anakedviper

[anakedviper]

Ellaria smiles into his kiss, a fanged smile with cruel intent.  There were monsters and wild beasts out for them, with wide mouths and hungry bellies, eager to steal Martell spoils.  Steel was the future, and Martell Steel was at its head, but London is an old city. At its base is stone and ash.  There are those that resent its new bones, the steel that runs beneath the gutters, carting its citizens from place to place, the steel that rises in canary wharf, that crosses the Thames and rattles through its narrow streets.

And yet, the Martells were not without their political enemies as well.  Kin of the dragons were never safe, and the Martells were particularly close kin.  Rhaegar Targaryen's children had Martell blood, his daughter in particular was the spitting image of Oberyn's sister.  Not to mention the Martell money funds Targaryen campaigns.

Personal was out of the question.  The Martell enemies were Oberyn's or her own.  Doran was not a man who made enemies.  He made friends, he made allies, he made people reliant upon his favor.  A slow man, the venom in his veins was subtler than Oberyn's, and he was not without malice, but it was hidden.  Ellaria saw it only because Oberyn did.  For years she'd thought the man was a milksop, but she'd been sorely mistaken.

"Political," she says, her nails raking lightly against Oberyn's chin.  "Killing him for business reasons makes little sense.  Those who didn't know him like we do thought him weak.  Putting you closer to the helm," she shakes her head, curling her fingers lower, rubbing them against the column of his throat.  "It would be a foolish move for our business enemies.  No, whoever's doing this, they hope to shake our political support.  Doran supported his sister's husband.  There are people who don't like our support of the Targaryens.  Stags," she smiles her cruel smile, kissing him again, "Stags and lions."

Screw your courage to the sticking place [FLASHBACK, April 23rd, morning, Closed to Oberyn Martell]

Her kiss is a familiar consolation, something that allows him to think past the times shadowed by this tragedy and remember a rare time when he was happy. Happiness seems harder and harder to achieve as you grow old—especially when it comes to Oberyn. But he was with Ellaria, at some point. Right now, he can feel only as though he is able to breathe, but that is enough. She is his; he is hers in return. The promise makes him return to the kiss with fervor, leaning into her touch. 

“We’ll find them,” he vows, breathless, when he breaks the kiss, much against his own will. Someone is responsible. Someone will always be responsible. Elia’s death haunts him to this day; some days, he’ll lay in bed thinking about it, wondering forever about what might’ve happened, who might’ve had cause to murder her. But his ruminations are have borne no fruit as of yet, just a tangled conspiracy that exists within his own mind that he cannot unravel. Doran had advised him against such thinking; it would do him no good, and his health might suffer. But now Doran is dead. Now there is no one to warn him against such thoughts. But it’s easier to conclude that a bullet did not just happen to tear through his brother. A small part of him asks what will he do, should he ever avenge his brother and sister. What will he do once he has brought justice upon the guilty? The answer comes unbidden, too easily: I will live my life, with my love, with all of my daughters and my nieces and nephews. I will watch them grow old and happy and fall in love. I will die a fulfilled man. (Or I will die trying.) “Thank you.” He presses a lighter kiss to Ellaria’s lips, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. His eyes light with purpose, directing a sharp gaze upon the computer screen. He smiles faintly when he sees that she’s already on the same page as him, having pulled up a list of those invited to last night’s party. But that doesn’t narrow things down very much; most of the major families he knows of have been invited. “How many of our competitors were on that list?” He pauses thoughtfully, adding, “Do you think it was business-related? Or politically motivated?” If it was politically motivated, there’s enemies from all sides, plenty of people siding against the Targaryens. But it has to be one of the two, he feels; why would anyone want to kill Doran personally? If it was based on that, it should have been him that the bullet was meant for.

[anakedviper]

character: ellaria sand →  anakedviper martell steel inc. REKHA SHARMA

Born the bastard daughter of married businessman Harmen Uller and a secretary at his firm, Amira Sand, Ellaria only met her father a rare few times. He had no interest in being a part of her life, but after an expensive court case, he provided for her monetarily throughout her childhood, sending her to the right schools, paying for her university education and eventually her law degree. Ellaria was always the brightest person in every class she was in. With an easy smile and a dash of sex appeal, she managed to get through life putting in minimal effort and achieving maximum results. She was picked up to be a solicitor for Martell Steel in the early 90s, soon after the riots and found that it was the perfect place for her. She met Oberyn while he was being called into the offices to be reprimanded for something or other. It didn’t matter what it was. The only thing that did matter was him. The attraction between the two was instant and lasting. Within weeks, Oberyn got her a cushy promotion and a corner office near his so he could visit her with ease. The company (Doran) assumed he would tire of her soon enough and that would be the end of it, but Oberyn and Ellaria found they had a lot in common, from the way they looked at the world to the things they wanted out of life. They never felt the need to impose rules or boundaries on their relationship, never wanted to get married, or even to remain faithful to one another. As long as there was fair warning to the other person, they were free to do whatever they liked. Whatever they liked soon included two beautiful daughters, Elia and Obella (ages 8 and 6), and a high powered expensive lifestyle, as well as plenty of hard work for Martell Steel.

[anakedviper]

Yes, do keep us posted.  Try to get some rest, call us as soon as we can come get you.  I'll let you know if we've any updates.  Take care, Rhaenys.

✆ → ellaria [july 27 1:30am]

Thanks, Ellaria. [Rhaenys is never quite sure what to say to Ellaria half the time. She’s an impressive woman with an equally impressive work experience and a formidable presence. She picked up on the undertones of her repetition of “night’s watch”] Glad everyone’s ok. I’ll text when I can, might come in a few hours, the phone lines are a little jammed.

[anakedviper]

[Ellaria nods and adds it to the list in her head of things that were to be done.  It was high priority, of course.  Family would always come ahead of business.]  The night's watch?  [Ellaria raises her eyebrows, pursing her lips in surprise.  She'd thought her near-niece's taste to run more exciting than glorified traffic cops, but whoever this was, he was just a friend, no possessive marker before the word.]  Yes of course.  We'll send a driver straight away, your uncle will arrange it.  Just text me the address, as soon as the streets are open we'll send the car.

✆ → ellaria [july 27 1:30am]

[Rhaenys rolls her eyes. Of course Ellaria would catch onto “friend”] Yeah, he’s - he had to leave actually. He’s in the Night’s Watch and they all got called in to help. [she pauses, biting her lip] I don’t know when he’ll be back or - or if any public transports gonna be running. Our driver doesn’t get on shift until 8. I might need to a favor to get a ride home later or something.

[anakedviper]

[Ellaria's lips quirk into a smile.  A friend's place is it, at 1:30?  Ellaria's had many of those friends before.  Her near-niece is 23, a woman grown, it's not Ellaria's place to judge, just to offer caution when necessary.  And in the midst of all this, caution is definitely necessary.  Powerful people have been dropping like flies, heavy and sated with money and blood, someone or something's been coming after them.  She's no doubt the daughter of the dragon's got as much bite as any of the viper's, but she's an Aunt's worry all the same.]  Do you trust this... friend?  If you need any assistance at all, you know your uncle and I are always just a phone call away.  And we always answer our phones for family, Rhaenys.  We're never too busy.

✆ → ellaria [july 27 1:30am]

Aegon’s fine, he’s at the house [she replies quickly, rushing to fill the dead space, the silence in Harry’s living while the muted television flickers with live footage] I talked to Arianne, she’s fine, she’s with Areo - [Rhaenys doesn’t name Arys Oakheart; despite Arianne confiding to her about their relationship, she’s unsure of the status among other family members] I’m at - a friend’s place.

[anakedviper]

Ellaria smiles into her lover's kiss, not a kind smile, but one fashioned hard and grim from the night's trials.  Doran wasn't her blood, but he was uncle to her daughters, brother to her love.  His legacy employed her, protected her, made up her life's work.  It was his generosity that paid for her daughters' schooling, for their caretakers, for the chefs that fed them nightly and the staff that cleaned and kept their home.  He was impassable.  The aging figure in the wheelchair, marching slowly forward.  The hunched silhouette over his chess table, teaching her daughters the basics of the game.

Twelve years now she's been Oberyn's mate, and he hers.  Twelve years Doran's treated her as a sister, never mind the baseness of her birth, the lack of legal ties that bound her to him.  Their only contract had been the companies, and yet he'd given her as much of his trust as he gave anyone who wasn't Oberyn, as much as he gave his own daughter.  But she knew only the edges of his plans, the shadowy legal safety nets that were her job to arrange.  Maybe that was his curse, had he told them more, told them why someone might want to kill him, maybe they could have prevented it.

Elia died in a hospital bed years before Ellaria could have met her.  Her death was tragic, but there was nothing any of them could do to stop the indomitable march of disease.  This was different.  They all saw Doran's body crash against the marble floor, saw the wheelchair topple, heard the gunshots, screamed as the metallic tang of blood filled the room.

Her mouth opens beneath Oberyn's, and she curls her hand around his cheek, her nails grazing his skin possessively.  Sitting up, she leans her forehead against his, her fingers still stroking his cheek.

"Of course.  You need only to tell me what to do, and I'll do it.  Whatever I can do to help..." she takes in a sharp breath, and kisses Oberyn again.  "We will restore justice to your family.  We'll find the real killers, not the ones who pulled the trigger, but the ones who paid them.  The only question is where to start."

Screw your courage to the sticking place [FLASHBACK, April 23rd, morning, Closed to Oberyn Martell]

It had become apparently necessary for his body to shut down after some many hours into the night, and he had slipped into a deep sleep during which he did not dream or snore or twist or turn. It was as if he had simply shut down, the image of Doran and Doran’s guards and Doran’s blood still burning behind his eyelids right before he fell asleep and right as he woke up. Reality had never been unforgiving as this; there were moments even Oberyn could not repress, could not stifle under an ocean of alcohol. He had not watched Elia die, but he’d watched his last remaining sibling bleed out, he’d heard the shot echo through the building. 

His eyes open but he does not stir, allowing himself silence while the morning went on, Ellaria moving about and ordering breakfast. His fingertips brush against the cold sheets and feels the soft threads, the luxury he’s afforded himself. Doran had all the luxury in the world and someone had torn that away with a bullet. Possessions are meaningless without those who possess them, he thinks blearily, fingernails digging into the sheets. Who had possessed him? Was it Doran? No. It had been the both of them, Elia and Doran, the things they’d said and the things they’d made, made a safety net for their brother should he fly too close to the sun. He wanted to protect them both and they’d both died before him. How does he go on, live without either of them?

He doesn’t move too much, brows creased, while Ellaria works on her laptop beside him, giving him the space she thinks he needs. But when the food has arrived and been set down, he shifts, sits up and stares at the woman beside him. Gingerly, he takes her chin, turns her face towards him. The morning sunlight catches in the planes of her face, brightens her eyes. Her face in his hands has never made her look more like a goddess and has never made him feel so mortal. It will never be her, he knows. And he kisses her, desperately.

“Never leave me,” he begs against her lips and her face becomes distorted from the moisture in his eyes. He removes his hands with hesitation, afraid to let go and afraid to hold on. “We’ll kill every last person responsible for this, I swear to you. But I need you by my side. I need you here. Promise me.” His voice doesn’t break, miraculous in itself.

[anakedviper]

[Ellaria's still awake, putting the finishing touches on a contract for the morning.  When her phone buzzes next to her, she picks it up on the second ring.]  Yes, we're all fine.  Quite the scare, the stadium going up.  Fate's spared us, I suppose.  [She purses her lips, thinking again on how they were all supposed to be in the stadium, Oberyn, and their girls as well.  Yes, a higher power had certainly protected them from this one, and Elia and Doran's children as well.  Just as she expects Nym to keep track of her sisters, she trusts Rhaenys to keep track of Elia's brood, as the dragon was notoriously absent.] I spoke with Nym earlier, all of Oberyn's daughters are all right.  Are you and your brother...

✆ → ellaria [july 27 1:30am]

[After getting through to her cousins, the last on her list to check are Oberyn and Ellaria. Rhaenys thinks that they were going to attend the Opening Ceremonies, but were not going to the dress rehearsal tonight. Figuring that they would be together, and that Ellaria is first in her list of contacts, Rhaenys calls her first.]

Hello? Hey Ellaria, it’s Rhaenys. Just wanted to let you know I’m okay. Are you, Oberyn, and the girls alright?

[anakedviper]

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.

[anakedviper]

yo rhaegar didn't just have a gr9 jawline, he had a v. hot bod

oh well

that makes all the difference

ELLARIA APPROVES

[anakedviper]

[Rhaenys had been her worry, by all accounts Aegon should be home, but Rhaenys was 23 and she thought she was grown, she was always off working on her father's campaign or something along those lines. If Ellaria was entitled to a voice, she would just tell the girl to go to law school and wait for her own political career. Of course she supports Rhaegar, family is family, though she can't see what any sister of Oberyn could see in a man she found so utterly forgettable, other than a well cut jawline, but then again she'd met the man only a sparse few times. But Rhaenys had Oberyn's fire.]. Of course Nym. Keep safe. Call us in the morning.

phone call → ellaria sand (july 27th)

[anakedviper]

[She laughs lightly at the comment about her girls.]. Bed then, if not sleep. Yes, Oberyn is with me. [Ellaria nods. The running tally of where Oberyn's family is mostly complete. ] And Elia's children? Do we know where they are?

phone call → ellaria sand (july 27th)

[anakedviper]

[anakedviper]

[Ellaria is sitting naked in bed, her eyes fixed on the flatscreen on the wall.  She's watching  the news coverage of the bombing.  It's eerie, she was supposed to take the girls to the opening ceremonies the next day.  Imagine if it had been the next night?  No, it was too horrible.  Whoever did this, she hoped England would make them bleed.]  Nym.  [Her voice is sharp and melodic as always.  Not even a national disaster can break her calm.] No, your father and I are awake.  London is burning and there's work to be done.  We're contracting with the tube right now, free work for free publicity.  Elia and Obella are asleep, I've explained what's happened and put them to bed.  [She pauses.  Oberyn's daughters aren't her own, but she's close to them regardless.  Not like a mother, but more like an aunt.  Family was everything.  It was the only thing.] The other girls are safe?

phone call → ellaria sand (july 27th)

[After texting her sisters, Nymeria decides to call Ellaria and make sure her and her daughters are alright. She tries over and over, the lines must be getting clogged. She tries for a last time but thankfully now it works] Ellaria? Sorry if I woke you up, but now that the freaks of this town came out to play, I wanted to make sure you and the girls were okay. [takes a deep breath] So, how are you?

[anakedviper]

Screw your courage to the sticking place [FLASHBACK, April 23rd, morning, Closed to Oberyn Martell]

The sun dawned red this morning.  A second Martell had been murdered.  Blood in the Orangery and all over the Lannister's hands.  And the Stark's too.  The Lannisters because, well, it had always been the Lannisters.  The Lannisters had always been jealous of their family, for what they felt Elia stole from them.  The first Elia.  Ellaria's own daughter's namesake, Oberyn's treasured sister, and Doran's too.  Well the Lannisters were old moneyed bastards; dirty money, money they stole and exploited to get.  They would get what was coming to them.

Ellaria may not be a Martell, but it's been nigh on twelve years since she and Oberyn met, and with two Martell children to her name, she was well acquainted with Martell enemies, and the Lannisters were number one on that list.  Ellaria wonders if the Starks were now climbing that list.  It was their party that Doran was shot at, their responsibility, and they just sat back and let it happen.  Let an unnamed gunman assassinate Oberyn's brother in front of all their party guests.

She supposes it will just be a bloody story for cocktail hour now, told in scandalized whispers over shrimps and martinis; I was there the night Doran Martell was shot.

It wouldn't do.  It wouldn't do at all.  There had to be blood to pay for blood, no one knew that better than Oberyn, and no one understood Oberyn better than Ellaria.

Rising, naked as the day she was born, Ellaria crosses the expanse of their master bedroom suite to the intercom by the closets.  Calling down to their perpetually prepared staff, she ordered a large breakfast, protein, starch, coffee, and whiskey. Something top shelf.  Whiskey was the perfect pairing for revenge.

The covers are cool as she slides back under them, pulling her laptop off her bedside table.  Oberyn would wake as soon as the food arrived, and then they could talk, discuss battle plans.  For now there was plenty of work to be done on her own.  Step one, acquire a detailed roster of who attended the Stark gala.

[anakedviper]

Timeline

FLASHBACK [Undetermined Date] // That girl is poison - Ellaria one shot RP Sample

[anakedviper]

That girl is poison [One-shot, undetermined amount of time pre-RP]

Ellaria was quite certain her assistant had a grudge against her.  This was the fourth morning in a row her coffee has been cold.  She kept dropping Ellaria's calls as well, and grabbing the wrong papers from the printer.  Even the simplest of tasks seemed to take three times as long as necessary.  The stupid moon-faced girl had been making doe-eyes at Oberyn as well, as if he'd even notice a bottle blond with dark roots and darker circles under her eyes.  No, this was nothing more than another jealous social climber looking to fuck Oberyn and steal her job.

Well.  She could certainly try.

Had it been no more than general incompetence, Ellaria would have simply had the girl fired by now, but this was clearly at attempted attack on Ellaria, and she would give that girl, what was her name, Jane or Sarah or Sally or something generic like that, the personal attention she so clearly craved.

"Jane, come in here," Ellaria commanded over the intercom, pulling the top drawer of her desk open and fishing around in it until she recovers a thin packet of soluble powder. 

The static blares on the intercom as a high pitched wobbly voice answers her.  "Do you mean me?  My name is Hannah."

"Yes, you, whatever your name is come in here."  With a tear, she pours the powder into her coffee and discards the packet in her rubbish bin, the torn letters '-lax' in purple winking through the crumpled trash.

"Here, Hannah, taste this," Ellaria commands, handing her assistant the cup, her thumb smearing the lipstick she's left on the cold coffee's rim.

"I don't like my coffee black…" she starts, but Ellaria interrupts.

"I don't really care.  For your insolence, you can drink the whole thing.  Or I can have you fired for your general incompetence, that's your choice.  Gulping nervously, the woman agrees and takes a trepedatious sip, and Ellaria gives her an encouraging smile.  "That's it, another.  In fact, why don't you drink that whole cup."  The woman almost balks, but grimaces instead, swallowing the coffee sip by sip.  "Now, Hannah was it?  This is how this is going to work.  You are going to stop dawdling with my coffee, and dropping my calls, and fucking up my briefs.  In fact, you are going to become the perfect assistant.  I don't know if you're jealous of me or you just have exceedingly poor taste in enemies, but you're going to stop this nonsense right now."

Pausing, she watches Hannah swallow sip after sip.  "You can fuck Oberyn if you want," Hannah chokes and Ellaria smiles, continuing.  "I really don't care, but I doubt that he'll have you.  He likes his women with a bit more, shall we say bite?  But you are welcome to try.  I'll look forward to hearing him tell me about it."

With a final disgusted swallow, Hannah finishes the coffee and bites her lip.  "Is that all Ms Sand?"

"Yes.  You may go.  I think you've learned your lesson.  And if you haven't, well, you will soon."  Even after the door slams shut behind her, Hannah can still hear Ellaria's laughter, high and hissing and cruel.

[anakedviper]