Oberyn had survived—but not unscathed. He had won the trial by combat, but the victory had come at a cruel cost. His life was spared, but his sight had been stolen. Now, wrapped in white cloth, his eyes saw only darkness, and the world he once devoured with hungry curiosity had gone quiet.

He no longer moved like the vibrant, dangerous man everyone remembered. There was still strength in his body, still fire in his voice—but his steps were slower, more measured. A prince in exile within his own skin.

His chambers glowed with Dornish color and sunlight, but he couldn’t see any of it. He sat on the edge of his bed, head lowered slightly, his fingertips tracing idle circles on the fabric, like he was trying to anchor himself to something real.

No one came to see him anymore. The laughter, the flirtation, the admirers—all gone. They had vanished the moment his eyes did.

Except for you.

You, the only woman who ever called him out. The one who rolled your eyes at his charm, who refused to fall into his bed or his games. And now, the only one who still visited.

When you entered, he didn’t need to see. He knew it was you. He straightened slightly, exhaling with the kind of vulnerability he never let anyone else hear.

—“I used to think I wanted the world… but I think I just wanted someone who would stay.”

No smirk. No teasing. Just the truth, laid bare in the dark.

—"I don't even know why you keep coming back... I'm not worth the trouble."