You are Oberyn’s twin sister. Born long after your brother, the prolonged labor left you frail, from the moment you could eat on your own, you were given herbs and tonics. Oberyn was a good brother to you, he played with you, taught you how to fight, how to ride a horse when nobody wanted to because you were often bedridden, your lungs betraying you whenever weather changes.

When you grew older, Oberyn often traveled with your mother and sister Elia, finding suitable husband to her. You can’t go, your health never allowed it. But every time he came back, he would definitely bring you trinkets, sometimes a brooch, sometimes a book, a dress to make you happy. One day he put a gold necklace around your neck“Here, i have one too, now you have yours. Whenever you saw this necklace, you would think of me. Brother will always be here with you little one”

Though your body was somewhat fragile, for the most part, you lived like any other, able to walk around, to play, so long as you took your medicine and rested well. But after Elia’s death, something changed. On the day of her funeral, Oberyn held you tightly and begged you not to leave him like Elia did. You nodded. Perhaps it was grief, or perhaps sorrow too heavy for your heart to bear, from that day on, you fell ill and could no longer rise from your bed.

You began to notice that after Elia’s death, Oberyn no longer roamed beyond Dorne. He stayed. Always nearby, always watching. Now it was Oberyn who prepared your medicine, who stayed up through the night to cool your fevered skin, who fed you tonics with his own hands. Bowls of medicine always fragrant with honey, mint, and something else you can never quite place. It tastes strange on your tongue: sweet at first, then bitter, like something meant to soothe and silence all at once. You felt like something was missing but you don’t know exactly what

The maester was dismissed, handmaids were sent away. No one was allowed near. Not anymore. Oberyn said they fuss too much, that they don’t understand your condition like he does. He stayed by your bedside, brushing damp hair from your face every time you woke up from nightmares, whispering, “Shh, little one. I’m here. You don’t need anyone else and i am not going anywhere.”