AMARANTHINE - [OBERYN MARTELL]

Child Bride?

When Oberyn first saw her, Alyssa was a scrawny kid. Tall for her age, of course, but still slim and pale, the valyrian blood in her veins was undeniable. But then again, that was years ago. He could not imagine how Alyssa turned out after that. He also had no reason to think of that girl. Not until now.

"You would marry me to a child?" He asked Doran, still unable to understand why did his brother accept such a proposal. Oberyn was sure that two of his daughters, at least, would be older than the Velaryon girl.

"She is the king's favorite." Doran said without hesitation. "His niece, the one he educated himself." He said with a serious tone, one that held no space for questioning. Luckily, Oberyn never did care for that.

"Still, she is not a Targaryen and to have her hand offered to us is an insult." The Red Viper knew well enough the girl's lineage.

Alyssa was the daughter of Jaehaera Targaryen, the king's older sister, and Lucerys Velaryon, born from a supposed indiscretion between them. Jaehaera was, in Oberyn's opinion, an obnoxious and vain woman, but she was, indeed, a beautiful one. He never quite liked that woman. Oberyn also knew that Alyssa once had the queen's favor, when his sister Elia was alive. She lived as a princess in the Red Keep since a young age, as it was his sister's request. But she was not a Targaryen, neither would she ever be if she married a Martell.

After Elia's death, the peace between Dorne and the Crownlands got very frail. Oberyn could not bear looking at Rhaegar. He had his fun with his little mistresses as Elia languished in her bed all alone, trying to give him his "third head of the dragon". He was sure Doran felt the same. Though the king said he wanted to keep the peace between the kingdoms, Rhaegar knew Dorne could become an issue if he did nothing. His own children were half dornish, he should have more consideration towards them, but he offered the Martells a girl yet not mature or a bearer of the Targaryen name, like they adjusted.

"The princess is still very young, and I was sure you wouldn't want to marry Elia's daughter." Doran said in quite a teasing manner, a smug grin on his bearded face. He referred to Daenerys Targaryen, who was still a child running after her older brothers.

"Now you are only provoking me, brother." Oberyn took a sip from his cup, the slightly cold wine touching his tongue. Wine sure did make the whole conversation a little easier. "How old is she, anyway?"

"She is a maiden of fifteen days of her name, I was told." Doran scratched his chin, watching his brother intently. "She is a beauty, too, I saw it myself."

"A kid, nonetheless." Oberyn insisted, looking displeased.

"A kid? No. She bled, Oberyn, and is also a formidable lady. Rhaegar is confiding the girl to us, his precious niece. Should anything happen to her, we would be damned." Doran, in his turn, was really tired of this conversation. He drank wine as his brother did.

Doran did not tell Oberyn that he had requested Alyssa, so he was the one to blame for the betrothal. Alyssa was Jaehaera's child, the eldest daughter of Aerys' offspring. And although she was to be raised on Driftmark, Alyssa, like her mother, had taken a liking to the Red Keep and her uncle. Elia was very taken with the girl as well, since she was so close in age to Rhaenys and had a lovely disposition. As for Rhaegar, he could not deny them the girl especially because she wasn't a Targaryen, because she didn't have half of the value of one of the princesses. She wasn't, as much as he wanted, one of his, but a lady from a lesser House. He trusted Doran to take care of her, a kid he cared for as his own, knowing the Prince was an honorable man. The king was trapped by politics: he could either give Rhaenys to Dorne or his niece, Alyssa. He made a choice.

And Doran knew Oberyn could never hurt a girl like her.

Then, it was settled. Oberyn, of course, disappeared for days, but he was polished enough to show up the day the Velaryon girl arrived. Her sails were green and bright, a seahorse beautifully painted there to announce her, appearing in the horizon.