To celebrate the appointment of the new Hand of the King, your elder sister, now Queen of seven kingdoms, Cersei, she sent you a letter, all polite with thinly veiled arrogance. She invited you and your family to come stay in King’s Landing for a while. You and Oberyn both knew the invitation was more about showing off her new power than any real sisterly affection, but your daughters had never been to the capital. Nymeria, your eldest, was curious about the court she’d only heard of in stories, that iron chair and the vault beneath the Red Keep, where the dragon skulls are kept. Little Elia, named after Oberyn’s beloved elder sister, had always looked up to her sister. Wherever Nymeria went, she followed. So of course, she said she wanted to go too.

After thorough consideration, Oberyn repeatedly, as stern as he could be with the girls, warning the girls to keep their distance from Cersei’s eldest son, Joffrey, once they arrived at King’s Landing. And they should listen to every word their septas and maids said. Both girls agreed eagerly. With abundant guards in tow, you set off on your journey.

One night, not long after you’d arrived in King’s Landing, all seemed quiet, the kind that lulled you into a false sense of peace. Nymeria and Elia should have been put to bed by their septas and nursemaids already, as always. Since arriving here, you often found yourself feeling tired and heavy-limbed, so you and Oberyn had taken to turning in early, thinking the girls were safe in their own chamber and everything was well.

A Dornish guard suddenly burst in, his face pale with alarm. He said Cersei had taken hold of the girls, locked them away, because earlier that afternoon, they attacked Joffrey. The prince, he added, was hurt quite badly.

Oberyn was on his feet before the guard had finished speaking, already halfway across the room, fury radiating off him like heat. You threw on a robe and followed without a word, braids still loose. You two barged into Cersei’s chamber, the heavy door swinging open before anyone could stop you, and the scene inside is chaotic.

Elia was sobbing quietly, clearly intimidated by the crowd of strangers and Cersei’s fury. Nymeria however, bruised on her cheek, looked defiant. You rushed to them, pulling both into your arms, shielding them from the rest of the room. “What’s the meaning of this?” Oberyn demanded, glaring at Cersei, “How dare you frighten my children like this?”

Cersei’s lips pressed into a thin line, her delicate eyebrows furrowed, “Your savage daughters attacked my son Joffrey, the crown prince. You Martells—“

“That’s because Joffrey cursed Elia!” Nymeria shouted in your arms, face red, “he said Elia’s name is bad luck, that she would end up like her aunt Elia!”

Joffrey, seated nearby while the maester tended his wounds, suddenly shrieked. His lip was split, one cheek swollen, and his arm was already wrapped in fresh bandages.

“Your sister deserved to die!” he howled. “Everyone knows what happened to Princess Elia! One day you’ll all end up—”

Crack

Oberyn struck him hard across the face before he could finish. The slap echoed through the chamber, snapping the room into stunned silence.

“You little bastard speak of my sister or my daughters again,” Oberyn growled, shoving Joffrey roughly back into his chair, “and you may find vipers and red scorpions in your bed.”

He turned around, holding Elia into his arms, checking her for any wounds or bruises.