The Great War- Oberyn Martell

7. Haunted

Oberyn had fought many times in his life. He was a Prince, yes, but at the same time, he was a warrior known as the Red Viper. He was born with a spear in his hand. And he was never afraid. He knew that life was fleeting and regardless of who you were, death was going to come for you one way or another.

As a man, he was the one who was in constant danger, always training and fighting or being wounded. Yet, it was his sister who was supposed to be safe in her palace who died first. It wasn't the first lesson he learned in his life, but for sure it was the most painful one.

The image of Elia in his mind was more and more real with every day that passed while he was preparing for the fight. So much so, that when the long-awaited day came, he could swear that the ghost of his sister was standing right beside him. Scrutinizing him but not saying anything.

He didn't blame her. His candidacy wasn't met with warm feelings. People feared and hated the Mountain, but his victory would mean that Tyrion was going to be alive. So no one really wished him good luck except for (obviously) the Imp.

"Are you going to fight that?" He heard Ellaria's voice that made him stop overthinking.

He looked at the other side of the arena. His opponent was there. Clegane was dressed as if he just got out of bed. And it seemed that he really did because a blonde maiden was near his side pouring him a generous jug of wine. They still had a few minutes before a fight, so Oberyn turned his eyes away from him. A rash of cold came through his veins. He had already seen the Mountain on a few occasions, but this time was different for him. He needed to be focused.

"I'm going to kill that," he said only.

"A very dangerous statement to say out loud," Oberyn heard in response.

But it wasn't Ellaria nor Tyrion.

The Prince of Dorne turned to his right where a few steps behind him, he found the woman who used to occupy his thoughts very often lately.

Vaenera Greyjoy looked as beautiful as ever. With a navy gown that matched her hair and the same spark in her eyes. Yet, all Oberyn could think about was their last conversation when she tried to talk him out of picking up the fight. He immediately thought that she was here to try to change his mind again. But he wouldn't fall for this innocent look of hers.

"He is the biggest man I have ever seen," said Ellaria.

"Size does not matter when you are flat on your back," murmured Oberyn in response to his paramour's comment, but his eyes were rested on the woman with sea green eyes.

Tyrion said something to himself, but Oberyn didn't care about what was happening behind his back.

"What are you doing here, my Lady?" He asked, looking at Vaenera. "You should be sitting next to your cousin."

"I am going to be sitting next to my cousin," she said. "But I came here to wish you good fortune. May the Warrior guide your spear and bless your movements, Prince Oberyn."

Oberyn was taken aback by her comment. Initially, he thought that she came here to advise him to drop the fight, but instead, she did the opposite.

She was the only person who wished him good luck today except for Tyrion.

He needed to blink a few times. A weird feeling occurred in his chest and his voice felt rusty when he opened his mouth.

"Thank you, Princess."

Maester Pycelle started talking, so Oberyn shook his head and cursed under his breath. Why was he so suddenly losing his focus whenever that girl was around? He decided that their conversation was over and was ready to leave for the battlefield when he felt a sudden pull on his arm. So strong that it made him almost stumble.