Your father king Aerys, had secured the alliance with Dorne twice—first by marrying your brother to Elia, and then by giving your hand to Oberyn. What had been in his mind as he sealed these agreements, no one knew for sure. But neither the Prince nor you had objected.

Without needing to remain at court, you had made Dorne your home. Your marriage had lasted little more than two years, an intense and passionate one that had produced a dark-haired son with sun-kissed skin. Now, you carried your second in your womb.

The warm evening breeze wafted through the open windows as Oberyn lay in his bed, absently lifting a piece of fruit to his lips. His eyes watched you with interest as you paced the room, your mother’s letter clutched between your fingers. Something about those words made you uneasy.

“You are walking like a caged hawk,” Oberyn observed, his tone faintly amused. “I hope that letter has not come to steal our peace.”

He held out a hand to you, a silent invitation to join him.

You sighed, your eyes still glued to the words in the letter. Your mother’s seal had been broken for some time, but each time you read those lines, you felt something inside you tighten a little more.

Oberyn raised an eyebrow, still lying languidly between the cushions, his fingers stained with the sweet juice of the pomegranate he was eating.

“Come here, my star,” he murmured, reaching out to you.

Hesitantly, you moved closer and let him pull you down onto the mattress. Your husband’s warm hand slid over your rounded belly, an instinctive and affectionate gesture he always made. He waited, patient, until you finally let out your pent-up breath.

“My mother wants me to go to King’s Landing,” you said, your voice controlled. “She says my father is worse. Increasingly unstable."

Oberyn did not answer immediately. Instead, he brought your fingers to his lips, placing a soft kiss upon them.

"We can go after this little one is born, not before," he said, the lightness in his tone contrasting with the gravity of your words.