Destructive Love Affair (Elia x Oberyn (Doran))
Doran had told his sister time and time again that what she was doing would hurt all involved. Doran was older than his siblings. He had watched two brothers die when he was just a child. He himself was fortunate to have survived infancy, catching the sweating fever when he was just over two. Doran had distanced himself from Elia when she was born. He had been nine and sure that his sister would not live to see her first name day. Oberyn had been born before that name day had come. Their Lady Mother Obara had coaxed Doran into at least look at Oberyn and Elia one time.
They were close ever then. Elia was nine moons older than the small infant, and almost double his size. Doran could remember their limbs tangled together. Oberyn’s little head fit perfectly on Elia’s chest. If Doran could have, he would have painted the picture.
That was the moment Doran fell in love with his siblings. Mother had smiled at him as he sat down next to the babies and sang to them. Low, raspy tones, but he sang. Doran sat next to them for days.
When Oberyn caught the sweat sickness he was 3 and Elia’s fourth name day had just passed. Doran had cursed the gods for their unfairness. Why now, when most children were said to be safe once they turned three, had Oberyn fallen sick. Elia and Doran spent night and day together, sitting in front of their little brothers room. Elia had not understood what the sweat sickness was and had sobbed for days.
Oberyn survived after nearly three months of the sweat-sleep, nobody allowed to see him. Doran and Elia grew closer in this time, but the moment Oberyn awoke, Elia and him were close as always.
When Doran left to travel the free cities when he was six-and-ten, Elia and Oberyn had just turned six and seven. Elia wrote him letters of their life at Sunspear.
Doran returned 6 years later after his father had died. Elia and Oberyn at two-and-ten and one-and-ten had grown up into beautiful children. Oberyn was a great warrior and Elia a beauty competing with Mellario, his Lady Wife.
Elia was a sweet, smart girl. She had more wit than most of the men Doran knew and had often outwitted Doran himself. Elia was like their mother. Strong, willful and proud. She was a true Martell.
Their father, Trystane, had invited many suitors to Sunspear while Doran was gone. Good men like Barristan Selmy, who had later taken the oath of the King’s Guard, Arthur Dayne, who had become the sword of morning. Elia had rejected all of them.
When Doran had asked his mother why, all Obara could to was smile wryly.
“It’s Oberyn.” She said. “He is a bit of a brute to everyone who visits. He is very jealous.”
Obara sighed as if this was a topic she had already often spoken about. She had massaged her temples and swiftly left the room.
That conversation opened Doran’s eyes for his brother and sister. Doran watched them over the years. The small, secret touches, the smiles, the secret jokes. When Doran watched them, it felt like Doran was a stranger even to his Mellario.
“Take care, my sister.” Doran said to her when Elia was 14. She had looked at him, flinching and not even questioning what Doran meant. If Doran had had any qualms before, now was the moment he understood everything.
“They love each other, mother.” Doran told Obara one day. “I have never seen something like it before. If only…”
“I feared this day would come.” Obara said quietly. “I knew this were to come. I have to tell you something.”
“What is it mother?” Doran feared. Whatever Obara needed to tell him was going to be bad. Obara was pale, and looked as if her head was splitting in two. Obara was a strong woman and a better ruler than his father ever was.
“A long time ago, when the Rhynoish had just come to Dorne and Queen Nymeria had just married King Mors.” Obara shuddered. “They had five children. Trystane, Janella, Ellaria, Daron and Melos. Ellaria was the perfect picture of her mother, Queen Nymeria. When Ellaria was just a child she fell in love with a free spirit from one of the Free Cities. They were perfect for each other and called soul mates throughout the lands.”
“What does this …?” Doran fell silent at his mother’s look.
“Ellaria and Drogo, the boy, soon fell in the displease of the gods. Not the Seven, but the old gods, Queen Nymeria worshipped. Ellaria, who was the object of the gods distain was cursed. As long as her mother’s bloodline survived a female would always be cursed to fall in beautiful love with a boy, whom she was forbidden to marry and their love was doomed to fail.” Obara shuddered. “One of the couple would die an untimely, horrible death. For as long as the Martell’s can remember mothers pray to the Mother Rhoyne to not let any harm befall to their daughter. Now it has befallen to mine and my son at same. I must have something to offend the old gods.”
“This is in no way your fault, mother.” Doran placed a comforting hand on his mothers shaking shoulder. Obara looked up at him and smiled weakly.
“It might as well be. The last Martell to befall this dreadful curse was my mother-mother’s sister.” Obara looked at Doran, who flinched having heard many stories about Aunt Janella.
“Crazy Janella?” Doran asked with dread. Obara just nodded and Doran felt his heart sink.
When Elia and Oberyn came back from visiting Casterly Rock they were changed people. Oberyn was more jealous and rash than ever. He stomped around Sunspear with a big scowl on his face. Elia evaded any question Doran threw his way. Doran saw the way Elia watched Oberyn. Wincing when he yelled at a servant, looking down at her shoes whenever Oberyn neared.
“What have you done?” Doran confronted Oberyn, weeks after they returned. His brother, who looked nothing like Doran had at that age, and already stood taller than Doran, snarled and clenched his jaw.
“Nothing, brother. But tell me, brother, would you like it if your darling Mellario looked at another man as she looked at you.” Doran shuddered at the possibility, making Oberyn glare more. “At least your lady loves you. Mine does not care about my feelings at all.”
“I am sure that is not true.” Doran looked over to where Elia was sitting with Obara, shoulders high and her face hidden from view. “No woman would say no to you, brother.”
“She has.” Doran knows Oberyn knows who he is talking about. His voice takes a defeated, sad sound. “Why is it so unfair? We are not the only ones. Lyanna and Brandon Stark are the same, so are the Lannister twins. We are a doomed generation, Doran. You are the lucky one. You got away.”
Oberyn walks away, but not before Doran can see the tears rolling down his brothers face. Doran does not pity him. He knows nothing he can do will really change anything. Once the gods do something the gods have done something.
“Do not do this.” Doran tells Elia later that day. She looks at him with her sad, dark eyes. “Please sister. Our strong, viper brother is crying.”
Elia’s eyes fill with tears and Doran feels so bad. Elia crumples, Doran barely catching her before she hits the ground. She clutches at her brother, tears streaming down her face. He murmers sweet nothings into her hair, soothing her.
“Go to him, Elia. Stop this madness.”
Doran pretends he does not notice how Elia stays in Oberyn’s room for the whole night.
Doran pretends he does not notice the touches Elia and Oberyn give each other the next day.
Doran pretends he does not notice his mothers despair when she looks at her youngest.
Doran pretends he does not notice how drunk Oberyn gets when Elia’s betrothal to Rhaegar Targaryen is announced.
Doran pretends he does not notice the way Elia sobs when her daughter, Rhaenys, is born a Martell.
Doran pretends he does not notice Oberyn staring at Arianne, who is Rhaenys’ spitting image, with the love of a father.
Doran pretends he does not notice how Oberyn nearly drinks himself to death when Elia and the children’s death is announced.
Doran pretends he does not notice how Oberyn’s women always look so very much like Elia.
Doran pretends he does not notice the love Elia had for Oberyn.
Doran pretends he does not notice the love Oberyn had for Elia.
Doran pretends he does not notice how the curse could always befall his daughter, as it befell the woman more often and more often.
Doran pretends his heart does not break at this.