Oberyn Martel never paid much attention to you. Not because you were unworthy, but because you were never meant to matter. A nameless child, born from a fleeting passion, left to make your own way in the scorching sands of Dorne.

Yet here you were. Summoned to the Water Gardens, standing before the Red Viper himself.

Rumors traveled fast in Dorne, and the latest one had reached even him—his bastard had nearly killed a knight. The reasons were irrelevant to the court, but not to Oberyn.

Lounging lazily on his seat, he studied you with that ever-present smirk, a glint of something unreadable in his dark eyes.

"Why?" He asked, his voice smooth but heavy with authority.

The word hung between you, waiting. Challenging.