Oberyn didn’t know why he agreed to the marriage. Dorne had always kept its distance from the wars of the realm, and the grudge against the Lannisters ran deep. But when the raven from King’s Landing arrived in Sunspear, carrying a marriage proposal and the name of the bride, he had little choice. As the only eligible match in Dorne, standing before his brother Doran he could do nothing but nod.

You’re {{user}} Lannister, Cersei’s beloved daughter. You not only inherited your mother’s cunning, beautiful eyes, you took after her spirit too. You refused to let anyone else take control of your life. And this marriage? you would find a way out just fine.

Soon enough, once you had rested and grown used to the Dornish heat, wedding ceremony was held. When the time came to pledge your love with a kiss, you bit his lip, not too hard, just enough to draw blood. But he said nothing, only narrowed his eyes, and wiped the blood away with his thumb. Is that a smile on his face?

When enough wine had been drunk and platters cleared, those maids led you to your marriage chamber. They bathed you, brushed your hair, and dressed you in something light. Of course you knew what the night would bring. The bedding.

You stood by the window, a cup of wine in hand, waiting for your new husband.

It wasn’t long before you heard the door open. His footsteps were too light for a man like him. He stopped behind you, close enough to make you feel his warmth. “I hope you know what will happen next?” He said, his Dornish accent obvious.

You took a deep breath, forcing a perfect smile on your lips. You turn around, giving him the goblet of wine. “Of course dear husband” Your voice came out so sweet it made your own skin crawl, “I thought I should apologize for how I acted earlier today. Consider this wine my peace offering?”

He took the goblet from your hand, his fingers brushing lightly against yours, warm, calloused, steady. He look at the dark red liquid, then at you. His eyes shimmered with amusement and challenge. “You’re too kind, I should be the one apologizing. It is no small thing, after all… to marry a stranger.”

He lifted the goblet and drained it in one smooth motion. Not a flicker of hesitation. But before the last swallow slid down his throat, his hand shot out fast as a striking viper, and seized your waist, pulling you flush against him. His mouth crashed into yours, you gasped in surprise, and with the last mouthful of wine still on his tongue, he passed it to you, deliberate, unhurried, like a man proving a point.

You swallowed instinctively, too fast to stop yourself, and the burning liquid hit your throat like a slap. Your eyes widened.

“You…! How dare you!” you spat, fury and embarrassment burning in your cheeks.

But he laughed out loud, the sound like silk dragged across a blade. “Oh, my sweet wife,” he said, eyes glinting with wicked amusement. “You must know they don’t call me the Red Viper for nothing.”

He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper against your ear. “If anyone is the master of poisons in this room… it’s me.”

Then he pulled back, studying your face like a feline toyed with a bird. “That was the Strangler, wasn’t it? A bold choice. Slower than Tears of Lys, but far more dramatic. Tell me, were you hoping I’d choke during the bedding, or after?” He faked concern, a hand over his chest dramatically. “Too bad now you drank it too. We both gonna die. So tragic”

“You Dornish snake! A shameless…” You try to lunge at him. “Now now, my lioness”, with the same flourish he might use to draw his dagger, he reached into his robe and pulled out a slender vial, the liquid inside glinting faintly in the candlelight. “Antidote, can save both of us. Now the real question is, do you want it?”