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msmorningstaarr · 5 months

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Holy and Heathen - 6 (Defiance.)

Pairing: young!Oberyn MartellxF!Original Hightower Character

Word count: 5.7k

Chapter Warnings: domestic violence;

ao3 | masterlist

SUMMARY: Lady Melara Hightower is the youngest daughter of Lord Leyton Hightower and has a distinct, serious and pious personality. She is sent to serve the Faith as a Septa, but her destiny suddenly changes once she becomes betrothed to the heir of Dorne, Prince Oberyn Martell. She sees herself living in a land far from hers with distinct habits, dealing with many divergences and a husband far more wild than she could ever expect. Would she be capable of lighting the way of her mind and heart?

(Except for Melara Hightower, all characters do not belong to me but to George RR Martin, author of the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' book series.)

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody

Before you read: I'm so sorry taking so long to update. Life has been a mess lately but here I stand! Thank you all who wished me well on my last post. <3

Melara

“You look marvellous, my princess.” Melessa finished braiding the last section of her lady’s hair in front of the mirror. Melara touched her skin gently, feeling the slight sensation of overheating.

“Thank you, Melessa.” Melara said, still looking at her own reflection. The heat burning her skin provoked the flush on her cheeks due to the intense sun of Dorne. The princess stood up, pushing the fabric on her tail so it wouldn’t get stuck on the small bench in front of her vanity.

“The dornish climate agrees with you, princess.” Lys grinned, joining her hands in awe with Melara, who nodded calmly.

“I fear I’m not as accustomed as I thought I would be with the weather, in truth,” Melara replied, caressing the silk covering her body. Her garment was red with a silk that came from Qarth, no sleeves and a cleavage bigger than usual. Although her curves were often praised, Melara felt uncomfortable with so many parts of her body on display. One way or another, Oberyn expressed his desire to see Melara with more dresses that exposed her body and wearing jewellery with pendants in the shape of suns. The princess found his request reasonable and wore it to honour him, even when he was not around.

The marriage so far was not the worst thing that could happen to her. Oberyn lavished her with gold, gifts and dresses to amend their complex beginning and his current absence. He sang for her in the nights they coupled and was slow in the moment, never taking her clothes off or trying to do the things that made her feel distressed. He penetrated her with ease, spreading her legs and eagerly going in and out between the apex of her thighs, making Melara forget for some brief moment all the thoughts in her mind. The dornish Prince seemed slightly annoyed by the incessant wish to not do bedding on his way, but he had no other option but to respect her.

“It is only a matter of time, my princess.” Megga said, applying some lavender oil in her lady’s fists and behind her ears. “We seem to be living inside the sun, but Dorne is beautiful.”

Melara nodded and curved her lips on a coy smile. “I am not sure if my skin will handle the weather. Oldtown was not as warm as Dorne is.”

She missed the wind. Even in the Water Gardens, where she was surrounded by exotic trees, their shadows and pools, the heat was overwhelming. She missed the Starry Sept, her simple attire, her small window and the matutine breeze she would feel when she was praying before her chores. Even missed Lya spilling a handful of words. Even missed Hightower, with Lynesse and Alysanne laughing at her when she missed a stitch on an embroidery lesson and their Septa slapped her hands until Melara would do it accurately. She missed Septon Lowan forgetting about her former choice of joining the faith and asking her to go back home. Now, she felt homeless, drowning her body in the dunes of sand.

“We will make sure you keep your beauty intact, princess. ‘Tis we assure you.” Lys guaranteed, giving Melara a glass of water.

“Thank you.” She said, after drinking a sip of the fresh liquid. And then, the girls heard a knock on her door.

“My lady, may I come inside?” It was Ysilla on the outside. Melara nodded at her handmaidens and Lys headed towards the chambers’ door to open it, proceeding with a bow at the princess in respect.

“Mother.” Melara left her goblet over a small table and approached her mother by law. “Is very pleasing to have your company today.” Then, the young princess signed for Lys, Megga and Melessa to leave the two alone.

Ysilla raised her eyebrow and expressed some confusion while her eyes travelled Melara up and down. “My lady, is that Elia’s dress that you are wearing?”

Melara looked puzzled at Ysilla and immediately changed the look on her face to embarrassment. Why would Oberyn present her with a dress that belonged to another lady? A sudden ache hit her heart.

“Mother, princess… I had no idea it belonged to Princess Elia…” Melara replied, nervously. “Oberyn presented me with this dress. I can switch right now and return it to Elia’s former chambers…”

Ysilla grabbed her hands gently and smiled, cutting her words. “No need, princess. My princeling son values his sister too much and I am sure he had the very best of intentions in presenting you with one of her dresses. You look splendid.”

Melara noticed a strange feeling coming from Ysilla’s eyes. Growing up around Lady Rhea made her quite sensitive to mood swings and Melara could sense something about her new mother not being happy about the dress. The young princess felt anxious and fiddled her hands behind her back, lowering her head.

“I have a letter for you.” Ysilla changed the subject, delivering her a small envelope. “From Bear Island.”

Melara raised her gaze and narrowed it, eagerly holding the piece of paper. She exhaled and felt relieved that Lynesse replied to her last letter. “Lynesse.”

“Would you mind reading it later? I have a few things to show you today.” Ysilla headed to the door, expecting Melara to follow her. The young girl nodded and left the letter over her desk and walked alongside Ysilla through the hallway.

“Can I trust the statement that Oberyn is treating you well?” She asked, caressing her own nails.

Melara nodded. “He is very kind, my lady. I could not ask for a better husband.”

Ysilla sighed and looked at a blank spot. “Good. I hope that you give me more grandchildren very soon.” More. Melara had forgotten the fact that Oberyn had two bastard daughters. She had mixed feelings over this, but none of them could be considered to be good. Melara knew from the beginning that the dornish had other approaches when it came to bastards, however, raising them inside the castle as if they were trueborn children was something beyond her understandment. The blonde princess had no wish to meet them and neither had any sort of interest in knowing their names. Her lips curled on a pout and nodded gently as Ysilla spoke. She discreetly frowned and agreed. “Yes, mother. I will provide for more children.” Her words carried a hint of bitterness and felt ashamed for it, but her mind found this situation distasteful and concerning. In a land where women can inherit, Melara feared one of them could try to claim and steal her future son’s birthright. Melara knew she needed to be wise.

“Which leads me to another subject,” The mother sighed. “I believe you spent too much time retreating in the Water Gardens, my lady.” Melara narrowed her eyes. “It is time for you to return to Sunspear and be prepared besides Oberyn. Your absence is already being noticed at court.”

“Oberyn commanded me to stay in the Water Gardens.” The girl replied, muttering.

“And I command you to return to Sunspear, my dear.” Ysilla smirked. “I already demanded that the servants take all your things to your new chambers at the Old Palace. I have no wish to interfere on your marital agreement with my son, but I do hope you understand your role as his wife.”

“I promise to improve my demeanour, my lady.” Melara said, looking at a distant tree.

“In the future, your child will marry Elia’s child. Which means that House Martell will maintain our strict bond with the Iron Throne,” Ysilla caressed her good daughter’s back whilst they walked. “You must be aware of politics to teach your children as well.”

Melara went mouth dried and disconcertedly agreed with her. “Of course, mother.”

"It may seem daunting at first, my dear, but you have the intelligence and strength to control these intricacies. And you will not be alone; I'll be here to guide you.” Ysilla smiled, assuring Melara.

And after an awkward silence, Ysilla spoke. “Are you well acclimated with Dorne? Is the cook of your liking?”

“Yes. The food is rather spicy but I am growing quite fond of it, although I miss a few things from the Starry Sept.” She replied, numbly. The food was one of her favourite things so far. Melara never considered liking spicy foods and the sweetness of the dornish wine, however, the first time she tried a roasted lamb covered with a special pepper and potatoes, she knew food would be the least of her problems. Melara also enjoyed being left alone in the Water Gardens, seeing the bright pools and the sea of Dorne by her window. Now, the bright princess had to go back to Sunspear and live her duty by Oberyn’s side. She could not help but feel insecure about Oberyn. She was unhappy to be married at all and scared Oberyn would be bothered by having her back on a regular frequence. Melara wanted to bury herself into faith once more and live her invisible life. Being a lady was an overwhelming existence.

“You are indeed committed to the faith and I can see it. It is quite admirable, my lady.” Ysilla said, raising her eyebrows.

Melara curled her lips and joined her hands, exhaling before her words came out. “The Gods are good, my lady. We must spread their words and values to our next ones.”

“I am not a religious woman myself, I must admit. But it’s quite impressive to see your commitment to faith. It is inspiring.”

Melara blushed and joined her hands. “Your words honours me deeply, mother.”

“You and Oberyn may not come to realise it yet, but you have needed skills. Involuntarily, Oberyn got the best match for him when he sent your sister away.” Melara felt a warmth, similar to a heartburn and her feet seemed to fly above the floor in pride for all she just heard. Ysilla was the only person she felt as closest to a true friend she ever had. “Religion speaks volumes when it comes to influencing people, my lady. You’ll learn to use it in your favour and Oberyn as well.”

Ysilla continued leading Melara through the castle, her eyes keenly observing the young princess's reactions. Melara could not send away the uneasiness that had settled within her since the mention of Oberyn's daughters. She wondered about the dynamic they would share if they ever cross paths.

As they walked through the corridors adorned with tapestries and the rich colours of House Martell banners, Ysilla began to discuss the responsibilities and expectations that came with being the Lady of Sunspear. Melara listened intently, trying to absorb the information that was being imparted to her. The weight of her role began to dawn on her, and she felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

Ysilla spoke of diplomacy, alliances, and the delicate balance of power in the region. Melara nodded along, realising the entanglements of her position. It was a far cry from the days of her childhood in Oldtown, where the concerns were more dull and shallow. She missed the cold, crisp air at that moment.

The two women entered a room adorned with maps and scrolls spread across a large table and enormous walls filled with books. That library remembered the one from Hightower and her eyes were lost in the moment, mentally praising the beauty of that place she never visited. Ysilla gestured towards the various documents, explaining the strategic importance of certain locations and the history of past conflicts in the region. Melara couldn't help but feel overwhelmed, her mind racing to grasp the complexity of it all.

Ysilla, sensing Melara's apprehension, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and tried to comfort her and suddenly, a stormy presence opened the doors suddenly, revealing a child. She was dressed with a yellow mustard robe, similar to the ones Oberyn used to dress. Her hair, although, was messy and loose. The young girl possessed that tanned olive skin and his widowed eyes and fastly ran to Ysilla’s arms.

“Grandmother!” Melara’s heart stopped for a moment when everything made sense. Behind her, a servant walked ashamed and apologised repeatedly for the girl’s behaviour.

“My princesses, my apology. As soon as Obara heard you were here she wanted to see you…” The girl spoke, fearing for her lady’s disapproval.

“Not at all, Myriah. You may leave, Obara will stay with me for a moment.” Ysilla said and the girl left. Obara stood still, hugging her grandmother and Melara had no expression but utter discontent with the presence of the infant right in front of her. She had no manners nor any ladylike demeanour, walking with a wooden sword and small spear on her hand.

“I missed you, grandmother. Why did you not come to see me and Nymeria?” Obara asked, impatiently. Ysilla caressed the little girl’s face and smiled widely whilst Melara watched the scene.

“I missed you too, sweet girl. I just could not have enough spare time to be with you and your sister.” The older princess replied, holding her granddaughter’s hand.

“Look what father brought me from aunt Elia’s wedding!” She proudly showed the wooden sword and Ysilla giggled, watching Obara dance with the sword.

“That is certainly a proper toy for a proper fighter.” She replied to Obara, who put her small sword back on her sheath.

“Can I see father’s wife?” Melara could hear from afar the request from the child and it made her hands sweat and feet retorse inside her shoes.

“As a matter of fact, your step mother is right here. Would you like to see her?” Obara nodded her head quickly and started walking towards the distinct figure that was Melara.

The blonde princess closed the book and finally could look at the young bastard in front of her closely. She was the perfect image of Oberyn in all aspects, appearance and temper.

“Obara, this is Princess Melara. Princess, this is one of Oberyn’s daughters.” The six year old child stares deeply at her step mother with stern eyes, roaming her and raising one of her eyebrows. Melara stood still and remained cold in response to Obara.

“She is pale as father told.”

Melara's gaze met Obara's unyielding stare, and a small pout tugged at the corners of the princess's lips. She crouched down to meet Obara at eye level, maintaining a calm and collected demeanour.

"Pale, am I?" Melara said, her voice carrying a playful edge. "Well, it seems your father has been sharing stories about me. I assure you, Obara, there's more to a person than the colour of their skin."

Obara continued to study Melara, seemingly unimpressed. The young girl crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking a gesture she must have seen from her father countless times.

"Father says you come from Oldtown," Obara stated matter-of-factly, her gaze unwavering.

“Is that true?”

“It is.” Melara replied, replacing the book back to the shelf. “I come from House Hightower, the guardians of Oldtown.”

“I come from Oldtown too. My mother is a whore.” Obara replied simply. Melara had to admit to being impressed about how well developed Obara was in her speech, but distantly shocked with how naturally the girl spoke about her true parentage.

“I see.” Melara replied, uninterested and Ysilla watched everything.

"Are you my new mother?" Obara asked, her gaze fixed on Melara. The question hung in the air, laden with a complexity that Melara understood all too well. She took a moment before answering, measuring her words.

"I am your father's wife, Obara." Melara replied, firmly. Obara continued to study Melara, her expression unreadable.

Ysilla sensed the tension and knelt down to be at eye level with his daughter. "Obara, Princess Melara is now a part of our family. I expect you to treat her with respect," She said, his voice carrying a motherly authority that brooked no argument.

The young girl sighed, a mixture of defiance and acceptance evident in her demeanour. Melara felt a weird sickness on her stomach and a knot forming inside her belly, standing up swiftly to stay away from Obara. “My lady, I need to be excused from your presences.”

“Is everything alright, Melara?” Ysilla asked, concerned.

“I am not, in fact. But I must prepare myself to arrive in Sunspear as you commanded, princess.” That interaction with the bastard was everything she had no wish to experience, at least not that day. As Melara excused herself from the presence of Obara and her grandmother, she felt a strange mix of emotions. Jealousy, anger, sadness, outrage. The encounter with Oberyn's daughter had left her unsettled, and the realisation that she was now not only beaconing the intricate politics of Sunspear but also the complexities of family dynamics weighed heavily on her mind.

Ysilla, perceptive as ever, watched Melara with a concerned expression as she sent Obara away with her nurse once more. "Take your time, my dear. Family can be challenging, but it's something we all must learn to navigate."

Melara nodded in acknowledgment, offering a clumsy nod before making her way back to her quarters. Once inside, she closed the door behind her and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the discomfort that clung to her like a stubborn shadow.

As she prepared for the journey to Sunspear, Melara couldn't help but reflect on the challenges that lay ahead. The courtly intrigue and political machinations were one thing, but the dynamics within House Martell were proving to be just as complex. The young Obara, with her bold demeanour and piercing gaze, was a constant reminder of her husband’s impulsiveness and lack of respect for her. How could he take a bastard into his lady wife’s life?

With a heavy heart, Melara started her small journey to the political seat of House Martell. The journey ahead held uncertainties, not only in the realm of politics but within the walls of her newfound family. She understood that the role of a stepmother carried its own weight, however, she refused to see herself as a motherly figure to a child born out of wedlock.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across Sunspear, Melara made her way to the courtyard where her chariage awaited. The journey to Sunspear awaited, and with it, Melara knew she would face not only the ramifications of court but also the challenges of forging familial bonds in a land where loyalty was as shifting as the desert sands.

Her new bedchambers were adorned with Dornish tapestries and intricate patterns that spoke of the region's rich history. Melara moved toward a window, gazing out at the sun-drenched landscape of Sunspear. The city, with its spires and domes, seemed to hold both promise and peril. The letter from Lynesse lay forgotten on her desk, overshadowed by the weight of her new responsibilities.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the Dornish sky, Melara couldn't help but feel a sense of isolation. She missed the familiar faces of the Starry Sept, the simplicity of her previous life. Little did she know that the journey she had embarked upon would challenge not only her role as Lady of Sunspear but also the very core of who she was. The blonde decided to open the letter and opened the paper at a slow pace whilst she could feel fragments of sand beating her face as the wind breezed inside her private room.

Dear Sister,

It has come to my acknowledgement that you had married my former betrothed to replace me as his wife. It surprises me, once I believed you took the vows on your sacred life. My husband, Sor Jorah is rather affectionate and handsome, a fearsome knight, therefore, there is nothing to worry about my safety. The lands of Bear Island are too wild and cold, though. Nonetheless, my husband lavishes me with gold and the fairest wools and fur coats I have ever seen. Please, send my regards to your Lord Husband for me as an insignificant attempt to thank him for his infinite kindness in discontinuing our betrothal and making my marriage possible. I do hope to read if Prince Oberyn is treating you properly. I also believe he will be the one who will finally make a bright smile rise on your face.

Father told me in a letter you were present at the royal wedding of Prince Rhaegar. What is he like? Did you become acquainted with Our Graces? I am eager to know your experience on King’s Landing.

Your beloved sister,

Lady Lynesse of House Mormont.

Melara embraced the letter with a longing tear scrolling down her eyes. Lynesse and Alysanne were the closest of her age of all her siblings and shared the same mother as well. Besides the constant mockery over Melara, Alysanne was rather protective and often told stories about their mother to Lynesse and Melara. The elder sisters often made Melara feel excluded, more of an outsider, for Melara was a quiet person and did not share the interest of playing with dolls and playing with other children of the castle. Still, Lynesse would climb to Melara’s bed on every storm and just laid by her side in silence, holding her hand while they slept because she knew how scared of lightnings and thunders Melara was. Lynesse understood how important the silence was for her. Melara sat on a chair in front of her desk and grabbed two pieces of paper and a feather pencil and began to write.

Sister,

I am glad to know that your Lord Husband treats you well, it earnestly makes my heart relieved to know that you are safe and sound by his side. I pray for the Mother you write me with news that I am to be an aunt, for I truly hope for your happiness. I imagine how cold the North might be, but tales of its beauty always come to my ears. I am sure you will recognise it when the time has come. I will make sure Oberyn knows about your gratitude towards him.

As for me, life in Dorne is not as difficult as I thought it could be. My lord husband is not cruel nor violent towards me. However, the laws and costumes of the country are something beyond my understanding. Oberyn is handsome and a fearsome knight as well, but dismisses any kind of affection, being rather distant from me. It does not bother me, once I still did not find in my heart to love him, but he treats me respectfully and this is more than enough for me.

And I indeed met Prince Rhaegar and Our Grace the Queen. Both of them are ethereally beautiful, but I sense they were slightly sad, even on a wedding day. Princess Elia is a very bright person and very close to Oberyn. I wish I had some sort of clue to his heart and make our relationship as affectionate as yours. King’s Landing would suit you well, once the city is full of eventful streets and the royal castle is full of adventures worthy of the eventful person you are.

I always figured I would never miss our moments in Oldtown, but here am I, shedding some tears as I think of how much I miss you and my former life. I wish I could remain in Oldtown as a Septa, but the Gods are good and knows best about my future. I truly hope to read your response soon.

Your dear sister,

Princess Melara of House Martell

Melara melted the wax and covered it with the sigil of House Martell as she sealed the first letter she wrote. Then, she took the second paper and started writing once more.

My good sister,

It has come to my mind that I never exchanged letters with you and for thus, I must apologise. Since I married your brother, I had a hard time adapting to the intense dornish heat and life as Lady of Sunspear, therefore, I was not able to write for anyone. I pray for the Mother every day your womb will be blessed with a new heir to the Iron Throne very soon and your marriage to Prince Rhaegar grows peaceful and full of love as the days go.

I write this letter with the intention of establishing communication with you on a regular basis, for I wish to nurture a friendship with you. I sincerely hope you found my request reasonable.

Your good sister,

Princess Melara of House Martell.

As she dropped the wax on Elia’s letter to seal it, she heard a knock on her door. “Who is it?” Melara asked, standing and fastly finding something adequate to dress herself.

“It’s me, wife.” Oberyn said behind the door. Melara raised her eyebrows in desperation and tried to look more presentable for her husband, wiping some traces of sweat and braiding her hair .

“Let me look presentable for you first, husband.” Melara said while finishing lacing her dress.

“Melara, there is no need…” His words were quickly shut off once his princess wife opened the door for him.

“Please, come inside.” Melara said, making space for him. He smirked and walked inside her new chambers with a jar and two cups.

“I heard mother has established Sunspear as your home.” He said, walking with his arrogant stride. Melara could see how much Obara resembled him and wondered if her own children would ever resemble Oberyn this much. The princess also rumined if her lord husband was discontent with the new arrangement of her living.

“Is it of your dislike, husband?” Melara asked, calmly trying to disguise her fears.

“In fact not. I suppose it is far easier to have our weekly moment while you are not with child.” He said, placing the jar and cups over the table. “I also agree with mother. Leaving you in the Water Gardens was a mistake. You need to learn how to administrate our household.” And then, he served her a glass of wine. He would never let her serve him and it undeniably confused Melara, for she always believed in the female role of submitting and serving to the husband, not the opposite. “Drink with me.”

Melara nodded and raised her goblet after Oberyn. “To your new chambers.” She drank a sip of her wine, which gave her a slight sensation of refreshment in that hot weather. “I see you wrote letters.”

“Yes,” Melara replied, walking towards the table. “To Lynesse and Elia.”

Oberyn raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Have you two been exchanging letters?”

“Not quite,” Melara admitted. “But I am trying to establish communication with my good sister. It was rather insensitive of me to not send her any letter.”

“Elia is not the type of person who would hold a grudge over such things, my lady.” Oberyn advertised, sitting on a sofa leaned by the wall. “But it is good to know that you are trying to bond with my sister.” His eyes were lost somewhere. Melara knew very little about Oberyn’s emotions, but she knew more than well that Oberyn was a high spirited person, always mischievous and playful before the marriage. After that he became someone else. Melancholic, distant. At least with her. But when she mentioned Elia, Melara could see his pupils dilate and his eyes felt to be at a loss. The blonde asked herself if Oberyn was that numb around Obara and his other daughter.

“Lynesse thanked you over her letter. She said she is safe with her lord husband and is glad for your kindness in ending your betrothal.” Melara said, standing up in front of him.

Oberyn smiled. “Lynesse is a good woman, she deserves to be cherished by a loved husband.” He stood up, left his cup on the floor and touched Melara’s lips, something he would do anytime he wanted to initiate intimacy. Melara was tired and still thinking about how offended she felt by his bastard’s presence, but complied nonetheless. Oberyn started kissing her neck, involving his arms around her waist and undoing the lace of her dress, guiding her to the bed. He was silent the whole moment, but his lips were eager. Kissing her collarbones, squeezing her breasts over the thin fabric of her underwear.

Melara, however, could not stop thinking about what happened at the library earlier. Her mind recollected Obara defying her and telling about her life proudly, being the image of a major threat for her future bloodline. “I saw one of your daughters today.”

The tension between them had been building ever since the encounter with Obara, Oberyn's eldest daughter. Melara had made it clear that she harboured reservations about being around Oberyn's children. Oberyn, however, was fiercely protective of his daughters and resented any implication that they were less than deserving of Melara's respect. As he stopped kissing her, he narrowed his eyes and sat on the bed, intrigued.

“You did so?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I did.” Melara replied, sternly. Oberyn laughed.

“The eldest or the youngest?” The salty prince asked once more.

“She seemed to be around five or six years of age.” The young lady replied, facing down the wooden floor.

“Obara is her name. She resembles me too much.” Oberyn carried a certain proud tone of voice that sickened Melara to the stomach.

“She is a bastard.” Melara pointed out. Oberyn’s grin disappeared.

“And what would exactly change here?” Oberyn asked, trying to control his annoyance.

“How could you allow such disrespect to my person?” Melara frustratedly asked.

Oberyn closed his fists in an act of anger. “Why would my children represent some sort of disrespect to you?”

“It is unacceptable to have your bastards being raised alongside your lady wife.”

Oberyn stood up, his voice carrying the weight of his frustration. "Melara, you knew I had children when we wed. You cannot expect to separate me from them."

Melara dressed in a satin robe as he stood away, her voice cold as ice. "I knew, Oberyn, but I did not expect to be thrust into a family where the bastard children lack any semblance of manners and rub their bastardy on my face."

Oberyn's eyes flared with anger. "They are Dornish, Melara. They are strong, free-spirited, and unapologetic. Just like their father."

Melara gritted her teeth, demonstrating a passive aggressive demeanour. "I did not sign up for this. I am your wife, not their nursemaid."

Oberyn's expression hardened. "They are my blood, Melara. You will show them the respect they deserve." Melara's frustration boiled over, and she covered her eyes with her hands in rage, which surprised Oberyn.

"Respect is earned, Oberyn. It is not granted simply because of blood ties."

The Red Viper, renowned for his quick reflexes, swiftly grabbed Melara by her arms. His voice is low and dangerous. "And what about the respect you owe me, wife? I am your husband, and my daughters are a part of me."

Melara's eyes flashed, and she tried to retreat with fear but it was too late, she had to carry on with her fiery determination. "I owe you respect as my husband, but that does not mean I must blindly accept everything that comes with it. I will not be forced into a role I did not choose."

The clash between husband and wife continued. Oberyn, getting back to his senses, pushed Melara back. She held her arms where he grabbed her and felt the instant pain but stood her ground, swallowing her tears.

"You will not dictate who is a part of my life, Melara. These are my daughters, and you will find a way to coexist with them."

Melara, fueled by her own determination, leaned on her window. "I did not marry you to become a pawn in your familial disputes. I will not be subjected to the chaos of your children. Our future children…"

“Our future children what?” He yelled, infuriated.

Melara had to stand up for herself. “This is an utter disrespect to my person and our future, trueborn children. How can you allow your bastards to grow up here as equals? And if the lords recognise her as your true heir instead of my children?”

Oberyn smiled bitterly. “You would have to be with child first. Something you were not even able to become all this time as my wife!” The fight reached its peak, both Melara and Oberyn locked in a struggle for dominance. Melara let a single tear fall from her eyes in the moment, letting him know he had her weakness. In the end, as the dust settled, they stood facing each other, chests heaving with exasperation from both sides.Oberyn immediately sensed the weight of his rude words to his wife and buried his face in his hands. emotional distance that had grown between them. Melara, her eyes ablaze with defiance, refused to back down.

Melara walked away from the window, a somber expression on her face. "Enough," she said, her voice cutting through the tension. "This is not the way to resolve your differences."

Oberyn, still seething with frustration, fixed up his garments fast. "We will discuss this later," he said, his voice a low growl.

As Oberyn dispersed, he left her chambers in an uneasy silence, the rift between Oberyn and Melara lingered like a shadow over Melara’s head and heart. Melara laid on her and cried silently. She wanted to be closer to Oberyn, but his children out of wedlock were something almost unforgivable to Melara. That was the first time he ever raised his voice and laid his hand on her and it scared Melara, making her wish to be back in Oldtown more than ever, so she would do what she always does when in need: kneel and pray with the seven crystals in her hand, begging for the Father to reason justice in Oberyn’s head. The conflict had laid bare the challenges of blending their lives and families, and the road ahead seemed fraught with uncertainty.

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