It would not have taken a genius to notice that Drogon was growing restless that day. The Viper could see it in the twitching of his wings, in quite growls, in the way he turned his head to the north sometimes as if trying to see something through the endless sea of Westerosi forests.
They had landed in a forgotten corner of the shore in the Stormlands, so remote from any village that even a giant snake felt threatened from time to time. They should have come down to the blessed shores of Dorne, but the first winter storms on the Narrow Sea had other plans for them.  Still, the Viper could not imagine that it was the bad weather and the obscene amount of greenery that had spoiled the mood of his companion. And it was not an unexpected welcoming party from the Lannisters either – the serpent would have felt the presence of foreigners as surely as any dragon. No, it was something else. Something that even the other two dragons could not feel or maybe could not comprehend. It was not a good sign.
The Viper has no means to ask, so he patiently – as patiently as his nature would allow him – waited until nightfall, until the time he could coil around the tent of their little dragon queen and rest his head on his tail. Then he threw one last glance at the black dragon nestling not far from him and let his eyes become empty and glassy. He fell asleep.

As was expected, Oberyn was the first one to appear in the grey emptiness they called their spiritual home. Immediately as he appeared, he started pacing back and forth, rising the clouds of fine ash in his wake. Finally, on his seventh or eighth round, he was joined by none other than prince Daemon Targaryen himself.
“What is it?” Demanded Martell without even bothering to say hello. “What’s wrong?”

Last edited by 42 (2024-06-13 06:15:53)

Daemon dropped the first line of his dramatic speech, and Oberyn tensed instantly. Who? Whom has he failed to protect? While he was waisting his time in the desert with that delusional little girl and her lazy lizards, the lions had been crawling closer and closer to his family, and...

Daemon finished the sentence, and Oberyn felt an irresistible urge to punch the smug piece of shit. He exhaled slowly, forcing his fists to unclench. It took some moments. But then his rage sparked anew, when the words finally registered in his minds.
Rhaegar's. Bastard.

That ungrateful harpist, a sorry excuse of a man, had sired some bastards after all. It was not the fact that disgusted Oberyn, it was the circumstances. His legitimate wife, the precious flower of Martell's gardens, Elia, would be waiting all alone in that dreadful freezing keep, sick and exhausted from the insufferable northern weather, patiently enduring the madness of the old king, while that little pale brat...

"Wait," Oberyn had to stop himself before the chain of thoughts led him to the inevitable conclusion that all Targaryens were disgusting pests. "The Night Watch? Was not the new Lord Commander someone from the Stark family... some..."

Bastard. The realization came momentarily.

"Oh, Stark, you sly son of a bitch," Oberyn sneered. Somehow, though, he did not feel angry at Ned Stark. The man had done a clever thing, probably for the first and only time on his life. And also he was protecting his nephew.

Come to think of it, Oberyn did not feel mad at the boy either. He never believed that children had to respond for the deeds of their fathers, otherwise he himself would have had to become a saint. Because he might have been many things in life, but he had never been a hypocrite.

"A warg? Does that mean that this boy can get into your head and turn you into a normal dragon being? Maybe we should not hurry so much to divorce him from his body then."

Oberyn chuckled.

"And, just so you know, I was not. It was the Night Watch which was always threatened with my appearance. But I've never found the time to go there. Pity. They say they have hairy elephants behind the Wall, should be quite a sight. Very well. I'll swallow something big enough to last for a couple of weeks and will wait for you at the hill behind the camp. See you in the morning."

With these words, Oberyn disappeared into the thin air to finally fall asleep with both parts of his being.

The next morning, as soon as the first rays of dawn caressed the earth, he was already coiled peacefully at the top of the hill, his belly stretched in a peculiar form of a full-grown stag with clearly visible antlers. Judging by the serpent's wide, content smile, they did not bother him at all.

Last edited by 42 (2024-06-17 23:49:38)