Viper | Oberyn Martell

3

As the days pass and Yasmin's pregnancy progresses, her slight bulge begins to grow more pronounced, a visible testament to the life that blossoms within her womb. With each passing moment, she feels a sense of wonder and awe at the miracle of new life, even as she grapples with the uncertainty and fear that accompany her unexpected pregnancy.

Yet amidst the swirling emotions that threaten to overwhelm her, Yasmin finds solace in the unwavering support of her handmaidens, who tend to her every need with a diligence and devotion that touches her heart. From the moment she wakes until the moment she lays her head to rest, they are by her side, anticipating her every desire and attending to her every whim.

They bring her meals fit for a queen, lavish feasts of exotic fruits and delicacies from across the realm. They draw her baths with fragrant oils and scented petals, soothing away the aches and pains that accompany her growing belly. They dress her in the finest silks and satins, adorning her with jewels and trinkets fit for a princess.

But what Yasmin does not know is that their attentiveness is not merely a display of loyalty and affection—it is a directive from Oberyn himself, who has ordered them to pamper her and attend to her every need. For despite their loveless marriage and his cold indifference towards her, Oberyn cannot deny the child growing within Yasmin's womb, cannot turn his back on the legacy that will one day inherit his name.

And so, from his perch in the shadows, Oberyn watches over Yasmin with a mixture of pride and apprehension, his heart heavy with the weight of his responsibilities as a father. He may despise his wife and resent the circumstances that have brought them together, but he cannot deny the bond that ties them together—a bond forged in the flames of duty and obligation.

Yasmin's belly swells with the promise of new life, a constant reminder of the miracle that grows within her. And though she may never know the true extent of Oberyn's involvement in her care, she cannot help but feel a sense of gratitude towards her handmaidens, whose unwavering devotion has eased the burden of her pregnancy and filled her heart with a sense of comfort and belonging.

Oberyn reclines on the bed, surrounded by a throng of men and women, their laughter and chatter filling the air like a cacophony of noise. But amidst the revelry, he feels a sense of unease gnawing at his soul, a shadow that looms over him like a specter of doom.

Ellaria Sand sits beside him, her fingers combing through his hair with a gentle touch that belies the turmoil raging within him. She watches him with concern etched upon her features, her eyes searching his face for any sign of what troubles him.

"What troubles you, my love?" She asks, her voice soft and soothing.

Oberyn's gaze flickers to Yasmin, who stands across the room, a vision of grace and beauty amidst the throng of guests. His heart twists with conflicting emotions—desire and resentment, longing and regret—all swirling together in a tumultuous whirlpool of emotion.

"She troubles me," He murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ellaria's brow furrows in confusion.

"Yasmin?" She asks, her voice tinged with surprise.

Oberyn nods, his jaw clenched with barely suppressed anger.

"Yes, Yasmin," He replies, his voice laced with bitterness, "She troubles me more than I care to admit."

Ellaria reaches out to him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder.

"I troubled you when I was with child," She says softly, "It's natural to feel conflicted."

Oberyn's gaze meets hers, his eyes burning with intensity.