Turning around in bed, Oberyn stared at Lyanna as she stood before the mirror on the other side of the room, her nightgown allowing him to glimpse the ivory skin bellow, her hands caressing her belly with such softness the prince couldn't hold back a smile. Their eyes met in the mirror and she returned the smile.

Sitting on the bed, Oberyn couldn't help remembering the day when he'd found out she was expecting their child.

He had been waiting for her at the docks in Volantis that morning. They were supposed to take a ship back to Lys later that day and last he'd seen her she had been rather excited about it. Oberyn had almost felt bad for lying to her, but the truth was that he had heard a rumour about a wedding in the North some days before and had instead arranged passage for both of them on a merchant ship sailing to Braavos and then to White Harbor.

The viper had waited and waited and waited but she hadn't turned up. Worried, the prince had decided to go back to the Little Palace inside of Nym's mother's Villa where they'd been staying.

He had known she was in the chamber they shared, her essence as natural to him as his own was. What he hadn't expected was to find her still wearing her nightgown and talking to a healer. She had smiled at him when he'd walked in and promptly dismissed the man, who bowed and left without uttering a word.

"You didn't come." Oberyn had approached her hesitantly, his dark eyes trying and failing to read her expression. For a moment I feared you had left me, he had thought. He hadn't said it.

"I was feeling unwell," Lyanna had said as she crossed the distance between them, her hands moving to his tunic at once, fingers playing with its laces. Her eyes had not met his.

"Lyanna." He had moved her chin up so she would look at him.

"I'm with child." He had frozen. "The healer says I'm four moons into the pregnancy. I guess I should have noticed but I didn't and…" She had stopped then, her lower lip trembling. "I'm sorry—"

"Sorry? What could you possibly be sorry about?"

"Well, we never talked about—"

He'd kissed her, deep and hard and true. One of his hands had moved to the back of her neck and the other had circled her waist. Close, he had needed her close, but there was only so much skin he could touch and eventually both of them had been breathless.

"You thought I wouldn't be happy about it?" Oberyn had asked with his lips still inches away from hers, their foreheads pressed together.

Lyanna had closed her eyes.

"I don't know what I thought," she'd admitted.

"You are mine, Lyanna Stark, as much as I am yours." They had talked about it years before; of the love they bore each other and their wish to remain together but free. "And I will love our child as much I love its mother."

He could already see the happiness in his daughters' eyes when they met their little sibling.

Lyanna had smiled, both nervous and happy.

"It'll be a boy," she had predicted, "A son of Ice and Fire."

The Prince of Dorne had answered her smile with a feral one of his own.

"Quite the trouble maker he will be then. If he's as half as wild as his she-wolf of a mother the world is doomed."

Lyanna had kissed him with a laugh and bit down on his lower lip. Hard. Making him groan. The sound vibrated through her.

"A wolf with venom dripping from his fangs," she'd offered, walking backwards toward their bed as she undid the laces of his tunic and took it off of him.

"A snake made of ice," he'd agreed, his hands going to the back of her thighs and picking her up, kissing her again. And again. And again.

They had loved each other all morning and they's barely made it to the Braavosi merchant ship he had found for them. Once they'd been alone in their cabin he had loved her again, in every way he knew, not caring that the entire crew −the entire world− would hear.

Lyanna's words brought Oberyn back to the present, to Winterfell.

"You are staring, Viper." She walked back to the bed and he caught her in his arms.

"Well, Princess, you are quite a sight." Oberyn kissed her, his hands caressing her belly. They'd decided to hide it until after the wedding because Lyanna didn't want to ruin Ned's and Ashara's moment by bringing attention to them. "He's kicking," Oberyn smiled.

"He's been at it for a while," Lyanna confirmed. "Restless child already and he has not even been born."

The viper took her hand in his, cold blue embers dancing around their wrists as they touched.

They hadn't talked about it but it was an unspoken certainty that their child was sure to inherit both the strength of House Stark of Winterfell and the might of House Nymeros Martell of Sunspear. There was no other possible outcome, after all, not when his parents' powers would react in such a way to each other. Not fighting against the other but uniting in a way that set both Oberyn and Lyanna aflame and threw them over the edge.

The prince had the idea that maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to wield ice one day and Lyanna'd be able to summon fire. There were tales of such things−of immortals being so in tune with each other that their souls would become one without them knowing and what was ones would become the others too. In Dorne, such people where called blessed by Nymeria, as the Rhoynish Queen of Ny Sar had been the last known dornish to have a relationship of such nature−to have a mate. Oberyn wasn't sure there were such things in the North, and he hadn't wanted to share his thoughts with his She-Wolf because he felt it'd be more trouble than it was worth.

Lyanna yawned lazily and the prince feared she'd go back to sleep.

"Let's move, your grace. It's about time you meet my family."

She stood to search for her clothes.

"Should I dress for war?"

"Definitely," Lyanna winked at him over her shoulder.

The custom was for the royal family to break its fast on the Great Hall, allowing friends and family to join them when they visited. When the castle was as filled with other royal families as it was now, though, the great meetings were reserved for the night, when feasts would be held and wine and music would make sure no one got bored. Which meant that Lyanna expected Ashara and Bran's Tully friend (she couldn't, for the life of her, manage to remember the girl's name) to join them that morning. But they didn't.

When Oberyn and the princess entered the Great Hall, wearing matching outfits of grey and gold, only her family was waiting for them.

Rickard Stark smiled warmly at her as they approached and Ned pulled her chair so she may sit next to him, with Brandon and Benjen in front of them. Oberyn was left to sit between Lyanna and Benjen, right in front of Rickard. Instead of cowering, the prince gave the she-wolf a crooked smile and took her hand under the table, squishing it once.

For a moment, staring at the four wolves that were the members of her family, Lyanna couldn't stop remembering her mother. She wondered if Lyarra Stark would have liked Oberyn, if she would have agreed with the choices Lyanna had made, if she would embrace her and kiss her hair and scream to the world that she was proud of her. She knew better than to mention her in front of her siblings and father, though, because while her life had filled them all with joy, her death had almost destroyed them. It was not what she would have wanted, of course, since she died to make sure Benjen lived and did so happily.

Across from her, Benjen smiled at her and she knew she had an ally on him. Brandon adored her, Ned was the closest to her, the one who knew her true heart better than anyone else here, but Ben had always been her little pup, her brother who would play with her and dance with her and laugh with her. The one who would sneak into the kitchens with her late at night to steal cakes and the one who would lie for her when she'd do something their father wouldn't approve.

"I almost thought you weren't going to show up," Brandon told her. He was not looking at Oberyn, he hadn't even glazed at him when they'd walked in.

Food was already in front of them and the princess took the liberty of serving herself.

"Some of us enjoy sleep, Bran." She smiled at him.

"Yes, Brandon." Benjen agreed. "Besides, you fool no one by waking up at the break of done to pretend to work."

"He works?" Ned intervened. "I thought he used that time to ride Barbrey Ryswell."

Brandon choked on his drink and raised an eyebrow at Ned. The princess did not miss the way Oberyn hid a smirk behind his glass of wine as Benjen roared with laughter.

"I believe you meant ride with, son." The fact that the King was able to maintain his stoic appearance after Eddard's not so subtle suggestion was admirable.

"Of course, Father."

And just like that Lyanna thought this was going to be easier than she had initially suspected. Then she saw the wicked smirk her little brother was giving her and she screamed at him without words to not say whatever he was thinking. Then again, Benjen had never been good at following orders, and he loved to make her blush.

"What of you, big sister? Have you ridden anything lately?"

She offered Oberyn a quick glance. Don't you dare, her eyes commanded him. And for a moment she thought he might just dare.

But her father said in the Old Tongue, "Enough, all of you."

Lyanna knew her father was angry because suddenly he was all around them. He was on the stone walls, on the table, on the air they were breathing, on the food they ate. The King of the North was not one to mess with and the display he was offering them made Lyanna want to roll her eyes.

"There's no need for that, Father." She used the Old Tongue too. Somehow it felt like a betrayal to use it when none of them knew Oberyn understood them.

"You left us, daughter." His voice was harsh. The voice of her King, not the one of her father, and yet his grey eyes were as warm and welcoming as they had always been, the love in them undeniable. "You banished in the night and left us to wonder what had happened. You brother," −a gesture towards Ned, who kept on eating as if the talk had nothing to do with him− "did of course inform us of your letter to him, but that does not mean it managed to ease our fear."

She wondered if Rickard Stark meant every word he had just said, and decided that he must. Maybe his fears had been eased latter on, as the years went by, but she could only imagine the light on his eyes dying when Ned had returned without her.

"I should have sent word, I know." She nodded as she ate. "But it was not something I planned to do. It just… happened."

The King opened his mouth again, as if he would say something, but the Red Viper of Dorne beat him to it, and used not the Common Tongue but the one of her ancestors to do so.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I find this inquiry rather pointless. If Lya had been born a man as he brothers were, you would have welcomed her back into your bosom, hugged her, and asked her to tell you of her travels and adventures. Instead the lot of you are looking at her as if she were some foreign enemy and not your family."

Knowing him as she did, Lyanna could feel the tension of his body, even if he appeared to be calm and his voice was steady and casual. She knew he was angry at them for judging her−for judging them.

If her father was surprised to hear a Prince of Dorne speaking the language of the First Men, he did not show it. Next to him, though, Brandon looked seconds away from launching himself at Oberyn.

"Is that so?" The King seemed to give the prince's words a thought. He had stopped eating. "Curious insight from the male who took my daughter away."

Lyanna rubbed at her temples, setting down her fork.

"I would never have done anything your daughter wouldn't want me to do."

He had meant it in a polite way, he had meant to say he would have never left with her if she hadn't all but begged him to. But by the look on Rickard Stark's face he knew that was not what the King of the North had understood.

"He's not going to stop hating me, is he?" Oberyn asked Lyanna in Rhoynish.

"He doesn't know you; he just knows what he's heard. I'd be worried too, Viper, if I were him." Tired of playing this game of tongues, she switched to the language they all would understand and looked at her father. "Whatever you think you know, whatever you have heard, Father, I am before you now and I assure you Oberyn did only as I asked. He did not take me; he merely helped me get away from here."

Rickard Stark reached for his drink and took a long sip, moment Brandon used to step in.

"You could have asked us, Lya. You could have asked us to take you to Essos."

The princess smiled despite herself and shook her head. "No, you wouldn't have, because I'm your sister, and in your eyes I've always been a little girl, as fragile as glass. In the end you would have found another way to bind me here, so I may never think of the world again."

There was sadness in Bran's eyes then and Lyanna could see he did not understand what she meant. His love for her surely made him think he would have done anything for her, and the truth was he would have. And he would also have done anything to make sure she lived her life as he thought was best for her. Love like that could be a burden.

"Oberyn is right," Eddard said, and looked shocked after the words left his mouth, as if he hadn't wanted to say them. A look at everyone around the table was enough for him to understand there was no turning back now. Ignoring the feral grin of victory the dornishman gave him, Ned added, not daring to look at his father. "If I had left Westeros to travel the world you would have given me your blessing. Lyanna might be a woman, but she is a Stark of Winterfell nevertheless, and fiercer than most of us. She wouldn't have left with him if she hadn't wanted to."

"If you hadn't wanted to come you could have frozen my balls and made me a eunuch," Oberyn whispered at Lyanna, in Rhoynish again.

"The entire world would have grieved for such a loss," was her answer, even as she looked at her brother, who now smiled at her.

Under the table, Oberyn's hand went up her thigh and she pushed it away, half tempted to slap him. When she turned to him to say something, though, she found the viper staring at her father again.

"The truth, King Rickard, is that I don't really care what you think of it, or what you think of me. I don't care that Eddard seems to stand my presence only because he knows Lya would be pissed if he didn't, and I don't care that Brandon looks at me as if I were an animal he might hunt." His eyes darkened then and Lyanna felt it. Are you insane? She wanted to roar at him, because he was letting his essence out. A challenge even the lowest among the immortals would understand. And no one, not even a prince, could ever dare to challenge a King. "What I care about is your daughter and I will not just sit here and watch as you judge her for being herself, as you condemn her for following her heart and doing what she wanted to because she desired to do so." The hand that was still on her leg moved to caress her cheek and despite the tension in the room Lyanna felt herself leaning into his touch. He always had a way to make her fell weak and strong at once.

"I don't think you understand−" Brandon started, anger filling his every word, and Oberyn cut him off.

"I understand I'm not welcomed here because your father and you seem to think I have somehow been taking advantage of Lyanna. Now you must understand I will stay here for as long as she needs me and I will only leave if she wants me to. Because, as much as you might not want to admit it, Prince, you have no power over me and I will never answer to your petty threats."

His words lingered for a couple of breaths, his dark eyes on her even as her family surveyed him. She still wanted to slap him, but for an entirely different reason.

"Do you answer to my daughter then?" Rickard Stark asked.

Benjen had gone back to his food and Ned's arm rested on the back of Lyanna's chair. Shamelessly, Oberyn nodded, drinking some more of his wine and picking up his fork to eat.

"As much as she answers to me, yes." He ate. "Is that not what a relationship is about?"

Lyanna rolled her eyes. She knew he was a dramatic oaf of a male who loved to prove he was in control of every situation he got himself into, but she hadn't expected him to speak to her father in such a way. She hadn't expected him to show her family a side of him that he reserved only for her and for his own relatives in Dorne, to show them that the notorious Viper of Dorne was indeed in love with the Princess of Winter and would destroy anyone who would wrong her.

Rickard Stark turned to her then, visibly tired, and Lyanna knew that as much as he wanted to believe Oberyn meant every word he'd said a part of him was still unable to let go of his little girl and allow her to become the grown woman she already was.

"And you want this?"

Lyanna took Oberyn's hand on her own as she answered, his touch as soothing as ever. "As he said, Father, I wouldn't be with him if I didn't want to and I could leave him at any time if I desired to."

But she didn't and she was starting to think that she would never want to. Dangerous thoughts for a princess who had an eternity ahead of her, but a truth she knew in her heart. Had her father felt this way upon meeting her mother? She knew she'd never dare to ask.

"Oh, well," Benjen said suddenly with a laugh, "tell me if you change your mind and ever need help giving him a beating. I have a few new tricks I'd like to try."

At the head of the table, King Rickard Stark nodded at Prince Oberyn Martell in silent agreement, and Lyanna let out a relieved breath she did not know she had been holding.

Ned took Oberyn away after they were done with breakfast, but Lyanna never got to learn what they talked about. What she knew was that when Ned returned Oberyn to her the two of them shared a private look of understanding.

"He's a good one, your brother." Oberyn told her as she took him out of the castle.

"You can start calling him brother too, you know?"

His arm slid around her waist and he brought her closer as they walked away from the castle grounds.

"I have a feeling he would punch me if I did that," he replied, but his eyes told her that he was wondering if it'd be worth it, if only to see Ned's facial expression and reaction.

They said nothing further after that, not needing words to understand each other. And Lyanna enjoyed that, enjoyed the cold morning breeze and the soft snow falling on them. She also enjoyed how good her lover looked clad in black furs.

Oberyn said nothing as they crossed the woods but when they approach the Heart Tree of Winterfell, Lyanna heard him hold his breath, and could almost see the bewitchment in his dark eyes. Taking his hand, she led him forward, careful not to step on the lake next to the tree.

"I feel like an intruder," the prince dared whisper after yet another moment of silence.

"You are," she agreed. "This is a sacred place, meant only for northerners."

"Many times I've heard it said that northmen are nothing but savages who worship trees." He put his hand next to the Weirwood's face. "I always wondered…"

While he stared at the tree, Lyanna stared at him. At the surprise and the bliss in his face, at the marvel in his eyes. And then she understood.

"You can feel it."

But it was impossible. The Heart Trees were of the North, which meant that only northerners could feel their power. That, of course, made the rest of Westeros believe they were, as Oberyn had just put it, savages, simply because none of the could feel the power and might of the trees, none of them could understand the Gods that spoke and lived to through them. Never before had she heard of any southerner who could feel a Heart Tree.

"I take it by your tone that's unusual?"

"It's supposed to be impossible."

Oberyn moved his hand away and turned to her, his other still locked around her waist.

"Well, there's something there. It almost feels as if the tree were alive, as if it were wild and real and watching."

Lyanna smiled. "That's why they have faces. The Heart Trees are the faces of the Gods, the way they have to talk to us, see us, keep us safe. They are more ancient than any immortal that walks the earth"

What she did not say was that it worried her, that he could feel the Gods. Maybe, she thought, the link that they shared, the fact that they were expecting a child, his knowledge of her soul, made him more sensible to the true powers of the North. But then again, maybe there were forces at play that the princess didn't know about.

Oberyn shivered. "Come, this tree is creeping me out."

The truth was just staring at it made him feel less than what he was, made him feel small, powerless. He almost had the need to kneel before it, but he didn't understand why. So he made Lyanna walk to the other side of the lake and sat on the grass, bring her to his lap to embrace her.

The prince was aware of the Gods staring down at them. Her Gods. His Gods. Just like he knew that anyone could wonder by and spot them. And if that someone happened to be any of her siblings he knew he'd be doomed and a fight would be inevitable. Not that it'd bother him. Oberyn would fight a thousand Starks and challenge a hundred princes if it meant he got to taste Lyanna's lips. Granted that right there and then it was not her lips he was thinking of kissing.

"I know that look," she purred in his ear and his arms tightened around her as she straddled him.

"Do you now, princess?"

"Yes. It's the look that got us into this mess." She pointed at her belly, "in the first place."

Oberyn gave her a feral grin, eyes darkening.

"It means I want to bed you then?"

"It means, my love, that you want to devour me." She returned the grin.

The prince buried his face on the crook of her neck, his lips pressing wet kisses on her chin.

"Would that be so terrible?" He asked, even as his teeth grazed her flesh and she rocked her hips against him almost without meaning to.

When Oberyn bit her, Lyanna moved her face to the side, allowing him more access, and moaned through clenched teeth.

More, more, more, her body sang.

Snow kept falling silently on them, and around them, but when the Red Viper brought his lips to her it stopped and stood still on the air, as if in waiting, as if staring down at its lady and her lover. Lyanna pulled back, biting down on his lower lip. His hands burned against her skin as he pulled up her skirts of her dress to bring them around her knees.

Across the lake, the Heart Tree stared at them with bloody eyes.

With Oberyn's lips on her neck again and his teeth teasing her to the point of madness, Lyanna reached between them to undo the laces of his breeches. When she took him in her hand, the world around them exploded with fire, and the still frozen snow in the air turned to mist as the dornish prince moaned Lyanna's name. She smiled proudly, buit did not stop touching him, pleasuring him in a way she knew was bound to make him collapse sooner rather than later.

"I love it when you say my name like that." Lyanna hissed at him and he moaned into her mouth, panting.

"Like what?"

"Like a curse. Like a prayer. Like you can't stand to be near me but you know you couldn't live without me."

The princess knew he meant to answer her, but the only sound that came out of Oberyn's mouth was an animalistic growl more suited for a volantine tiger than for a dornish prince. A moment later he spilled all over her hand, his head dropping to rest on her shoulder. Then he chuckled against the exposed skin of her neck.

"What have you done to me, She-Wolf?" It was the first time he asked her that question but not the first time the thought crossed his mind.

He was about to elaborate, to tell her about something he had intended to tell her the first time he confessed he was in love with her but as soon as he saw what she was doing he lost the ability to speak. Because Lyanna had raised her hand to her lips and was licking it−licking every drop of him still coating her skin. Her grey eyes were, and remained, fixed on his dark ones as she did so.

"That wicked mouth," Oberyn groaned when she was done and Lyanna's laugh died in her throat when he claimed her lips again.

Before she knew it, Lyanna was thrown on her back, her long hair getting tangled with the leaves and grass beneath her and her skirts thrown up to her belly as Oberyn placed himself between her legs. The princess raised her hips to meet his but much to her dismay, Oberyn wasn't about to oblige to her needs.

Meeting his eyes, she whispered, "Please."

But Oberyn smirked down at her and shock his head, even as Lyanna felt him hardening against her inner thigh.

"Begging won't help you, princess," he stated, but even then Lyanna could see the desire burning in his eyes and could feel his power around him, reaching for her own, needing her as much as she needed him.

"Are you sure about that, Oberyn?" was her reply, and she pushed against him, wet as she was, to show him that she was not in the mood to wait much longer.

He clenched his jaw and she knew she had him right where she wanted him. She was discovered a while ago that he couldn't bear the sound of his name on her lips while they had sex, after all.

Lyanna's hands tried to sneak beneath his shirt and jacket and furs, trying to touch his skin, to show him how she burned for him. Oberyn caught her wrists before she could.

"None of that now, Lyanna." And then he pinned them over her head.

The princess was about to smile at him when she felt it. A ring of stone closing around her wrists and holding her in place, binding her hands to the earth beneath.

"Just because the blood of Nymeria is stronger in me doesn't mean I'm not Mors' blood too."

"Who's wicked now?"

Grabbing her calfs Oberyn threw her legs over his shoulders and before Lyanna could manage another witty comeback he sank into her. Lyanna let out a cry as Oberyn thrust into her, slowly at first, making every part of her body ache with need, and then faster, harder, kissing her wildly and moaning against her skin.

The prince roared to the sky when he finally found his release, sure that someone in the castle must have heard him. Was it possible, after all, that they would come together in a way that made his world sift and tremble and burst into life and no one would notice?

He was quick to fix his clothing and tie the laces of his breeches again, and then he bid the earth to retreat and release Lyanna. As soon as he did, she sat and cradled his face between her hands, leaning in to kiss him. It was a sweet kiss and the viper almost melt into it.

Did she know what he suspected? Did she understand that the connexion they had was more than that of mere lovers?

"Lay back again, She-Wolf," he all but commanded. "I'm not done with you yet."

With another kiss, Lyanna did as he asked, and Oberyn Nymeros Martell buried his head between her legs, eager to get a taste of her.

It was hours later that they returned to the castle, with Lyanna not so subtly picking leaves from her hair while Oberyn smirked knowingly down at her, his arm loos around her waist as they walked together into the seat of House Stark.

Elia and Ashara were waiting for them when they walked into Lyanna's chambers, chatting happily and eating and drinking wine. Both of them smiled at them like vultures ready to attack when they spotted them on the threshold.

"My ladies," Lya greeted as they walked in and closed the door behind them, even if Oberyn could see the uncertainty in her tone. "What are you doing here?"

It was Elia who answered. "Wondering why you hadn't told us you were expecting a child." Seeing the shock in both their faces, the dornish princess added, "A mother knows those things."

Oberyn didn't reply, he knew it wasn't his place to do so. If it had been for him he would have already told the whole of Winterfell that the She-Wolf of the North was carrying his child, but Lyanna had not been ready to let people know.

"I didn't want to ruin your wedding," Lyanna confessed to Ashara, who frowned. "So we decided it'd be better to wait until after you were married to tell everyone."

"Ruin it? This are good news, Lya." Her violet eyes were filled with emotion as she stood and all but ran to hug the northern princess.

"I didn't want to spoil your day with gossip."

Oberyn smirked. "Yes, because nothing gets those stupid leeches happier than good gossip. And what's better than the bastard child of the famous Red Viper of Dorne and the Princess of the North he kidnapped years ago?"

Lyanna elbowed him and Ashara turned to Elia, who was still sitting at the table.

"Oh, yes, that old tale. It gets better every time I hear it."

"Does it?" Oberyn inquired, following her back to the table and claiming a seat.

Lyanna sat happily on his lap, and he was sure she was aware of how her essence was still reaching for him, of how, she still smelled of him. The prince kissed her cheek before turning to his sister, who was kind enough to answer the question.

"The story they came up with the day after you left was that you had seen her and desired her and when she had told you she wasn't interested you had subdued her and taken her away in the middle of the night."

"It does sound like something Robert Baratheon would come up with, doesn't it?" the viper asked Lyanna and she shrugged.

"I wouldn't put it past him." Because Robert had seen them together back in Harrenhal, all those years ago, and even when they had been nothing but friends he had imagined there was something more. And knowing his obsession with her, he could have also imagined himself as some sort of hero who was meant to save her. Lyanna pitied him.

"Most people didn't believe it," Elia replied. "If you had been kidnapped Eddard would have been worried and he was not."

"People adore entertainment, so they came up with other stories," Ashara informed.

They spent the next couple of hours explaining those stories to them, oblivious to the fact that the both of them needed a bath or simply not caring. And every new story was more troubling than the last.

In one of them, her father had sold her to Oberyn because he had been so afraid of him he had been unable to deny him his demands. That had made Lyanna roar with laughter, of course, because she had never in her long life seen her father afraid of anything. Oberyn , on the other hand, had been mildly offended by her laughter. Was he not after all the Red Viper of Dorne, a warrior whose name struck fear on the hearts of men? But even he had admitted King Rickard Stark of the North was a frightening man.

In another one, it was Oberyn who had sold her. Kidnapped her and sold her. Apparently there were several men in pleasure houses in Lys who swore the Red Viper had brought her to them to enjoy. What they had failed to mention was that Oberyn hadn't brought her for them to enjoy, as they so nicely put it. In truth, Oberyn and Lyanna had shared their bed with them from time to time during their time in Lys years ago. She was not about to tell Elia Martell and Ashara Dayne thatbut Oberyn's burning and knowing gaze was enough to make her blush at the memory of it.

At last, the dornish ladies left, but not before Lyanna made Ashara promise not to tell Ned about her pregnancy.

"Don't worry, sis," Ashara had said. "I won't say a word. After all, everyone loves a good surprise."

Once they were gone Oberyn told the servants to draw her a bath. Lyanna did her best to ignore their prying eyes as they did as they were told and then left.

"Help me take this off, will you?" She was too tired to start undoing the laces of her dress. Thankfully for her, Oberyn obliged, and then helped her climb into the bathtub.

The water was warm and soft against her skin and Lyanna closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation.

"Move, princess," Oberyn asked and she slid forward to leave him climb behind her, the movement causing little waves on the surface of the water.

Oberyn put an arm around her and brought her to him so her back may rest on his chest. Lyanna smiled tenderly, eyes still closed and head resting on his soulder, when the prince started drawing patterns on her belly.

"I don't care what anyone says," Lyanna muttered after a moment of silence. "I left with you because I liked you and trusted you. I stayed because I fell in love with you. It's as simple as that."

The prince angled his head to kiss her temple, his hold on her tightening ever so slightly.

"Anyone who dares get in the way of your happiness will meet my wrath, She-Wolf."

She laughed at that even if she knew he spoke the truth and meant every word.