Poisoned Edge

Leaves fell from the tree's in the main courtyard of The Red Keep, littering the cobblestones and serving to crunch under lord's and ladies feet so they couldn't sneak up on you. You could hear them coming from miles away, Their haughty laughing and flowing garments of all variety of colours. Fearful of those they could not see, but trusting of those they could see.

She observed this every day in the courtyards. Her favourite courtyard was adjacent to the largest garden in the capitol – It was there that she always heard the best gossip. No one ever took notice of her and if they did, It was not because they were worried that she had overheard them. Nobody ever paid attention to whores.

There was a particular man who attended the garden regularly. Armed with a quill, inkwell and a stack of parchment, He would sit and write for what seemed like hours at a time. The sun would skip across the sky and then the moon would appear, but the man never left until right before the sky became so black that he could no longer see the parchment. But every day, he returned.

She kept her sights on the odd man, He intrigued her. It was queer to see a man of such colouring in the capitol, especially one dressed so fine as this man. Her eye's jealously swept over the man's most impressive item of attire, an embroided orange coat. She recognized the symbol as being important, but she had never been taught the name. Sighing, She resumed standing still as a statue and observing her ever growing garden of envy.

The man was aware that the young harlot was watching him and had been for some time. It bothered him little, he was used to people staring. What did bother him though, Was the way she was staring at him. She didn't look at him with fear, it seemed more like a child seeing a horse for the first time.

He wondered briefly what her circumstances where around her occupation. Did she choose it willingly or was it forced upon her? What would be the first thing she did if she ever broke free?

He looked directly at her, noting that she did not shrink when his gaze landed on hers. She was stone, her eyes the only thing's reflecting signs of life, darting around and keeping tabs on all of the current visitors to the courtyard's gardens.

'She would make a lovely...'

“Oberyn! There you are my love!”, Ellaria shouted, making her way to him. Oberyn watched the girl's eye's follow his paramour as if she were a hawk, scouting out her prey carefully before swooping in for the kill. The girl didn't move though, just continued her odd vigil over the garden's grounds. His paramour noticed where Oberyn's eyes were lingering and giggled.

“Is there something over there you like?”, She murmured playfully.

Oberyn was too deep in thought to answer with a witty retort, instead he found his legs moving towards the strange girl. As he moved closer, he finally got a good look at her. She had dirty blonde hair and her eye's were a deep blue. She visibly stiffened as he drew closer, but again made no move to act. He slowed to a stop, locking his gaze with hers. He thought briefly about what he should say to her, but she bet him to it.

“It's ten coppers, fifteen for both of you”, She stated simply. Her accent did not surprise him, the blonde hair and blue eyes gave it away easy enough – This girl came from the Westerlands.

“You miss read me, I was wondering if I could ask you a question”, Oberyn replied with a smile.

“What does Mi'lord wish to know?”, She inquired. Her eye's locking with his once more.

“Have you ever held a weapon?”, He answered. A smirk playing on his lips.