There were two babes in the Tower of Joy.
Two babes tied so closely to their parents, Ned had to make the decision.
One with hair like raven feathers, eyes as grey as steel, and a face of a true Stark. The other, with hair like moonlight, eyes lik...
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Oberyn Martell held his breath as he turned towards the girl standing behind him, his breath caught within his throat at the softness on her face. She was the spitting image of Rhaegar, the Prince who'd married his sister was sure to be reincarnated in her as those indigo eyes watched him. His thick brow dipped, desperately wanting to shake his head. This had to be a joke, a trick as he took a step closer.
Her nose was different, longer and smaller and the shape of her lips plumped; but the cheeks and the eyes, it took his breath away for a second. If he didn't know any better, he would think it was Rhaegar. This entire thing a horrible dream, a way of reminding him what had happened over twenty years prior.
The corner of Rhae's lips upturned as her eyes dragged over him. He wasn't particularly old, an entire bucket full of handsome as his dark eyes remained trained on her face. His face angular as a strap of a beard clung to the edges of his jaw to the short crop of hair he had on his head, his expression not of anger but it wasn't light either. He had a crooked nose that suited his face, and a moustache that curved with his lip. "Prince Oberyn?" She called again, his attention drifting back to the room.
Their eyes met. "I expected you to be taller." He uttered, swaggering his way up the steps before stopping short of her, his head turned down to glance at Rhaenar. She couldn't help but note how smooth his voice was, the words rolling from his tongue with the thickest Dornish accent she had ever heard. Up close he could see the specks of dark blue and vibrant purple, swirling as they shined beneath the evening dusk.
She could have laughed, one side of her lip quirking higher than the other. "Why?"
His eyes darted around. Despite all of his travels, he hadn't been to Meereen; the city not having called to him. "The last Blackfyre was monstrous, was he not?"
She gave a curt nod. Maelys the Monstrous. "I'm technically not a Blackfyre." She admitted, but he knew that. He signed her name into that marriage pact, despite then being a Waters.
"Pity. If you're not a Blackfyre, what are you?" He was expecting her to say it, the two held in an odd bubble of tension she was sure to diffuse.
