Viper | Oberyn Martell

1

The air is heavy with the scent of jasmine and myrrh as Lady Yasmin of House Dayne stands before the ornate mirror in her chambers, her reflection a vision of serene beauty amidst the chaos of her thoughts. Her gown, a masterpiece of silk, clings to her slender frame like a second skin, the intricate embroidery glimmering in the soft light of dawn. Yet, despite the outward appearance of composure, turmoil brews beneath the surface—a tempest of emotions swirling within her heart.

Today is the day of her union with Prince Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne—a man she has come to despise with every fiber of her being. Theirs is a marriage born of necessity, a political alliance forged in the fires of ambition and greed. From the moment the betrothal was announced, Yasmin had known that her fate was sealed—a pawn in the game of thrones, destined to be sacrificed on the altar of duty.

Across the palace, in the chambers reserved for the groom, Oberyn Martell paces restlessly, his footsteps echoing against the marble floors like the beat of a war drum. His expression is a mask of disdain, his features carved from stone as he contemplates the events that have led him to this moment.

Oberyn had never wanted to be married—not to Yasmin, nor to any other woman chosen to bear the title of his wife. Marriage, to him, is a prison—a shackle that binds him to a life he never asked for, a life devoid of the freedom he so desperately craves. And yet, despite his protests and his vows to never surrender his heart, fate has conspired to bring him to this point—a point of no return.

The hours pass in a blur of anticipation and dread, until finally, the moment arrives—a moment that will seal their fate for all eternity. Yasmin stands at the entrance to the great hall, her heart pounding in her chest as she awaits the arrival of her groom. The sound of footsteps echoes through the corridors, heralding Oberyn's approach, and Yasmin feels a surge of apprehension coursing through her veins.

As Oberyn enters the hall, his gaze meets Yasmin's with a mixture of disdain and resentment, and she feels a chill run down her spine. There is no love in his eyes—only cold indifference, a stark reminder of the gulf that separates them.

The ceremony proceeds with solemnity and grace, the words of the septon ringing hollow in Yasmin's ears as she exchanges vows with a man she barely knows. With each passing moment, the weight of their union presses down upon her like a crushing burden, threatening to suffocate her with its suffocating embrace.

And then, as the final words are spoken and they are proclaimed husband and wife, Yasmin feels a surge of anger rise up within her—a primal scream of defiance echoing in the depths of her soul. She refuses to be bound by the chains of duty—not now, not ever.

As they stand before the assembled court, their hands clasped in a mockery of unity, Yasmin meets Oberyn's gaze with a steely resolve. She may have been forced into this marriage against her will, but she will not allow herself to be broken—not by him, nor by anyone else.

The wedding festivities continue long into the night, the grand hall ablaze with the flickering light of a thousand candles, casting shadows that dance upon the faces of the assembled guests. Music fills the air, the strains of a lively tune mingling with the laughter and chatter of the courtiers as they celebrate the union of Oberyn Martell and Yasmin Dayne.

For Yasmin, the revelry is but a blur—a haze of faces and voices swirling around her as she navigates the crowded hall with practiced grace. Her hand rests lightly on Oberyn's arm, her touch a mere formality as they make their rounds, exchanging pleasantries with their guests. Yet beneath the mask of civility, a storm rages within her—a storm of longing and despair, of dreams deferred and hearts broken.

As she glances around the room, Yasmin's eyes are drawn to a figure standing amidst the throng—a figure whose presence sends a shiver down her spine and sets her heart ablaze with longing. Ser Edrick Sand, a knight in the service of House Martell, stands tall and proud, his dark eyes smoldering with intensity as he surveys the scene before him.