Four people stood lined up in front of a bed in one of Littlefinger's many brothels. Three pale-skinned women of differing builds, and a tall, handsome blond man dressed with elegance.
The man stood to the side, observing the entire situation and ready to fulfill any request from his distinguished guests. Be it more wine, more girls, or less clothing.
After all, he ran the brothel, and it wasn't every day he hosted such illustrious company.
The women remained motionless as a man with olive skin and an attractive but weathered appearance slowly circled them, observing them closely. On the bed in front of them, a dark-skinned woman with black curls cascading down her back watched the scene with evident delight. She was beautiful, without a doubt.
The man continued circling the women as if analyzing them thoroughly. He stepped closer to the tallest one, with dark hair and her gaze fixed on the floor. He couldn't tell whether it was out of shyness or fear; after all, not every whore got the chance to meet the Prince of Dorne.
—Look at this one. Isn't she lovely? —Oberyn Martell pointed out to the love of his life, Ellaria Sand, who was lying on the bed, waiting for her lover to choose a girl.
Ellaria enjoyed the show, watching as her husband began to undress the young woman, who still stared at the floor, visibly nervous.
—She is lovely —Ellaria commented between sips of wine—. But too pale.
Oberyn nearly laughed. His wife never bit her tongue.
—In the capital, they prefer pale skin —he explained, running a finger down the girl's arm—. It means they don't work the fields. —He liked them that way, too.
Sensing the girl's nervousness, Oberyn leaned down to whisper playfully into her ear:
—Do I scare you?
—N-no, my lord —she stammered.
Oberyn doubted she'd relax enough to make the night enjoyable. But in the end, this was more of a gift for Ellaria than for him.
—What do you think? —he asked.
—She's shy. Shy girls bore me —Ellaria replied, emptying her cup in one gulp.
Oberyn then turned his attention to the girl beside her: short, fair-skinned, and brown-haired. Unlike the first, this one didn't look away from Ellaria; on the contrary, she devoured her with her eyes. Ellaria seemed to notice, too, and held her gaze with challenge.
Oberyn approached the girl with a playful smile, and with a single tug, undid the only knot holding up her light dress. The fabric slid gently to the floor, leaving her completely naked in front of them all.
While caressing her generous backside, he whispered in a teasing tone, savoring the softness of her skin:
—You, on the other hand, seem a little naughty, don't you? —he said with his usual charm before turning to his wife, squeezing the girl's buttocks with intent—. I think she likes you.
Ellaria watched the scene with clear delight. Her sly, feline smile was the same one that always excited Oberyn.
—She has good taste —she said, letting out a brief giggle that only heightened the tension in the room.
The girl, now confident she had their attention, pressed her body against Oberyn's with more assurance.
—You're not shy, are you? —he asked, dragging out the words.
Feeling in control, the girl doubled down, twisting her body to lift her own foot to head height. The acrobatic move earned her an approving laugh from Ellaria.
—Not shy at all! —exclaimed the bastard, clearly aroused.
Oberyn smiled, pleased to have found a girl that pleased his wife.
—Do you like women? —he asked, continuing to caress the curve of her back.
—When they're like her, my lord —the girl replied with a shameless smile.
Ellaria didn't wait any longer. She leaned in and began kissing the girl's naked body slowly, caressing her with an intensity that completely captivated Oberyn's attention. The prince, entranced by the scene, barely turned his gaze to speak to the young man running the brothel.
—Very well, my lady —the young man said sweetly, gesturing to the other girls to get dressed.
Ellaria laughed playfully before correcting him.
—I'm no lady.
—A courtesy of the establishment —he tried to explain.
—And everywhere else, a lie —Ellaria snapped, enjoying his discomfort—. Let's use the right words. —She pinched the girl's pink nipple—. I'm a bastard. She's a whore. —Her gaze fixed on the young man—. And you? A pimp?
The blond man could only smile ironically, knowing there was no way to best a woman like Ellaria.
—Anyone else? —he asked, changing the subject.
Ellaria raised her hand and signaled to her husband, who seemed to snap out of the trance he'd fallen into watching her fondle another girl.
—The other girls can leave. But you... you stay —she declared, pointing at the young man in charge.
—My lord, I'm not for sale...
But Oberyn cut him off with disdain, not even bothering to look at him.
—Everyone who works for Littlefinger is for sale.
He hadn't come just for the girls. He wanted the full package. To satisfy all his appetites. To drown the poison boiling in his blood. Without these moments of escape, he didn't know how he could endure that damned, stinking city.
King's Landing disgusted him. He hated the family sitting on the throne, every Lannister bastard with their golden smiles, and he despised anything that remotely reminded him of Elia. The only reason he'd come to this rat's nest was to watch. To measure strength. To know how long until his brother could move the pieces and finally make all those who owed them Elia's blood pay.
Just as he was about to start undressing the handsome young man, his trained ear caught a melody that chilled his blood. Little by little, it grew louder until even Ellaria could hear it. She quickly released the girl's lips and rose, terrified.
Not out of fear for Oberyn—but for what he would do.
—Oberyn… —she tried to stop him, but the man had already darted out of the private room like an arrow. After all, the melody was *The Rains of Castamere*.