shield down towards the spear shaft. He might have been trying to break the spear, but Obara was ready for this. A flick of her rear arm lifted the tip of her spear. It caught the downward edge of the shield. Then, with a subtle shift of her arms, she had her spear twisting the shield away from Daemon, exposing his body.
Before Obara could exploit this gap, Daemon’s sword came around. It smacked against the shaft of the spear, driving the tip to one side. He slid backwards, extending the distance between them. While that seemed counterintuitive to me, it did allow him time to reset his defence.
“Aren’t you a little young to be here?”
I turned my head and looked upwards to see Oberyn smirking down at me. His posture was relaxed, and he had his arms crossed in front of him. A red silk tunic was partially unbuttoned, exposing his chest to the Dornish sun making it unlikely he was heading into the training yard.
“Mother says I can’t go in.” I replied before turning back to the yard. There I saw Daemon had brought his sword up to swat away a probing thrust from Obara’s spear. “But I can watch from here."
He chuckled. “Aye, I suppose you can.” He slid onto the bench beside me, making Myra shift from her seat nearby. A simple gesture with his hand stopped her from standing as I wondered why he’d chosen now to speak with me once more.
Since that first meeting in Cordin’s chambers, outside of mealtimes, I hadn’t run into the prince at all. Though I had met two of his daughters fairly frequently. He'd arrived with his three oldest children, and I'd heard him mention his youngest was back in Sunspear. Those two daughters always seemed to find ways to cross my path, even when I was nestled away in Cordin's quarters.
Obara spent almost all her time in the yard, but the other two were the ones I'd run into. Nymeria was the middle one and spent her time with Adrya – which made sense as they were roughly the same age. Tyene was the youngest, and along with Oberyn looking nothing like he did in the show, had been the final nail in the coffin that I might be in a show-based world. Tyene here was blonde-haired and blue-eyed and had bonded with Allyria over their closeness in age. Apparently, there was less than half a moon between them.
While I often spent time around my aunts, the regularity that I'd run into them over the last week left me in little doubt as to their purpose. In all likelihood, Oberyn had asked them to observe me, though for what reason remained unclear. Perhaps I'd discover a hint as to why today.
“So, who do you think will win?” He asked, pointing at the pair sparring. “My daughter or squire?”
“Both could.” I began as I saw Oberyn lean forward on the bench, to watch the pair more closely (or make it seem that way).
As I spoke, Obara charged forward and sent a jumping strike towards Daemon. The blow landed against his shield, but thanks to the way he’d angled it, deflected away from the boy’s body.
“Obara is… angry. Always attacks.” I continued as Obara slid the spear off the shield then shifted her weight, seemingly trying to push the shield towards Dameon. The boy took one step to the side, then rolled the shield in such a way that the spear tip struck the ground. “Demon…”
“Daemon.” Oberyn corrected with a chuckle, though I was aware of the correct pronunciation. Once more, I was playing the role of smart, but not too smart, for a three-year-old.
“Daemon is good, but he’s… scared? He won’t go.” As I said that, Obara used this to flick dirt into the air. However, Daemon had already shifted back; away from the dust and denying her the chance to temporarily blind him. This made the girl snarl, and she rushed forward, unwilling to let Daemon settle. Even as I spoke and the spar continued, I made sure that my words were intentionally kept simple to not arouse too much suspicion from the prince.
I caught sight of Oberyn nodding at my words and he sighed as Daemon took several steps back to try and negate the onrushing Obara. “Yes. Daemon has potential, but he’s too timid.” He stated as Obara continued to push her attack (which had been the case in every spar of theirs that I’d seen). “Obara is bigger and stronger, but Dameon…” Oberyn paused and rolled a hand dramatically, drawing my attention away from the spar to him. “He showed aggression at first, but after Obara started dominating him, he became timid.”
He paused as he realised that I was now looking at him and then turned my way. “Still, enough about them, what about you? Do you think you’ve learnt anything watching all this?” he asked, his hand waving to indicate the training yard. “Can you do any better?” He added as he stood.
“I’m not asking you to spar with me.” He continued as he turned to face me, making me sigh in relief. “I simply wish to see if you’ve learnt anything from watching others.”
“Lady Ashara doesn’t want him in the training yard, my lord.” Myra commented, having come closer at some point and overheard Oberyn’s words.
Oberyn gave her a smile that made her cheeks redden. That had me both cursing my luck at not being able to do that in my old life and wondering if I could learn to do it in this one. He extended his arms, indicating the area outside the training yard where we were. “Then we won’t enter the yard, my dear.”
With Myra flustered because of Oberyn, the prince took advantage by walking into the training yard. I watched as he made a beeline for the nearest location of training weaponry. I slid off the bench as he studied the weapon rack for a moment before scooping up a dagger and walking back towards us. Even if it was just a training blade (and thus blunted for safety) I was still concerned as he approached. Particularly as he was twirling and twisting the weapon with the ease of someone well versed in its usage. On instinct, I slid one foot back and took up a defensive stance.
“Hmm, so you have been watching.” He commented with a smirk as I cursed myself for moving as I had. Yes, it’d been instinctual, but it wasn’t something any normal three-year-old would do. Or any child unversed in combat.
The prince stopped showing off with the blade, holding it lightly in his palm, giving another hint of his comfort with such weapons. “And relax little one, if I wanted you harmed, I wouldn’t be foolish enough to do so in such a public place.”
“People get hurt in the yard every day.” I replied as I slowly willed my mind to relax and shifted from my defensive stance. All I could do now was lower my guard – such as it was – and hope he saw that as a sign I didn’t fully understand why I’d reacted to his knife twirling. “And I know you don’t like Starks.” I added on, hoping it would explain my reaction; at least a little.
Oberyn’s eyes narrowed at the mention of my father’s house and there was a pause before he responded. “While it’s true that I don’t like the Starks, I… do not blame your uncle for going to war. In his place, I would likely have done the same. However, you’re a Dayne as well as a Stark and I happen to like most Daynes.” He finished with a smile that seemed a touch forced, making me wonder if whatever he was here to discuss with my mother and uncle hadn’t gone as he’d hoped.
“Am I most?”
He chuckled as his posture finally relaxed. “That remains to be seen. Your mother was a friend of my sister and you’re certainly… different from what I’d expect from a child. Even one born of both Dorne and the North.” As he spoke, he spun the blade once more until he gripped the blade, leaving the hilt facing outwards. Then he extended it towards me. “Now, let us see if you have as much potential out here as you do with the books.”
I took the dagger, though at my current size it was more akin to a longsword which forced me to use two hands to hold it. That resulted in me having to change my stance to one that, outside of seeing in the yard, I had no experience with. I felt I'd adopted the correct stance for wielding a two-handed blade, or close to it at least. However, my body lacked any training to do so, and my arms rapidly strained against the overwhelming weight of the blade. I tried my best, but in less than thirty seconds, the tip had landed in the dirt.
“Hmm, it seems that is too heavy for you.” He commented before crouching to take the dagger from me. “Though the shift you tried to do was a good start.” Nonchalantly, he tossed the dagger back into the training yard (with a blind toss over his shoulder) and began to look around the ground near us. “Hmm, let’s see.” He muttered as I watched the dagger fly into the training yard, and clatter to the ground a metre from the bench Oberyn had collected it from. That made one of the recruits jump as the blade skidded to a halt against his feet. “Ah! This will do nicely.”
I returned my focus to Oberyn to find that he’d picked up a small twig, maybe the length of my arm, and was holding it out towards me.
I looked at the twig and grimaced. The thing was pathetic, and the fact I had to use this to show any semblance of understanding of a combat stance was… insulting. Yet, I knew this was another chance to make an impression on Oberyn, which was something I felt would be important for my future. Thus, I did as he asked and slipped into an approximation of a one-handed blade stance.
If the branch had been shorter, I could’ve maybe used some of my old training with knives to set my stance. However, that would risk giving away that I knew more than I should, so treating the twig as a sword made the most sense.
My stance was… sloppy. Even before Oberyn’s brow creased I knew it was wrong. Yet, my body failed to respond as I wished. And while that made perfect sense (I was still barely past my third nameday) it was frustrating. Plus, it felt as though something else was stopping me from adopting a better stance; some outside force that was holding me back.
I heard someone snigger and turned my head to see that Obara and Daemon had finished their spar and come over. Judging from the tell-tale swelling of a newly formed bruise on Daemon’s face – and the smirk Obara wore –it was clear who had won. I’d thought it was Obara that had sniggered, but it was Daemon who was covering his mouth in a vain attempt to hide his amusement at my stance.
“What?” I growled out at him, though it had all the venom of a newborn kitten (and came out in a voice so high-pitched I doubted even a kitten would fear it.)
“Your form. It’s… really, really bad.” He managed to get out from behind his hand-covered mouth.
“And were you even able to take that stance at such an age?” Oberyn asked his squire, who had the good sense to realise he’d overstepped. “How old were you before you could get a basic stance down? Six? Eight?” Oberyn added, seemingly using the moment to comment (without directly doing so) on his squire’s poor form against his daughter.
“Now, while Cregan’s form is… bad, there is potential there.” The prince continued, returning his attention to me. His lip twitched as I began to shift my wrist around, trying to get a feel for the way the twig felt in my hand. “Real potential.”
“I don’t think Lady Ashara will let you train this one father.” Obara began as she moved forwards. “Nor the Stark boy.” She tapped my right arm, pushing it closer to my body. “Keep that arm in. Don’t want you making the same mistakes as Daemon.” Her tone was teasing, but I felt it was aimed more at the squire than me and did as she said. “Good, that’s better.”
“Trying to adopt one for yourself, daughter?” Oberyn teased, making Obara humph in annoyance.
“No. But I think I see what you’re up to.” She replied, jerking a thumb at me and smirking. “And he’d be a better squire than this one.” She added, giving Daemon a none-too gentle shoulder push, making the boy stumble.
“Hey!” Said boy snapped, though Obara ignored him, and began to walk away. However, before she was far enough away that I couldn’t see her face, I caught sight of her smirk evolving into a full-on smile.
“Obara’s correct, Daemon. You do leave gaps in your stance. We’ll work on that after supper.” Oberyn stated with a smirk that told me Dameon wasn't going to enjoy that training. Oberyn's smirk grew to a smile as he refocused on me. I still held the twig in the approximate position the recruits were taught to hold a standard longsword. “And as for you Cregan…”
“Oberyn! What are you doing?”
Hearing my mother’s voice, and the building fury in her tone, I dropped the twig, relaxed my stance, and turned to face her.
Thankfully for me, her anger was directed entirely at Oberyn. The prince seemed aware of the danger he was in as he flashed her a smile (one likely designed to distract many a maiden). He also lifted his arms in what was a universal sign of surrender or submission.
“I simply found your son watching the recruits training and grew curious if he was as quick here as with his books.” He began as he took a step towards her, entering striking range. "I assure you, my dear Ashara, that I’d never go back on my word.” He said slowly. How he managed to make his words sound as though they were dipped in honey, I didn't know. Though I wanted to learn that ability. He took another step towards mother (as I saw Myra's face redden further because of his words) and moved his hands towards mother’s forearms.
“Humph.” Mother blurted out as she walked past the prince, avoiding his hands just before they reached her forearms, and bent down to scoop me up. "You may have given your word Oberyn, but I am still leery with you being around Cregan. Especially, if you wish to break my rule about him not learning until he is five.”
I hated being picked up as the world spun for a moment before I was settled against whoever had grabbed me. A part of me wanted to retort that I wasn’t a baby, but I’d rather her anger stayed focused on Oberyn than me. That wasn’t fair, but I’d still not returned to her good books enough to be allowed anywhere near my uncle's solar. Plus, I couldn’t deny that I shared some of my mother’s concerns that Oberyn might try something. Regardless of his words about not striking out at Benjen and me, Ned had fought against Dorne in the war.
“I bow to his mother’s wishes.” Oberyn replied, bowing as he spoke. “However, I would like it noted that we never entered the yard. Plus, the boy is indeed just as quick on the uptake out here as he is with his books.” Oberyn continued as he once more stood upright. He shifted his gaze to me and smiled. “I see great things in your future, young wolf. Great things indeed.”
… …