they married for duty.
they ruled for the realm.
they fought for justice.
but they healed for each other.
A story in which two broken souls, brought together by chance, find solace with one another in the aftermath of a war.
▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•
Pre and Post R...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
XXI. What is Lost can be Found
Oberyn placed down the pen he was holding, rubbing his hand across his face with a frustrated sigh.
It was done. The letter he had been writing for days, too long for fear of what to write, is finished with a small signature of his name.
He had always found it difficult to write poetry, the words so hard for him to write in such an artistic way, so he wrote it as he felt, as things were.
He wrote the letter as he could. It took up more than one page with everything he had wanted to say to her.
Oberyn almost wished that Elia was there, to advise him on what to do, to help him as she always had.
But he was doing it for her. All for her.
It reminded him of the dreaded day when everything had begun. The tourney. He could remember the exact events, so vivid in his mind's eye.
Oberyn had been shouting, seeing nothing but red when he saw his sister's husband crown another woman. "How dare you? Fuck you Rhaegar Targaryen! You dar-"
That was when he felt a small hand at the crook of his elbow, pulling him away from his anger. "Oberyn."
He turned to see Livia looking up at him with worry, her green eyes concerned. "I'm going to make him pay!" He snapped, looking once again at the silver-haired prince.
Livia placed a hand on his arm and pulled on it, making him turn to her. "Oberyn. Elia needs us."
At those words, he felt his rage subside a little, taking a deep breath. "Come, let us go."
When they had checked in on Elia and had made sure she had gone to sleep peacefully, the Targaryen prince barred from her room, they had sat in the empty kitchens.
They were facing one another, drained from the day's events. Livia poured him and herself some Dornish red.
"I always knew he was too perfect." Oberyn had said, breaking the silence between them.
Livia smiled sadly. "He doesn't deserve her. He never did. Too much of a dreamer, he thought himself the center of most talks and prophecies."
"Doesn't seem much of a hero of prophecies." He scoffed.
"As if you know what they'd look like." She raised a brow.
"They would probably look like me."
"Oberyn, be serious."
"I am being serious." He reached for her hand. "Besides, he doesn't deserve you either. He would have married you, I know it."
"How would you know that?" She asked, her eyebrows scrunching. The green in her eyes, so clear, so beautiful, like the lush trees in Sunspear.
