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B A S T I A N :

Bastian hadn’t expected his company to be a familiar face, recognizing the Dornish knight as soon as he spoke. His gaze lifted once more from his drink, offering Oberyn a small smirk in response before it disappeared behind his cup for another drink. It had been a long while since he had seen Oberyn, far too long in his honest opinion. But given recently darker times in Westeros and constant planning and negotiating, Bastian had been keeping himself very busy. This had been one of few times he was able to depart from the Eyrie, and he knew he had to be cautious about who saw him. But Oberyn was a man he could trust, of that he was certain.

“And it is good to see you, boy,” he jested, putting equal emphasis on the ‘title’. If he was going to poke at his age, he could return the favor in kind. All in good fun, of course. And honestly, he was very glad to see him alive and well, from the horrific events he heard from the North. He was uncertain if the knight from Dorne had been there himself, but to see for himself that he survived brought him quite a bit of relief.

“I never said I didn’t believe it,” he referenced his first remark, giving a shake of his head, “only the childish idea of ghosts killing people. People kill people, not phantoms.” Of course he believed what had happened. And knowing that magic may have been involved was very concerning, especially in the hands of elusive assassins as these. All the more reason to be wary.

Bastian gave an amused snort at the other’s remark, “Believe it or not, I do come down from there once in a while. Never as much fun perched up above everyone, you know. You tend to miss things if you don’t leave the comforts of home. Which is why I’m not surprised to see you far from your own home, even after the King in the North’s coronation. Not so eager to return south?”

There was an easy around the older man that Oberyn had never experienced around his father and there were times that he couldn’t help but wonder what his life would have been like had he been the heir to someone more like Bastian Arryn than Deziel Dayne. Perhaps he would have been satisfied being Lord, finding away to change things as he’d have liked and embraced who his family were rather than fought against it so forcefully. It hardly matter though, his life was the way it was and there was no place for ‘what ifs’ - only seizing the moment and making the most of the lot he had. Regardless of what his life might have been, he’d earned himself a friend in the Lord of the Eryie 

He grinned at the elder man’s willingness to play along with his joking but it quickly faded once more at the mention of the murders that had taken place. “It seems as though it was a bit of both. People using magic to appear as phantoms.” The words come off a lot lighter than he feels, matter-of-factly as opposed to the heaviness that he knows that they hold when none that he has met seemed overly pleased to learn that magic and sorcery seemed to be the culprit.

When he speaks again, his voice is hushed, confiding in his friend but not prepared to air the troubles of his country so openly when he didn’t know who else might be listening. “They’ve been plaguing us in Dorne, I cannot say I expected them to be so bold as to anger almost every family in Westeros.” It was certainly a bold move and had so many no died so senselessly it might have been one that he would have admired.

Just as quickly as seriousness had taken over his features it was quickly set aside in favour of his usually easy grin. “Well, we both know how little I enjoy missing things.” It was hardly a secret that the knight chose to live every moment as though it might be his last, boldly taking every chance he got. His expression soured slightly at the mention of Starfall when Bastian knew all too well of his issues with his father. “To return to Dorne? Always.” There was no question that he loved his homeland. “As for Starfall, I am quite certain it will continue to exist even with my absence.” To stop talk getting too stuck in a topic he had no interest in indulging in, Oberyn held up his nearly empty tankard. “I’ll take two more! My treat so don’t even think about declining the offer.”

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Someone once told me not to bite off more than I could chew. I said I’d rather choke on greatness than nibble on mediocrity.

(via potterhead-slytheringirl)

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N Y M E R I A :

nymeria was contrary to the typical sort of lady that inhabited the riverlands, but she was by no means exempt from the typical blackwood characteristics. descendants of the first men, winter may have driven the blackwoods from their home in the wolfswood, but it had not driven the north from them. like her father, nymeria was proud and principled, but prone to a seriousness that prevented her from the ease and comfort that she observed of dornish passion. she was willful and drawn to her people and her house paid for it in spades as black as the unkindness of ravens that roosted in its weirwood tree, for her reclusiveness and disinterest in courtly affairs cost her the benefits that afforded the lesser houses with more ambitious lords and ladies. 

perhaps she and her sisters would likely not be offered betrothals from royalty or larger houses and, to the displeasure of her councilmen, it was a fact that offered her little discomfort, save the clever angle played by maester henly that asserted she would be wont to play such politics for the betterment of her people. it was this that she kept in mind behind the stiff and hollow curtsies and graces she offered nobles she care little and less for than the horses whose hooves had brought her to them. with so many masks, there was nothing more refreshing to look upon than a face made of flesh and blood–forthright in its own reality.

nymeria made no effort to supress the surprised chuckle as it rang from her lips at his words, blunt as a practice sword–a soft, yet much to her healing hobby’s credit, strong hand covered her mouth. biting her lower lip, nymeria let it go with a decidedly unladylike, but pensive, pop. “is this a common occurence for you?” she rose a shapely brow at him inquisitively. “meeting ladies on the road and swaying their good graces with flattery as sweet as dornish wine?” she was no maiden, at twenty-five nymeria was aware of her own beauty, but seldom heard it spoken so outright. “certainly, like most words, beauty must mean little and less than more it is used.”

the confidence of him seemed goodnatured and did not boast of the arrogance she had seen in many peacocked knights vying for attention of lords and ladies as easily as foes. such men felt that skill outweighed the usefulness of humility or the cloak and dagger she had learned in sneaking amongst the smallfolk to learn with her maester. “oh? then you are not fair in battle or in rescuing helpless maidens from the cruel clutches of swarthy knights with forked mustaches?” a smirk overtook her lips as she poked fun at the tales sung of knights from time immemorial. “you are not a hedge knight nor an unkind one. is it safe to say then that you are not also fair.” brow quirking, she added with good humor. “if not a terribly selfish one, too.”

it was hard to imagine such a cheeky man of good humor to be capable of such solemnity, but nymeria found herself seldom surprised by the depth of human emotion. his words rang true and, though it was rare that the smallfolk found themselves in the luxury of worrying about becoming the victims of some sorcery that smote the servants of noble houses into plumes of smoke and funerary ash, she agreed that this did affect the realm as it had those who mourned their fallen friends. “you are correct, ser.” her nod was sober, chest heaving with a slow, heavy breath, before continuing softly–her gaze avoidant as she narrowed her eyes to look over the lake, a shiver running through her. “it was horrible.” she had seen some truly horrible things in her life, but even veteran knights did quake ( she was sure ) in their restless sleep. dreams did haunt as sure as a ghost.

It felt like a small victory when he managed to pull a chuckle from her although her couldn’t deny that he was almost as surprised at his success as she was. Still, it was far more of a positive reaction than he’d expected when most of the Ladies that he met were all rosy cheeks and a coyness that he never had trusted. Everything always seemed far too practised from the majority of them and he was a man who thrived on impulses and the unexpected so the genuine nature of Nymeria’s reaction easily brought a grin to his face that was only widened when she had yet another clever retort ready for him. It seemed as though she was not a woman who would be easily disarmed and that was perhaps one of his favourite traits in any person he met - one who was not easily cowed or intimidated in any way.

With little concern for her guards, although he did make the concession of keeping his hands away from Dawn, the knight stepped forward with one hand placed on his heart in a dramatic show of sincerity. “Do not worry, my lady, if you are worried about having competition for my affections you are the only one who has received such treatment on this journey.” Despite them being said in jest with the intention of perhaps winning another laugh or perhaps a smile from her, there were for once true. Oberyn had never been one to shy away from a little flirtation or indulgence but those were his plans for the way back when Winterfell and the tragedy that had befallen it was his current focus, all distractions left behind in the wake of his determination to do something where his father refused.

A chuckle comes from him again and ever the proud Dornishman he can only appreciate the mention of one of his country’s produce. “Well it seems only right that I try to match one of our finest exports if I have any hope of every being considered one myself.” The words were light but there was no denying that underneath all the levity there was a deeper meaning to the words when as much as he would be content with accomplishing small deeds he did want to be worth of his title and perhaps remembered as a man from Dorne to look up to. A little shake of his head is given but the smile remains n his features. “On the contrary, beauty is a thing that only grows and the more you see it the more you appreciate it.”

“Those tales do not paint the most accurate picture of knighthood.”  It would be a lie to say that a young Oberyn hadn’t been impressed by the tales of their heroic but he had quickly begun to appreciate that it was the smaller deeds that truly mattered - the ones that would remain unsung but perhaps change someone’s life for the better. “I’m afraid I can count on one hand the number of damsels I have had the pleasure of rescuing, those rogues with forked moustaches are rather elusive as well.” His hands moved to rest on his hips, the knight pulling himself up a little taller and straightening his shoulders as he did so as though he was presenting himself for inspection. “Fair and selfish, perhaps an accurate capturing of me, although I must bid you not to forget dashing and handsome as well.”

Once again his joviality is set aside for something all together more serious and solemn when the events would never cease to play on his mind and it only seem to make things worse to know that there were so many witnesses - the only silver lining to that being that there were more to spread the word. “I’m sorry you had to witness it - that anyone had to.” It was not his crime to apologise for and yet he knew how images of such things could haunt even those innocent of any blame. There was blood on his sword that he would always feel penitent about but nothing plagued him more than the deaths that he hadn’t been able to prevent, the weight of their lives threatening to crush him at times. In another life, one where the world was so much kinder perhaps he would feel no need to be a fighter but for now he would always take up the mantle of crusader whether anyone wanted him to or not. 

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sandor clegane, hot pie, sansa stark

sandor clegane: what is a fear of yours? 

Oberyn would generally claim that he was fearless and when it come to life or death situations he is. When it comes to placing his life on the line there is no hesitation from him and there’s very few things that you could threaten him with that would get any kind of reaction - as his father knows all too well. Most of his fears instead revolve around what he will accomplish in his life and alongside the fear that he might turn out like his father (one he will never ever voice) there’s a nagging that he might die without being truly remembered for anything - that he’ll never be a knight who was worthy enough of being call The Sword Of The Morning.

hot pie: what’s your favorite food?

Let it never be said that Oberyn Dayne doesn’t know how to indulge himself and he has made a point of doing so in every corner of Westeros that he’s travelled too. He is never content until he has sampled as many of the local dishes as possible before moving on. That being said, Oberyn is a proud Dornishman and as such his favourites all come from the lands where he was born. Nothing can beat a Dornish dinner in his mind nor can any drink rival Dornish strongwine.

sansa stark: what does it mean to be strong?

To Oberyn, being strong starts with having confidence in yourself. It’s something that can only be found within and having conviction in your action and the determination to see it all through is the foundation of it all. You need to be unshakeable in your decisions and maintain your integrity. It is also the ability to be able to support others and never cease in doing what you believe is right but that cannot be done if you don’t think that you are doing what is needed to be done. 

asks can be found here (x)

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B A S T I A N :

It hadn’t been a safe time to travel. But when was there ever a safe time to do anything? Bastian was well aware of the attack in The North, each guest of the King’s coronation losing a member from their House as a sort of morbid message to all of Westeros. Yet Bastian knew that couldn’t keep him locked up in The Eyrie. No, he had things to do. He could send someone in his stead out west to Casterly Rock to speak with the Lannisters. It would have been far more discreet than going himself, but he was a firm believer of handling work himself. It was the only eay he could be assured that the alliance between House Arryn and House Lannister would be settled, so long as he was there to speak his peace and negotiate anything. The Eyrie would still be there when he would return, so long as his journey was a quiet one.

Accompanied by a small band of guards, Bastian had been riding west down the River Road. The plan was to avoid staying at the Crossroads Inn for the sake of avoiding to draw attention to themselves and instead, decided to stay at the Kneeling Man. With more than enough pay and the inn keeper’s word that his mouth would stay shut, Bastian settled for staying in a corner at the bar. His guards were nearby, at ease, but keeping an ever watchful eye over their lord as he took another pull of his drink. Nothing like the wine he had back in The Eyrie, but Bastian was open to expanding his palette.

Many strangers came and went, no one paying Bastian much mind. And he was satisfied with that; having a drink to himself before a night’s rest was his plan before they would return to the road. The soft murmurs of conversation were a constant sound at the inn, the patrons enjoying their drinks and conversing with themselves. Mostly talk of the King in the North’s coronation, a well spoken topic of conversation for those who weren’t there. Talk of phantom assassins and magic being the culprits, to which Bastian did his best to bite his tongue. Though the urge to speak was always far too strong.

Bastian had finished drinking from his cup, scooting it away from himself. “Amazing what people believe now days, isn’t it?” he murmured to the patron nearby. He knew he should have kept quiet, kept attention off of himself, but he was growing bored only listening to the conversations instead of being part of one. Or starting a much better one. “Granted I didn’t see the phantoms myself, but I’m sure that attack in The North wasn’t merely a ghost story to tell children at night.”

The cold expanse of The North was slowly being put behind him as he journied South once more with Starfall as his final destination, eventually. He was in little rush to return to the island that sat in the middle of the Torentine when it would only mean placing himself in the company of a man that he loathed and his patience was not yet up to scratch for him to be nearly prepared enough to try not to match his father’s ire with distaste and disdain of his own. Those feelings had only grown upon arriving at Winterfell and his fears of the plague of magic that was plaguing his country having spread were only confirmed. It simply seemed to prove him right that his father’s eyes would alwyas be facing inwards and no concern would ever be given to any outside of the Dayne’s lands.

The knight was unashamed of his dwadling when he felt as though he would be doing far more on his travels than he could ever accomplish back at home. Starfall was well protected with countless knights there ready to lie down their lives for those that were contained within their borders, as per his father’s orders. Oberyn felt little need for himself to be there too when he had already found himself to be of more use on the road helping where he could and doing his best to share what little knowledge he had on what had happened so that they could all be as prepared as was possible against this new thre

He had been spending some time in the Riverlands, mostly going unnoticed as he explored all that the kingdom had to off. It would have been impossible for him to pass through completely unnoticed when he was far too Dornish and wore Dawn too proudly but he had at least succeeded in not causing too much of a stir. After a day of helping some locals, Oberyn returned to the inn where he was staying only to immediate catch sight of what he thought was a familiar face, his suspicions confirmed when the man spoke. A drink is ordered and he sits casually a foot or so away, addressing the question asked before he launches into anything else. “Some would say believing is better than skepticism.”

It seems obvious to him that Lord Arryn is aiming for an air of incognito and for that reason alone he doesn’t clap him on the back like he usually would. Instead a slow drink is taken from his win before his gaze drifts back towards his friend when the attention is no longer focused on them. “It’s good to see you, old friend.” A grin spreads over his features as he stresses the word old, always seeking some opportunity to poke fun at someone he knew was aware of how to give as good as they got. “Though I cannot say I expected to see you so far from your mountains, have you finally decided to come down from your perch?”

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B A S T :

       THE FLEET CAPTAIN’S LEGS BUCKLED beneath his dead weight, and his blood-slick form slipped from Bast’s strong hold. Bent knees met hollow deck with a final knock, and the rest of him followed — limbs unfolding, weight sinking to the lowest points in a symphony of thuds and creaks. Rills of angry red slithered away from his victim’s grinning throat, following the wood grain faithfully. The skin would discolor where the dead blood pooled leaving an unrecognizable mass of meat, pitted and sallow and stinking in the hazy glow of the sun.

Bast took the silver purse tied to his belt, his gleaming daggers and cured leather sheathes. He took the polished, wooden lockbox from his death-stiff fingers, and the gilded little key he’d sewn into the layers of his coat. Lastly, the Faceless Man gifted his target’s deathly visage to the god he served; it belonged to him anyway.

As he slipped to the docks from the shrouded deck of that lonesome ship, he heard the sound of a serving girl’s scream. The crowd rushed the groaning pier, parting around him like sheets of water around an unmoving stone. He watched them with little interest, having collected what he’d come for. Another contract completed, but the guild would send another to greet him by morning’s unfailing light. With discerning eyes, he surveyed the grim faces of Pyke, those who had gathered at the water’s edge, and wondered how he might feasibly pass a night in such a PLACE.

The Iron Islands were not a place that the Dornishman had ever envisioned himself seeing and yet before making plans to return to Starfall he had received a raven from Lord Dayne himself giving him orders to make the trip to Pyke. The knight had known better to refuse when it was no doubt his father’s way of reinforcing his control after Oberyn had taken off to Winterfell after telling him not asking. In any case, he never turned down the opportunity to see somewhere new, even if it left him being nothing more than just a glorified messenger boy. 

His pride was not so much that he refused but he still made sure that there were no sigils of his house to be found on any of his clothes. The line was drawn at relinquishing Dawn into anyone else’s care though when it was without a doubt what he prized above all else, so his person devoid of signs of Dorne or Starfall would have to suffice.

It seemed to mostly have been successful as he had arrived on the rather bleak island to no fanfaredespite the suspicious looks that had been cast his way. Still, it had not interfered with his purpose there and once the letter was delivered, Oberyn returned to the docks to organise his passage home only to find them a flurry of activity. Dark eyes swept over the scene and his hand rested on Dawn’s pommel underneath his cloak as something of a precaution. It might not have been his kingdom but the oaths he’d sworn as a knight were ones he took seriously and all received his protection. Spotting someone who seemed to be as out of place as he was, the knight took a few steps forward to approach the stranger. “Good man, do you know what has happened here?”

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I have been reckless, but I have never been a rebel without a cause

Oberyn Dayne Aesthetic 2/?

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mushi-and-junior:

seven heavenly virtues: CHARITY [3/7]

(n.) generosity and helpfulness especially toward the needy or suffering

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“ some people long for a life that is simple and planned ”

  A brow raised at the words of Lady Blackwood, already wondering whether she counted herself among the numbers who longed for a life that forwent any sense of adventure and excitement in exchange for accepting and embracing normalcy and monotony. Their interaction had been far shorter than he would have liked but all the same, the brunette had not struck him as a woman who would take the easier, more travelled road instead of staying true to her beliefs. If his initial judgement of her proved to be false and the Lady from Raventree Hall did indeed prefer to follow the norm rather than break the mold, however slightly, the knight would feel some slight and echoing disappointment. Whether it would be for himself or for what she could have been he did not dwell on.

       Plans rarely factored into his life when following his impulses and making sure he did what he felt was right always triumphed over leading the life that had been expected from him. He was Deziel Dayne’s son in only name when the two were as different as night and day, Oberyn shunning almost everything plotted and precise while his father lived for schemes and careful orchestration. Perhaps that was why he had always possessed such an aversion to such talk when even just the mention of his father could taint even the most joyous of occasions. 

      Still, the knight had always strove to hold a certain open-mindedness, almost to spite his father for being set in his ways, and if the lady wished to hold such views he could not stop er. Everyone was entitled to their thoughts and feelings after all. Each as valid as the other even if he did disagree on such a deep level. A rare seriousness weighs down his words, almost as if he’s hoping that if she is at all undecided, that his words might push her more firmly away from the mediocre. “Simplicity can be beautiful or it can be caging. But I feel those people who long for it or pursue it never truly live.” 

    Even though it had been far from his intent, it still felt far too much like preaching and that went against his very core when the only person he’d ever railed against was sat down in Starfall. A grin is conjured up to combat the serious words and instead he allows himself to relapse into the more lighthearted countenance that he usually possesses. “But of course, my lady, the choice will always be yours. I just feel as though it would be something of a crime to deny the world of your wit and beauty when to follow a simple life would be so restricting.” It was easier to embrace his Dornishness and dig deeper into some teasing flirtation than to think about the wider implications of what had been said before.

Drabble starters can be found here (x) if you would like one

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skcgsra:

seven deadly sins: 1/7 wrath

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W Y A T T :

Wyatt looked at him as he gave typical knight’s answer; a brave one. In a flash, he was debating whether or not he would have shared his courage. So far, he considered himself lucky not attending, mostly supported by the fact that he already knew his family was safe. If hadn’t known that fact, would have wished to be present? If both Calder and Astrid should fall, the crown would pass on to him, so from a political point of view, it would be wisest to have at least one designated survivor. He could not yet decide whether that was a clever thought, or a cowardice one. Perhaps it was both. “Your answer is a brave one, Ser Oberyn.” He nodded with the slightest of smiles, not sharing the rest of his thought process with the good man.

“Your respect is very much appreciated.” He nodded with silent laughter. “Do you miss it? The warmth of Dorne? I must admit that I have never been, but I am familiar with the vast differences of the North and the South, the weather being the most obvious difference, of course.” Wyatt spoke as he broke the surface of the water by filling flask. He took a sip, refilled it again and closed the flask. “I suppose it is, yes.” He grinned a bit. Usually, the North had been referred to as Calder’s kingdom, or Braddock’s kingdom before that and Elias’ kingdom even before that. His name was the only male name that did not make that list, as he was merely a prince and not the king. “That is, until now? I do suppose that the recent attacks would call for more protection for everyone. Yet, I fail to understand just how we can ensure our protection.” He looked at the knight, hopeful that his Dornish wisdom would supply knowledge that the North was lacking at the moment.

A smile flashes onto his lips before his head dips slightly to acknowledge the praise even if he is quick to downplay his stance when he’s almost certain that his bravery borders on recklessness the majority of the time. “Some would say brave, others would say foolish but if nothing else it was an honest one.” Oberyn’s expression then brightened, something more animated and self deprecating taking over. “I would not be a very good knight if I did not know how to show respect, now would I?” The thought of Dorne was always a fond one to him, even if Starfall left him with a bitter taste in his mouth but he had seen many places and found something to like about almost all of them. Sometimes it was just a case of looking hard enough but that was part of the excitement of it all. “It is home so there will always be some kind of ache in me when I’m away from it, just as I would bet that you miss the cold when you are away from it. But it is not so much that I cannot admire new places also and each place has its own charms whether North, South, East or West. You should take the opportunity to travel whenever you next have it, your highness, it is rare for a place to disappoint.”

Oberyn has no idea what it is like to be the youngest son having grown up weighted down by the expectation that he would one day rule after his father. It was something he had relinquished so easily and yet part of him wondered if the young prince would seize the opportunity if it came his way. “More yours than mine in any case. I’m not sure how quickly Northerners would claim me as one of their own.” Memories of the private war that Dorne was fighting against a mysterious enemy instantly came to mind and they had been his main motivation for heading North, needing to know if it was only his kingdom being targeted or it was now the whole of Westeros that needed protection. “Not easily but I felt I needed to hear more about the attacks from their source if we are to have some hope of defeating the assailants.”

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T A E R A :

Travel to and from the North would be all but impossible by land if it were not for the causeway. The only dry stretch of road through the Neck connecting the rest of Westeros and the North. It was not uncommon that people, all sorts of people traveled back and forth on these roads daily nor was it uncommon that the crannogmen watched all of them. People did not see them nor would they every rightly be able to pick the person out from the trees or separate them from the landscape. Crannogmen were always incredibly crafty in that regards, spotting you and the bulk of your party before you could even think to believe someone might just be watching you from the unforgiving land on either side of you no matter how pretty. Since the phantom attack, shadows that would think to be so bold Taera had tightened security and double the amount of scout watching the road though no traveler would ever feel the increase of the number of eyes that made sure no one were to try anything at least no one would try anything now by the main road - the only discernible road.

She herself though had personally been watching this man; informed of his arrival onto the road traveling this way North when it seemed so many were eager in fact to flee South. That alone was very suspicious to her, perking her interest and her ears at the report of a Dornish night, the sword in the morning they said coming to the cold north. Normally she would only observe, send the report to his majesty and continue to have one of her agents once this traveler reached hard ground to keep an eye one him. Yet she found herself slipping free from her perch along the road. In an effortless movement Taera landed on the ground making little to no sound, smacking the dust off of her breeches. Her clothes were very non descript bearing no sigil of her great house nor any indication that she belonged to any great nobility but Taera appeared to be like anyone else. It would be unwise though to assume that just because she appeared to be a common woman that uncommonly wore a very nice, tight pair of leather breeches that she was not heavily armed. For some reason though she wanted to interact with this man, understand his reasons for traveling and all that he was about from a closer vantage point.

“No - no need to clean yourself up for me. I am but a woman traveling North same as you are.” Taera spoke peeling back her hood to reveal fiery red locks of auburn hair and a pair of unusually spectacular green eyes. It would be his mistake to assume she was no one; just some peasant girl that preferred pants to skirts. “I am traveling to see relatives in wintertown”

He might have chosen to leave Starfall alone but it was only because he had no intention of letting another knight face his father’s wrath simply for indulging his son in his rashness and inability to follow an order for long. For all his flaws and that pride that he was sure would one day be his downfall, he had no intention of bringing anyone else down with him when he wasn’t blind to the consequences that he actions might have. To call him selfless would perhaps be a step too far when he had his own motivations, needs and desires driving everything that he did but it would have been unfair to call him selfish and he had never been one to knowingly lead another into danger blindly or set them up for a fall if they were undeserving of it. If there were going to be repercussions he would face them on his own and not endanger someone else when the whole motivation behind pursuing knighthood over lordship had been to prevent death and protect as many as he could across the whole of Westeros, his eyes not as blinded by Starfall as his father. 

Independence was what he truly valued, not being alone as perhaps his reputation would suggest. Oberyn was not a man who relished solitude when he did so well in the company of others - thriving off their energy and using it to charge his own further. He knew how to enjoy himself and it was always only improved when there were others by his side whether he was familiar with them or not. Strangers could quickly become friends if cards were played right and the knight had made plenty of those with his travels across most of Westeros. Strangers were always greeted with a smile until they gave him reason otherwise and the redhead before him was no exception.

He had grown used to people never being quite what they seemed when everyone had something to hide so while he didn’t question the woman outright, a brow was still raised almost playfully. “But a woman? That means very little to me when there’s no telling how interesting someone could be and it always helps if I at least look the part.” She was striking, there was no doubt about it and while he had no proof if he had any money to bet, Oberyn wouldn’t hesitate to place it on her not being just a peasant. “What luck, my destination is Winterfell so perhaps we can keep one another company along the way? I can promise to be the best of travel companions.”

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Swallow your pride, you will not die, it’s not poison.

Tombstone Blues, Bob Dylan (via amortizing)

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N Y M E R I A :

nymeria’s lips curled in wry amusement as she pulled her winter furs tightly around her neck. the ease in which he spoke was somewhat refreshing after so many tightlipped smiles goodbye–eyes blinking rapidly to keep the threat of tears at bay. so many people had lost something, but primary among those things lost was the false sense of safety that nobles cultivated like grain. a soft conversation was welcomed after such dark tidings. she wondered if the ash still clung to the tapestries–scent lingering long after the dead.

at his comment, nymeria’s eyes narrowed curiously, smile unwavering on her lips. the expression was not a glare, but a discerning look as she tried to read the man. certainly, she was unsure of the sincerity of such praise and she relaxed her expression, gesturing to the scenery. “i am sure the river and its many beauties do not fault you for disarray.” a wry smirk pulled at one corner of her lips tighter than the other as she gave him a dubious look, adjusting her gloves, boots chose their steps carefully among the wetter spots on the ground. despite the footwork, nymeria managed to maintain some semblance of grace on her feet.

“does your service include such embellishments as well as your courtesies, ser dayne?” she chuckled at the bow when she was near enough to have polite conversation. several of her men looked on, trudging through the mud in a manner that lacked the intention her steps had made. grateful for their presence though she was, she could leave their transparently suspicious glances on the kingsroad. while a pragmatic attitude to have of strange knights conversing with their lady. she offered ser dayne a soft bow of her head with a polite curtsy that had been broken in during her time in winterfell.

eyebrows rose in surprise, a soft scoff caught in her throat, at his comment. cheeky though he was, she had only heard such comments from those who hoped to garner her favor or else–in the times she was able to escape her duties to study proper medicine–from peasants who either meant to flatter or unnerve her. she gave him a long look before choosing her words carefully, another turn of phrase in her skirts. “my smallfolk have often said that i am fair and just.” eyes dancing to the river, she smiled back at him. “and to choose not to deny me the pleasure of your company, it would seem that you too, ser knight, are fair.”

“there is no one person who could have prevented or interrupted such tragedies.” their lives were snuffed out in the span of a breath. logic alone dictated the fact, but there was a tempered tenderness in her tone as well. no one set of shoulders was sculpted of flesh and blood inside a mother’s womb to bear the weight of the world alone. it did not prevent her from the same self-blame, but she could at least assuage the feeling in others. “you heard correctly, i regret to tell you, ser. i fear that many will hold their tongues about such events for fear of sounding mad.” and, truly, they would not be unwise to. somethings necessitated one’s sight to believe.

Growing up, his mannerisms and ways of handling a situation had been the norm, with his father an exception when the rest of Dorne all seemed to burn as hot as the weather of their kingdom. His mother had worked to impress some values upon him and the odd lesson had been heeded but Oberyn still knew that no matter how well behaved he tried to be, there would always be an air of the impulsive and unpredictable about him. It always fascinated him how those from further north would handle his nature and it would be a lie to say that he didn’t enjoy making a habit of pushing them all to see how far they would let him go simply out of the politeness that they all seemed to cling to so tightly.

As it was, this lady was managing to combat him pretty well. She was clever, he would give her that but instead of her twisting of his words dissuading him they only encouraged him by setting something of an challenge for him unintentionally. If she was going to be determined to interpret his words the way she wished, he would simply have to make each word he said count and his meaning evident. “While the river and view are truly something to behold, it was you that I was most conscious of appearing in this state in.”

The grin on his face is unfailing, not even her avoidance of his flattery enough to deter him when she had still moved closer either in spite or because of it. “My service includes whatever you desire, my lady.” Head is dipped slightly as he plays it all up, gazing out across the river once more with an over-exaggerated shrug as he turned. “But I suppose I always have a bit of flair just by default.” Volatile was something that those who were around him often knew him to be but despite that his good nature usually triumphed over it and he had never seen any reason to hold back any of his emotions least of all when they were only well intended. 

People had always interested Oberyn, each one with their own strengths and flaws and to dismiss anyone as boring was simply the easy route. People were complicated, puzzles that he had fun trying to crack until someone else caught his attention. As it was, Lady Nymeria had his full attention and the information she gives about what her commonfolk say about her is telling. There may have been others whose lips he might have been sceptical about the truth but she had a sincerity about her that made him want to believe that they were true. “Then you are fair in both meanings of the word.” Grinning unashamedly, the knight continues. “Fair is being generous for me, I feel, see it’s actually me satisfying my curiosity rather selfishly.”

The joy and brightness in his features is lost once again as seriousness overtakes them, the thought of all the loss of life more than sobering enough. “That simply makes them all the worse.” It was a rare occasion that Oberyn weighted his words down with sombreness or a sense of responsibility but he did so with a hint of earnestness when he felt the need to prevent as much harm as possible from coming to anyone. “Then those who were there will simply have to take it upon themselves to ensure that no one is unaware and walks blindly into danger. Until the perpetrators are caught we have no guarantee of anyone’s safety.”

[swordxfthemorning]

🙋 + marriage

Since he relinquished his claim to Starfall there is little to no pressure on Oberyn to now get married and produce an heir. It’s something that he hasn’t given a lot of thought to when his priorities are elsewhere and his desire to protect sees him travelling the length and breadth  of Westeros. However, it’s not something he’s opposed to either and should he find someone that he could see himself being faithful to for the rest of his life then he would consider it. He does know though that his position as a knight means that whatever he could have provided for any potential partners is significantly reduced so he would have to be certain that they would be happy by his side once that is taken into account.

[swordxfthemorning]

"🙋" + love

      Oberyn was born with passion in his veins and before he had reached eighteen he had lost count of the times he claimed that love had struck him down and had a string of lovers to go with all of the feelings he felt so deeply. However, most of the time they were just passing infatuations and now that he’s older and that little bit wiser he’s started to discern interest and intrigue for actual affection. 

    When asked about the depth of his feelings for those that he’s no longer with, Oberyn will no longer say that he was in love with them but that he loved them and that he could still name three things about each of them that he loved - the things that had drawn him to them in the first place. Even now he finds it easy to pick out attributes in people that he considers positive and attractive.