Chapter Text
At the tender age of twenty one, Oberyn had already had a few scares in his life. There’d been the almost-caught-in-flagrante-with-the-teacher thing back in school, the pregnancy hoax when he’d been eighteen, the time he’d almost been caught in bed with the wife of one of his mother’s business associates, the actual pregnancy; and probably even more messes than he could remember.
(But he had no doubt that Doran could.)
None of that, however, had prepared him for this morning.
It had started wonderfully, at first – waking up in a soft bed with a warm body by his side, mind still pleasantly buzzed after the party of the night before; and then he slowly turned his head to see…
“Holy fuck.”
Of all the people in the world.
“What?” said his bed companion. A beautiful woman, without a doubt, but a beautiful woman who was definitely not Ashara Dayne.
“What?” she asked again, sounding far too amused for… whatever time it was. And so he told her.
“You’re not Ashara Dayne,” Oberyn said, which, okay, nowhere as smooth as he usually was. But shit. He recognized the girl as Lyanna Stark, who had dated Elia’s ex for a while and who was the reason why the Targaryen slimeball had enjoyed a lengthy stay in the hospital, courtesy of Lyanna’s brother Brandon.
He definitely wasn’t scared, but he might be nervous. A little.
“I’m not Ashara Dayne,” Lyanna Stark agreed, with far more grace than any girl should after such a line. But she was also looking like she found the entire situation hilarious, and maybe that was it. Maybe she was just crazy. “Do you often have problems distinguishing other women from Ashara Dayne?”
There were a thousand things he could have said – it had been dark, he had been drunk, Lyanna’s mask the previous night hadn’t been much different from Ashara, and after that, when she’d taken it off, it had been too dark. And really, it wasn’t his fault that place had so many rooms with so many doors that all looked the same. Shella’s family place – called Harrenhall by her pretentious parents – had to have at least twenty bedrooms. A man could get confused there, especially after a few glasses of wine.
“Okay how about this,” Oberyn said, because she had started it. “Do you often sleep with people who think you are Ashara Dayne?”
He was expecting a glare there, or maybe a punch – she was Brandon Stark’s sister after all – but Lyanna just laughed. Yeah, she was definitely crazy.
“I’m on the rebound, I’m allowed to do stupid things,” she shrugged. “Besides, and someone will end up telling Robert,” Lyanna threw him a gleeful little smile. “He started it first and man,” her smile widened. “He really, really doesn’t like you.”
Dead, he thought. He was so dead.