#6570 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sirowsky-stories · 7 months

Text

The Old Prince

Part 5

Author's Note: It's getting a bit scarier now, folks. Most of this is Oberyn's pov because I just love exploring how someone so old might think and react. Hope you do too, or this'll be a bit boring for you :) Also, I'm using the term Darkling for my own purposes here, it has nothing to do with the Grishaverse.

Description: Oberyn can only stand by and watch as you're forced to swallow some hard truths, after you've become witness to what the spirit world has planned for you.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, eventual romance, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses. Angst, reader is attacked, overprotective/jealous coworker. Word Count: 6570 Author's Masterlist

He departs from the courthouse by air, too distressed to give any thought to the two thousand souls inside that are endangered by his transformation. But he also flies away so quickly that he is never at risk of getting caught up in the hunt. His mind is trapped on the sight of the spirit, and what it might mean that you were not only able to see her, but that she now knows that you possess this ability.

Throughout the ages of man, there have been only a handful who have been able to see them, but none have ever been favored by The Decem. Instead, those rare few humans have been hunted by the spirits, driven to insanity by their magic, and then killed. This is the cause for Oberyn’s haste. He will not see this happen to you, but he knows that no human is welcome in any of the spirit realms and that there is no power on this Earth that can destroy the ghostly beings.

All animals can see them, which is probably why he can as well, but what does that say about you? Did his bite really change you to such an extent that you have now crossed from the human reality into that of magic, mysticism and despair? If so, then he must learn what you have become before you can harm those that you hold dear, because such is the fate of all creatures within this realm of ghosts and beasts. Whether by their will or not, those around them always suffer.

Returning to the castle, he heads for the library, only turning back to his human form once he has reached it, as the halls and stairs are too long for human legs to navigate effectively, although grand enough for the dragon to slither through without being halted by his size. He finds the section where he has collected the very oldest scrolls and books, and picks out one of his own scribbles from long ago, when he had attempted to create an account of his life. An endeavor he had soon abandoned after realizing that he had not one positive note to share within his own mind, leaving him too depressed to see the meaning of such a text.

But not before he had already filled seven volumes, one of which is dedicated to his encounters and thoughts around The Ten Spirits. The Decem. His memory fails him frequently these days, with so many years to try and recount, which was the original purpose behind the journals. Creating a library of his own memories. But who would wish to remember such a life? So much time spent in the company of death.

He places the book on the reading table and opens it to a random page, having forgotten most of its contents at this point, since the spirits are a topic that he has never thought he would have cause to discuss with another. It falls to a page about the Beetle, Scarabaeus, the spirit of stone, who can turn solid at will, whether sitting on a leaf or having crawled inside of a rock or tree.

All the spirits are generally neutral in terms of moods or intentions, but they all possess the capacity to turn dark and menacing, should they encounter certain circumstances. They are neither good nor evil, light nor dark, but they are also both. He turns the pages, not sure of what he seeks but convinced that he will know it when he sees it.

And he does. Near the end of the book there is an illustration. An image plucked from his own mind, depicted in detail because of how disturbing the memory had been, and now that he sees it, the memory is re-awakened within his mind. He slams the book shut and backs away from it, as if the memoir is responsible for the pictures within his brain, and not the other way around.

The horror in the man’s eyes as the darkened spirits had torn his soul to pieces, is an image he had hoped to never recall. That is what they do when they encounter a being which threatens the spirit realms. One by one they are darkened by their growing fear of this being, until that darkness becomes so thick and so empowering, that it draws them all together into one destructive mass, capable of covering the entire world under a cloud of anger.

If you have become such a being, if they find cause to fear you, then this is what will eventually come to pass, no matter what he does. But he must still try. You are the light of the sun, the moon and all the stars in his skies. He cannot let this darkness swallow you and tear you apart. He must warn you.

He leaves the library, transforming once again the moment he has crossed the threshold and entered the spacious hall beyond. However, he is momentarily halted by the opening that leads down to the basement door. Never before has he crossed that opening without feeling the pull. But in that moment, it is not there. He stands and waits, but the sensation does not come.

It should not worry him that such a treacherous and vile feeling is no longer there, but he does, because the timing is too perfect. For the first time, he wonders if there could be a connection between the creatures down there, and the spirits. It has never occurred to him before, but it now seems somewhat plausible. He does not have time to ponder this further, though. He must get back to you.

The dragon’s body is slender and snakelike, although so large that he is still as wide as a car over the chest, but he cuts through the air with minimal drag and his serpentine form enables him to maneuver with unparalleled agility. He is covered in both scales and sections of hair, and while the deep green color fills every inch of his exterior, making him glisten like a jewel, every deceptively smooth scale has a razor-sharp edge, and each strand of hair can become a deadly needle.

His claws are black, his teeth a dark grey, and at the end of his tail is a rounded bone covered in sharp ridges, like a medieval mace, and concealed by a patch of longer hair. His entire being is designed to be both stealthy and excessively deadly, for reasons that he cannot fathom. Surely, a crocodile, hippopotamus, or venomous snake is deadly enough for this world, there can be no reason for anything worse to exist.

Whatever made him, his purpose can be only destruction. But even now, after six millennia on this Earth, six thousand years of death, he still resists this notion. Because of you. Because if just one look upon your face is enough to awaken his heart, then there must be a light inside of him that has nothing to do with the fire.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

When you walk back inside, Simon is waiting for you, pacing back and forth with his arms crossed, clearly in a state of anxiousness. You’ve seen him have full-blown panic attacks before, but this isn’t that. He looks almost angry, and you can’t tell if it’s about Oberyn, or about you telling him to leave. In any case, the moment he sees you, he launches into a minor interrogation, no doubt spurred on by your obvious discomfort with the tall dark stranger.

“Are you okay? Who was that guy? Do you need anything? Did he leave? Because I’ll totally make sure he does if you want, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know. Thank you for caring. And yes, he did leave, but it’s none of your business who he is or how I know him, so just back off, okay,” you say firmly, hoping that your tone is enough to convince him that you’re not gonna talk about this any further.

Sadly, he doesn’t pick up on it.

“It is if he’s upsetting you. I’m your friend, I’m allowed to be concerned when I see that someone’s obviously bothering you.”

“You’re allowed to be concerned, yes, but what you’re not allowed to do is interfere without my asking,” you argue, getting angry that he isn’t respecting your privacy, which is entirely out of character for him.

“Boo, you literally ran away from the guy! If there’s a bigger universal sign for help, I don’t know what the hell it could be,” he counters, and you do have to give him that one.

You can imagine how your entire interaction with Oberyn must’ve looked to any bystander, but you also need everyone to steer clear of the viper, even if the only way to keep them safe is by hurting their feelings.

“I don’t need your help, Simon. And this little display of possessiveness isn’t doing you any favors. Friend or not, you don’t ever get to try and control any part of my life. And insisting that you have the right to interfere based on nothing but your own perception, is egotistical, and does absolutely nothing to help me.”

He looks like you’ve just run over his cat, and a part of you does feel guilty to be so harsh with him. He did have the best intentions, after all. But you’d rather see him hate you for the rest of his life than get killed because he stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have. After staring at you for a few seconds, he seems to decide that you’re just mean and that he isn’t gonna put up with it, so he turns and walks away without another word.

You wonder if this could be jealousy too. If perhaps you’ve misjudged his friendliness and that it could be indicative of a deeper interest that he just never dared to reveal. You’ve been a loner for as long as he’s known you, so there’s been no pressure for him to hurry up and tell you, if he does have those kinds of feelings for you, because there was never any rival to contend with before.

In any case, your interest in him has never been romantic. Like everyone else, you’ve kept him at arm’s length, which is probably another reason why he wouldn’t have felt comfortable telling you about any deeper feelings. You watch him return to the dance while you remain out in the hall, looking at the catering staff that has arrived and started to fill the tables with all manner of deliciousness, and suddenly you feel so disconnected.

Humans can’t see them…

Somehow, you’re not human anymore. This place within the community that you’ve grown up in, is just not yours anymore. You don’t belong among them. You’ve always been an outlier, not quite an outsider but far enough removed that you’ve never been able to claim real togetherness with the people of this city. And now that line has become a wall, separating you from them completely.

The thought makes you feel unwelcome. It makes your skin crawl and your blood burn with shame, for some reason. It’s not like you asked for this, so what is there to be ashamed of? You cross the hall and go to pick up your things, throwing your jacket on without changing out of the dress or putting on your boots instead of the golden ballroom dancing shoes you’re wearing, because suddenly you need to get out of here.

The parking lot is huge and since you hadn’t had any boxes to carry inside when you’d arrived, you’d chosen to park furthest away from the entrance, so that elderly or people with aches and pains wouldn’t have to walk that far. There’s three inches of fresh snow on the ground, so your feet are cold and wet within the first few steps beyond the stairs, which had been swept clean before the guests arrived.

But before you’re even halfway to your car, a glimmer in the corner of your eye draws your attention, and you stop walking when you see a wolf staring at you from between two maple trees, far off to your left, that provide shade to the parked cars during the heat of summer. Unlike the owl, this spirit isn’t glowing or half-transparent, but you still know that that’s what it is because it’s three times the size of a normal wolf, and instead of fur, it looks like moss, leaves and grass are growing on it.

It was the glimmer of its eyes that drew your gaze, and the longer you look at it, the harder you seem to freeze to the spot, as if it has the power to lock your body in place. But when it starts to move, just taking a few steps at first, and then quickly falling into a jog heading straight for you, the very air behind it seems to darken. As though it sucks away the light from the lampposts all around the lot.

And from one breath to the next, you’re terrified. Locked in place, you see it’s jaws open, and although you can’t hear it growl, the air seems to vibrate with the force of its voice. It moves so fast, seeming to pull that ominous darkness towards you, willing it to devour you, when another movement suddenly draws your attention away. From your right, a trail of sparkling red is visible in the sky, and before you’ve even located the source of it, something whistles past your face, and a sharp pain cuts across your cheek.

It unlocks your body, and you double over to the left, feeling hot blood spill over your cheek just as your gaze finds the wolf again, a mere moment before it too reaches you. The collision is so massive that it feels as though your head remains in one spot even as your body is wrung from the ground, with your entire midriff pinched between the massive jaws of the canine as it both bites and throws you like a ragdoll through the air.

Miraculously, its teeth don’t seem to be able to pierce your skin, but they crush your insides all the same, before it releases you, sending you hurtling across the entire parking lot, leaving you airborne for so long that you have time to consider where and how you’re gonna land, and how much it’s gonna hurt. You come down on the roof of a Volvo, buckling it and setting off alarms and airbags as the windscreen cracks under the force of your mass and motion energy.

But you’re not sure how you’re even able to notice that when the landing breaks most of the right side of your body, and that’s before you’ve bounced off the car and crashed against the pavement as well. You’re too damaged to move any more, leaving you trapped in the position you eventually come to a stop in, on your back with your right arm trapped underneath you, and your legs veered off to the right as well. You can’t tell if they’re broken.

Directly above you, the source of the red sparks passes over, flying slower now, and you can see that it’s a bat. It’s even more transparent than the owl, and smaller, much closer to a bat’s actual size. The rapid flapping of its wings is what produces those sparks all around it, even though the actual body of the spirit appears to be almost white, with a yellow tinge to the collar of hairs around its neck.

You should scream for help, but you’re barely even able to breathe. The shock and adrenaline aren’t enough to conceal the pain anymore, so all you can do is lay there in agony as your brain feebly attempts to map everything that’s broken. Claws scraping against the pavement tells you that the wolf has rounded the car and is approaching you to finish the job, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

You can’t even turn your head, staring up at the starry night sky as the giant, pale white head of the spirit comes into view above you, while the bat circles above its ears. It smells of pine needles and something heavily earthy, like the woods after a day of rain, but much more potent. And when it opens its mouth to presumably crush your skull, its breath reminds you of freshly mowed grass.

For a fraction of a second, your mind leaves the cold ground and the simultaneously sharp pains and dull aches of your broken bones and crushed organs, fleeing to memories of cycling past a summer meadow in full bloom. Sneaking away from your foster mom to go riding on the neighbor’s pony. Kayaking out to the middle of the lake and drifting aimlessly for an entire afternoon, just watching the world around you go about its day.

The moment ends when a bright light flashes from somewhere before the wolf can close its jaws around you, and suddenly its head moves away, searching for the source. Heat floods the air as the light only intensifies, and before you’ve managed to catch on to what’s happening, the wolf is engulfed in yellow flames. The white head is replaced by glistening green scales which are somehow all around you at once, while the blinding light of the fire fills the sky and seems to devour the world.

Fresh pain shoots through you as something wraps around your torso, and then the light fades away and all you can see are the stars, before the darkness takes over and you fall away from the conscious world, into the painless nothingness beyond.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

He did not think it would happen so quickly. He had hoped that they would at least take the time to ensure that you are indeed a danger to them. It has been some two thousand years since the last dark one. The last human to cross between realms. Perhaps the spirits have grown restless since then, or perhaps their fear of these creatures has increased, hastening their need to quell the threat.

His flame cannot harm them, but it does stop them, because there is no fire-spirit. That element belongs only to him, and spirits can only withstand elements or forces commanded by other spirits. Caelum commands the air, and therefor the wind. Scarabaeus commands stone, and therefor also the earth. And Octopus commands the seas, lakes and rivers. But there has never been a spirit who commands fire.

They know now that the dragon protects you, and he suspects that this will only further stoke their need to destroy the threat which you present, but nothing like this has ever happened before, so the outcome is impossible to determine beforehand. Because just as he cannot harm them, they are equally powerless to damage him. But that is also your only advantage.

He has brought you back to your home this time, simply because of the proximity, as your broken body would not have done well with a six-hundred-mile flight, but thankfully, even just an hour after the attack you have already begun to heal. Still, he waits nervously by your bedside, hating the sickening snaps of your bones falling back into place every now and then, flinching and grinding his teeth at each one.

The cuts and bruises have already disappeared, and he knows that your organs are recovering just as swiftly, but the memory of these pains will linger within your mind and body for a long time. The real recovery will not be the physical one. A thought which torments him as he is ultimately responsible for all this agony.

It takes three hours before you begin to stir, and the small twitches in your fingers which make up the earliest signs of your improvement, offer him such relief that he marvels at the sudden influx of oxygen to his unknowingly compressed lungs. And when your eyes flutter open and you stare up into the ceiling, no doubt perplexed as to your own survival, he can no longer refrain from touching you.

You flinch at the unexpected contact, and your head turns, seeking the source of it, but you do not pull away. Your subconscious must already have alerted you to his presence because you are neither shocked nor alarmed to see him there.

“It is alright, Valya. You’re home. The spirits are gone, you are safe for the time being,” he assures you, but you look only confused.

“But… how? I felt my body break…”

“Yes, you did. But you have already healed yourself, just like after the bite. I still don’t know exactly how you are capable of it, but I have witnessed it twice now.”

Hearing this only adds to your bewilderment, and clearly needing to test the truth of his words, you begin to sit up. The effort required for this sort of rapid reconstruction is massive, especially with as much damage to deal with as was inflicted upon you, so when you move, the muscles and ligaments are slow to respond. And the memory within your nerves-system wakes up.

“Oh, god… urgh…” you growl, as your pulse immediately spikes, and your breathing turns rapid and much too shallow.

“Easy, the healing may be complete, but your senses have not caught up yet,” he cautions, but your determination is unaffected.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and then sit there, rocking back and forth while you wait for the pain to subside.

“What the hell happened, Oberyn? Why did they try to kill me?”

“Because in their eyes, you are dangerous now. Like I said, humans are not supposed to be able to see them.”

“Wait… So, because you bit me and somehow transformed me into whatever the fuck I am now, those things have decided that I’m more dangerous than you and that I need to die?” you question, having regained enough composure to raise your head and glare at him.

“I will explain as best I can, but you must eat now, my dear. Your body has depleted all of its reserves, you will soon pass out again if you do not replenish them.”

As if his words have reminded your body to signal its fatigue, your head falls forwards and you sway slightly where you sit, before you drop your elbows onto your knees and let your head come to rest against your palms.

“I feel sick…” you croak.

“I know. You need protein, salt and vitamins. I will go and prepare something for you,” he offers, but when he rises to leave the room, your hand catches his and you look up into his eyes.

“You can talk while you cook, and I can listen while I wait. Help me to the kitchen,” you demand, and he is not about to argue with you.

You have more than earned any and all answers he might be able to give you. He turns and picks you up from the bed, cradling you in his arms as he carries you with him to the little kitchen, feeling ridiculously joyous at the feel of your arms voluntarily wrapping around his neck, and how you rest your head against his shoulder for the brief journey.

“They are The Ten Spirits, or The Decem,” he begins even as he leaves the bedroom, seeing as there is no time to waste. “They exist within the elements and the seasons of the world, not controlling them, but able to command them if the need arises.”

While he deposits you on a chair and starts rummaging through your fridge and pantry, he tells you about the three elementals, and you immediately raise the question of the fourth one.

“So, are you fire, then?”

“No, for some reason, fire has no spirit. I’m something else and for all my years, I have not yet managed to uncover exactly what that is. But I know with certainty that I am not one of them.”

“How?” you ask after he has found some promising ingredients.

“Well, for starters, humans can certainly see me. And unlike The Decem, I am capable of thought and reasoning.”

“You’re saying they don’t have minds of their own?”

“Not like you and me. Their minds are closer to those of animals, driven by instincts alone, not really able to think ahead, only react to what happens around them,” he explains while he begins preparing to make pancakes. “And much like animals, they remember things that have frightened them, and that is where you come in.”

“But I’ve never seen them before tonight…”

“No, but they have encountered the likes of you before. History even has a name for humans who can see the spirit realm. They are called Darklings.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all…” you gripe, already struggling to keep your eyes open.

“I’m afraid it’s even worse than it sounds. Darklings earned their name by literally casting darkness upon the entire world, simply by existing,” he begins, and that gets your attention, leaving you staring at him with a worried crease in your forehead as he continues. “The spirit realm is beyond human reach because you have long ago lost the ability to exist only in emotion, completely devoid of thought. Because for all your intelligence, it is still thoughts that corrupt. It is thoughts that can never be controlled, whether they are for good or evil, and unfortunately, they are the most easily influenced by darkness. The spirit realm has no thoughts. Those that live there can only feel, and feelings cannot survive dark thoughts.”

“So… the spirits were trying to expel my thoughts from their realm?” you conclude, having to lean over the table now to keep from crashing headfirst into it.

“Precisely. And they will continue to do this until they have succeeded, because they have not forgotten what happens to all the world when a Darkling slips past their defenses. And neither have I,” he adds pensively, while he starts to whisk the batter together.

“You’ve seen that happen?” you quietly ask, and he answers without turning around as the task at hand helps his mind remain clear despite the grim subject matter.

“Unfortunately, yes. It is a truly frightening thing to see all the world fall victim to depression, anger and despair. Not just people, but all living things. Every tree, flower and blade of grass, and every animal, from the largest whale to the smallest insect, all turned into evil, malicious beings, with no purpose save for destruction and pain. That is what the spirits are trying to prevent.”

You go so quiet hearing that, that he turns around to ensure you have not fallen asleep. But you remain wide awake, in utter defiance of the absolute depletion of all energy reserves within you, refusing to rest until you have a grasp on this new reality you have so unfairly been thrust into.

“But if you’ve seen that, if you know what’ll happen, then why did you save me?” you question, and he returns his focus to the food.

Not just because you need it sooner rather than later, but also because this part of the conversation worries him. He worries how much he should divulge of his feelings for you. These most recent events aside, you have made it very clear that you have no favorable eye for the beast that caused all this, and there is no reason to think that you will change your mind on this matter.

“Because I don’t believe that you are a Darkling,” he finally explains. “For what I know of them, they have always been born with the ability to see across the realms, none have ever simply acquired the ability by some magic trick. And more than that-…” he adds before he can stop himself, which of course piques your interest.

“What?” you press when he does not continue, and he sighs heavily at his own lack of restraint.

“To my knowledge, they have never been so lovely as you. So full of light,” he confesses, continuing as he hands you a stack of finished pancakes, because why stop when he has already begun. “I cannot believe that anyone who can reach into a heart as lifeless as mine was before I met you, and make it shine with hope and possibility, could ever be this malevolent and destructive thing, all at once. I can’t believe that someone so wonderful could possess the power to destroy all life. If such a thing has indeed become possible… then maybe it is time for this world to expire.”

For a long moment, you merely stare at him, perhaps at a loss for words, but whether because you are overwhelmed to hear of his feelings, or disgusted by them, he can’t discern. He returns to the stove and hears you begin to eat shortly after, so he lets the topic rest. You allow him to refill your plate twice, ending on a total of eight pancakes and three fried eggs, only speaking again once you have stopped eating.

“You said there’s ten spirits, so aside from the three elementals, what are the rest?” you ask, apparently determined to understand as much as you can about this.

“The wolf you encountered, Lupus, is the Forest-spirit, and the bat, Vespertilio, is the Night-spirit. And then there are the four seasons. Autumn, which is the deer: Cervus. Winter, the polar bear: Ursa. Summer, the horse: Equus, and finally Spring, the butterfly: Papilio.”

“You missed one,” you say, counting them out. “These six plus the three elementals is only nine.”

“That is correct. The tenth spirit, Day, has never been seen.”

“Then how do you know it exists?”

“Because if it did not, the power of the spirits would be incomplete, and they would not have been able to fight the darkness throughout the ages.”

You ponder that in silence for a while, and not for the first time, he wishes that he could read your mind, because you are far too good at concealing what you think of. But when you do speak again, you have changed the topic, so perhaps you have elected to not think too closely on the beings that almost killed you, for now.

“So, what are we gonna do?”

“What we have been trying to do from the start, which is find out what you have become. That’s the only chance we have to save your life,” he answers while clearing the table for you.

And right then, there is a sharp knock on the front door, and a quick whiff of the air in that direction tells him that it is the boy from before, Simon, and what smells like a policeman, unless someone else is walking around the city with a revolver. There is no mystery to their cause for being here, given the scene left behind at the parking lot, where your bags were left thrown on the ground in the haste of your departure.

You look to him before you make any move to get up, so he nods to reassure you that it will be safe to open the door.

“Boo, thank god, you’re alright!” Simon exclaims as he steps over the threshold uninvited and throws his arms around you, also without permission.

The officer merely steps just inside the door, putting your forgotten bags down before he politely removes his hat.

“Yeah, uh… I’m fine. What’s going on?” you reply, understandably confused.

Oberyn is more than mildly pleased to see you push the young man back, signaling your discomfort with his invasion of your personal space at this moment, but he maintains a neutral expression as he approaches and comes to stand by your side. Your colleague is not at all pleased to see him in your house, and seems to forget that the lady has asked him a question, so Oberyn takes the opportunity to answer for him.

“It would seem that they’re concerned about the bags you left behind, along with your car, at the parking lot.”

“Oh, right… that,” you fumble, looking for a way to stall and give yourself a moment to come up with a believable lie.

Unfortunately, he can’t help you do that. The explanation must come from you, or the men will not believe it, as they are entirely unfamiliar with the stranger in your house and has no reason to trust anything he says. Moreso the opposite, especially after what Simon may have read into whatever he’d seen of your earlier exchange.

“Well, there’s a perfectly good explanation for that, it’s just that… um… it’s personal,” you try, earning yourself another few seconds.

“I’m afraid we’re gonna need that explanation, miss,” the police officer insists, to which you give an exasperated sigh, suitably theatrical, not too dramatic nor too bland.

“Okay, fine. Oberyn and I got into an argument at the party and then he left. But it was my fault and I felt bad about it, so I grabbed my stuff to go after him, caught up to him by his car and then we… made up… and I forgot the bags.”

You deliver the lie with absolutely perfect mimicry, leaving both men slightly flabbergasted. Clearly, you are not known to be irresponsible, or imprudent.

“And where’s your car now, Mr…?” the officer prods, turning to the stranger, but his quarry is very well practiced in evading questions and staying out of reach of the many human legal systems.

“Oberyn. And unless a crime has been committed which somehow involves my car, I see no reason to divulge its current whereabouts.”

“Another car in that lot was severely damaged, sir.”

“I see. Do you have reason to suspect that it was my car that caused these damages, officer?” he counters, knowing full well that the car in question was only damaged on the roof and windscreen, a feat no other car could have accomplished.

“…No,” the policeman begrudgingly admits, so he smiles and nods politely at the man.

“Then I think this conversation is over.”

“Alright, seriously, who the hell are you?” Simon challenges then, clearly increasingly frustrated to learn of this previously unknown variable to your life, who is apparently also unfailingly superior to himself.

But you are not one to suffer intrusions, of any kind, which is why Oberyn does not even attempt to answer the rude question.

“We’ve already had this conversation, Si. Whatever your beef is, take it somewhere else,” you reply in his stead, just as he knew you would, but the young man only grows sourer.

“My beef is that you don’t want friends, even when it’s people you’ve known for years, and you don’t ever cozy up to strangers. Do you really expect me to believe that this guy isn’t coercing or controlling you somehow? I mean, is he the one that made you change your appearance? Did he send you off to some fancy clinic so you could look as timeless as him, is that it?”

“You are way out of line, Simon!” you emphatically growl at him, but the boy has found a blowtorch to feed the already crackling fire within.

“Oh, come on, Boo, do you really think I’m that stupid? And what about Kelli and Micah? Just because you don’t tell us everything about yourself doesn’t mean we don’t know you, we all figured it out the moment this guy showed up!”

His words shock you. So much that there are tears in your eyes as you listen to him continue to rant, but you do not retort. You stand there and let him disrespect and condescend you in your own home, and for a moment, Oberyn prepares to step in. But then he glances down at your hands, finding them closed tightly against your sides, and it makes him realize what you are really doing.

Whatever your relationship was before this night, it had obviously begun to crack at the seams even before the boy showed up here, and now that he has revealed precisely how little he values it, you are standing back, allowing him to destroy it completely, all on his own. You wait for him to run out of hurtful words, and then you simply push him out of your house, hard enough that he falls on his ass, before slamming the door shut.

There is no reasoning with someone who has already decided that they’re right, so your actions are entirely correct. But if your life was lonely before, it is now desolate. Because if this really is what everyone around you is thinking, then how will you ever be able to convince them otherwise? Keeping a safe distance between yourself and others is one thing, but having no one to turn to, no one to trust even with the smallest thing, that is an entirely different kind of solitude.

“It’s for the best, right?” you ask after a few moments, surprising him. “I mean, they’ll be safer now, having nothing to do with me, won’t they?”

“Technically, yes,” he answers, knowing that you need to hear the truth right now.

You nod, but sorrow rocks through you as you attempt to accept the loss. Not just of your friends, however shallow the relationships may have been, but of your previous life. Despite the changes you have gone through, you tried to go back and live as you always have, perhaps hoping that somehow, it would all simply work itself out. But this night has proven to you, once and for all, that there is no going back.

Whether by their will or not, those around them always suffer.

You have already understood that your mere existence is a threat to these people, and you care enough about them to shield them from the darkness that hunts you. He does not remember his own beginning anymore, his human life. But he knows that the first blood the dragon ever spilled, was that of his own kin. A horror he may never cleanse himself of, but which you could yet avoid.

Unsure if you would accept his comfort, but also unwilling to watch you stand there alone with your grief, he steps closer and carefully wraps one arm around your back, leaving you an easy exit from his embrace, should it be unwelcome. But as soon as you feel it, you lean into it, letting the sorrow fully grip you as you fall into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding onto him as if your life depended on it.

He hates that it does. That he is now the only one that can aid you in your attempt to stay alive long enough to find out what has happened to you. But he will not falter. He will forego both sleep and feeding for as long as it takes. Because the spirits need neither rest, nor sustenance. They are energy themselves, and thus, their efforts will not be paused.

Even as you stand there, they are approaching, hindered only by his presence. But once they have all gathered, even the might of his flame will not be enough to hold them off.

Part 6

The Ten Spirits of the World Air - Forest - Water - Stone - Night - Autumn - Winter - Spring - Summer.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you wish to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

@harriedandharassed @kittenlittle24 @joelswritingmistress @pedrostories

#oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn x reader #modern!au #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #halloween writing #halloween fic #spooky season fic #spooky season #sirowsky stories

47 notes · View notes