The Game of Cyvasse

Red Viper's Kiss

Oberyn Martell cursed as he rode through the mud and the fog, his desert red cloak stained with dirt. He had left Maidenpool with seven thousand Dornishmen, three of whom where mounted, hoping to join his nephew Aegon and his army southeast of the Gods Eye lake. Together, they planned to confront Tywin Lannister, the old lion who had ordered the murder of Oberyn's sister Elia and her children.

But the roads were treacherous, and the weather was foul. Oberyn had lost contact with Aegon's scouts, and had no idea where his nephew was. He only knew that Tywin was retreating from Harrenhal, and that they had to catch him before he reached a ford of Blackwater, near the Goldroad. He hoped to find a village or a holdfast where he could rest his men and horses, but all he saw were burned fields and corpses. The Lannisters had left a trail of devastation behind them, and Oberyn swore to make them pay.

Lannister have much to pay for, their beautiful crimson cloaks will show the blood, and their faces will lose the breath painted in blue. In life, Oberyn, only once was not in the right place when he had to. Every fight, every thrill, every person he took to bed, he never regretted, for every Dornishman has two spears and uses them both, unrestrained and free, living every pleasure one by one.

His fate, the terrible nightmare that drenches him in sweat in the cold desert nights, is that he cannot say he visited King's Landing twice in his life. And the first was so wonderful, for Elia felt wonderful, her big eyes with long lashes shone with joy, for Prince Rhaegar was so beautiful, gallant in armor, gorgeous in his black tunic with red rubies adorned on his chest. A dream for every woman in the realm, and a match worthy of Dorne, and yet the Dragon never subdued Dorne, we came, politically and literally, on our own terms, when we wanted.

Dorne lost its sun, on the day, when the lion choked the dragon. The mud-brick towns wept, the desert nomads screamed in pain, for their princess was lost, tortured and dishonored by dogs unworthy of her gaze. But the spear remains, swift and sharp, the time of creeping and whispering is over, the lions will burn before the blazing sun of Dorne. Seven thousand hearts beat with him, seven thousand spears thirst for the blood of the killers.

He was about to order a halt for the night, when a strong  horn blew in the distance. Men tensed, and many reached for their spears. Hoping that is Aegon's signal, but feared it was not. Ordering his men to form a line, column rode ahead to scout.

A large force of men in red cloaks and lion banners, were marching in good order. The Lannisters, and they outnumbered him at least five to one. An anger and excitement, surged trough his body. For this moment, Oberyn had been waiting for years, to face the man who had killed his sister. Not caring about the odds, he only wanted revenge.

His black horse turned around, and Oberyn shouted to his men: "Brothers! We have found our prey! The Lannisters are here, and Tywin is with them! Lion thinks he can escape us, but he is wrong! We will make him pay for what he did to Elia and her daughter! Old men will pay for every drop of Dornish blood he spilled! Pay with his life!"

His men cheered, and raised their spears. They were Dornishmen, fierce and proud. Dornish do not fear death, the dance with it, they sang to it, they make love to it. Memory of Princess was still clinging in every heart in Dorne.

Oberyn raised his spear and pointed it at the enemy.

"For Dorne! For Elia!"

He kicked his horse, and rushed forward, three thousand hoofbeats heartily followed him. A mighty charge, surrounded by twilight, his cavalry was unseen, as hey crossed the forest-bound hill and entered the clearing.