Note from the author: This is probably the hardest chapter in my life I have ever written. It just over 2k words and I know you guys are used to getting so much more from me, but it has been really hard for me lately. I do hope you will like it either way, because even though it took me a lot of time I personally love it.
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Oberyn was raised between the tides.
Well, not literally, of course. He was Dornish, after all. He cherished the feeling of sand scraping through his skin, the subtle rays of sunshine burning through his body, the heat making him glow. He was a snake, a viper that could live anywhere, anyhow, even beneath a scorching sheet of lava.
But it was the water that always gave him solace.
It was the water that could always give him comfort, oblivion. In the blue liquid, he could always relax.
It was there where sometimes he could finally take a breath.
He remembered all of those times as his body was met with the icy cold, dark tile of the grave they ascended into.
He held his breath, but the entirety of his body started to burn almost immediately. His hands waved as if trying to somehow get him back to the surface, but the current made him sink even more. He wanted to flail but fought off the feeling within him. His mind raced, but he made himself focus. They weren't free, not yet. They had barely exchanged one enemy for the other. He focused on maintaining a balance.
Oberyn had one and one goal only.
And it was Vaenera.
He looked to the sides but found nothing there—just the current smacking against his body. He blinked a few times, his hands searching for anything. When they fell, his hands wrapped around her body, and even though he lost her because of the impact of the surface, he knew she was close he could feel it in his bones.
The clock was ticking when the Gods made their decision.
She was there, floating, motionless, her hair fanning out around her like strands of ink. Her lips were parted, her eyes closed. It was so wrong to see her like this, robbed of her breath, her fire, and her pride. That sight made him feel as if something big and heavy fell on his chest, and it had nothing to do with the fact that his air was running out.
He surged forward, the cold of the river biting deep, his muscles screaming from exhaustion and lack of oxygen. Something suddenly pained him in the side of his stomach, but he did not care. His fingers brushed against her arm—too cold. He grabbed hold of her, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. Her body sagged against his, limp, weightless. No fight. No struggle.
Oberyn wanted to scream, to tell her to breathe, to shake her until she showed any kind of life within her, but his own movements were slow, too slow. A burn in his chest appeared.
For a moment, he hesitated. He looked up to the surface, judging whether it was even possible to reach. And it wasn't. But Oberyn Martell was a madman for Vaenera Greyjoy.
His breath came fast, ragged, as he forced himself to focus. He tilted her head back, pressing his mouth against hers, sealing them together as he exhaled—air, warmth, life. Her lips, even though wet, tasted sweet.
Her eyes did not open, but he felt her lips accepting his lips and her lungs accepting his air. Hope flickered in his chest.
He pulled back for a moment, lungs aching, before pressing in again, harder this time, willing her to take it, to take something. The river surged around them, dragging them down. He kicked against it, fighting the pull, his arms tightening around her lifeless frame.
YOU ARE READING
The Great War- Oberyn Martell
Fanfiction''This story unlike many others from this world begins not with inflaming fury, not with debt needed to be paid or not even with a winter that was coming. It begins with love that was sowed and had grown and it will end with fire and blood"
