Chapter Text
Lyanna gasped as Oberyn landed a hard hit on her upper arm, causing him to frown and lower his practice sword. “What’s wrong with you today? I’ve seen you block much harder strikes than that one.”
Lyanna glared at the ground, clearly frustrated.
“Lyanna?”
“Robert Baratheon has asked my father to betroth me to him,” she eventually admitted.
Oberyn wasn’t surprised by the news. He had, after all, seen the Storm Lord looking at Lyanna as though she were the Maid made flesh. The man made no secret of his…feelings for the young woman. “You knew this was going to happen eventually,” he said softly.
“Well I didn’t think it would be so soon, and I’d hoped it would never happen at all.”
He gave her a weary smile. “In any case, what do you plan on doing now that it has happened?”
“Can we please just go back to sparring?”
“Why, so I can keep hitting you? You’re too distracted to learn anything.” It was true. She had seemed upset at the beginning of their session, but he’d dismissed it, choosing to go ahead with their lesson. That had been a mistake. She had been unfocused from the start, making mistakes she hadn’t made since he had first started training her. She wouldn’t learn anything in such a state.
He couldn’t blame her though; no one – least of all, Lyanna – deserved to be married off to an oaf like Robert Baratheon. Lyanna needed her freedom far too much to be married to that fool. The marriage would kill her slower, and more painfully than any poison. The thought made Oberyn feel sick. “So, what do you plan to do?”
Lyanna frowned. “What can I do? My father wants me to marry, and Robert is the Lord of Storm’s End. He thinks it a good match. He’s always wanted a Southron alliance, and after the crowning incident, he wrote Brandon that he wants me at betrothed as soon as possible to avoid a scandal.”
Oberyn was had never seen Lyanna look so defeated. Her lovely face was set in despair, and her shoulders were hunched as though the entire world were weighing on her. It was a disturbing change from the fierce, courageous young woman he had come to care for; the woman who had been willing to spar with the Red Viper, while there existed grown men too scared to do so. “Your father can’t possibly think that you had anything to do with Rhaegar’s idiocy,” he said.
Lyanna gave him a bitter smile. “It really doesn’t matter if he believes the rumours or not; though, I’m sure he doesn’t. What matters is that other people believe them, and it’s bad for the family name.”
“He values the opinions of others over your happiness? I can’t even imagine forcing one of my own daughters into a marriage.”
Her smile softened, “Not all fathers give as much weight to their childrens’ opinions as you do, Oberyn. My father loves me, but he thinks that I’ll grow to like Robert eventually, and that my current complaints are just stubbornness.”
Oberyn moved to sit against a tree, and motioned to her to sit as well. “You won’t, though.” He was certain of that.
She smiled mockingly as she sat. “Oh, but he says he loves me, Oberyn. And that love has nothing to do with him being delusional. He just knows me so well. I’m a kind, delicate Northern lady with just enough willfulness to be interesting, but not enough to ever make me disagree with him.” Oberyn smirked, and her smile widened, though it was still a sad parody of her usual grin. “And, of course, I will stop all of this fighting nonsense as soon as I’m married. I will realize that I’m being ridiculous, and turn to more womanly pursuits.”
Oberyn scoffed at that. “Womanly pursuits, seven hells Lya, can you even do those?”
She elbowed him lightly in the side, finally giving him a real grin. “Of course I can, stupid! I’m actually rather good at sewing and needlework, but don’t ever ask me to write poetry. I’m absolutely wretched at it.”
He laughed. “I won’t ask then. I promise.”
They slipped into silence then, and Lyanna’s situation finally began to sink in for Oberyn. He couldn’t stand the idea of her marrying the Storm Lord. The fool didn’t deserve her in the least. She was kind, and witty, and so very brave. There was only one solution he could think of.
Oberyn tried to find something to say. “Can’t your father find you someone else? I’m sure you have other options.”
“There are other men who have offered, but no other options, as far as my father is concerned. Marrying Robert would make me the Lady of Storm’s End, and it would give my father a better alliance than he could hope to get by marrying me to anyone else. ”
Oberyn looked over at her, and made his decision.
“What if you married a prince?”