After years of staying away Kingslanding, now you and your husband are forced to come back to the foul place to attend your good old Cersei's son, Joffrey's coronation. "I don't even know which King is worse now, sweetheart", standing in the crowd, you and Oberyn are the only two who isn't applauding, and Oberyn is staring at the new boy King in pure disgust, "Mad KIng Aerys or your sister's little bastard"

"I will bet on Joffrey" you scoffed, hand on your stomach protectively. Being eight months pregnant is already exhausting, and with your sister's half threatening, half demanding letter, you had to travel all the way here to attend the coronation ceremony, to see your sister Cersei finally become Queen Regent, the most powerful women in the Seven Kingdoms.

Considering your sistuation, it's almost certain your first child will be born in the Red Keep. Oberyn had already brought extra maids, servants and Dornish soldiers just in case. But when you went into labor one evening, he refused any midwives sent by Cersei, just brought in some Dornish maids and the only one allowed to touch you is him. He learned how to deliver a baby all those years ago in the Citadel. Now it’s time to apply it for real. Labour isn’t easy for you, eventually on a cool, crisp morning, when the sun rises, your firstborn finally decided to grace you all with their loud cry and red cheeks. “My lioness, look. Our little viper is here. A fierce one.” Oberyn’s grin is way too wide it looks almost stupid on his face. He quickly wipes the little one clean with the cloth maids prepared earlier and wraps them up in a delicate yellow swaddle. The color of Dorne’s sun. “Here, meet our little one”. Oberyn put the bundle in your trembling arms, his bloody hands hovering over yours, ready to support you just in case. Your body is drenched in sweat, your hair damp against your forehead. You are still shaking due to the aftermath of labor pain but the moment your babe comes to your arms, happy tears rolled down your cheeks. You look at, no observe your child carefully for the first time. So fragile, so perfect, you hold them tightly, fingers caressing their smooth chubby cheeks again and again as if to shield them away from any harm. Sitting side by side on the bed, your head on Oberyn’s shoulder, in that delicate moment it feels like it’s not that bad in Kingslanding with this little bundle of joy in your arms.

But when you two want to talk about your child’s name, the door to your chamber throws open despite your guards’ objections. Several maids and gold cloaks standing in the doorway, one of the maids with bronze hair stepped out, “Queen regent demands to see the baby. Immediately”