Fury And Pride | Myrcella Baratheon x Male!OC Fanfiction | Game Of Thrones AU

Seabound

Steffon stood on the deck of a large and imposing ship, his eyes fixed on the horizon as the wind whipped through his hair. The sun was high in the sky, the heat bearing down on him like a physical presence.

Standing beside him was Oberyn Martell, his Dornish Prince companion, who seemed perfectly at ease in the hot weather. Oberyn was dressed in traditional Dornish clothing, his sharp and hawk-like eyes scanning the surroundings with an air of cool detachment.

As Steffon looked out at the vast expanse of the sea, he couldn't help but think of his father, Robert Baratheon. Steffon remembered how he journeyed with his father to the North to declare Lord Stark as the new Hand of The King. It was a stark contrast to his own journey now, the hot and sultry climate of Dorne a far cry from the cold and biting cold of the North.

At that moment, Oberyn spoke up, his voice smooth and easy.

"Your sister must be the most dear to you, Your Grace."

Steffon turned to look at Oberyn, surprised by the question. He wasn't used to anyone speaking of Myrcella so openly, and he studied the Dornish prince for a moment, wondering where he was going with this.

"She is." Steffon said simply, his voice gruff.

"I know how you feel," he said, his voice gentle yet with an undercurrent of bitterness. "I loved my sister Elia deeply, and when she was slain, it felt like a part of me was ripped away. A part of my heart was torn apart."

Steffon listened to Oberyn intently, recognizing the pain in his voice. He knew that Oberyn had been close to his sister Elia, and her death had hit him hard. As he listened to Oberyn's words, he thought about how he would feel if he lost Myrcella.

As Oberyn continued to speak, Steffon's thoughts drifted to the nightmare he had the night before. He relived the horrors of that dream, the vision of Myrcella lying in a pool of blood, her small form still and lifeless before him. The memory of it sent a chill down his spine.

As Oberyn continued to speak, Steffon's thoughts drifted to the nightmare he had the night before. He relived the horrors of that dream, the vision of blood falling from Myrcella's nose, her small form still and lifeless before him. The memory of it sent a chill down his spine.

He tried to shake off the image, but it lingered in his mind, a constant reminder of what he had vowed to prevent. He clenched his fists, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to push the image aside and focus on the present.

As Oberyn fell silent, Steffon tried to push his worries aside and focus on the present. He attempted to shift the conversation to lighter topics.

"I must admit," he said, his voice somewhat strained. "I am quite excited to see Dorne."

Oberyn raised an eyebrow, his expression amused. "Excited, eh?" he said, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. "Most Westerosi are afraid of Dorne, Your Grace. They think it's too different, too exotic, too dangerous."

Despite his worries, Steffon let out a scoff at Oberyn's words. "I'm not most Westerosi," he said, his voice filled with youthful confidence. "I'm a Baratheon and a Lannister through my mother, and I'm not afraid of anything."

Oberyn chuckled softly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Is that so, Your Grace?" he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You're a young boy of six and ten, still wet behind the ears. Let's see if you're still so cocksure when we reach Dorne."

As they were talking, Jaime Lannister suddenly appeared on the deck, his golden hair shining in the sunlight. He had a swagger in his step, a careless yet confident smile on his face.