He did not know why he followed them out of the band tour bus - her flitting like a faerie, giggling, with shirtless Oberyn slowly following her, swaggering and laughing lowly. Sweet Myrcie was such a free spirit - next week, she could be with another band, another guitarist, maybe with a drummer (Quentyn blushed remembered what she said about drummers and their stamina).

When he opened the auditorium doors, his jaw dropped. There she was, in her tiny white embroidered top and cut-off shorts, languidly twirling in the debris lined auditorium floor and holding a long rose stem. Her willowy body gracefully floated and dipped. The half lit overhead lights made her curly golden hair glow, like a halo as she leaped and dipped, then slowly rolling onto the floor until she rose up, arching her back backwards. He could not help gasping at the movement. Even without any music playing, he heard music, the swelling notes that could not be contained in her heart and were written so clearly in her dazzling smile. As she sat up and rose to twirl again, Oberyn did his slow clap, seemingly awakening her from her reverie.

He held his breath to see if she would stop and return back to Oberyn or if she would continue to dance again. Quentyn was surprised how much anger he felt seeing his favorite guitarist trying to cajole Mrycie to return back to him. Then he remembered with shame his angry and jealous words the night before, telling her to not go on tour with them, that the guys in the band, especially Oberyn, were using her and girls like her, that they were willing to bet her and Arianne away for fifty gold crowns and a bottle of Arbor Gold. Instead of flinching or looking hurt, she laughed and asked which band. It was not bravura. She whispered her mum, the legendary band aide who hung out with guitar god Rhaegar, taught her well - that she always told her that “Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same."

Hearing the loud claps, she stopped but did not turn towards Oberyn, her back towards him, but instead faced Quentyn. Seeing Quentyn awkwardly standing by the door, she smiled mischievously at him as Oberyn started to beg.

"Sweetie, I am sorry - she meant nothing to me," Oberyn said in his deep accented voice.

She opened her mouth and pretended to be lip sync Oberyn, making Quentyn almost giggle until she placed her tiny finger by her full lips. The dark haired man started to walk towards her when she did not respond. His steps echoed loudly through the almost empty auditorium. Suddenly Quentyn was scared for her, would intoxicated Oberyn be angry that she left him? While he had many other girls besides this tiny dancer, a new girl at every venue, there was always Myrcy and Ellaria in his arms the next day, massaging his temples and caring for him.

But instead of running and trying to escape, she looked over her shoulder at the smiling man, giggling. Oberyn reached her, holding her, whispering foreign words that made them both laugh. He threw her over his shoulder and playfully spanked her denim covered ass. Walking past Quentyn, out of the door, Oberyn messed his hair. As they went back to the bus, Myrcy lifted her curly mop and smiled and winked at Quentyn.

That night, as Oberyn took his time "punishing" her, making her groan and sigh, Quentyn thought of her dance - how she was so perfect, so singular and so free. She was like a beautiful butterfly that they all want to catch.