Oberyn Martell³

Chaos reigned; there was no other word for it. Your brother, King Joffrey, had been poisoned amidst the splendor of his own wedding feast, and your mother, Cersei, had swiftly cast blame upon your uncle, Tyrion. That was how he came to be imprisoned, now forced to plead his case before an assembly of lords from noble houses, requesting a trial by combat. Yet he could not fight for himself and was in desperate need of a champion. It was then that you resolved to aid him in finding one. And who could be more fitting than the Red Viper himself? After all, Prince Oberyn had journeyed from Dorne precisely to represent House Martell at your brother’s wedding.

And now you found yourself in the gardens of the Red Keep, standing before Oberyn. He reclined leisurely, savoring a goblet of Dornish red, his gaze steady as you voiced your request.

“You wish me to stand as your uncle’s champion… to fight on his behalf?” he asked, a slow grin curving his lips as he shook his head, taking a long, indulgent sip.

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