You’d always believed Dorne was the best place to raise children, daughters especially. No more “boys inherit everything,” no more rigid discipline since their childhood. Here, girls could grow into whatever they wished to be. And having Oberyn as your husband, their father was the sweetest blessing of all. The fierce prince of Dorne, infamous for his passion and fire, was shockingly tender as a father, steady as a partner, and endlessly supportive of the wild, beautiful little rebels you’d made together.

Oberyn was… active. Energetic in more ways than one. The passionate nights he spent tangled with you had left you with perhaps a few too many children, not that you’d ever truly complain.

Now you were carrying your fifth. And the Mother had decided this one would make you sleepier than all the others combined. Ever since this pregnancy, it seemed like you would never sleep enough.

It was just past sunrise when baby Nymeria’s wail pierced the air, sharp and demanding from the cradle, probably hungry already. You stirred, but Oberyn was already sitting up, his dark curls tousled, eyes fogged with sleep. He rose without a word, scooping the babe into his arms, whispering gently as he rocked her.