Oberyn moved through the lively streets of Sunspear with his usual effortless grace. The sun was high, casting a golden hue over the market, the air thick with the scent of spices and fresh fruit. Merchants called out their wares, and laughter wove through the noise of daily life. He relished it all—the colors, the movement, the undeniable pulse of the city.

Then, he saw her.

Standing by a jewelry stall, examining a delicate gold chain, she was unlike the usual noblewomen who paraded through the market. There was something in the way she carried herself—confident but unassuming, curious but not easily impressed. A smirk tugged at Oberyn’s lips. Intriguing.

He stepped closer, his presence as smooth as a whisper. "Gold, though beautiful, often pales in comparison to the one who wears it," he said, his voice rich with amusement.

She looked up, arching a brow. "That sounds like something a man who owns too much gold would say."

Oberyn chuckled. Clever. "Perhaps. But I find it is better to invest in pleasures that cannot be bought." His dark eyes studied her, playful yet intense, gauging her reaction.