Their temperaments were always clear. Oberyn was fire; consuming.
“Our six year old niece! Rhaenys was hiding under her father’s bed. Amory Lorch pulled her by her feet. She screamed for about half his sword stabs. She was dead for the other half. Aegon, he was in his crib and Clegane smashed his skull against the wall. Clegane then raped and murdered our sister! Doran look at me!”
Doran looked to his younger brother. It was times like these he felt they weren’t even brothers. Oberyn was just so different. They had heard the news separately and mourned individually. Doran also knew that Oberyn was probably in greater grief. But he didn’t like the idea that Oberyn thought he was.
“Nearly every mainland house has allied with the Barantheons.”
“Fuck the houses! Have you forgotten our words-“
“Enough.” Doran rose, refusing to hear anymore of this. He lost his sister, his niece, and nephew. He would not be forced to feel like he didn’t care. From his pocket, Doran lifted a packet of letters. “I am to meet Jon Arryn with Mace Tryell.” He tossed the one with the falcon seal toward Oberyn. “I will negoitate a peace and have Elia’s and the children’s remains sent to Dorne.” Doran remembered his sweet sister’s coy smile whenever she took a bite of a peach, her favorite fruit. He blinked.
Picking out another letter, he tossed it to Oberyn. “You will go to Braavos in a moon’s time and meet Ser Willem Darry.” There was an impregnable silence. Oberyn then picked the latter letter and read its content.
“Time will make people forget. Time will make others assume we forget. Time will make them sloppy and weak. Which will make it hurt more. When Viserys and Arianne are of age, they will wed. And the Seven Kingdoms will remember the murders of Elia Martell, Rhaenys Targaryen, and Aegon Targaryen.”
Oberyn set the letter from Varys on the table and looked up at his brother once more. The atmosphere in room had changed. They weren’t warring amongst themselves anymore. “We will kill everyone. Amory Lorch, Gregor Clegane, Tywin Lannister, Robert Baranthe-“
“Everyone.” Doran nodded and reached for his brother’s hand. Their fingers touched before hands clasped tightly.
Oberyn was fire; consuming. Doran was ice; poised. But they both were unforgiving. The power of fire and ice would surely avenge their sister. But they would wait. They would prevail. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.