Fighting For Aire: Dungeons & Damsels, Book 1

I held a teacup to my lips to hide my smile. my fathers were trying to hold my attention in the garden, pretending like they needed my help to plan my birthday party. All the while, behind them, my head servant pretended to prune the hedges while I met with my parents. In actuality, Oberyn shielded himself from view so he could make faces behind the king's back. I did my best not to snicker, but Oberyn was mocking the way King Han’s lip curled when he spoke. Finally, king Omyr narrowed his eyes and glanced behind him. Oberyn quickly made himself look busy. “Aireynor Galtica,” Using my full name was never a good sign. “I feel as if you are not taking this seriously.” King Omyr said. He was the softer of the two, with brown hair that looked like spun gold in the sunlight. He was a high elf, so his skin was fair and his ears turned up elegantly. “We have made sure to invite every eligible bachelor from here to Elverain. You might meet your future king!” he grabbed my hand excitedly, but King Han just grunted. “Perhaps we should be putting this effort into Avyn’s birthday. she’s always had an eye for Princes. At least when she pulls her gaze from her books.” King Han grumbled. Han was a human with skin the color of maple bark, and soft white hair.  Suddenly they had my full attention. “No, that won’t be necessary.” I shook my head. The last thing I wanted was for my parents to focus all their matchmaking energy towards poor Avyn, forcing her to marry someone against her will so that I can lead the kingdom. No, I was prepared fully for my fate. I was prepared to be a good wife. I just… wasn’t really interested in planning my own downfall. It was sad, thinking of my 18th birthday as my downfall. Gone were the days of studying, reading, spending time with my sisters. Now I was expected to be an heiress, a queen, and a wife. As I looked up and met Oberyn’s eyes, I knew he had sensed my shift in mood. It was so sweet of him to try to distract me, to make me laugh.  He had always been so caring, since the day I had met him. I could still practically see him, standing on the auction block, like it was yesterday. His hands were chained to his ankles, and he was awkwardly milled forward. I had immediately pointed to him. “He’s the one, daddy.” I had been sitting atop Omyr’s shoulders and pulled on his long blonde hair. I was only 8 years old at the time.  “Honey… Don’t you want a girl? This slave will probably be with you for the rest of your life. They will dress you, bathe you-” Han started, disdainfully. “Daddy I want him!” I smacked my hands down on his head. “I like his pretty purple skin!” “But dear child.” Omyr tried to look up at me. “He’s only a teenager. And he’s… of the underworld.” I had kicked and screamed until they bought him, and I fussed over him during the whole carriage ride home, much to my fathers’ disdain. I had demanded they uncuff him immediately, despite the auctioneers insisting his last masters had given him up. He had a warning label about being unruly and disobedient. I insisted on him riding in the cab with us, instead of on the back or next to the driver, and I even sat next to him. He looked wild, with long black hair, lavender skin, and large ears like an elves. Two horns sprouted from his head and turned down on either side, above his ears. Underneath the mess of hair were golden eyes, filled with anger. He said nothing to them. I had pulled a ribbon from my own hair, letting the light brown curls descend in messy waves. The slave flinched as I steadied myself on the seat next to me, propped on my knees so I could reach his hair. I gathered it up, combing it as best I could with my small fingers, and tying it back out of his face. His horns helped keep it in place. “Better?” I asked, plopping myself back down next to him. He didn’t answer. “How old are you?” King Omyr asked. The slave didn’t answer. “Tell us your name.” Han said, more forcefully. Still, the slave clung to silence, his eyes locked on the window. I moved closer to him, grabbing his cheek softly with my hand so he was forced to look at my. “My name is Aireynor. But everyone calls my Aire for short. And I’m never gonna left anyone cuff you again.” I settled down in my seat and grabbed his hand. “I promise. Princess Promise.” For the first time, he smirked. The small movement of his lips, ticked up in a half-smile, and that one expression made me light up like a shooting star. “Oberyn.” He told me, and I let loose a fit of giggles. "I'm thirteen." “Oberyn! His name is Oberyn, daddy!” I had squealed excitedly. When we arrived back at the castle, I had followed Oberyn around constantly. I watched as the maids cleaned him, dressed him, and showed him his quarters. I complained that his room was too far away from mine, but the servants insisted that the steward had to stay in the slave quarters with the rest of the help. Oberyn himself said very little, despite being peppered with questions. Looking back I must have seemed like such a little kid with how clingy I was, but in reality he was only 5 years older than me. Eventually, I started to wear myself out, and the kings insisted I lay down in my own room. I insisted that Oberyn join me, but the kings declared it was best if he had time to adjust to his new position before spending time alone with me. He was a stranger, after all. Powerless to disagree, I found myself back in my room with my usual staff of nannies. I laid there, thinking about how Oberyn was the first thing that was really mine. I had chosen him, and I felt responsible for him. I pretended to fall asleep, and once the maids finally left, I crept out of my bed and out of my room. It was dark in the castle, dimly lit by candlelight. The stone floor was cold against my bare feet. I kneeled behind a banister, watching as the butler locked their great front door, and headed towards the kitchen. I slowly moved down the stairs and towards the servants’ quarters. I was a very bright kid and had memorized which door was Oberyn’s. Light danced from under it, and I realized with delight he was still awake. Without bothering to knock, I quietly pushed the door open.  Oberyn stood in the dim candlelight with a bag on his bed. Inside was some food from the kitchen and a few gold candlesticks. Oberyn froze and tried to cover the bag with his blanket. It was too late though. I grabbed the hem of his shirt. “Are you leaving?” I asked, in a trembling voice. “Yes.” he said quietly. “You can’t though- we- we bought you.” I sniffed. Oberyn chuckled softly and rolled his eyes. “You can’t just buy people, dy’myl. How would you feel if someone just came and bought you?” I thought this over. It wouldn’t be very nice at all if someone paid for me, and owned my life like we owned Oberyn. I suddenly felt really sad.  “What does Dy’myl mean?” I asked, wiping at my eyes.  Oberyn sighed. He moved his things off the bed and sat down, pulling me onto the bed next to him. “It means little heart. In elvish. My mom used to call me that.” I reached up and touched his ears. “You’re an elf? Like my dad? You don’t look like one.” “Not quite.” He laughed, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “My mom was a wood elf. King Omyr is a high elf.” I settled onto his lap. "What if we paid you?" "Hmm?" Oberyn had asked, lost in thought about his mother. "What if I paid you? Then you wouldn't be a slave. It would be like you worked for me, and I wouldn't own you." I said. He chuckled softly. "How are you gonna pay me, little heart?" "Well I can't pay you now, but I'll be a queen someday. And then I can pay you a lot." I said, standing on the bed so I was eye level with Oberyn. "Stay here with me, Oberyn. And when I am queen, I will pay you your weight in gold, and you will be free to live your own life from then on." Oberyn seemed to chew this over. "My weight in gold is a lot, little princess. Do you know the severity of the promises you are making right now?" I steadied myself with his horns. “Princess promise.” I said, stubbornly. “Why do you fight so hard for me?” He asked, exasperated, grabbing my little hands and pulling them off his horns. “Because you’re mine. You’re mine forever.” I said, wrapping my arms around him. ---