The Red Viper and Cole
The Rhoynar are slender people with olive skin, black hair, and dark eyes.
They fled across the Narrow Sea during the war between the Rhoynar civilization and Valyria.
In Essos, the Rhoynar fought a two-hundred-year conflict against the powerful Valyrian Empire.
It is said the Valyrians deployed three hundred dragons in this war.
After their defeat, the Rhoynar, led by a warrior queen named Nymeria, crossed the Narrow Sea to Dorne.
The blood of Queen Nymeria flows through the veins of House Martell.
In Rhoynar culture, men and women have equal rights to inheritance.
A few branches remained at the top of the trees, with yellow leaves clinging to their tips. The autumn sun shone through them like golden fingers gently exploring the land. Light clouds hung high in the distance, their shadows like traces of an old man's passing. The land of Westeros was slowly sinking into dusk, the clear sky resembling the reflection of light before a long night.
Dorne's red robes perfectly matched this autumn season.
Prince Oberyn sat on a short oak chair, holding an eight-foot-long spear. The shaft was made of heavy ash, with two feet of steel at the end for balance.
His gaze swept across the courtyard where several figures fought among themselves. Spears flashed, and the hall echoed with shouts.
"What do you think?" the prince asked the young man beside him, gesturing toward the fighters.
"The warriors of Dorne earn their reputation," Cole said, his eyes following the Dornish fighters.
Dornishmen typically used metal shields and spears, and their armor consisted mostly of light scales.
"The warriors of Dorne are just like Dornish strongwine. Have you ever tasted it?" The prince took a wine glass and handed it to him. "This is potent enough."
Dorne, the hottest region in Westeros, is stony, mountainous, arid, and barren, home to the continent's only desert. It produces a unique wine as famous as the golden vintage from the Arbor.
Cole took a small sip. The alcohol content was high, the fruity aroma rich, and the taste remarkably strong.
"Cersei Lannister wants me to help her judge her dwarf brother. She even hinted at marriage," Oberyn chuckled. "I once asked the Imp where to find girls with golden hair in King's Landing. The girl with golden hair is here now."
"Actually, I accompanied my sister to Casterly Rock twenty years ago. She was in her prime then, though she didn't venture out much, and her health wasn't good. We went with marriage in mind. Tywin Lannister had given her a choice—I could marry Cersei, or we could arrange a double marriage. As fate would have it, Lady Joanna Lannister had just died giving birth to Tyrion.
"It was a difficult time at Casterly Rock. Lord Tywin didn't receive us, and when my mother told him of our marriage plans, he rudely refused her. He said his daughter was destined for Crown Prince Rhaegar and suggested that the dwarf marry Elia instead.
"Mother took this as an insult. And as you know, it was Elia who married Rhaegar, not Cersei." A victorious smile flickered across his face before he sighed again.
"On our journey from Sunspear to Casterly Rock, we met many potential matches. I was young then and enjoyed mocking my sister's suitors. Those men made poor impressions, but she nearly accepted Baelor Hightower's proposal in Oldtown—until he farted during the feast.
"Had it not been for that unfortunate accident, I wouldn't have teased Baelor Brightsmile so. She might now be caressing her son's face and telling him stories of Dorne in the warmth of Oldtown."
The prince's eyes flashed with determination. "She has waited too long, Cole. Far too long."
Cole felt moved by this and asked, "What do you intend to do?"
"Watch me. I'll kill that stupid mountain of a man myself," the prince said harshly. "The dwarf needs a champion."
"Do you think he's innocent?"
The prince drove the butt of his spear into the ground and lifted his head. "I care nothing for his innocence. I want only the Mountain's ugly head."
"No," Cole objected.
"Your leg is still injured."
"No one can stop a prince, Cole." Oberyn glanced at him. "Besides, it's just a stupid brute to kill."
"Underestimating your enemy is the greatest mistake in battle, Prince Oberyn," Cole said.
"I don't need lessons from you, boy. I've been called the Red Viper since I was sixteen. I've killed countless brutes like him."
"I'll go," Cole interrupted.
The prince's face grew serious. "You're too young," he said.
"Tyrion is my old friend. If he had the choice, he would certainly pick me, just as when I served as his champion to uphold justice in the Eyrie. Besides, isn't this my duty? Don't you think I'm worthy?"
The prince stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "Go over there and defeat those men. Then I might let you go."
Cole stood suddenly, picked up his spear, and walked over.
Shortly after, he returned, planted his spear in the ground, and asked, "Well?"
Behind him, all the Dornish warriors lay on the ground.
Oberyn had gathered much information about Cole, so he wasn't surprised by this display.
"Yes, well hidden, but not enough," the prince commented.
To face men like the Mountain, one needed more flexibility. The agility Cole showed was far from sufficient, partly due to his physique.
The young man stood nearly as tall as Oberyn himself, with a stronger build, but he was still small compared to the Mountain, who stood almost eight feet tall.
"I don't need excessive agility," Cole said to his uncle.
Soon, his actions silenced the Red Viper.
"This boy is truly a monster," Oberyn Martell remarked, watching Cole's back as he walked away.
Cole returned to his quarters.
In truth, his heart had been in turmoil these past weeks.
When he first noticed his silver hair, Cole had never imagined his true identity. But no matter how he speculated, he never guessed he was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen.
He had already accepted his fate as a wanderer and bastard, which had given him a fearless and unrestrained outlook.
Now, he had to be a warrior. Facing the Mountain, he would be an avenger. Killing the Mountain was his duty as a son. He would also need to lead armies to reclaim his rightful throne and personally judge those who had harmed his blood relatives.
All of this was, in truth, terrifying.
But Cole couldn't watch Oberyn die at the Mountain's hands. Though his uncle Martell was formidable, Cole knew the outcome of such a duel. It seemed all the gods above believed Tyrion guilty.
He looked up at the sky. "Do you also think the dwarf is guilty?"
"Sorry," he whispered. "I disagree."