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( WATER GARDENS, DORNE ) EARLY 284 AC
SHIERLE FUSSED OVER GWENDYS, ever relentlessly, dismissing the three handmaidens who were fawning over her appearance to do the job for herself. Ellaria drained a flagon of wine and stared out of the window with wistful eyes. Deep and beautiful. Gwendys watched, as her hair was braided and wrapped up into a neatly woven nest, dark and the colour of Dragonglass.
After a couple of spoonfuls of the raspberry pie that Shierle had fetched, the brunette navigated herself to Prince Oberyn's bedchambers, using the directions that Doran had given her, the heels of her shoes clipping against the stone flooring. She found it hard to believe that Elia had grown up in the same halls that she roamed now. She imagined her youthful face, smiley and joyous, ribbons of rich brown hair rippling like ribbons in her wake as she ran up and down the corridors, chasing her brothers and her brothers chasing her. The sound of her laughter warmed Gwendys as she finally reached her destination. She stared up at the ironwood door, daunted, as it was vast and huge in comparison to herself.
She expelled a bated breath from her lungs, twisting the door handle to the right and letting herself inside. She had known of his favour for whores, but she never planned on witnessing such a thing. She shrieked at what she had walked in on, her bronze cheeks flushing a burning rubicund. She subconsciously threw her hands in front of her face to shield her eyes from the indecency and slinked back through the threshold. Pulling the door so that there was only a crack in the doorway for her to speak through, she stood with her eyes screwed shut.
"Sorry!" She squeaked apologetically, "I am so sorry, your grace, I'll return later —"
"No matter, we are not so taboo about things like this in Sunspear," he punctuated his sentence with a lighthearted laugh as she listened to him through the door, hoping he was making himself decent, as she was not in the mood to converse when obstructed by a door. "You may come in."
"Now?" She queried cautiously.
Oberyn crossed the room in a robe the colour of oranges, plucking a grape from its stem in a fruit bowl on the bureau. Gwendys absorbed what she caught of the lavish decor wholly, her eyes like two pools of dark glass. "Do you have something better to do?"
The Gargalen's lips barely moved as she spoke, her eyes firmly trained on the whore as she winked at her. She red-haired and slender, and smirked at Gwendys and she left. Alarmed, she held open the door, sticking as close as she could to the wood, pressing her body firmly against it. "I don't know, gouge out my eyes, perhaps?" She shrugged, breaking eye contact and glancing at the prince.
Taboo, indeed. She was no prude, but just happened to bear no interest in the likes of wenches or whores or anything in between. It was not her area of expertise, as she'd been sheltered from them her whole life, remaining occupied as they wandered in and out of her father's quarters. Her mother noticed, but never said a word, fearing that it would jeopardise their marriage.
