Damascus watched in silence as his brother dared to explain himself. When he had first washed on up on the same shore, it had taken him months to even feel remotely okay. Those months has felt like no time had passed at all. The days blended together like the colors of the evening sky. There were times where he had been tempted to just lay down and never get up again, but the guilt of his father's sacrifice had forced him back onto his feet.
The forest had been filled with his keening cries as he mourned everything that he had lost, and now he was finally able to stand on his own again. And of course his brother would show up and rub salt in old wounds.
I hope you have enjoyed your time of peace.
The rest of the words faded out of focus as his brother continued to talk. Peace? His brother knew very little of the price he had paid for the illusion of peace. He scoffed as his brother haphazardly announced that he was staying. Oberyn didn't bother to ask what he wanted of course, he just decided. He always had.
A memory filled his mind. The two of them had been foals, just learning to stand. Everything was loud, and bright, and both too hot and too cold at the same time. They were both wet from the birth, and their mother had started to clean them off. He remembered looking into his brother's eyes, thinking in that moment that nothing was more important than the creature before him, the one that looked like him.
Another memory, this time when they were older. Frolicking in the meadows, chasing butterflies and sparring with each other, their gangly legs getting tangled with each step. The smell of spring was thick in the air, and the squeals of yearlings and stallions edged them on. And yet their bond remained the same. He remembered yet another time when they had driven off a badger together. Not the mightiest of predators and not even one that targeted horses, but the sense of accomplishment and joy he had felt had been euphoric.
The memories flooded his head, filling him with a tumultuous mix of grief, joy, nostalgia, anger, and fear. His mask only faltered for a second as the emotions filled his eyes, but he forced cold indifference back as soon as he could.
After all, his brother had abandoned him with the rest of the herd. They could have made it together. In fact, they would probably be in a very different place if Oberyn has simply come with him. He pictured a herd that he and his brother shared, defending them like his father had, and little look-alike foals romping around like they had.
His voice softened involuntarily as he took in his brother's sorry state. Why are you here, brother he whispered quietly. He wasn't sure if he would hear, and he wasn't sure if he wanted Oberyn to hear.
As night started to fall, he decided that blood was still blood. Even though there weren't many predators in the area, he would hate if a mountain lion got a bite of his brother before he did. As much as he resented his herd, he still wished them the best. His mother of course, and he had to admit he was curious to see where some of the young fillies had ended up. It had been a long time since he had been in the company of other equines, and it was starting to show. He didn't know when to speak or what to say, so he remained silent. He showed his brother a place to rest under the gentle branches of a large pine, and the green grass that filled the ground in thick patches nearby. This little bit of paradise did have everything he needed after all. Without another word, he melted back into the forest and decided that any farther interactions could wait until the morning.
That night, he slept restlessly as the memories he had repressed continued to play like a never-ending script. All the way until that fateful day. Before the day could take its course though, his eyes shot open and he panted, trying to regain his breath. The apprehension made his heart race, but he wasn't ready to face what had happened. Not yet. Not while everyone else still thought it was his fault. Not while he still thought it was his fault.