#Ellaria Sand x male OC

[wardenparker]

The Viper's Bride - ch 10

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* Fluff and intimacy, blink and you'll miss it pregnancy kink, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, bath sex. Brief mentions of physical pain and past abuse (parent to child and spousal). More secret keeping. Summary: An unexpected development could change everything - but will it be as good a change for everyone as it is for some? Notes: Tumblr is rejecting any effort I try to put into editing my taglist for this story, guys. I'm really really sorry. If you want to be put on the master tag list please send me an ask or a DM and let me know, as that does not seem to be experiencing problems at the moment.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9

In the days that follow, routine develops. Walks with Margaery become frequent interludes, there is more chance to spend time with Ellaria or with Raeden, and suppers in your quarters are occasions for the four of you to bask in each other’s attention. A week of pleasant days goes by without incident, all except for the gnawing feeling in your chest that never seems to dissipate.

Despite the joint coupling that happened a week ago, there has not been a repeat. The days have turned longer with meetings and whispered conversations in darkened hallways of the wretched keep. Oberyn has kept you and Ellaria apprised of what is being said, Raeden already knowing, but he will be glad to leave King’s Landing behind when this is over.

There has not been another night with Raeden, despite many pleasant evenings in his arms after supper while the four of you have talked. Each night he and Ellaria have retreated to the second bedchamber and left you and Oberyn to your conception efforts with little or no fuss at all. It seems strange, considering how hard you fought to be able to keep Raeden at your side – but you remind yourself that it does not mean he loves you any less. Or that you love him any differently, either.

Oberyn pours another cup of wine and sighs. “I am ready to be rid of this city.” He tells you as he looks out the window at the city below, watching people and animals scurry about their evening. “Will you miss it?”

“I cannot think so.” The gardens are beautiful and the library welcoming, but apparently both are more stunning in Dorne. “If nothing else, it makes the people I care about unhappy, and my mother is still here.” You shrug at him half-heartedly. “That alone is enough to make me long to be anywhere else.”

“Has she said something to you?” Oberyn turns and gives you a sharp look, instantly ready to cut her with his tongue if she had. You have opened up more to him over the past week and the woman should have been barren rather than a mother.

“She found me this morning in the library,” you admit, not liking the look of concern on his face all at once. “And…asked me to have dinner with her and my father tomorrow.”

“Just you?” He asks, raising a brow and wondering what her play is. She might be trying to curry favor. That would be very plausible considering she would have someone close to the small council, but he knows you are far too smart to fall for her shit.

“I did not want to commit you to an entire meal of her insults,” you admit with a small grimace. “So I said you were otherwise occupied on small council business.”

“So I can interrupt if need be and rescue you.” Oberyn smirks before he shakes his head. “You do not have to go. Make your excuses or just do not show if you wish to not go.”

“I thought you might say that.” He has developed a habit of playing with the hair along your neck when you sit together and it soothes you measurably, making you nearly sigh as you sit together. “But I do not want the last meal I share with my parents to be that disastrous breakfast the morning we were introduced.”

“I thought that meal was quite amusing.” Oberyn hums, remembering his own part with satisfaction, though he frowns when he realizes that it has been days since he was close to his lover.

“Yet remembering it makes you upset?” A fact which, when you point it out, makes you frown in turn.

“Simply your fear that followed.” He assures you. “Hopefully now put well to rest.” He leans in and kisses your chin to dispel the frown and replace it with a smirk.

“There will always be some looming fear in a life frought with responsibility and power.” But you turn into him, seeking a kiss from his lips to yours, and smile softly. “What I am assured of is the support of my husband. And for that I am grateful.”

“There is nothing much more powerful than a prince.” He reminds you. “Unless those rumors of dragons are true.”

“I value your support much more than your power.” It would not be true of every woman he could have married, but it is certainly true if you. And you hope – however quietly – that the fact of it means something to him.

“You have both, Princess.” He softens, his fingers caressing your skin and he’s aware that he is lucky in the choice of bride made for him. It might not have been intended, at least for your sweetness, but he is drawn as a bee is to honey.

“Then I am very lucky.” Returning his gentle gesture, your fingers caress the sharp line of his beard and make your smile grow a little wider.

“I have to shave tonight.” He grunts, watching you carefully. “Another bath.” He doesn’t care for the baths in the Keep. “I have already told Cal, do you wish to join me?”

“Leyth will be grateful,” you muse, glad to accept the invitation. The small and large moments of intimacy you get with him are always worthwhile. “It will save her having to draw one for me tomorrow.”

Oberyn had not been with either servant since coming to the keep, in fact, he had been inside no one but you. “Princess.” He tilts his head and draws a circle on your arm.

“My lord?” Though he has yet to demand your fealty, he is that. Your husband. Your prince. Your lord.

His lips twitch slightly and he lifts a brow, approving of your demeanor. “Have you touched your lover since that time we were all together?” He asks it softly, no accusing, just wondering if you had managed to spend time with him when Oberyn is occupied.

“Not beyond a kiss.” There had not been time for it during the daylight hours and you have spent every night since the consummation of your marriage with your husband. “He has been considerate of our efforts to ensure your heir.”

“Very considerate.” Oberyn hums and adds it to the tally that he is forming in his head. “Do you wish to go to him? Seek other pleasures with him?”

The offer, even though there is no malice in his voice, makes you shrink back a little. “Do you wish for me to leave you after we bathe?”

“Not at all.” He shakes his head, making an effort to not frown. Reminding himself that you are still innocent in the ways of multiple partners. “I just realized that I have been greedy with your nights.”

“I enjoy our nights.” Perhaps too much, you have thoughts more and more frequently — especially when laying in his arms at night.

“I have enjoyed our nights as well.” He chuckles and brushes his nose along your neck. “Are you wishing for anything? Something I can give you?”

“How could I possibly wish for anything beyond what I already have?” Your soulmate, a doting husband, and a divinely lovely friend in his own soulmate. A growing friendship with the widowed queen. What better companions could you ask for?

“Lovers.” He hums. “Whichever you want. A pretty cunt to eat or a cock to suck.” He chuckles quietly. “I am merely asking if you have grown more curious. Though you drain me dry every night when you ride my cock, perhaps you have secretly wished for more.”

“It would not give me the same satisfaction, I think.” The idea of sharing your bed with a stranger simply to take pleasure in them actually appeals to you very little, you have found. It is the closeness – the intimacy – of the act that you crave. Even the most intensely physical fucking you have ever shared with Oberyn has been fraught with feeling. “I think that…it is important for me that I care for my lovers.”

“Interesting.” He’s not of the same mind frame but he respects that. His own feelings for you are complicated and burgeoning as he spends more time in your presence.

“It may seem a bit unconventional to you.” Which is in no way a thing to regret or censure. It is simply a fact. “But I think so far it has made me happy.”

“Just because it is something I am not used to does not mean it is wrong.” He reaches out and caresses your neck gently to reassure you. “I just wish to make sure you are happy with this arrangement as it is.”

“I am.” Much to your surprise, in fact, and you nuzzle against his hand. “I am happier than I ever thought possible. But if you wish to have others in your bed, you only need to say so.”

“I will hurt you.” It’s a simple statement, but one that holds a heavy weight.

The light in your eyes dims and you glance away, suddenly focused on your fingernails far more than his face. “I do not like how you seem so sure of that.”

Oberyn tuts and reaches for your chin. “I do not want to hurt you, Star.” He rephrases softly. “So I need to know if it will hurt to find me with other lovers.” With Ellaria, there had never been that question, but for some reason, it seems terribly important to work out before he causes a hurt he cannot kiss away.

“I expect it.” It is not precisely an answer to his question, but at least it is honest. “You cannot be satisfied by limitations, I knew that when I first went to your bed and I know that still. And, if I am perfectly honest, I admit to being surprised that you have not bedded anyone else since our first night together. I thought to spend most nights with Raeden. Or…even alone.”

“Why alone?” That makes him frown fiercely, and his dark eyes pierce into yours demanding the answer.

“If you are with someone else and Raeden is with Ellaria, then surely I must be keeping my own company.” It is not a judgment call. Simply a fact. But one that apparently neither of you enjoys.

“Princess, you never have to be alone.” He huffs. “Even if you did not join, you would be welcomed to lounge on a chaise and eat berries while I fuck.” He teases, hoping to chase away the clouds of sorrow in your eyes.

“I fear that while I enjoy being observed, I do not think I would enjoy watching you take pleasure in another.” Yet another unfortunate truth that you feel compelled to divulge to him, but it is what it is. “Unless it were Ellaria or Raeden…or someone else you cared for.”

“Hmmmm.” He nods in understanding, and lets go of your chin to lean in to press a soft kiss to your lips.

"Perhaps you may hurt me, but I fear I will still prove a disappointment to you." He had observed once that he did not have the power to hurt you because he did not hold your heart. The terrible truth is that with every passing day you become less and less sure of the truth of that statement. Fight it though you might, it seems very possible that your affection for your husband has outgrown what it once was. And that makes you not only a potentially disappointing wife, but a disgrace of a soulmate to Raeden as well.

“How?” He tilts his head curiously, wanting to see why you would think so.

"Try as I might, I do not think I am as free as you would wish me to be." As free as Ellaria is, you think loudly and with growing remorse. This night has already strayed a long way from the promise of a shared bath and a warm bed.

“I want you to be as free as you are comfortable.” He takes another sip of his wine. “I have not visited a brothel or tossed a servant’s skirts up.” He reminds you with a wink. “I’ve not even had Cal suck my cock, though that mouth is a gift from the gods, old and new.”

"I will sleep on the chaise tonight if you wish to share your bed with him." You would, your twisting chest tells you without words, do anything he wanted. It is an alarming thing to realize and you wince slightly without realizing it.

“You misunderstand my meaning, star.” He shakes his head and reminds himself not to get frustrated with you. “Checking to see if you have developed curiosities does not mean I wish to have another in our bed.” He murmurs quietly. “Freedom and security is all I am offering. The freedom to take or leave it, and the security to know that I will not rebuke you for it.” His hand takes yours and he brings it up to his lips to kiss the back of it like he had the first time he greeted you.

"And you have the same freedom, which is why I offered." The way he changes from intimate to polite at the drop of a hat is mercurial at best and infuriating at worst, but you remind yourself that you still do not know him as well as you think you do. As well as you wish you did. Your marriage is barely a fortnight old.

He sighs softly and gives you a fond smile. “My stars and moon, I have found that I am exhausted by the time you collapse into my arms.”

"Then perhaps I am not so disappointing a wife after all." For now, you can only pray that he remains satisfied with your time together.

“There will come a time that I hope all of us might be together.” He admits softly, leaning in and nudging your nose. “I would like to see you impaled on your soulmate's cock, full of my heir with your skin glowing and your belly swollen.”

That image – the image of the four of you so deeply entwined together – is one that you will soak in and burrow inside. At this stage of things, it is the truest version of what you desire. "If we are lucky, that day will not be so far away."

Perhaps not. Instead of answering, he nods and stands when he hears footsteps approaching. “That will be Cal.” He hums.

“Do you still wish me to stay? To bathe with you?” After the unexpected conversation, you would not blame him if he had changed his mind.

“Stand up and come to me.” He orders, turning away from the table where he was refilling his cup.

It is not often he gives orders, and your tendency from childhood is to follow them as long as they are not cruel, so you do what he says. Standing from the large, cushioned chair you had been sharing, you get up and cross the room to stand before him.

Cal opens the door and nods respectfully to Oberyn, The prince smirks slightly and nods in return before shifting his eyes towards his wife.“My lord.” Cal comes into the room with buckets of water and nods to you both. “My lady.”

“Strip.” He orders you softly, only to where you can hear him. He wants to see if you will argue or if you will trust him.

It is not necessarily so unusual an order, considering Cal has come to fill the bath, and you reach for your laces thinking only that Oberyn's tone is a bit odd.

Pride fills him, pride that you had admitted a preference for being with those you care for and yet you place your trust in him when Cal is in the room. He sets his cup down and his fingers tangle with yours. “Would you strip in front of Cal if I wished it?” He hums against your neck, “would you let me bare you in front of him to see your gorgeous cunt and delicious tits?”

It is not something you would ever think to do, nor is it something perhaps something that would be everyday behavior for you, but you nod slowly. This feels like a test, and you do not intend to fail him if you can help it. "I trust you," you tell him quietly. Quietly, but surely.

“Good.” He rasps out, sliding his hand up from your laces and cups your neck to drag you against him and plunders your mouth in a ravenous kiss.

Confident that you have passed his test at least for now, you sigh into the kiss and let him take all that he could possibly want from you. Because Oberyn gives as much as he takes it is no hardship - in fact it is entirely the opposite. It feels like being worshiped with every breath.

He breaks the kiss when Cal leaves to fetch more buckets and he smirks at you. “You did well, Princess.” He coos with a wink. “You always do well, you just need to believe it.”

"In time." Relieved that you were correct about his intentions, you let yourself lean into his embrace for a moment. "I think perhaps I have been molded out of clay that you know more of how to reshape than I do."

“Just be honest in how you wish to be shaped, Star.” He murmurs softly.

"I cannot claim to know just yet." An alarming thought does float to the top of your mind, though, pushing to be noticed and clamoring to be said. You swallow it deliberately. Too afraid of the words to even know how to form them on your tongue.

"Then we will make sure that you are not pushed into anything too soon." He toys with the laces of your dress and huffs quietly, unable to wait until you are in Dorne and wearing dresses that are far easier to access than these Northern dresses.

“Once again my gown is vexing to you?” The small tease feels good after such a serious conversation as you have had, and you look over your shoulder at him. “If there was a Dornish dressmaker in the Capitol I would have seen her immediately.”

"Wear nothing and make all of the women stew in their jealousy." He grunts, only teasing slightly because he knows your modesty will not allow that. You still cover up when anyone comes into the room, including Leyth until you are sure that it is just your maid.

“Perhaps one day.” If that day ever comes it will be a long way off, but he knows that. Instead you tip your head back further to kiss his cheek. “But well before that, I will be glad to be rid of all of these undergarments.”

"So do not wear them." He proposes easily. "You do not need them. You should be bare under your dresses."

“Truthfully?” This time you do turn fully, a slightly bemused and embarrassed smile on your face. “I asked Leyth to help me dress without them a few days ago and the dresses simply do not look or fit right. They are made for them.”

"How terribly proper of the ladies of the North." Oberyn snorts and continues to toy with your laces. "When it comes time, I will cut your dresses off of you in my eagerness to touch you, star." He promises quietly.

You hum. “It will be the only time gowns have ever been hunted for sport.”

“Vicious, dangerous creatures – cumbersome gowns.” He smirks slightly and decides to loosen some of your laces to make it easier for him to touch you.

“I can put on my dressing gown before Cal comes back,” you remind him. “If you truly want it gone.”

“No.” He isn’t going to disrobe you since you will be uncomfortable. “I just want to touch my wife.”

“That is certainly permissible.” If you could, you would loosen your laces for him and let his hands slip under your clothing to let him touch anywhere.

"I know." He doesn't say that because as your husband, he has every right to touch you whether you like it or not, but because you will let him touch you.

Cal returns shortly with more steaming water, readying the prince’s bath near the fire and with tamped wood underneath to keep the metal tub warm. As a soldier Oberyn Martell has faced plenty of cold baths and far worse conditions – as a prince he has the luxury of insisting for better. When he goes again it is to leave you and Oberyn alone for the night, and that small relief is enough to relax you a bit more.

"They have private rooms." He tells you. "Cal and Leyth. Allowed to sleep together safely every night." He is talking just to talk, but to also put you at ease. Pulling your dress down as he does.

“They deserve as much.” Neither of them knows any of the fate of their soulmate, they have said, but their love for each other is evident. Not everyone is lucky enough to know the other half of their soul – but at least Cal and Leyth are able to share one heart.

"I think they are happy here with us." He hopes they are at least. He had taken them from the brothel where they had known what to expect and thrown them into the world of nobles and lies.

“And if they decide they are not, they now have the power to make their own way in the world.” A fact which makes you hum softly as Oberyn undresses you. The irony that your servants have far more freedom than you do is not lost on you.

His fingers pause for a split second as he comes to the same conclusion and he resumes the task with a hum. "Yes, they will." He says after a moment.

“I suppose you do, in fact, have more meetings tomorrow?” The amount of time that the small council seems to spend ruminating over the smallest matters is extraordinary to you. Oberyn and Raeden seem perpetually frustrated and tired each evening.

"No." Oberyn lets the dress fall to the floor and he hums as he sees the layers of underclothes. "Tomorrow the trial begins."

“How could I have lost track of time so easily?” Days blend together here, you have found, and you shake your head. “We will all be there.”

"Ellaria will stay here." He knows his lover and she would be bored with the trial. "I know she does not wish to watch an innocent man be wronged."

“Nor do I, but I promised Margaery.” Oberyn had said it was up to you whether or not you came, but a promise to a queen cannot be broken.

"Do you wish to have Raeden sit with you?" He asks softly, knowing that you will feel comforted by his presence.

“Only if he wishes to attend.” It is your turn to undress your husband, but your work is much faster than his for lack of an abundance of laces. “My comfort is not more important than his.”

"Raeden will attend, his comfort notwithstanding." Oberyn tells you. "He is now a Lord representing Dorne."

“Then I will ask him to sit with me.” You lift the robe he wears from his shoulders and lay it nearby with care. “That seems only polite.”

"Polite." He chuckles quietly and plucks the ties of his breeches open. "You are always polite."

“Some of the things about my upbringing were not terrible.” You attest, frowning for affect because you know he is only teasing you. “I never liked thinking of Raeden as being inferior. It is a comfort that you have elevated him so that he no longer is.” The thought makes you sigh slightly, but you swallow it. “To where he belongs.”

"I have given him nothing that he has not earned." Oberyn insists. "Your own father should have elevated him beyond a mere knight." He huffs, shaking his head. "He had a good man under his nose and he could not even sniff him out." He had a less than stellar opinion of the man due to him letting his wife run his household, but this had made him sink even lower.

“I suspect my mother may have had more to do with keeping Raeden a subordinate than anything else,” you admit ruefully. “If Father had elevated him, there would be nothing to keep us from marrying for love.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes, making a face that would tell you exactly how he felt about your mother. "And then you would have been actually happy." He murmurs softly.

“Do not say such a thing.” Rather than being insistent or upset, your voice is quiet. Pleading. There are words you cannot bring yourself to say. Things that you feel that you have battled from the very beginning and have only grown stronger. But one thing you are not is unhappy. “I am happy.”

He senses there is something else, something you are unwilling to share and it seems as if there are three people around him who carry secrets that are to be kept from him. "Then we will not talk." He pulls the ties of your shift and pulls it over your head to reveal your body to his eyes and immediately guides you back towards the tub.

“Because I insist I am happy with you, we will not talk?” You ask, bewildered and instantly upset.

"We will not talk so I can show you how I feel." He hums, gripping your hip and pulling you close.

Oberyn's expression is rarely done with words despite how eloquent he can be when he chooses. He would nearly always rather express himself by fucking or fighting, you have found, and while that is admirable in a soldier it is not always particularly helpful in your husband. Especially when you are the sort of person who benefits from having things spelled out for you. It is only because you have shared so many kisses that you understand instinctively that this kiss shared between you is somehow different.

He tries to keep his emotions out of it, but it bleeds through the kiss. Pouring into your mouth from his. Keeping his tongue busy and following it up by keeping his hands moving over you. Guiding you towards the bath and at the same time stripping off his breeches.

The large, heavy tub has held both of you before and you are certain it will again, but tonight when your legs knock against it the wind seems almost to knock out of you at the same time. His movements are as hurried as they are sure, making you all but certain that there are things he is not willing to say to you. It is a vain thing to hope that they might be the same things you cannot bring yourself to say to him, but somehow even the prince himself is keeping secrets.

He reaches up, tangling his hand into your braid and starts to pull it apart. Wanting your hair down, his to touch – to pull. Once the two of you are in the bath, he pulls you into his lap. "What do you want, Princess?" He demands roughly.

Instinctively, your answer ought to be that you have everything you want, for it is very nearly true. But what he means is what do you want from him, and that is a very different question altogether. The bath is the best place for only one kind of intimacy and so you straddle his hips carefully in the wide metal tub. “You, husband.”

His cock is already hard so it is not hard to pull you down on him. Reaching for the cloth and the soap, he rocks his hips up and lathers up the rag so he can drag it over your skin. "I will wash you." He tells you.

"I do not believe I have washed myself once since we married." Though it might be a cheeky observation, it is also true. Oberyn seems to take delight in the show of gentle care.

"You have been bathed by all your lovers, star?" He asks, smirking slightly. "My princess is becoming quite spoiled."

“Ellaria insists. And I have learned quickly not to question her.” The slow, languid pace that you ride him is luxurious and you have no wish to hurry it. Not tonight.

"Has she bathed with you?" He asks curiously. "Or just washed you while exploring your body?"

"I–" It takes a moment of thinking, but you look down at him with a similarly curious expression. "I cannot recall precisely."

He has to give it to his lover, she is good at confusing or redirecting someone. Especially when she distracts them with her sexual prowess. He has no doubt you were cumming while you were being bathed and the fog of pleasure distracted you from anything else.

“Surely it was only a coincidence if she did not.” The wheels of his mind are turning, and sometimes you truly cannot fathom what may come from that. Right now all you want to focus on is him.

“Surely.” He agrees with you, even if he does not mean that. Instead, he kisses along your neck and pays special attention to a small mark on your skin. Laving it with his tongue gently before pulling back to examine it. “What did you do here, Star?” He asks, curious to know what caused it.

“It is Raeden’s mark,” you tell him without thinking anything of the fact. “A scratch from his training as a young man.”

“It is?” Oberyn’s eyes narrow on the mark and he runs his fingers over it again. “Interesting.”

“Only if you consider sparring to be interesting.” Which, at this moment, you absolutely do not. You would much rather concentrate on the man inside you.

“Sparring is always interesting.” He muses, rocking up into you with a rougher thrust that had water splashing over the edge of the tub. “Do you not feel my spear?”

The sharpness of the thrust makes you moan, head falling back as you grip his shoulders to hold on. “Always— I feel you even when you are not inside me.”

“Good.” Oberyn hisses and holds onto you tighter. “I want you to feel me. Every second of every day.”

"Think sometimes you want – oh gods!—" A particularly hard thrust rocks through you and you keen loud enough that you are sure someone heard you, but the idea bothers you less and less. "Want one of us on your cock at all times."

“It would be a nice way to live.” He doesn’t deny it, smirking as he watches your tits bounce and your tongue stick out between your teeth.

"Wicked man." It is barely chiding – a mere tease at best, but you gasp out again as you grind down onto his length with swirls of your hips. "Wicked."

“Completely wicked.” He chuckles and leans down to wrap his lips around your nipple.

“Thank the gods.” You groan deeply as you both give yourselves over to the pleasure once more. It seems every night and every morning that you cannot have enough of each other and you are having such trouble now in keeping your sleepy thoughts to yourself in the first waking moments. It can never be – you promised yourself that – but you never anticipated that Oberyn would be such a good and clever man. Such a supportive and caring husband. The promise you made to yourself was when you thought he would be a cur. It gets more difficult each day not to admit more.

“Gods, Star.” Oberyn groans, getting closer to cumming and he is loving how open you are with him now. How his seemingly uninterested wife now rides him with an eagerness that is nearly unmatched. “You are exquisite.”

“Kiss me.” If he does not you might say something you regret. Or worse – not regret it at all. And that possibility is at its highest when you are coming apart in his arms, which you will be in mere seconds.

He almost refuses, but he has quickly learned he can refuse you nothing. His mouth latches onto your with a kiss that is both passionate and tender, assertive and giving. Sure that he will awaken the ancient dragons below the keep in the dungeons with the force of his groan.

It seems almost a cue for your body, the way that his sounds of pleasure rip through you and always pull a shaking orgasm from your body as he pours that passion into his kiss. Your cunt bears down on him, clutching and pulling him as deep into your body as you can manage while states burst behind your eyes and a cry of your own melts in his tongue for him to swallow.

Oberyn’s singular focus is on you. Feeling the way that your body shakes and keens in pleasure. Only satisfied to take his own release now that you are seen to. His grip bruises and his thrust manage to be brutal, even without the natural momentum of being on top of you. Holding you close in an iron grip until he is buried deep, groaning your name as he floods your womb with his seed.

The moment tears into you, crashing through your nerves and over your heart like a wave heralding the incoming chaos of a storm. There is too much in you to pretend anymore — and despite the way your heart aches at feeling that you have betrayed your love for Raeden, it is no longer something you can deny. The affection you feel for Oberyn has bubbled over. It is more than that. Perhaps it has been from the beginning. But the wracking sob that shakes your frame as he holds you close to him is proof to yourself that you cannot deny it any longer. Falling in love with your husband was never meant to be, but it has happened regardless. And all at once the single sob from your lips is followed by a scream of searing agony. It feels like small fires have lit all over your skin and no water in the world could soothe them.

“Star!” Oberyn’s eyes widen in shock, perhaps a moment of fear as your scream fills the air. It is not one of pleasure, it is pure agony and he’s lifting you off of him for fear he had pushed too deep and wounded you in some way. That he had somehow breached your womb and done you a great wound. “Gods, tell me what is wrong!” He cries, trying to be delicate with you as he stands and lifts you out of the water to rush you over towards the bed.

As quickly as the burning begins it seems to end in a moment’s flash. The pain is all too familiar, but the shock of how intense it is has dropped the well of tears before they can begin, leaving you in shock. All that is left is for you to sputter and cling to him, shaking with disbelief. “It—” You gasp for breath and manage to look down your body even for the briefest moment. “Gods above…” There are new scars marring your skin. Ones that you know all too well – from Oberyn’s body. “H—how?”

“What? What is it?” He demands, not looking at your body, but your face. Too worried about his wife’s health to pay attention to you and needing you to answer him. He’s about to call for a maester. You don’t say anything and so his eyes drift down to find marks on your body that he is familiar with. “Star…” he breathes out. “What has happened?”

Scrambling for the familiar, you frantically bend your leg to see if Raeden’s marks have somehow been replaced, but find the goring mark from the day he saved your life still carved into the skin of your inner thigh where it has been for years. “I do not—” spluttering for an explanation that you could never conceive, your hands search out Raeden’s other marks on your skin and find each one where it should be. “Impossible.” You manage, with confusion and an almost awe-struck fear in your voice.

“You have two sets of marks.” Oberyn manages after a moment, his eyes studiously contemplating the situation before him. A book in the Citadel’s library springs forward in his mind. It had been one on soulmates. Something he had no interest in at the time. Now he wishes he had read the book when boredom had taken hold.

“It is not possible.” You insist again, desperate to understand what is happening despite the evidence in front of you. The evidence that is on you.

“Apparently, you are mistaken.” He reaches out and touches one of your scars, his scars, in wonder. “Fantastic.” He muses as he examines the skin. Wondering how such a thing could be and yet it is here before his eyes.

“Fantastic?” The shock of hearing him be so enthusiastic about this development is almost as shocking as what happened in and of itself. You had been about to start apologizing.

“Two soulmates.” He muses, shaking his head and tracing your other soulmate’s scar. “It seems as though you might wish to be a simple woman with a simple life with your lover, you are not destined for that.”

“You are…pleased?” Fighting the instinct to cover yourself, which is unnecessary in front of your husband and ridiculous considering he wears these marks, you cannot stop staring at him in disbelief.

“Intrigued.” He tells you, his eyes sliding up to meet yours. “Wondering. And pleased.” Of course he’s pleased his wife bears his marks.

“I—” Still at a loss for words, all you can think to do is shake your head a few more times before trying again. “It did not happen to you…how is this possible?”

“I am not sure.” He admits with a small shrug of his shoulders. “There is a book in the Citadel on soulmates. Perhaps you should read it.”

"For once, books are the furthest thing from my mind." Sinking back into the mattress, the urge to cover yourself is overpowering again as you try to process what has happened. How in the instant that you admitted to yourself that what you feel for your husband is more than mere affection, his marks had appeared on you.

Your husband watches you seemingly close yourself off from him again. A wall building between you because you wear his marks. You are pulling away from him, undoing all the closeness the past weeks have brought. He frowns slightly and straightens so he can step back. “I will get you some wine.” He decides that giving you a minute is the best thing and turns around to grab the drying cloth since he is still dripping water onto the stone floors.

The momentary impulse to watch him walk away — to try to understand his melancholy as well as your own unease — becomes all the more unbelievable in an instant. “O-Oberyn…” You gasp, climbing out of the bed again with wide eyes. “Your back…” The switch marks you had received from your mother as a child of seven for the unladylike offense of climbing a tree stand out against his tan skin and you can’t help but gape.

“What about my back?” He asks, drying off slightly and turning towards you. He flashes you a small smile, a cover for his discontent in your reaction. “Scratches you make during sex do not bother me, Star.”

“It is not scratches I made.” Although those are there, too. “It is ones my mother made…”

He pauses, frowning and tilting his head for a moment as your meaning becomes clear to him. “Scars?” He asks. “I am wearing your marks. Is that what you are telling me?”

“Check your arm.” There is a mark there from when your brothers had been teaching you to handle a dagger and Antony accidentally nicked you with the tip of his blade. Your eldest brother had babied you for a week in apology.

He looks down at his arm and frowns. Bringing it up to inspect closer, he sees a mark that he doesn’t recall having before. “What is this from?” He asks, sure that it is your mark.

“Antony caught me with a blade when I was thirteen.” You explain carefully, trying to absorb the implications of what has happened. “My brothers were teaching me to defend myself.”

“What other scars do you have?” He demands, immediately starting to search his skin for marks that are new. “Not Raeden’s, yours.”

“The only other is on my ankle.” Every other scar on your body previously was Raeden’s. Now Oberyn’s mar your skin as well. “I was bitten by a stray dog and caught a fever.”

Bare assed, Oberyn bends down to examine his ankles and chuckles. “I did not know that scars could be so attractive, Star.”

“The dog that left it was mangy and mean,” you chuckle, not knowing what else to say in your disbelief. “How is this possible?”

“I do not know.” Oberyn admits, frustrated that he does not know the answers that you are seeking. “When I was training to be a maester, I had no interest in soulmates, so I did not study the matter.”

“Did you already know Ellaria then?” If he did, you can see him being content not to learn more. He already knew everything he needed to. If not? You cannot imagine not wondering - but you have a different outlook than Oberyn does.

“No.” He shrugs slightly as he stands straight. “I had watched my sister endure her own soulmate running off to be with another woman. Leaving her to deal with the madman who sat on that throne and refuse to come home because she had thought it was her place to stay and wait for Rhaegar to realize his mistake and come home.” He snorts and shakes his head. “She loved him and was stubborn.” The grin he flashes is wry. “A Martell family trait, I’m afraid.

“There are worse things than to love unerringly and to be stubborn about it.” Inching to the edge of the bed, you reach for him to give him the option of returning to your side if he wishes. “In fact they may be traits we share.”

“Yes.” Oberyn takes the invitation and strides over to the bed to sit down. “It is said that a Martell, once they love, it is for life.”

With your arms tangled around each other it seems easier to breathe, and you bury your face in his chest for a moment to do just that. What has happened is a miracle only read about folk tales or fantasy romances. Even then the tales are always of someone gaining a second soulmate after the death of their first. Never about having two soulmates at once. Still, you cannot ignore this gift from the gods. It is miraculous in and of itself. “I do not think there is such a saying about my house, but perhaps there should be.”

He wonders if that means that you love him. He had thought you might but your loyalty to Raeden was strong and you might have fought it. “Yes.” He murmurs softly. “Your Raeden is lucky to have such a fierce love.”

Though you nod slightly against his chest, you lean back to look into his face. For such an expressive man, he betrays nothing unless he wants to. And it makes you sigh softly, swallowing your fear. “If the gods have seen fit to give me two soulmates, I can see fit to love them equally.”

Oberyn's hand finds your cheek, caressing it softly as he stares into your eyes, gauging your comment and finding nothing but naked hope shining in your eyes. "Star..." He murmurs softly. "You must know that there is a place in my heart that belongs to you. I think it has since you begged me to marry you to save your Raeden and it has only grown bigger since then."

“It sounds so dramatic when you say it like that.” Dramatic and poetic – and of course Oberyn is a professed poet.

It was not the response he was expecting and his lips curl into a pout. "You believed me crass before and now dramatic." He huffs at you, his fingers still caressing your skin. "Next you will say I am boring."

“If I claimed so, it would only be to see you pout at me.” You lean close to him, feeling your skin tingle and breath catch with this admission you have made to yourself and the stunning result of having two soulmates. “But…” you press a soft kiss to his lips. “I do not think I could ever love a boring man. And I must confess to loving you more deeply than I have been able to reconcile.”

“You have been fighting it.” He surmises, not surprised by that. There have been moments where he could see your guilt at being apart from Raeden for so long. Times where he had almost sent you to the other man to cast away the unease in your eyes.

"Are you upset with me for doing so?" That is the furthest thing from what you want, but you would understand it. Understand that he was hurt or disappointed by his wife fighting against falling in love with him.

“Why would it upset me?” He asks you, tilting his head curiously. “You have freely admitted that you are not like Ellaria or I, sharing the ease of our physical affections. Why would emotions be any different?” It’s reasonable and rational, and he’s surprised that you think he would not understand your internal conflict. “The only upset that I harbor is that you have been upset by it. Even if it was passing moments.”

"You have changed my life in so many ways," you admit quietly, leaning your head once more on his shoulder to have him close. "I think I had no idea just how many changes you would make simply by being at my side. Or by allowing me to be at yours."

“I only allow you to take your rightful place as my Princess.” He teases with a smile as he wraps his arm around you. “You have been the one doing all the work.”

"It was no work to fall in love with you." For better or for worse, it is the truth. And a truth you will no longer be hiding.

“You have been working.” He hums. “Working to make sure that your lover is safe, that my lover’s feelings are respected.” He rubs your arm. “Working to become the woman you are meant to be.”

“I only hope that it is someone you can all be proud of.” If you can accomplish that, you reason, it will have been worth every ounce of effort. Their happiness and comfort is everything to you. Your two soulmates, and fascinating, intimidating Ellaria.

“Two soulmates.” He muses, shaking his head. “I am already proud of you, Star.” He promises. “Never doubt that.”

“Though I am not sure why, I will wear it proudly.” Turning your head, you place a kiss on his shoulder before another sigh escapes you. “We should tell them in the morning. I do not like the idea of keeping secrets.”

“Hmmmm, you don’t?” He asks lazily, kissing your shoulder. “Perhaps we should sit with it another day or so. Find some answers to our questions.”

“How can we?” He could distract a dragon from its gold with that mouth, and you have nowhere near the strength of a dragon. “The trial begins tomorrow. We will not have time to go to the Citadel.”

“Perhaps you could go after the break for the noon meal.” Oberyn is well aware that there will be plenty of breaks for the whims of the lords, and this is important. “You can take Cal with you.”

“What should I be looking for?” The idea of keeping secrets from Raeden and Ellaria bothers you more than you can say, but Oberyn seems resolute — and he usually has good reason for the things that he does.

“See if there is anything written on two soulmates.” He instructs you, knowing your studious mind would quickly absorb the information if it was to be found. “When you arrive, seek out the maester that married us. Do you remember his name?”

“Rhodestone.” The man will forever be an important and anxious memory for you, so you have not forgotten.

He nods in approval and kisses your shoulder again. “Good girl. Tell him that I want to you to have access to every tome on soulmates they have.”

“And I will bring back any findings to you…before we inform our soulmates?” He must have a reason for wanting it done this way, you just wish he would share it with you.

“That seems the best way to present it. Would you not agree?” His eyes slide up to yours and he waits for your honest opinion.

“I suppose I simply do not like secrets,” you admit with a small shrug of your shoulders. ��But I can see the virtue in doing research first.”

He hums in agreement. “If you truly wish to tell them, I will not stop you.”

“I would not interrupt them now.” The sounds of their pleasure bleed through the wall and you are only confused – and slightly deflated – by the fact that they did not come to see what had happened when you screamed. “I will think on it again in the morning.”

“I wonder why I did not feel your marks.” He grunts, squeezing you close again since you gave him the answer he wanted before he stands back up. “Do you wish to wash up? Or simply stay in the bed?”

“It would be self-flattery to suggest you did not feel them out of some kind of worry about me.” Even knowing you share the same feelings for each other - knowing the gods have declared you soulmates - you cannot imagine thinking that well of yourself in any way and you slip backward under the bedclothes in answer to his question. “It is likely the immunity of a soldier. Pain does not bother you the way it bothers others.”

“No,” he shakes his head as he moves towards the wine. Determined to get you that cup. “I was concerned with what was happening to you. I feared that I had injured you.”

“With your cock?” The idea almost makes you snort, and in holding it in, you end up smirking at him. “I confess I would never have considered that a possibility.”

He could say something crass or revolting, but he reminds himself that you are very innocent in many ways. He purses his lips at you in a pout. “What else was I to believe? It is not as if I expected you to suddenly gain my scars.” He slides into bed with you, not spilling a drop of the wine and kisses the closest scar that is also on his body.

“No one could have expected it.” His warm breath on your skin is as welcome as the wine and you sip it gratefully.

“Does it upset you to carry my marks?” He asks curiously. Eager to know your thoughts on bearing his and Raeden’s scars on your body. “Does it make you feel disloyal to your lover?”

“I thought it made me disloyal to…to fall in love with you…” you admit, leaning back against the bedhead and contemplating him carefully. “But it seems that I am meant to share my heart as I share my bed. There is no loss here, as I feared there would inevitably be. Only gain.”

He nods slowly and sighs softly. “I know there are a lot of challenges in our situation, but I want you to know that you are free to love whoever you wish. Share with me, of course, but your heart is your own.

“It is not something that comes easily to me, but as you say…once it has blossomed it is endless.” The wine in your hand is helpful for steadying your nerves, but gratefully it is watered down. A clear head is necessary here. “I have wondered for some years if I loved Brynna, and the wondering is why I am not so certain. With Raeden, and with you? It is like an unquenchable fire.”

“There are many types of love.” Oberyn reminds you. “The innocent first loves are there to remind you of something pure. Even if it was fleeting.” You have not had time or space to allow for you to experience such a thing. Girls being held to a vastly different standard than boys in the Seven Kingdoms.

“Perhaps it was innocent and pure, then.” That would be a comfort. That though it was secret and felt terribly wrong, it was nothing of the sort. “It would be nice to think of her that way.”

“You should.” He encourages you. “You have such a capacity for love, Star. I would be surprised if you don’t recall your time with your Brynna with tender affection.”

“I can only hope that Raeden takes the discovery with half as much grace as you have.” That is where your worry lies now, though you cannot imagine what he will actually say either way.

“I think he will not cause you any grief.” He predicts. “He will accept it.”

“Do you think Ellaria will be as accepting?” It does not, after all, only affect you.

“Ellaria will understand why such a thing happens.” He muses, rocking his jaw in contemplation.

“You are always so certain of everything.” As though you could absorb some of his assuredness, you lay your head on his chest when he puts his arms around you. “I envy that.”

“You do?” He hums thoughtfully and smirks as he rubs your back. “I shall teach you how to be certain, love.”

"There is plenty to envy about you." To hear him call you love is a bright and shining moment of goodness that you had not looked for, but it washes over you with joy. "At least I need not envy anyone for being close to you."

“No, I imagine a perfect world would be sleeping beside both of my soulmates.” He chuckles. “Lavishing you both with attention.”

"You would need a very big bed," you laugh softly at the idea, trying to assemble the visual in your mind. "I would want both of my soulmates there, as well."

“Much bigger than this.” He scoffs, indicating the bed you are in. There wouldn’t be much room for a child if one had a bad dream with the two of you in it, let alone two other adults. “We will have to have one made for our chambers in Sunspear.”

"How wonderfully luxurious." Conjuring the image for yourself makes you hum and turn your head to smile at him. "A four-person bed. Can you imagine?"

“I can.” He chuckles again. “Rolling over and deciding who I am going to fuck is a delightful image.”

"I believe that might even be your dream." You cannot help but tease him, enjoying the sound of his laugh immensely.

“Would it not be a dream?” He asks you, cocking a brow up in challenge. “Turning over to mount my cock, or turn the other way to swallow your lovers? Perhaps ignoring both of us to find pleasure with Ellaria. Letting me wake to your combined sweet moans.”

Wanting to be as confident or as bold as he might be, you straighten your spine and smirk back at him. "I think if you woke to our shared moans, it would not take long for you to impale one of us on your cock."

“Perhaps.” He enjoys the confidence in your smile and winks at you. “Or perhaps I will make your Raeden moan louder.” He teases.

"A competition." It makes you actually laugh, even if it is just an amused little chuckle. "That would be very like you both, I think."

“He will be very competitive.” Oberyn predicts with a grin.

"I think you have that effect on people." Still grinning, you lean over to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "We should sleep, love. Tomorrow is sure to be a trying day."

He snorts in amusement. “Yes it will be, Star.” He agrees. “A trying trial, certainly.”

"I had not even--" The pun had not crossed your mind and you roll your eyes at him with doting affection. "You are teasing me."

“I am.” His nose nudges yours and he kisses you one last time. “Sleep star, we will see where fate takes us in the morning.”

******

Unfortunately, Fate sees you sleeping in, in the morning. Instead of lazily making love again before , you and Oberyn are up and dressing as soon as Leyth and Cal reappear. Apparently you had been impossible to wake an hour ago when they first tried.

“Sit with Raeden.” Oberyn instructs you, reaching up and caressing your cheek. “Make sure that you do not reveal what you are thinking on your face. Act aloof and almost disinterested.”

"Am I still to go to the Citadel during the break?" Provided that Maester Rhodestone will be willing to help you, the idea of trying to find a book - or several books - about soulmates is enticing in the light of day.

“Yes.” He would go himself, but there is no way to delay the trial. “Find what you can.”

"I will find out everything I can." You give him a firm, lingering kiss before his brisk exit from your chamber, knowing that he has to be to the trial early before spectators and all manner of other attendees arrive. Dressed in one of your more modest Northern gowns that will cover all of the new marks you have gained, you add the necklace he gave you the morning of the royal wedding and make sure both of your rings are in place before knocking gently on the chamber door where Raeden and Ellaria are starting to move about.

When the door opens, Ellaria breezes out, completely dressed “Star, you look positively radiant this morning. Oberyn must have planted his seed deep.”

"We slept late this morning." Is this excuse you give, finding it hard to look her in the eye with the secret of last night's truths weighing heavily on your shoulders. "But you look more stunning than ever. I trust you slept well?"

“Like a baby cosseted in silk.” She assures you with a smile as she comes over to cup your cheeks and kiss your lips. “I must thank you for allowing me to spend time with Raeden.”

"As I must thank you for allowing me to spend time with Oberyn." It does not matter that both men are now your soulmates, what matters is that the four of you have struck a balance that works for everyone. Which, right now, you are not sure Oberyn would agree with.

“You are planning to go to the trial, yes?” She asks, having no interest herself but encouraging you if that is your wish.

"I promised Margaery." Otherwise you would now be spending the entire day with Maester Rhodestone, scouring the Citadel for your necessary research. "In fact...I was hoping to ask Raeden to sit with me during the proceedings."

“Lover!” Ellaria calls over her shoulder before she beams at you. “I know he will be pleased to spend time with you.”

"I have missed him," you admit with a slightly sheepish sigh.

“I have been selfish.” She hums. “Keeping your lover for myself.” She pouts slightly and there is a flash of something in her eyes. “I am sorry, Princess.”

"I could have asked at any time." But you had not, and your growing bond with your husband has now resulted in something miraculous. So you press a kiss to her lips and offer her a sincere smile. "I am glad that you have found such affection for each other. It makes our intertwined lives far more enjoyable."

“Yes.” A cloud of doubt passes over her face before a pleased smile chases it away. “I am sure we will be well pleased with our arrangement. Nothing to worry about.”

"There is not anything to worry about," you murmur your agreement with a nod. "Enjoy your day far away from the trial, Ellaria. I am sure we will all much rather hear about how you spend your time than discuss the proceedings over supper tonight."

“I am certain I will have a much more entertaining time than you.” She reaches up and squeezes your shoulders affectionately and gives you one last smile as Raeden steps out of ‘their’ bedroom.

Ellaria slips away with a mysterious smile and you turn to the towering man who has been so familiar to you for years. "Good morning, my love." He is that, no matter who else might also live in your heart, and this morning you find yourself sure of it rather than afraid as you had been last night.

“Good morning.” Raeden’s smile is rather sheepish and he reaches out to pull you against him, still in awe of the fact that he can do so without worry. “Did you sleep well, my love?”

“I did.” You tilt your head back to smile up at him and silently ask for a kiss. “Did you?”

“Should I feel guilty if I say I did?” He asks with an amused twist to his lips. He rubs his hands up your arms and stares into your eyes softly.

“Of course not.” Such a motion makes you frown and you shake your head. “In fact I far prefer for you to sleep well. No matter who you share your bed with. If you had not, I would be asking Ellaria why.”

The nagging guilt eases and he flashes you a small smile. “I have no doubt that you sleep well in the Prince’s bed.” He muses. “After he has worn you out and filled you with his seed.” The jealousy of knowing you must carry Oberyn’s child before his own is nothing but a small twinge and he would never voice it out loud. Too aware of everything the man has given him already.

“I will bear one for him and one for you, and the rest for whichever the gods decree,” you hum, seeming to read his mind. Your connection has always been a very deep one. “But I am afraid I have a favor to ask of you, my love. If that is acceptable?”

“Anything in my power to give you is yours. You know this.” He reminds you, although now he has a chance of giving you more than his loyalty.

“I had hoped to coax you to sit with me during the trial.” It sounds like such a small, silly thing, but it means so much to you. “Years of hiding or affection can be over, if we want it to be. But all I wish for is the comfort of your presence.”

“I would be honored to sit beside the Princess of Dorne, but more importantly, my soulmate.” Raeden straightens proudly and nods. “I am to sit with the other lords.”

“I see nothing wrong with a Princess of Dorne sitting to observe with the lords of her country. You will do your duty as a Head of House and we will have the luxury of each other’s company.” He is so utterly proud to be elevated and recognized for his noble blood and you grin to see him preening. “You deserve this place, my love. Oberyn bestowed it upon you because he saw that right away.”

“I hope so.” He has been worried that it is because he is your soulmate, or worse, because the prince wants to fuck him. Hoping to earn the title that has been bestowed upon him. “It is vastly different from being your guard.”

“I hope it is a good change, and not one that brought you cause for worry?” The last thing you want is to make his life harder, but you also know that this change is something he has desired for a long time. For perhaps his entire life.

“It is very good.” He nods and smiles at you. “I cannot describe it, my love, but I feel….free.” There had not been the mistrust amongst the Dornish lords that he might have faced in the Vale. He knows that it is a good thing for him and is looking forward to establishing his house.

“Then I hope you embrace it fully.” The fact that you feel very much the same is not lost on you - now is the fact that it was the marriage you were sold into that has provided such freedom. For more, you simply reach up to kiss him again. “Your happiness has always been of the utmost importance to me, and that has not changed.”

“You are happy?” His own eyes turn searching, wanting to make sure you are not merely putting on a show for him. He knows the intrigue of the prince, his magnetism is hard to deny, but he wants to make sure that you are truly happy.

"I am." You can feel the way it lightens you from the inside, your heart swelling in your chest with love and pride. The way that new love seems to make you stand taller and smile more easily just the way it had when you fell in love with Raeden. You put both hands on his chest and lean into his warmth, letting it envelope you. "I honestly think I may not ever become used to the title, but I am happy with this life."

“If anyone deserves the title of ‘Princess’ it is you, my love.” He reaches up and caresses your cheek. “You are kind and gentle, loyal and just. You were a princess to me before you married your husband.”

"I think perhaps you were a little biased, beloved." Still, it is relieving to have such a gentle moment with him, and teasing him does not keep you from savoring it as you nuzzle into his touch. "If it were not so important that we leave our rooms today, I might simply pull you into bed with me never to leave again."

“It is a shame.” Raeden groans quietly as he leans in and kisses your jaw. “I fear I have been negligent in making sure that you know that I still desire you so much I ache with it.”

“Stay with me tonight.” It’s almost a plea, as you tilt your head to let him touch and taste any part of you that he pleases. Every thought but him has left your mind completely.

A small fissure of something akin to fear races across Raeden’s face, almost imperceptible but he nods. “It might be late.” He warns you. “I know the council will want to convene after the first day.”

"I cannot find it in me to care," you admit, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "It will be a treasure to sleep against you and wake up beside you."

“Do not try to burn the candles and stay awake.” He urges you with a smile. “I shall sneak into your bed like a thief and pretend that I must keep you quiet.”

"It sounds far more appealing when it is a game, and not a matter of life or death against my parents' will." Something which had been the entire truth not too long ago. "Promise to wake me, my love. That is all I ask."

“Of course I will.” Despite his concerns, he craves the closeness of your body to his. The reassurance of your kisses and love. “Now we must hurry.”

******

There is nothing less desirable in the entire world than sitting through this trial, but you have not flinched all morning. Oberyn bid you to steel yourself and you have, sitting firm in your seat with Raeden beside you and envying Ellaria's ability to be absent from the proceedings. The only thing that saves you from complete and absolute misery is the call to break for the midday meal. When that break is agreed upon you squeeze Raeden's hand in yours and offer him a weak smile. "I think I need a walk," you murmur, knowing that the fresh air will do you a world of good as you make your way to the Citadel.

Raeden frowns and he bites his lip. “If you need to stray too far, go back and take Cal or Leyth with you.” He insists, wishing he could go himself, but he will be required to converse with Oberyn and stand by him in the talks that are inevitable to come.

"I will stay safe, I promise." The Citadel is not far, thankfully, and you can make the walk on your own. "Will you be alright with Oberyn while I walk?" Given that it was your husband's idea for you to journey out, you know he will not object, but you still want to make sure that Raeden is not too uncomfortable from the morning.

“Yes.” He frowns slightly. “I just wish you had someone with you.” He grumbles, having taken Oberyn’s warning about your safety seriously.

“Will it comfort you if I take Cal?” You will lose time because of it, but not much. His ability to trust you are safe and not be distracted with worry is more important.

His eyes slide past you to where Oberyn is beckoning him. “Does your husband know?” He asks and you nod, because he does know of your plan. “Then I trust his judgment. Go, my love and keep your dagger close.”

"I promise." With a nod and a reassuring smile, you head through the halls of the keep with a confident stride. There is only so much time before the trial will reconvene and you will be expected to return. You must make good use of your time.

______

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[wardenparker]

The Viper's Bride - ch 9

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 16k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* Pregnancy/motherhood talk, intimacy, secrets revealed but even more secrets kept, generalized foreplay, fingers, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, foursome, group sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, reference to other sexual groupings, miscommunication, jealousy, the plot thickens. Summary: A fateful morning with Oberyn, Raeden, and Ellaria precedes an unexpected conversation with Queen Margaery. But not everything is easy or even seas in the evolving relationship between your soulmate pairs. Notes: The troubles with tag list errors and cold medicine use continue. Sorry again, but thank you all for bearing with me! I'm going to try to get this taglist nonsense sorted ASAP. THIS CHAPTER HAS NO TAGLIST ON IT WHATSOEVER. Sorry for the chaos.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

The first night at the Red Keep for your party was uncomfortable until it came time to be together. To revel in intimacy. Ellaria had absconded with Raeden after making sure you were still comfortable with the arrangement, and you had kissed your soulmate soundly before sending him into the other room and climbing into bed with your husband.

This morning when Leyth comes to wake you, you are draped over Oberyn's chest and deeply asleep. So much so that both of them chuckle softly as you drag yourself to wakefulness from your wonderful dreams. "There is a card with your breakfast tray this morning, your Highness." Leyth tells you with pride in her voice. As if it must be very important.

"A card?" You blink twice – three times – and accept the note from her before even thinking of getting out of bed. "Ah." Once you manage to read it twice through, you hand it to Oberyn and sink back into his arms. "The Queen has chosen a time for our walk. The widowed queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the Princess of Dorne, and the Prince's formidable lover, all to walk together through the gardens this morning."

“Very astute of you to insist that Ellaria come.” Oberyn smiles as he reads the card. “The Queen is a clever girl. Her grandmother has taught her well. That woman is a force to be reckoned with.” He chuckles. “I believe my own grandfather said he would have wedded her in an instant.”

“It was Margaery who first spoke so well of you to me,” you tell him, humming softly as you bow your head to kiss his skin when his shoulder meets his neck.

"For some reason Olenna Tyrell has always held Dorne and the Martells in high regard." He hums with a soft smile. "I feel as if she has taught her granddaughter to overlook the prejudices that other parts of the Kingdom have against us."

“I think I will be obliged to inform her that she downplayed your good qualities.” Feeling playful this morning, you grin up at your husband. “You asked me once to befriend her. Does that still stand?”

“If you wish.” Oberyn nods. “It is always good to have a friendly banter with the Queen.” His hand squeezes your hip and he winks at you.

The small touch would be enough to make you purr if you were a cat, a pleased expression settling over your features at his agreement. “Ellaria has a far better talent for banter, but I will learn.”

“She has spent years at it with me.” He reminds you. “Where you have been careful with what you say for fear of what your bitch mother would do.”

"And how delighted I will be to see her in the halls of this Keep from time to time." You roll your eyes so heavily that at any moment you could fall over.

“Listen to me, Star.” Oberyn captures your chin in his hand and he stares at you seriously. “Your mother holds no power over you. And if she insults you, you can strike her down and no one would say a word. You are her better.”

"Unfortunately the words are easier said than believed." Yet your hand still comes up to cup the side of his face, and you nod, knowing that he is technically correct. The moment you married; your mother became your social inferior. Unfortunately, she was entirely successful at instilling fear in you during your childhood.

“You will one day believe it.” He promises. “The cruelty of your mother will be forgotten as you spoil your own babies.”

"I wish we could know as soon as it happens." The idea of being with child is not what scares you – that is reserved for the actual birthing process. Being with child? Your husband's child, and then your soulmate's? That is beginning to sound truly wonderful.

“Soon.” He promises with a smug smirk. “Eight other daughters, remember? I am very virile.”

"And an affinity for girls." There does not seem to be any room for second guessing when it comes to what sort of child he sires, and you cannot find it in yourself to be upset about that in any way. "I can only hope she and her sisters will love each other fiercely."

His daughters all had different mothers, other than the ones he had with Ellaria and yet there was a bond between them all that is unbreakable. They are formidable together and he has no doubt that they would accept his legitimate child just as easily. “They would die for her, kill for her.” He promises you easily. “And she will do the same.”

"I sincerely hope that will not be necessary." Placing a kiss on his shoulder, you reluctantly pull away to start the day. There is a walk to be had in an hour and you cannot keep the widowed queen waiting.

“We will have another day of meetings.” Oberyn grouses, frowning. “I do not understand why these lords need to have a meeting about wiping their asses.”

"It makes them feel important." Reaching for a bowl of berries on the tray that Leyth brought in, you bring it to the bed with you to offer it to Oberyn. "Insecure old men with tiny cocks need an extra pat on the back now and then."

Oberyn snorts and takes the berry, leaning back to chew it as he thinks about that. “Then that is why my brother and I only converse about affairs for a few moments when it serves us.”

"It must be." His amusement makes you sit up straighter, proud of making him laugh even a little. It has been nearly a week now and you are growing measurably more comfortable together every day.

“Tonight, would you like to be with your Raeden, my moon and stars?” He asks quietly. While your relationship is becoming easier, he does not wish to cause a barrier between the soulmates.

"Would that be alright with you?" Last night it had been Ellaria to make the suggestion of how to spend the night, and you know that she will have no objection to being in her soulmate's bed. Who possibly could?

“Star, I do not wish for your bond with Raeden to suffer because ours grows.” He promises you. “I would offer all of us together but I do not know where everyone stands.” He has noticed an aloofness in his own soulmate that he needs to speak with her about.

"I have hope for that time to come soon. Though I know I am the one who has the least experience." Feeling as though you are the reason the people dearest to you must be separated is not an easy thing to swallow, and you shift away from him to pour two glasses of tea from the pot on the tray.

“I have upset you.” Oberyn observes, pushing up on one elbow as he watches you carefully.

"Not precisely." You manage to hand him a cup of tea without your hand shaking, so you will consider that a success. "I have upset myself."

“How so?” Frowning, Oberyn sits up and motions for you to join him. “Talk to me.”

"I am the least experienced of the four of us," you remind him needlessly, bringing your own cup of tea to the edge of the bed and sitting down again where he has patted his hand on the mattress. "The least...acquainted with situations like this. Therefore, I am the stumbling block."

“Why are you a stumbling block?” He asks, confused about your meaning. “You are not opposed to experiencing more. Quite the opposite.”

"But I am the most...anxious." It had not taken long to discover what gave Raeden pleasure, but you are still just beginning to learn Oberyn and have no idea what touch Ellaria might prefer. It is a situation that requires delicacy. Or at least it seems to, and that intimidates you.

“What can we do to ease your nerves?” He asks softly. It is not surprising that you are uneasy, but there is only one way to really cure that feeling.

"I truly do not know." But his gentleness – his caring – gives you hope that it will be possible to bridge this gap of unease. The answer that he does not want is the one that is probably most likely, and that is that only time will tell.

“Then we take it slow.” Oberyn decides. “Same as before.” He runs a hand down your spine to comfort you.

"You are truly an indulgent husband." And it is humbling beyond compare, to find that this man is willing to put your comfort above his own pleasure. You truly thought that Raeden was alone in being that sort of man.

“I am shocked to learn that about myself.” Oberyn teases. “Even more so to discover I do not mind the title of ‘husband’.” That has solely to do with you, if you had been like his fears, he would have despised it.

"Just as I am shocked to learn that I do not mind the title of 'wife'." Or, at least, wife to anyone besides Raeden. There had been such a block in your mind for so long, and now that you know him you feel foolish for those fears.

“It is not so bad being married to a prince.” He teases, understanding what you truly meant.

"It would have been if that prince had been someone else." Not daring to speak ill of the dead directly, you tilt your head and sip your tea instead, knowing that he will take your full meaning. "Thank you for everything you have done for me. And for what you have done for Raeden. That is no small trinket you gave him."

“He deserves it. Your soulmate is a good man.” He admits with a pleased expression. “He will make a good Lord, be good to his people.”

"It is what he has wanted for his entire life, and you have granted it to him without any ulterior motives or demands." You lean over and kiss him softly. "It makes me very proud to care for you both."

“There was a slight ulterior motive.” He admits with a grin after he takes a sip of his tea. “I wanted to make my new wife happy and to show that your soulmate was in no danger in Dorne.”

"You have done both of those things beautifully, then." And it earns him another kiss, which both of you hum into happily. "Ellaria has pointed out to me that he will have to take a wife to establish his house, and she is – as always – entirely correct. I can only hope that whoever she is, she can accept our complicated web of affection as easily as we have seemed to."

Oberyn frowns slightly, having forgotten that key piece of creating his house. “Yes.” He nods. “He will have to be very careful who he chooses.”

"But he has time." You have no desire to rush him, whatever the outcome will eventually be. There is no mistaking how lucky you have been in your own marriage.

“Yes.” He can agree with that. “He can afford to be very choosy with his choice of wife. I have decided that I will award him an estate that I have outside of Sunspear to set up as his family home.”

"So he will be close by." That is relief that you did not know you needed reassurance of, and you finish your cup of tea with a sigh. "And...you named him your hand. So he will be at court with us more often than not?"

“He will be with us as often as the two of you wish him to be.” Oberyn nods. “He will have chambers at Sunspear as well.” He promises. “Your lover will not be left in the cold.”

"How could you ever doubt your own kindness, when you are so willing to bend over backwards for those around you?" Tutting softly, he has earned one more kiss before you stand again and take both empty teacups back to the tray. The average pot of tea from the kitchens is very different from what you used to be served from the kitchens of your father's house and different altogether from the tea that your septa taught you to make, but you drink it regardless. It is a ritual that does very well to help you awaken each morning. "What are your meetings about today? Should Ellaria and I see our way to interrupting one of them to shower you and Raeden with affection?"

He chuckles and raises his brows in interest, imagining the look on the rest of the counsel's faces when his wife and his paramour burst into the chambers to love over him and his hand. "The idea has merit, but I fear that we are discussing important matters today, star." He pouts slightly at that fact and sighs.

"Another time, then." You knew the idea would amuse him, and now hopefully when he found the day to be tedious he could slip into that daydream to get himself through things. Daydreaming is how you survive just about everything, most of the time. "I know you are wary of letting your ladies roam freely since the...events of the royal wedding...but perhaps I could persuade you to let me visit the library today? As long as Ellaria is willing to accompany me?"

"Keep your daggers on you." Oberyn cautions, reaching for your hand. "I need to take some time to drag myself from your bed to make sure you know how to defend yourself properly. Although Ellaria can protect you both if the need arises."

"Husband." An amused smile tucks itself into the corner of your mouth and you turn to look at him. "I grew up with three older brothers. I may not be able to do it elegantly, but I can wallop a grown man if need be, I promise you."

"Good." He hums with a smirk. "We can teach you to do so elegantly later. As long as there is a later."

"Do you think I would give you up so easily?” Shaking your head, you pop one of his beloved berries into your mouth and move to the washbasin to refresh yourself before getting dressed. "Never."

He watches you with amusement, finding it very telling that you no longer hide your body and walk around the room proudly nude. "That is good, considering you could be carrying my babe in your belly even now."

“Do you think so?” It can happen fast. You know that as well as any other married woman. But the thought does not fill you with dread — in fact it does the opposite. If you could will a babe into being with pride, you would do it instantly.

"If people do not believe that we anticipated our vows, I will be surprised." Oberyn admits with a chuckle. "Every time Ellaria stopped drinking her tea, she was expecting right away."

"If we did not anticipate our vows, we at least had a very fruitful wedding night." It may not be the strict truth of what happened, but it is near enough. Your first night in your husband's arms was a happy one indeed. "If I did not believe it might curse our chances, I would go around the keep as if I knew it to be true already."

“That should been a dagger in your mother’s ass.” He barks out a laugh and stands so he can touch your ass like he has wished to since you turned towards the basin.

"She should not have insisted on a man she had never met." Of course you understand now why she did it, but never having met Oberyn before was her cardinal error. "She expected you to be ordinary. And you are anything but."

"I would like to think that I am not ordinary." He agrees.

"No one would dare to call you ordinary, lover." Ellaria tuts, shaking her head as she bursts through the door from the attached bedroom in her robe. "Good morning to you both."

"Good morning." Oberyn does not drop his hands from your ass. He turns his head and smiles at his lover as he continues to caress your body. "How was your Raeden last night?"

"Thorough." She is practically purring, partially because she is glad to report it but also because she is glad to see you comfortable being bare with your husband. It bodes well for your comfort. Especially because you are enjoying his touch in front of another. "And how was your gorgeous princess?"

"Still basking in my attention." Oberyn coos, leaning down and kissing your shoulder. "But you will have to ask her yourself for the truth of it." One hand slides around your hip and dips between your thighs, freshly cleaned of his cum.

"O--Oberyn." It is no surprise that your legs shake as soon as his fingers traverse the slick avenue at the apex of your thighs, and your eyes fall shut just as easily. "You cannot resist, can you?"

"Touching my beautiful wife?" He asks, scraping his teeth over your skin softly. "No, I cannot. But if you wish that I stop, just tell me."

The offer stands. To let you have your modesty and to let that be preserved for now. But Ellaria is already here - eyes delving into the wet heat between your thighs just like Oberyn's fingers are. She could watch. You could allow it. You could enjoy her eyes on you just like you've thought of. Even more unbelievably...Raeden could watch as well. "What if you did not stop?" Turning to face him, your eyes betray how intriguing the idea is to you. "What if Ellaria...o-or Raeden...they watched?"

"Then they would see how the princess likes her prince touching her." He groans, voice rapsy with lust, his fingers sliding over your clit and rubbing before circling your entrance. "What would you like them to see, star?" He asks you. "You cumming on my fingers, or my cock?"

"I--" Once you had thought it as unnatural as your attraction to Brynna. Unspeakable and ungodly. Affection and lust may not be the same - lust and the driving need for pleasure being what power this particular fantasy - but it is now within reach to find out if something you have imagined is actually as pleasurable as you have wondered. "Would that..." The pads of his fingers glide over your clit again and you gasp. "Would you...like to watch?" You manage to ask Ellaria finally.

"I would love to watch." It's not like she has not watched Oberyn with multiple lovers over the years, but there is something about watching him with you that she needs. Craves it and hopes that it will assuage the guilt that she has been burying deep in her soul. She steps closer and caresses your shoulder. "I want to see the moment the stars burst behind your eyes and your tits shake with pleasure as you find your peak."

Her hand on your bare skin seems to break something inside of you. It snaps the thin thread of your curiosity in two like a lute string and all at once you're nodding eagerly and diving in to kiss her with Oberyn's hand still between your legs.

Her muffled sound of surprise quickly turns to a moan and her hand slides up to cup your cheek. The kiss is not the restrained pressing of lips like it normally is. Instead it is hungry, searching as your tongue boldly slides into her mouth and she hums in pleasure.

The sound of familiar moans is what makes Raeden poke his head out of his bedroom in curiosity. The door has not been closed and he saw no one in the bed, so he had wondered if perhaps Leyth or Cal had come for early morning exertions. To find you sandwiched between the prince and Ellaria makes him groan outright without a chance of stifling the sound.

Oberyn turns his head and sees the lust, the spark in the other man's eyes and jerks his head. "Come." He orders roughly. "See your lover, your soulmate." He keeps his fingers working between your thighs and smirks. "You should stroke your cock while I make the princess cum. Or you can fuck Ellaria again."

"Gods above..." He cannot believe the sight before him, and licks his lips unconsciously. If he was not already half-hard again from fantasies, this would have done it without hesitation. Because he was? The man is standing at attention beneath his loose breeches and throbbing eagerly. "Do you want me to watch, my love?" He asks, knowing that you have the final verdict in this and no one else. "Witness your pleasure?" Oberyn's fingers slip inside you in the same second you open your mouth to answer, and you end up gasping out a strangled moan. "Y--yes," you nod and your chest heaves with your body's heightened responsiveness. "Gods, yes, I-- please Raeden. Watch them touch me."

"Good girl." Oberyn praises softly, proud of your decision though he would have stopped the instant you said nay. "Watch how you make his cock hard and aching to be buried in a cunt, or ass." He smirks at the other man and watches as Ellaria, greedy girl that she is, kisses down your chest and takes one nipple in her mouth.

When you moan this time it fills the room, echoing off the walls and drifting past Raeden out the window. That little bit of praise is enough to have a new flood of arousal drip from your pussy and the sound that Oberyn's fingers make the next time they dive inside you is squelching. "Bed?" You manage to beg when you have presence of mind enough to form any words at all. Ellaria's beautiful lips wrapped indulgently around your nipple is a sight well worth being distracted by.

"We can be late this morning." Oberyn decides. "We have half an hour to make the princess cry out." He tells Ellaria as he guides the two of you over to the bed.

"We will need far less." Ellaria purrs, eager to be apart of this moment. She is the only one who has not made you cum yet and she wants to make it as memorable for you as possible. Something in the pit of her own stomach tells her she must, and she has learned never to ignore that voice.

His fingers pump in and out of your cunt as he chuckles. "Yes, we are very talented in making it quick when he need to." He hums. "Perhaps we could all find pleasure?"

"I believe our princess is in charge of that decision this morning." When Oberyn lifts you onto the bed Ellaria goes with you, leaving a trail of kisses across your hot skin. She hums when you whine and nod your head eagerly, panting in heavy, quick breaths. "Yes, princess?" She grins in triumphant and nips at your collar bone. "Shall we all find pleasure this morning?" "I--fuck--yes, yes absolutely." In the transition to the bed there is maybe a single moment at most where Oberyn's hands leave you, and your fingers reach back to wrap around his bare cock to keep you connected. "However you want. However we want."

“Then let me suggest a way we can all reach our peak and your Raeden can still watch.” Oberyn groans, twitching in your hand. “Star, you sit on my cock and Ellaria will press that talented tongue of hers against your clit, while your Raeden plows her from behind.”

The collective moan that Oberyn's suggestion raises from the group of you is pure, sinful music. "I think it would be a shame to waste the momentum," you admit, looking over Ellaria's shoulder to see if Raeden is comfortable with the idea.

You look so good, so sexy. Raeden is already pushing his breeches down and wrapping his hand around his hard cock. “Let me kiss you.” He begs you, wanting a kiss from your lips before the most thrilling fantasy of his life comes true.

"Please, love." He dives for the bed when you reach one hand out, one arm holding Ellaria to you as the other hand wraps around the back of your head to draw you close and deepen that kiss he's aching for. Your body arches toward him and you cannot tell anymore whose hands are where or touching what. It is the most thrilling feeling in the world and the freedom it gives you is somehow monumental and unparalleled.

Oberyn watches in rapture, his cock twitching in your hand and he craves to taste what the other man tastes like but he will not push that boundary until he is asked. Not with Raeden’s past which he confided in him while on the way to talk to his men.

Greedy though Oberyn might call her, Ellaria makes sure she can watch you as you dive into kissing your soulmate. A lover is always slightly different with someone they truly care for and she wants to see your differences. How you express your desire for your soulmate is a different passion than how you express your desire for your husband and she wonders if you express your desire for her in a different way all together.

Oberyn hums, his eyes finding Ellaria fixated on your kiss and he smiles. This will work, he will make it work, he wants it to work. His fingers tap against your clit and he groans at how wet you already are. “Ellaria, her cunt is sweet, I cannot wait to see what you think.”

“I have no doubt,” she purrs, slithering her way up your body to capture Oberyn for a kiss in the meantime. She can be patient when the occasion calls for it — but the moment you are mounting on Oberyn’s cock she will refuse to let you go.

Oberyn groans at the taste of his soulmate and longtime lover. It is a taste he could pick out with his sight blocked. The feel of her etched into his very bones, and yet he is also learning your taste. His tongue slides into her mouth eagerly as the soulmate pairs kiss.

The moment carries an intimacy that is so naked it is startling, and when you eventually nip Raeden's lower lip and pull back from his lips to open your eyes, you smile. "Watch, or join, my love. Whatever you desire. But please share this moment."

“I will join.” Raeden decides, reaching down and wrapping his hand around his cock.

It may be an odd constellation to anyone else in the world, but in that moment you swear comfort washes over you. Surety, even. And you let your fingers trace down the hard line of his jaw with such gentle affection that it feels like a summer breeze has washed through the room. "Thank the gods," you grin at him, feeling the most salacious and even burning with power that you ever have in your life.

“We must hurry, star.” Oberyn reminds you, murmuring in your ear. “We have a queen who cannot be left waiting.”

If it were a perfect morning you would do nothing but this - one hand steadying yourself and the other touching, getting lost on the feeling of hands on skin and mouths everywhere - but of course Oberyn is right. You nearly pout when you turn your head to kiss him, but his eyes being black with lust is now a familiar and welcome sight. And one that makes you grin knowingly. Something wonderful is sure to happen when he looks at you like that. “You are right,” you hum, nipping at his bottom lip and jaw. “But fast can still be satisfying.”

“Fast can be satisfying.” He agrees and pulls his hand away from your clit. “Mount your husband’s cock.” He orders you with a smirk. “Show my lover and yours what your cunt looks like filled with me.”

Two weeks ago it is a sentence you never would have thought possible. Now you are bare before three eager sets of eyes as you position yourself over him - facing Ellaria and Raeden to give them a spectacular view as you slowly sink down on Oberyn’s length. The thickness never takes long to adjust to considering how needy you are by the time you take him, but it still has your eyes rolling back into your head blissfully when your dripping pussy is stuffed full.

“Fuck.” Instead of watching you, he’s watching the other two people in the room. Enjoying the lust and slight envy in both of the gorgeous creature’s eyes. “Isn’t she spectacular. Raeden knows how tight this cunt is. How hot it feels around his cock.”

He does, and he will not deny it - the other man letting out a telling groan that rumbles up from the depths of his chest. It overwhelms a part of him that he has never had a name for - and so he called it lust and tamped it down. But now, overcome with the feeling and reaching for Ellaria to join this hedonistic moment of delirious want, it seems that there is no need to push it away at all.

“Ellaria’s cunt is just as magical, isn’t it?” He hisses, twitching inside you, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts. “Four bastards born and still as tight as the first night I fucked her.”

“Nothing more magical in any of the seven heavens than this.” Raeden groans, savoring the image of pleasure in front of him even as he is pushing Ellaria’s robe aside to run his fingers along the slick apex of her thighs. Just because he has not had the prince for himself yet, does not mean he is not sure of it. Ellaria’s praise has been unwavering.

Oberyn smirks and sends Raeden a wink. "Then it has been a long time since you have had the pleasure of slipping into a tight little ass or had a cock fill yours." He coos, flexing inside you and nipping your ear. "One day."

The whimper that it draws from you ought to be downright shameful but with these people you cannot help but feel desire. “He can have it tonight,” you promise, gasping with the aching pleasure of stretching out in all of your naked glory for these people. “Why should my soulmate not know every part of me?”

"He should." Oberyn hums as he watches Ellaria's eyes flutter closed. "Lover, come lick our princess's cunt, so Raeden can bury his cock inside you. I want to see how you take him. It looks to be a very satisfying cock."

“With pleasure.” Ellaria agrees, greedily filling both of her hands with your hips and lowering her mouth to your cunt to lick a king, hot stripe up the length of Oberyn’s cock and your swollen pussy all at once. His groan is nothing compared to the way you keen in utter delight, surprised at the swift assuredness but utterly drowning in the pleasure of having her talented tongue play you like an old, familiar instrument as Ellaria dedicates herself to eating you alive.

His eyes feasting on a sight that he never thought he would experience, Raeden throbs as he grips his lovers hips. Ellaria's skirts are tossed over her ass, but he doesn't undress her, caressing her slit once more as he shuffles closer. "Gods be fucking praised." He grunts, admiring how the prince stretches you open and his lover's tongue lovingly flicks over your swollen clit. His cock pushes inside the prince's soulmate and he joins into the fray with a greedy moan.

The chorus of moans and wet sounds of flesh on flesh grows quickly. There is nothing shy or subtle about what is happening in this room - in this bed - as Oberyn's hands palm your flesh and pull you down onto his length again and again. Raeden seems to lose himself to the rhythm quickly and effortlessly, and every thrust urges Ellaria more determinedly into your flesh in a different way. She laps at your cunt and sucks your clit, fingers exploring that nub of concentrated pleasure to find what sensations make you whimper and which ones make you scream.

"Fuck." Your husband groans happily, watching enviously as Raeden rocks into his soulmate at a frantic pace. Her moans against your clit are satisfying and wonders if she is moaning because of your taste or his cock. Perhaps both.

Raeden’s eyes move from watching his cock disappear between Ellaria’s swollen lips and watching your husband’s cock plunge deep into your cunt in the same satisfying way. The four of you make the more gorgeous symphony together and he almost hopes someone hears.

Oberyn knows you are close to cumming just from how tight you are gripping his cock. It has been an utter pleasure to watch you buck and squeal and moan every time Ellaria twirled your bundle of nerves around her tongue or sucked it into her mouth. You should always have mouth attached to your cunt and he will mention it when this is over.

Raeden has never heard you quite this unbridled before. It does something unspeakable and nearly uncontrollable to him, a feral edge catching to the way that his hips slam against Ellaria’s flesh with wild abandon. It had been in his head that it would be difficult for him to see you with the prince but it seems to only intensify his desire — an outcome he absolutely had not anticipated.

Ellaria’s moan against your clit is louder, pushed out of her by the forceful thrusts, but she pushes her hips back for more. Dragging her tongue down to bath Oberyn’s thrusting cock and taste the way your flavors mix together.

There has never been a time - even as few encounters as you have had with your husband - that he has not thoroughly satisfied you. This morning seems to be a magnificent combination of many things, though, and you are shaking and so incoherent that even if you were saying each of their names in turn no one would be able to distinguish them. The ecstasy of the moment is too great, and somehow the fact that it is all of you together only makes it more so.

“That’s it, princess.” Oberyn hisses, tangling his fingers into Ellaria’s hair and holding your hip as he fucks up into you with shorter, faster thrusts. Feeling you quiver around him as he starts to chase his own high. While it was permissible to push boundaries, he knows he cannot be too late to the small council’s meeting this morning. “Cum for us.”

Your whole body seems to seize, tightening and bearing down on Oberyn's length. It's such a deeply ingrained physical reaction to reach for the person you are sharing this moment with that one of your hands grasps your husband's on your hip and the other finds Ellaria's shoulder, only for your fingers to find themselves tangled there with Raeden's.

“Fuck, fuck, Stone.” Oberyn hisses. “Fuck her full, fill her up like I am going to fill up this cunt.” He babbles as he feels his body tighten. “Fill her up so I can taste you from her cunt.”

Raeden's familiar, guttural grunts deepen as he climbs closer to his peak, and you watch with hooded eyes when he reaches his hand around Ellaria's waist to bring her own pleasure on with his fingers skating her clit. It is a symphony now, as you start to tumble one after the other, but Oberyn seems determined to see all of you satisfied before he allows himself the same.

Ellaria has her tongue pressed to your sex, but she cannot do much more than moan as Raeden fucks her with a determination that belies all previous sweet interactions. The public setting perhaps allowing him to wish to put on a display. Showing off for you or for Oberyn. Maybe both of you.

She is the next over the edge, moaning as the feeling washes over her and making Raeden curse as she squeezes him tight and spurs his own orgasm in turn. The chain reaction is beautiful to witness, even as your own eyes threaten to roll backward into your head with the force of Oberyn chasing his own end below you.

“Fuck, star, look at them.” He grunts, almost to his own peak as he holds your chin in his hand. “Perfect. And we will do this again, every configuration possible.” He moans, biting down on your shoulder as he starts to cum.

A calm washes over all four of you as you catch your breath. Where your smile might once have been guilty there is only satisfaction and a near surety that if you could, you would simply melt into the bed. "I think our princess might have enjoyed herself," Ellaria observes with a wry grin. "I know I did."

“I did as well.” Oberyn squeezes your hip and rocks his own up once to push his cum out of your cunt. “What say you, Stone? Feeling a bit lighter?”

"Measurably." Raeden's pant breaks with a chuckle. He draws back from Ellaria carefully, letting her skirt fall back into place and running one hand over her exposed skin as surely as his other makes the same journey over yours.

He hates that he has to leave. Wishing to spend all day and discover what ways the four of you can fit together. He kisses your cheek until you turn your head to kiss your lips. “You must clean up for the queen.” He reminds you softly.

"Suddenly I yearn for the luxury of a bath always at the ready," you tease him softly, knowing full well that the availability of a bath at a brothel is always much easier than when a servant must be called to fill the tub.

Oberyn chuckles watching as you move off of him and he sits up to bring his paramour close for a kiss. “She has become used to the luxury of reveling with me, sun.”

“And so quickly.” Ellaria smirks, sinking against him to indulge in their own moment of sweetness while you seem pulled into Raeden’s arms. “That is good. She is learning that you pamper your lovers when it pleases you.”

“It pleases me often.” He reminds her with a tiny pout that is easily kissed away. He has been indulgent as of late, but he often is with his lover.

“Very often.” Her fingers drift over his skin but Ellaria sits up again with a smile. “Now go and attend your meeting. We have work of our own to do.”

Oberyn chuckles, looking very amused and pleased with the outcome of the day. “Go, learn what you can from the widow queen. Poor girl.”

“She would be poorer if she had actually had to stay married to that terror.” Ellaria tuts. “This is surely better for her.” “But perhaps difficult in a different way.” With one more lingering, indulgent kiss for Raeden, you pull away to use the wash basin. “We shall see what we can find out.”

The rest of the time is spent cleaning up and dressing in clothing designed to impress. Once he is situated, Oberyn kisses you and Ellaria before leading Raeden away.

******

Walking to the gardens with Ellaria feels different than the last time you had gone this way. Somehow simultaneously surer of yourself and more nervous, you know that it will be a morning of careful manners and talking around the real issues that confront the keep without King Joffrey. The only thing you can hope is that Queen Margaery is not too distressed by his death - because the whole of court saw her turn to you for comfort when he passed. They would expect to see it again if she is distraught today.

Ellaria keeps a careful watch as the two of you walk, disguising it by holding onto your arm and talking about the surroundings. Hopefully giving you reason to turn towards the thing she wanted to view closer without being too obvious.

The eyes that are on you as you walk together seem heavier today, though you might be imagining it. Perhaps it is because you have arrived to the gardens before the queen and the act of waiting seems to make everything interminable. Ellaria is kind enough to try to distract you, and you appreciate her dearly for it, but end up clasping your hand over hers gently. “Thank you for staying with me,” you murmur, leaning forward to smell the flower she is holding out to you while only barely registering what it is. “I do not think I could do this alone.”

“I believe that you could.” She knows that you could. You are far braver than you credit yourself and that would just improve as your ease with your new role and the power that comes with it settles. “However, I am enjoying any time I get to spend with you.”

“Even if it is not as…eventful as this morning?” Glossing over the compliment, a smile still curls the edges of your lips. This morning was nothing that you expected and yet completely wonderful. You would live in that if you could.

“Pleasure comes in many forms, star.” She smirks at you and turns to take both of your hands in hers. Making sure you hear her use Oberyn’s nickname.

“Somehow I think you may be acquainted with all of them.” It is as intimidating to be under Ellaria’s full gaze and attention as under the prince’s, but you try not to look away. Not now that you have shared such an intimate experience.

“The simple ones are the most cherished.” She promises. “Holding your new daughter in your arms, or tangled with a lover while they sleep.”

“I look forward to finding out.” Perhaps that is something of an understatement, but it does not keep you from glancing down at your own unchanged belly with a dreamy smile. “One day.”

“One day soon.” She predicts with a soft, dreamy smile. “It will be good to hear a babe’s cry in the halls again.”

It feels odd to hope so, after having been afraid of the reality for so long, but you nod and squeeze her hands tightly. A silent thanks for the support. "We should continue on. Not even a princess can keep a queen waiting."

“We should.” She smiles at you before letting your hands drop. “There is more time later.” Her own worries might seep in around the edges of her eyes, but she quickly blinks them away as she turns to guide you further into the garden while keeping the entrance in sight. The queen should arrive at any moment.

She looks every inch the mourning widow when she does - emerging from the keep all in black but no ladies in waiting anywhere to be found. Her solitude seems to be a statement of strength rather than a moment of weakness, though, as the sea of people going about their days parts to let her through. Margaery Tyrell was married to King Joffrey for only a matter of hours, but she is now Margaery Baratheon to her people. It is polite for you to curtsy, after all a queen is technically above a princess in rank, and this is her country not yours. You may have been raised here but the kingdom where others would curtsy to you is far south. Still the gesture is one of manners, and you dip only slightly to show her respect.

“I must confess.” Margaery reaches for your hands and smiles as you stand back up to your full height. “The prospect of meeting with you again today lifted my spirits immensely.”

"I do not know that I fully understand why," you admit with a self-deprecating smile. "But I am glad to hear it."

“Ellaria?” Margaery tilts her head, hoping that she got the paramour’s name correct. “I am glad you could be here as well.”

"It was such an interesting invitation," Ellaria observes, looping her arm delicately through yours as she offers the widowed queen an amused expression. "How could I resist?"

“Indeed.” Margaery sees the intrigue in the older woman’s eyes, aware that she knows why she extended the invitation. “Shall we begin our visit?” She does not demand respect from the woman who doesn’t have any social standing. Instead she directs her question to you both equally.

"Did you wish for something other than a garden walk?" There is an intrigue here that you cannot name, and you must admit that it does entice you. Whatever the queen might want, she wants it of you and Ellaria.

“Conversation.” She promises, although that is not all she wants. She wants to see if Dorne would be a favored ally to Highgarden. Loras is concerned because Tywin has made comments about Cersei and he would make a good match.

“That is easily accomplished.” The beginning of the path is familiar and easy, and without attendants the three of you can speak freely. “The accommodations selected for our party are superb. If you had any hand in it, you have my thanks.”

“I confess I did give the orders to the servants.” Margaery hums. “To aide Queen Cersei since she has been consumed with grief. I loved Joffrey, but I did not push him from my womb.” Her hands tighten on your arm and she manages to look appropriately sad.

"It would have made for an awkward and troublesome marriage if you had," Ellaria observes wryly, and you have to bite your tongue not to smirk.

Margaery hums, amused by the comment, although she is very aware of the rumors about the Baratheon children’s parentage. “What is mourning like in Dorne?” She asks the paramour curiously. “Do you wear black and weep, or vow vengeance?”

"We wear white." Ellaria tells the young queen honestly, noting the way she seems to cling to your other arm. "No one in the heat of Dorne wears all black if they do not desire to be stricken down by the sun. But we weep as anyone else does. A life lost too soon or unjustly will be honored with vengeance, and a life well-lived is honored with story."

“Forgive me.” She shakes her head and smiles sardonically. “I have never borne the heat of Dorne. So I cannot imagine black not being a color used there.” She murmurs. “I have heard that it is breathtaking. The views.”

"It is. Oceans, deserts, forests, and great palaces are beautiful sights to behold. Dorne has all of these." The three of you walk together without encountering another soul, and Ellaria wonders exactly how many servants the queen might have instructed to be elsewhere this morning. "Its beauty is as unique as its people."

“Yes.” Leaping upon the opening the paramour had provided, Margaery begins to dig into the real reason why she had invited you. “There are many interesting people from Dorne. Yourself and your…lover, amongst them.” She flusters prettily and glances towards you. “Is it usually so polite, a mistress and a wife? Or is the prince the deciding factor?”

"I cannot say that I have any idea what is usual, your Grace." You admit, holding the other woman's suddenly bright gaze. "But the prince is a man of great passion, and his love for Ellaria is understandably great." Almost blushing at that admission, you end up glancing to the older woman on your other side with a smile. "I have a great admiration of my own, and a deep respect. Perhaps it is not usual, but it makes for a happy household. So to speak."

“Oberyn’s brother, Prince Doran, does not have a mistress or paramour.” Ellaria informs the queen, wondering if the girl is about to offer herself up to her lover for protection. She has seen far more odd things. “Others might say Oberyn is bullish, needing to have his way. I say that the prince is a man who does not settle.”

"Bullish is unfair," you frown at the description, not liking it at all. "He simply knows what he wants, and takes what he desires. Things that I understood to be virtues in a man - if the description from other men is accurate in any way."

“Men often find value in a show of strength.” She nods, looking between you and your companion. “You are very lucky. Some unions are fated to be unhappy.”

"I am acutely aware of my good fortune." Your free hand covers hers in earnest. "You were the first person outside of my family to speak to me of the prince and you encouraged me to keep my mind and heart open. For that I am deeply grateful."

“I am grateful to the Seven that your future is a bright one.” She smiles as she looks ahead, her brow pinching after a moment. “My own future is very troubling.” She admits, voice barely above a whisper.

"To be widowed so soon is unsettling indeed." Now we come to it, you think, sparing another glance for Ellaria who is watching the queen intently. You take that cue easily and turn your full attention to the younger woman. "No one could have predicted that the king's life would end so young."

“I fear that I am in danger.” She is taking a big risk to admit this to you, unsure of where you loyalties, or Dorne’s truly lie. However, she must trust someone, and you seem to be a refreshing change from the backstabbing cunts in King’s Landing.

"And you want to know if Dorne will stand against King's Landing." Somehow you have a feeling that if Oberyn were here, he would have that terribly satisfied and intrigued expression on his face that says he expected to hear something but is no less interested by it for predicting it. You keep your voice low while the three of you walk, but do not let go of the queen's hand. "Is your danger imminent, your Grace? Have there been threats?"

“Threats do not need to be spoken to be known.” She hums as she pauses to gather her thoughts. You and Ellaria also stop, looking towards her. “My marriage to Jeoffry was not my first.” She reveals quietly. “I married Renly Baratheon, on the battlefield near Storm’s End.” She knows there are rumors, but she wants you to know. “Two marriages, both unconsummated because the king died.”

“I see.” That would cause something of a concern, and especially quite a bit of gossip, amongst the people who knew about it. “That does put you in a rather unique and…if I may say so…undesirable position.”

“As you can imagine.” She is glad you understand the predicament that she finds herself in. “I am unsure if a third marriage will be fortuitous to the crown.”

“But a third marriage is being spoken of?” The prince had predicted that House Baratheon - such as they are - would expect the widowed queen to marry King Tommen even at his young age. Knowing now that Queen Margaery has had not one but two I’ll-fated marriages makes you wish for her sake that it was not true.

“I—” she presses a hand to her stomach to settle the queasiness of the moment. “Will be expected to marry Tommen when the mourning for Joffrey is done.”

“I see.” Murmured a little deeper this time, you and Ellaria exchange a look of concern but the prince’s lover — your lover since this morning — obviously intends for this to be your decision. She gives you a nod of encouragement and you have to admit it does bolster you a bit. “And this is not a match that you feel is well-made, I take it?” You ask the queen, careful to keep your voice quiet just in case you are not as alone as you think.

“It is no secret that the queen does not care for me.” Her eyes are furtive as she looks around. “She will try to keep as much power as she can grasp, and Tommen is the youngest of her brood.”

“There are some people of power who seek to keep their enemies close by. They think a watchful eye sees all, but it also makes them paranoid.” Your mother is one of these sort, and you cannot claim to miss her behaviour in any way.

“My grandmother has always had a fondness for Dorne.” She changes the direction of the conversation slightly. “Admires the ability to say what is meant without pretense or subterfuge.”

“Then speak plainly.” After all, it will do you a world of good not to have to attempt to interpret why the queen might mean. And the plainer she is, the more you hope to be able to assess what may be asked of you.

Margaery pauses, gathering her courage and finally speaking. “If it comes time for me to leave King’s Landing, would Dorne harbor me?” She asks softly, eyes searching yours and Ellaria’s as she stops and turns towards you. “My father and grandmother are already at risk, but I do not wish them any more trouble if they attempt to sneak me out of the city.”

It is not an easy question and all three of you know it. There are many immense layers of politics and consideration to be thought on. There are complications and intricacies to navigate. But you also know that, like growing up banded together with your brothers against the formidable fury of your mother, sometimes the mere existence of an ally is enough to bolster a person through a fight. “I do not see why…in a time of great turmoil…” you begin carefully, letting your eyes look around without being conspicuous. “That you should not seek respite with your dear friend the Princess of Dorne. For however long you should choose to stay. After all…” your mind rolls back, tucking through knowledge the best way you know how. Having a habit of reading and collecting information may do you a world of good in some ways. “After all, are we not relations of a sort? My brother Corwen married a girl of House Tyrell just some two years ago.” It was not something you had ever paid attention to before, not having any stake in the blood ties of her brother's wives, but now it seems imperative that the knowledge be at your fingertips. “Who could not understand a desire to find kinship in friends who have been united such as we are?”

There is a spark of hope, of understanding in the other woman’s eyes and she quickly nods. “A dear relationship I hope to foster.” She agrees, squeezing your hand. “I do not wish to impose on you unless necessary.” She promises.

The prince predicted a part of this conversation, and the light in Ellaria’s eye says he would approve of your decision, but you will be uneasy until tonight when you can speak to him about it directly. For now, you press Margaery’s hands tightly and nod. “I will expect letters from you, then,” you tell her as casually as you can manage. Letters will keep up the pretense that you are enjoying your blood ties and becoming friends - when allies would likely be a more proper term. “How fortuitous that we should find each other when our fortunes have found as both as wives of royalty.”

“Isn’t it?” She beams and there are tears of relief in her bright blue eyes. Despite Olenna’s reassurances, she has been worried about not being able to get far enough away to protect her grandmother. Especially with the circumstances surrounding her life right now.

Turning to continue to follow the path in front of you, you keep hold of Margaery’s hand and slip your arm around Ellaria’s so that the three of you can walk together. “We should know more of each other,” you remind her. If you are to uphold this pretense, you cannot be strangers to each other.

“We should.” She agrees. “What do you want to know about me?”

“Simple things and secret things.” This meeting seems conspiratorial now, but it cannot be helped. Things are in motion that not even a woman as strong as Ellaria could stop. “For instance, you know I love to read. But few people know how much I have loved pressing flowers in my volumes. The books I read as a young girl were littered with buds.”

“Highgarden has some of the most beautiful flowers that you could imagine.” Margaery tells you and Ellaria. “I used to sit in the gardens and pretend that I tended flowers and that if the blooms continues to bud for me, I would never die.”

“Your childhood was lonely?” Ellaria asks, prompting the youngest of the three women to continue divulging morsels of information. Small things that you can collect to put together a larger picture. “I thought you had a brother?”

“Loras was sent off to be fostered when we were five and seven.” She murmurs quietly. “I did not spend much time with him.”

“That is a pity.” Ellaria murmurs. Though it happens so often in noble families that it is a wonder anyone even knows their own kin. “Siblings are a great treasure.”

“I would never separate my own children.” She admits quietly, shaking her head. “It is barbaric to me.”

“I hope that when you are blessed with children one day, they will have the happiest of childhoods.” It is certainly not an easy thing for noble children to experience and you both know it.

“Yes.” She nods, giving you a sad smile as if she is aware of how rare that is. “I admire you, Ellaria.” She announces, looking over at the older woman. “You have chosen to stand by your lover despite his marriage and it seems as if you and the Princess have no quarrel.”

"Why should we quarrel?" Ellaria smiles at you fondly, the memory of your moans still ringing in her ears and your taste still on her tongue. "There is room enough for more than only two in Prince Oberyn's bed as well as his heart. I have no desire to be a wife or a princess. Whereas our dear Star seems born to both tasks. Should I be jealous that she will bear his heirs? That would be a fruitless anger when I have birthed four of his daughters myself."

The young queen tilts her head, impressed with the viewpoint and decides to reveal the secret that could have her reputation ruined. “Loras spoke of Oberyn with much disappointment.” She reveals. “When Joffrey— the day of our wedding, it seems he was expecting to join you in that bed.”

The Dornish beauty smiles, amusement playing on her features as she exchanges a glance with you. That night was not such a happy one in your complicated relationships but all is well now. "Oberyn was equally disappointed," Ellaria assures her. "I am sure any visit your brother might wish to pay to the prince's bed will be deeply rewarding."

“Then I feel that I am safe to confess this.” Margaery looks around again, making sure you are alone in the gardens. “Renly— Loras and I were going to…share his affections.”

"You have chosen to confide in two of the only women in King's Landing who will not find that statement terribly shocking." You squeeze her hand gently to reassure her in your own way and end up smiling unconsciously for a moment. "I do not know how things are in Highgarden, but in the Vale such things were never spoken of. I have recently discovered that it helps no one to mask desire."

Her mouth opens in surprise and her eyes dart between the two of you, “do you mean…” She cuts off her comment and presses her lips together, obviously eager for clarification but her manners would never allow such an intrusive question.

"I mean that speaking freely of my desires has been a weight lifted from my shoulders." You tell her quietly. Acting on them is a whole other breed of personal freedom but you will not suggest that so quickly. "To say it delicately, embracing the open mind of the Dornish people has been a boon for me."

“I see.” She nods quickly and smiles at the two of you. “Well, it is refreshing to have likeminded people to converse with.”

“The difficulty is in knowing who one can converse with,” you admit, knowing full well that you had not even trusted your soulmate not to judge or castigate you. Now that that barrier has been broken you feel positively bold. “I hope that you can feel confident to speak of passions with us. The things that bring happiness should not have to be taboo.”

“I thank you for your gracious kindness.” She is relieved and bites her lip. “I feel that things will get much worse here and I cannot ask my father to intercede.” Mace Tyrell was in a precarious position and she knows it.

“Fathers are not as infallible in adulthood as we imagine them to be when we are children.” The unfortunate truth of which you have seen with your own eyes. It is only lucky that your mother miscalculated her tactics so drastically. “I think we women must work to keep each other safe when we are able.”

“Yes.” She nods and looks towards Ellaria and then back at you. “Thank you, my burdens seem much lighter.” There is more that she would wish to ask of you both, of Dorne, but for now it is enough to know that she might rely on you if she needs.

“They will never disappear,” Ellaria hums, with a wisdom that seems almost foreboding though she does not mean it to be. “Only change. It will be good to have some hearts close to yours on which to rely.”

“Is it wrong of me to wish that I was not going to be forced to marry Tommen?” She asks, her blue eyes wide and worried. “He is a child. A boy.”

“A boy half your age with little knowledge of the world and no concept at all of what being king will truly mean.” Ellaria shakes her head when she sighs. “It is unfair to both of you, as far as I can see.”

Sheer relief washes over her face, as if she had been the outlier in the argument against marrying a child just because he was king. Joffrey was bad enough.

“Is there really nothing to be done about it?” You have to be cautious asking a question like that, but some small semblance of trust has been forged here this morning. If it came back to reflect poorly you could feign ignorance of royal intricacies. After all - you are only just out of the Vale.

“Not unless I can be found undesirable.” She shakes her head slowly, again, wanting to say something more but she doesn’t dare. It’s too bold, too presumptuous.

“Which would ruin you for any other match.” It is a fact you are all too aware of.

“Especially a royal match.” You are clever, very clever and she hums in agreement.

“Yes,” you glance at her, barely from your side eye, and match her thoughtful hum. “That would be a terrible shame.”

“Yes.” She murmurs quietly. “A shame.” She turns and prompt the two of you to continue walking, strolling along as if it were any normal conversation, “your servants, how are they adjusting to the keep?”

“Well, thus far.” Cal and Leyth seemed more than pleased to have good food and a comfortable place to sleep, and so far you had heard nothing but happiness from them. “Apart from learning their way around, they seem to be adjusting quickly.”

"That is good." She continues on another few steps before she proceeds with her thoughts. "I have heard a rumor that the servants were acquired since the prince has been in Dorne." She ventures. "May I ask where?"

Ellaria chuckles, the sound low in her throat, and she tilts her head in amusement. “At the brothel,” she tells Margaery easily. “Their freedom was purchased from Littlefinger.”

"I see." Margaery had known that piece of information before she ever asked the question, having to hear Cersei seethe about the whores that Oberyn had disgraced the Keep with. "I take it that you…indulge with them?"

“Occasionally.” Of course some would have a problem with it, but Ellaria cannot bring herself to care. “They are not required to lie with us, if that is what you are asking.”

"No, that is not...I don't seem to know how to ask." She shakes her head, frustrated at herself and simple smiles. "Obviously it was not a good question, as my septa would tell me often."

“You can be blunt,” you offer, wondering if it is manners being in her way. That is so often the case for you. “If that will help you.”

"If I asked your man servant to sleep with me, to be caught sleeping with me, would he be allowed to say yes?" The plan is rashly formed and slightly desperate, but she doesn't know of any other way save for becoming pregnant to ruin her chances of marrying Tommen. The downside is that she would be ruining herself from any other matches as well. "Or would that not work?"

“Margaery, you would be ruined!” Even hissed under your breath, you can feel your eyes widen as you reach for the queen’s arm in surprise. “You would be shunned! Or worse, imprisoned.”

"It is better than marrying a child!" She shoots back, knowing that it sounds insane, but it is better than a life tied to the golden haired bitch of a queen that is her mother-in-law.

“That…” You sigh. “Is true.” And besides which it is her own decision to make. You are not her keeper, though you are trying to be her friend. “If…if that is what you wished to do…Cal would be the one to ask. Not us. He makes his own mind.” Though you are not sure what Oberyn would say.

"I would ask your husband, but I do not think that would be appropriate in the company of his lover and his wife." She jokes, trying to make light of the serious situation.

For a moment you actually pause, before you and Ellaria look at each other and end up exchanging a wordless glance. “It would be up to him, too,” you tell Margaery honestly. “He is free to take any lover he wishes.”

"He might take any lover he wishes, but you might have a bad taste for my company." She reminds you. "I am not his longtime lover." Her eyes slide over towards Ellaria. "I have always assumed you are soulmates."

“We are.” Ellaria acknowledges proudly. “But that does not mean I make his decisions for him.”

“But—” she tilts her head. “Be honest. Would you be upset if he were to bed me?”

“I—” The question is more perplexing for you than it is for Ellaria, who is able to honestly answer that it would not right away. For you, the question requires thought. “I would ask that you be respectful of the fact that I may already be carrying his heir. That is all.”

Her eyes widen slightly and a genuine smile crosses her face. “You are happy with it.” She deduces and squeezes your hand. “May the Seven make it so.”

“Very happy.” And as amazing as that still is to you, you are not one to squander it. “And he may sire many more bastards before age catches him, but I would hate for this child to be contested.”

“It will not.” Margaery promises you, shaking her head adamantly. “I can promise you that. I will think of something else.”

“Perhaps…” The wheels in your mind turn quickly, that wit that Raeden and Oberyn both claim to witness stirring thoughts into motion. “The answer is simply to lie with him…without the act? That is…to be witnessed in his bed but without having given up your maidenhood?”

“That….is not a problem.” She assures you, aware that she had lost it long ago. “But I don’t see why he should touch me if he does not have to.” It will work, no one in the Seven Kingdoms would believe that Oberyn Martell would be in her bed without sleeping with her.

“I am sure he will touch,” Ellaria chuckles knowingly. “But not more than you allow.”

Margaery laughs and nods. “I’m sure that he might.” She turns and stares at both of you earnestly. “Are you sure? I wish to be free of this, but I do not wish to put your man in danger. Cersei could have him killed if I was discovered with a servant.”

“A queen may kill a servant as she pleases.” Ellaria reminds Margaery with a nod that says she understands the situation full well. “But if Prince Oberyn of Dorne seduces anyone, he will live to tell the tale regardless.”

“Exactly.” She knows what will happen. She’s heard the rumors that Cersei had Ned Stark beheaded because of what he knew, or discovered.

“For now you must continue to mourn.” For a plan - any plan - to have success, it must be kept a vital secret until such time as it is put into motion. “We will speak of it again. And with Oberyn.”

“Thank you.” She knows that it’s a dangerous game to play, but she has been thrown into a pit of snakes and who better to help her free herself than the Red Viper himself?

******

Deciding to go straight back to your rooms after leaving Margaery inside the heart of the keep, you are fully relieved to see Oberyn and Raeden reclining under the windows when you and Ellari step through the door arm in arm.

“I see your walk with the widowed queen was informative.” Oberyn observes before he takes another sip of his wine. He and Raeden were talking plainly about his desires and it was not going to be too long before he joined the prince in his bed with you.

“It was eye opening.” Though you go to Oberyn to kiss him first, you settle down against Raeden’s side on the plush bench and lean into his side. 

“It was interesting,” Ellaria agrees. “And it is good that you are here. We must speak with you about it.”Oberyn frowns slightly and stands, handing you his cup of wine to move Ellaria off to the side to speak with her privately. “My sun, we do need to talk.” He murmurs with a sigh.

“What about?” She frowns when he moves her away from you and Raeden.

“Something has changed.” He insists, reaching up to rub her shoulder softly. “Tell me what is wrong so it can be fixed.”

“Nothing is wrong, my love.” Instantly Ellaria is acting as nonchalant as ever, brushing off his concern as though it is nothing. What has been happening - what has happened - cannot be undone and so there is no use dwelling in it. “Your princess and I bring you interesting news.”

He frowns, willing to push the issues with her, but she turned and glides back towards you and Raeden. “What news is this?” He huffs.

“The widowed queen has a proposition for the most legendary lover in the seven kingdoms.” You tell him, tucked neatly into Raeden’s side. “She wishes to be free of the Lannisters and thinks you might be the one to help her.”

“Killing them all?” Oberyn chuckles to himself, aware that it was not possible, even as much as he might wish for it. Besides Tyrion, he seems to be a noble sort of man, despite who his sire is.

“Slightly less…destructive.” Though you know the reason for his hatred, this is not quite the place for a violent tone. “She would prefer you ruin her reputation so that she will not be forced to marry Tommen Baratheon.”

His brow wings up and it is rare to find the prince speechless, but he has no words for a long moment. “And how would she propose I do that?” He asks, looking between you and Ellaria.

“We thought that it would do well for someone to witness you in bed together.” It was a topic of quiet but intense discussion as your walk ended, but now saying it out loud to him has you feeling near foolish. “The exact circumstances were not yet determined.”

Oberyn tilts his head and gazes at his two female lovers in amusement. “They intend to borrow my cock out.” He huffs to Raeden before shaking his head and chuckling. “It would work. She would be soiled and unfit to marry a king, and I get to smugly laugh in Cersei’s face.

“She asked if Dorne would provide her shelter.” The fact that Oberyn does not seem disturbed by the idea is a great relief. “I believe she truly wants a way out of all of this.”

“She sees her head on a chopping block.” Oberyn agrees, still unsettled by the way Ellaria brushed him off, but he doesn’t show it. Instead he sits back down next to Raeden and pats his thigh for her to sit down.

“She fears it.” Smooth as silk, Ellaria glides to his lap and lights there, gathering her skirts around her instead of letting them fall where they may. “And that fear has made her bold.”

“Sometimes boldness is needed.” Oberyn muses, sliding his hand over his lover’s knee and starting to move up her thigh.

“It seems to be.” She agrees, adjusting slightly in his lap and crossing her legs so that his hand must change paths. “She is right not to trust the Lannisters.”

“Hmmmm.” Oberyn doesn’t say anything, just watches his lover carefully. The suspicions starting to form, even if he knows his lover is loyal to him.

“We told her we would speak to you.” You glance between Oberyn and Ellaria with confusion. Something feels different this afternoon and you do not much care for the shift in the air. “But that the decision is yours.”

“I see no problem causing a scandal that will annoy the Lannisters as much as it will amuse me.” He looks over to Raeden and there is the small idea that takes root. “Tell the girl to let me know when I should present my cock for her use and I will make it happen.”

“It is not her intention to get a child by you,” you point out to your husband, laughing slightly at his seeming enthusiasm for the plan. “But I will make sure that she knows it.”

“Oh I have no intention of touching the girl.” He clarifies, winking at you. “The simple sight of my presence in her bed will be enough. I can only hope that bitch Cersei is the one to walk in.”

“I think that would amuse you greatly.” There is no question of it, and you shake your head at him as you sit tangled in Raeden’s arms. “It would seem, then, that we intend to align ourselves with Margaery Tyrell.”

“Her father might be an idiot, but her grandmother is not.” He is speaking to all of you but especially Raeden as an emerging lord. “And her older brother is no fool. Making an alliance with the Tyrells is a good thing.”

“Loras would like to pay you a visit, lover,” Ellaria informs with a pleased smirk. “The opportunity will not be missed after all.”

Oberyn tilts his head and easily dismisses the idea. The fickleness of his temperament could sometimes surprise those that do not know him, but Oberyn has no attachment to those he does not care for. He had been interested in fucking the pretty faced knight before, but the intrigues of those around him now far exceed those of Loras Tyrell. “Perhaps,” is all he says.

There is a tension in the air - an unquiet you had not expected - and you twist your fingers around Raeden’s in a show of anxiety as you look at your husband. “If you do not plan to touch her…or even her brother…what exactly is your plan?”

Oberyn looks over at you with a small smirk, reaching out to take the goblet from to you take another sip of wine before offering it back. “I have a well-earned…reputation.” He reminds you. “No one would ever believe that I did not fuck the widow queen, take her purity, though I am sure she has long since lost that.”

“You will simply be found in a bed with her, and Cersei will assume the worst.” Raeden almost laughs out loud at the simplicity of the idea. It is so straightforward that no one would ever think the legendarily clever and seductive Red Viper would even think it a scheme. “It is…genius in its guilelessness.”

Oberyn chuckles and nods. “I thought so, and I am sure that my soulmate and my wife would appreciate knowing that whatever babe Margaery Tyrell carries down the road is not of my seed.” His fingers caress your knee where it is thrown over Raeden’s thigh. “Especially since we are working on producing my legitimate heir.”

“It could already have happened and we would not know,” you remind him, letting an excited smile turn your lips up. “My brothers’ wives did not show signs for months.”

“We will make sure until it is obvious to the world.” He promises, winking at you with a smug smirk.

“I have no doubt.” Ellaria murmurs, her eyes moving between the other three of you in the couch in ever-vigilant restlessness. Even when her body at rest, her mind never wavers.

“Do you want another babe?” His finger catches her jaw and he pulls her face towards his gently. Despite his displeasure at her keeping something important from him, he wants to make sure she is happy. “I can give you one.” He promises, pressing his lips to hers. “Or maybe Ser Raeden’s child will fill your belly first. Would you like that, sun?”

“Our prince is excited to be a father again.” Ellaria muses, still seated in his lap but mostly smiling at you. “If you wish for two babes at once, lover, I am sure you could manage it.”

His hand slides over Ellaria’s womb and he hums, leaning in to kiss her neck behind her hair and he pauses for a moment before kissing the spot again to trail kisses down your neck.

“Would that please you?” The request had been put to Margaery not to bear Oberyn’s child at the same time as you, but Ellaria? You would never interfere with their intimacy.

“That is up to my sun.” He looks towards the soulmate that is perched on his lap. “My love?” He kisses her and his dark eyes flash with something, a knowledge that he possesses information that he shouldn’t.

“I would be overjoyed to carry another child.” There is an edge to it, as though her eagerness is a mask, but Ellaria kisses Oberyn soundly before leaning over to give Raeden the same. “I could always cease my tea along with the princess and we will find out the father when the babe is born.”

“Cease your tea if you wish it, my love.” Oberyn smirks back at his lover, aware of the game she plays. “It has been too long since a babe’s cries echo in our halls.”

You felt, until the subject had been pushed, a little like watching a game of bats - with Oberyn and Ellaria bandying a ball between them. But to hear him so encourage her to carrying another bastard stings unexpectedly. Was it not your potential child that he was so excited for only this morning? The worry has you deflating a little and wishing you could be far from the room.

Ellaria hums and stands. “Perhaps we should not make such decisions while we are in this place.” She decides and moves over to the table to pour herself a large goblet of wine. “It is an unhappy place with distasteful memories.”

A tense quiet is worse than anger sometimes, and the way Oberyn seems to fume at that has you jumping up from your place beside him to retreat. “I think I should lie down,” you say to no one in particular, already halfway to your bedroom door.

“I will join you.” Oberyn stands with less grace and more force than normal and sets his goblet down. He doesn’t say another word, just walks past his lover to the bedroom you’ve disappeared into.

“Was your meeting tiring?” Now, instead of escape, the cliff of tension has followed Oberyn into your chamber.

“Doddering fools afraid of offending.” Oberyn snorts and starts to disrobe. He knows that you were escaping the mood of the room and he sighs softly. “The trial, such as it is, will be next week.”

“So we have at least a few more weeks here.” Undressing yourself is difficult but you manage to unlace your top layer and start to work at your stays to lay down just in your chemise.

“Were you cold, Star?” Oberyn strides over to you and drops a kiss on your shoulder. His arms slide around you, “do you need to be kept warm in this cold keep?”

“If you wish it.” His praise and excitement for the prospect of another child by Ellaria is not something you should be jealous of - you know that - but somehow you cannot help it. Oberyn is one of those rare god-like men that seems to shine the entire universe on you when you have his attention and to feel it taken away stings more than you are proud of.

He senses the shift in attitude and he does not care for it. Turning you around slowly, he cups your chin and lifts it until your eyes meet his. “Speak plainly, my stars and moon.” He tells you. “You are angry and I do not like that for my Princess.”

“Not angry.” Though, with his encouragement, you do meet his eyes. “If I asked you whether you were excited simply for another chance at fatherhood or particularly for your wife to bear you a child — that would be jealousy. And I know I have no reason to be jealous.” Swallowing a sigh, you look down again and shrug inelegantly. “I cannot help but wonder, that is all.”

He fans his hand over your cheek and chuckles softly. Perhaps enjoying the moment of satisfaction in knowing that you are attached enough to be jealous more than he should. “My lover is keeping something from me.” He tells you in confidence. “I merely brought up the suggestion to see what her response would be. I wish to see my Princess carry my child because I want to hold a piece of us combined. To raise her with the freedoms you wished for.”

“Truly?” For now you will ignore his conviction that the child will be a girl and try to convince yourself that it does not matter because the child will never inherit anything but a title and property. The importance of this moment is for you and your husband, not yet for the unborn babe. “You are…I admit that you are very dear to me…and for a moment I did worry that the affection was one sided.”

His brows pull down in disbelief and he gives you a look that questions your sanity. “Do you believe that I give pet names to everyone I fuck?”

“How am I to know?” The question makes you feel far more than a little foolish, and you look down at your feet. “We have known each other a mere week. That is more than enough time to form an attachment, apparently, but I know it is not enough to know someone’s mind.”

“I do not.” He informs you, slightly disappointed that you do not seem to understand that you basically know him.

“Does it matter if I say that I hoped it meant something?” The depths of your affection for him have become alarming, and something you struggle with, but for all you knew Oberyn’s outward affections we’re all for show. After all, you are both capable of separating lust from something deeper.

“You are very sweet.” Oberyn is reminding himself of that fact, as well as tell you that it’s okay. “Your hopes do matter, star.”

“Forgive me for having trouble remembering that.” You swallow a sigh. “Only Raeden ever cared for them before.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” He sighs softly and pulls you against his chest. “Do you wish to rest, Star?”

“I do.” It may have been an excuse to get away, but you are weary. The exertions of the day were more than you expected. “Is that alright?”

“Then we will lay down.” Oberyn pulls your shift over your head and tosses it down before he leads you over to the bed.

“Will we actually sleep?” You tease him, if only gently, as you lay down together.

“Of course we will sleep.” As if to prove it, Oberyn rolls you onto your side, he’s already learned you prefer your left and curls around you. His arm tucks up under your body and he shoves his other under the pillow. “Sleep is what my Princess needs, so sleep is what she will get.”

“Perhaps we will share dreams.” Once you had read a tale of lovers who spoke to each other in their dreams and thought it was wonderfully romantic. The thought of sharing such an intimacy with Oberyn is a sweet one.

“Hmmm.” He hums and tucks his face against your neck. “Would you like that?” He asks softly.

“I would.” His breath on your skin is warm and comforting, and you close your eyes to enjoy it more completely. “It would be…romantic,” you admit quietly.

“Romantic.” Oberyn’s arm tightens around you. “Yes it would. Sleep princess and we will see if we dream together.”

******

It is hard not to dream of him, lying in his arms like this, and you drift through a fantasy of happy years surrounded by many children of all ages - reading to them and playing with them. Watching them splash in the water and grow little by little. By the time you wake you have buried backward into his arms and curled against him completely.

Oberyn hasn’t slept, his mind was whirling and mulling over things as he held you. Enjoying the soft sounds of your breathing, he slowly kisses along your neck.

“Mmm…” The warm press of his lips is familiar and welcome as you stir in his arms. As your dreams fade they are replaced with such a gentle reality that you do not mind at all.

“Are you awake or just enjoying your dreams?” He whispers against your skin. He has enjoyed your body in his arms, his cock stirring and pressed against your ass, but he had not presumed you enjoyed being woken up impaled on him.

“Waking is almost as good as my dreams,” you hum, sighing contentedly as your eyes crack open.

“What did you dream about?” He asks curiously.

Still only half-awake, the honest answer slips far too easily from your lips: “Our family,” you tell him, too concentrated on the feel of his lips and fingers trailing over your skin. “Your older children playing with the babes. All of us happy.”

“I feel that could be true.” He admits. “My Sand Snakes love babies and children. They will be fiercely protective over all your children, mine or sired by your soulmate.”

“The idea is much more dear to me than I expected.” Nuzzling against his arm as it wraps around your chest, you ignore the stirring in your heart that might otherwise have moved your words, and simply sigh. “It will be a beautiful family, whatever it looks like.”

“Family is always beautiful, Star. Especially when you love each other. They are supposed to be your shelter in a storm.” He hums.

Ignoring the word he chose with all your might, you hum softly again and kiss his skin, wondering why you must feel so intensely for him and for Raeden both. Was not your life already complicated enough? Were you not already struggling with your place in this odd marriage? Sometimes it is truly too much to put your mind around — which is why you choose to shut your mind off in this moment and simply enjoy him. Bask in the glow of being near him and nothing more. Nothing more.

He can practically hear the gears in your mind turning. Wondering what you can possibly say to that. “Do you want to go back out with the others?”

“I want to stay with you a little longer,” you murmur, hating the earnestness of your own tone. You feel safe with Oberyn in a different way than you do with Raeden, and right now you are craving that feeling more than anything else. The feeling that you get from being right here - in his arms and in his bed. “Is that alright?”

“You can stay with me as long as you wish.” Oberyn promises. “You never have to ask if you can stay, although you aren’t required to stay.” He hopes you understand what he is telling you.

“I know you won’t force me.” Another kiss to his skin is sweet and soft, almost lazy in the afternoon sunlight that streams through the windows. “But I like being with you.”

He chuckles quietly and his hand slides down your spine. “I find that I like being with you.” He admits. “I wish I was present to see your face when talking with the queen.”

“I think I was quite bold.” You turn to your side to see his face and flash him a cheeky grin. “There is a chance you might have been proud of your wife this morning.”

“Yes?” He lifts up onto his arm, propping his head up and grinning at you. “Tell me.” He demands, enjoying the sparkle in your eyes.

“We spoke openly of desire and I did not shy away.” For you, that is nearly extraordinary. And he is very aware of the fact. “I did not even defer to Ellaria too often. It seems as a small victory, but I consider it quite the feat.”

“It is a feat.” He agrees, admiring your proud smirk as you explain. His hard cock twitches in lust at your face, imagining his star starting to shine.

Proud though you might be, you are certainly not oblivious. Not to the very distinct feeling of his length pulsing against your thigh. "You are pleased," you tease, grinning a little more broadly.

“Confidence is sexy.” He tells you, reaching out and cupping your chin to lean in and kiss your lips.

Any argument you could have to the contrary is swept away immediately, too entranced by the press of his lips against yours to think of anything besides having him pressed against you. The warm afternoon sun caresses your skin even before he does, but the sensation is so similar.

Oberyn keeps the touch light, sliding his hand down your shoulder and under your breast. Not cupping the flesh but traveling further south so he can caress your womb and then slowly tangle his fingers into the curls above your cunt as he continues to kiss you.

Your breaths turn shallower and your body seems lighter than air, and you whimper at the first graze of his fingertips over your clit. The gentle touch is enough to entice you and make your body ache for him, but barely enough to register the pleasure of having him touch you.

“What was that, star?” Oberyn is in a playful, surprisingly soft mood and he doesn’t immediately roll you over to spread your thighs. Instead he continues the light touch. “Did you say something?”

“Teasing me,” you manage to breathe out, mewling quietly at the delicate touches.

“Not teasing you, Star.” He rasps, smirking slightly. “Caressing you. Touching you.”

It has not been many days that you have been with him, We’ve this side of him as a lover is new to you. This gentle, playful side of him feels like a new bloom opening on the grand tree of your marriage. “I understand why no one is ever fully dressed around you if they can help it,” you muse with a giggle.

“Clothing is one of the great evils of the world.” He jokes, smirking as he starts to ghost kisses along your skin. “Everyone should always be naked and enjoying someone’s touch.”

“I think I should live just like this for a little while longer,” you decide with a luxurious sigh. His hands are divine. Gifts from the Gods, and what mortal foolishness would it be to deny them?

“Just like this?” His fingers continue their slow, unbothered journey around your clit. “Or perhaps you could handle a little more?”

“Oh, I certainly can.” One of your hands lies sedately between you, and your fingers brush along the inside of his thigh before wrapping lazily around the base of his cock. “We can stay just like this.”

“Just like this?” He asks again with a smirk. “Or with my cock inside that perfect cunt?”

“Oberyn—” It is worshipful, the way you whimper for him, but that breathlessness comes so easily when you are together. Your hand steadily pumps the length of his cock, adding that twist of your wrist that he likes each time. “Fill me? Please?”

“Your wish is my command, Princess.” He groans, moving so he can shuffle closer as you lift your leg onto his hip.

This position feels deeply intimate even without even looking at him - as though he could simply slip inside you while you are sleeping and wake up to him fucking you. The thought never would have crossed your mind before but now - as he splits you open and cradles you close - you know you’ll be dreaming about it for weeks.

Oberyn still doesn’t roll you over or try to gain any sort of leverage to thrust harder. Keeping his hips rocking shallowly, his lips continue their path over your skin as he worships you in the most basic way.

Your hands clutch the arm he has around you, using it to keep you close to him as he rocks in and out of you at a pace that is as undemanding as it is luxurious. There is nothing in the world but you and him and the feeling of your bodies moving together. Shallow breaths and panted moans fill the air, and the feeling of being wrapped up in his is divine.

“I don’t fuck like this often.” Oberyn admits softly, nudging his nose against yours. “Ellaria.” He kisses your lips tenderly. “And now you.”

With your back to his chest and your head twisted around to take whatever kisses he is willing to give you, the tension in your body builds slowly but steadily. Even shallow strokes make you feel full of him and your chest heaves against his arm with every backward rocking motion of your hips.

It’s not for anything other than the feeling of closeness and pleasure. Closer to making love than anything else, Oberyn groans words of praise into your ear. There is beauty in this moment, simplicity in the two of you moving together. Nothing outside of it exists, not even the two soulmates that are beyond the doors. Ones that Oberyn has deduced are hiding something from the two of you.

My Masterlist!

[wardenparker]

Preview of The Viper’s Bride

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Under the cut is a snippet featuring our reader and male OC, Raeden Stone (the lovely Shemar Moore is our face claim, as you can see above)! Go ahead and interact with this post in any way to put yourself on the taglist. Posts begun on Sunday 5/21!

"I won't do it." The very idea is offensive, leaving the taste of burnt crumbs in your mouth and the feeling of insects crawling on your skin, so that even with Raeden clutching your hand all you can think of is being rid of the horrible sensation. This whole horrible situation. Your eyes are already red from tears, their dried tracks left on your cheeks and down your neck, yet still more threaten to spill over as he holds you still. "I won't marry a stranger and move halfway across the world. I won't leave you behind!"

“You will not need to leave me.” Setting the clothes down on the trunk that is meant to be packed for your journey to King’s Landing and then to Dorne, he cups your cheeks. “I will pledge to accompany you.” He promises, his dark eyes boring into yours, his heart aches but he had known this day would eventually come. “I will ride to hell if need to be stay beside you.”

"Why can we not just tell them?" Your smaller hands wrap around his long fingers, holding tight to him as though he might disappear if you let go. "To marry my soulmate should not be such a shocking thing to do, surely?" Having gone over and over it in their time together, you know why. Status. For a young noble woman to marry a bastard of no consequence, soulmate or otherwise, would be unacceptable in any part of Westeros.

“I have no name to offer you, other than Stone.” Raeden reminds you, aware of his station. He had only become a trusted member of your guard when he had risked his life for you nearly three winters ago. No one knew of the shared marks on your skin. No one could know. “No coin, no land, no future.”

"I could be your future." The argument is an old one. Aged and worn like the stones in your floor. The fact that you would abandon your station and your family for him is moot now that your father has sold you.

[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 1

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst​

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 9.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol* A slap! Mentions of menstruation, fleeting mention of a suicidal thought, threats of violence, bathing, so much foreplay, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, fingering (anal), MM coupling, MMF threesome, anal sex, oral sex (f giving and receiving), FF coupling, technically this is an orgy. Summary: Upon receiving news of your arranged betrothal, both you and Prince Oberyn of Dorne make your ways to the Red Keep for King Joffrey’s impending nuptials. However, his arrival to the city is significantly more playful than yours. Notes: Welcome to soulmate story number seven! This summer we are getting hot and heavy in Westeros with everybody’s favourite promiscuous prince. Buckle up, my darlings, because this one gets spicy right off the bat 👑💖

Oberyn frowns slightly as the oil slicked hands of the servant press into the arches and joints of Doran’s feet, making his older brother hiss in pain. It must be a harsh day for him, his wheeled chair a near constant as it is now too painful for him to walk even short distances. A far cry from the hale and hearty brother he had grown up with as the youngest of the Martell princes. He knows the oil is warmed, the scent of eucalyptus and mint filling the air as it is worked into the skin, hopefully providing some relief. “I can come back, brother. Let you rest.”

“This is important.” Doran insists, not dismissing either man from his presence. His own discomfort is a stark reminder of the sacrifices that must be made for the throne of Dorne. “You know the Baratheon boy is to marry.” The fact that King Joffrey’s mother is a Lannister makes him an unsavory topic between the Martell brothers, even as Marcella Baratheon plays in the water gardens a mere thirty yards away.

Stiffening instantaneously for a moment before he forces his body to relax, Oberyn despised the mention of anything to do with the Lannisters, including that bastard on the throne. Everyone knows the rumors and with the golden mane of the boy and the tales of evils he has done, he’s inclined to believe it. “Gods be praised.” He murmurs sarcastically, reaching for the carafe of wine and the spare goblet that had obviously been left in anticipation of his visit with the elder prince. “What poor girl is marrying that…king?”

“Margaery Tyrell.” The elder prince huffs derisively before leveling his younger brother with a serious gaze. “You are to attend the wedding in my stead.”

Rolling his eyes, Oberyn sighs heavily. It will be two weeks of hard traveling to reach King’s Landing. All for a wedding he does not wish to attend. “I will extend the Martell family’s feelings.”

"You will be gracious and accommodating." Doran warns, knowing that the Martell family's true feelings are not appropriate in any way to be expressed at a wedding. "There will be some other business for you to attend to in King's Landing which is far more important."

“Yes, there is that wonderful brothel down in Flea Bottom.” Oberyn muses, grinning at the idea of bringing Ellaria there. The last time he had come, it had been two years before he had met her.

"Oberyn." His brother's voice has a warning tone to it. "I beg you not to waste your time in brothels on this trip no matter how enjoyable a pastime it may be. There is someone you need to meet."

He snorts and shakes his head. “I have no interest in meeting boring nobles with their equally boring wives.” He tells him. “I’ll be with Ellaria anyway.”

"No, you won't." Doran jerks away from his servant in frustration and turns to fully face Oberyn. "I will not have that woman jeopardize the contract I have signed when the ink is barely dry. Leave her home, Oberyn. She will be here with open legs when you return."

Oberyn’s brow arches up dramatically. Doran has never had issue with Ellaria, even counting her as a confidant in his absence. She is the mother of four of his children and a member of the family despite there being no vows between them. His soulmate. “What contract?” He growls.

"Leave." He hisses at the young man who was tending to him and he backs off immediately, taking the pot of oil back into the interior of the palace as fast as his feet can carry him. "It was time, Oberyn," he intones seriously. "Far past time, but I have let you have your freedom as long as I was able."

“Let me have my freedom?” His hackles rise and his eyes narrow. “I have my freedom because I wish it.” He reminds his brother. “I am not the head of the Martells like you, and you have your heir.”

"I have one heir." Doran bristles, but the raised tension between the brothers is his own fault. A product of the tension and pain he was already feeling today. "If anything should happen to Trystane, it will be you on the throne. And though I have great love for my nieces, none of them can be a princess."

“Our house will endure like it always has.” Oberyn snorts, dismissing Doran’s concern. “If the time comes, I will marry Ellaria and claim my Sand Snakes as legitimate.” He takes a long sip of his wine, humming at the delightfully floral note.

"The chance for that has passed." It is Doran's turn to be dismissive, sitting back again in his wheeled chair and adjusting a cushion under his arm. "Your objections to marriage have been noted, brother, but it is time to make a respectable husband of you. Ellaria will understand. She is an intelligent woman, and I'm sure would not abandon you as your mistress." Oberyn prefers the term paramour, and though it is accurate now, it will be more complicated once things are settled.

“Brother, what have you done?” Oberyn demands, slamming his goblet down onto the table.

"You know exactly what I have done." There is no chance, in his mind, that Oberyn has not deduced that a marriage contract has been signed, but Doran still sighs heavily. "She is the only daughter of a noble family. The father let her go without a match for some time while her brothers all married, but her portrait is beautiful and he assures me that she is accomplished." Reaching for the wine glass that Oberyn has rejected, Doran takes a gulp rather than a sip. "And she has no marks, blessedly."

“The agreement was my soulmate or no one.” Oberyn hisses, his gaze turning withering. “I will not marry some cow faced northerner.”

"Every place is northern to Dorne," Doran waves one hand dismissively and sets the wine glass back down on the table between them. "The contract is signed, Oberyn. You will not make a liar or a fool of your brother by denying it, and I am not going to try to force you to spend time with the girl or even like her. But you will marry her and produce a legitimate heir." The contract is full of terms to be adhered to, and the fairly enormous size of the girl's dowry includes access to trade routes that will greatly benefit the people of Dorne. There is no downside to this arrangement in Doran's mind, aside from having to have this discussion with his brother.

Oberyn’s lips press together in a firm line and his chair scrapes back as he stands. “Then you fuck the girl.” He hisses. “For I will not be gracing her bed.” Turning on his heel, the prince storms away before he loses his infamous temper.

Doran breathes a sigh, reaching for the goblet again to drown his frustrations in the wine that his maester has instructed him to avoid when he is in pain. "Fuck it," he grumbles harshly. Oberyn is going to make his life a living hell anyway, he may as well be drunk for it.

******

“Marriage!” Oberyn scoffs angrily, pacing in front of the lounge where his paramour is currently sprawled. “As if I am some fresh-faced maiden. How dare he sign a contract on my behalf!”

"I smell Mellario behind it," Ellaria admits, watching him pace back and forth like a caged beast. Oberyn had come careening back into his chamber like a sandstorm and now he was seething. "Doran has never had issue with your arrangement before now, and suddenly he is concerned about heirs? I would not be surprised if her change has come."

“Or he cannot get his cock to rise.” Oberyn winces at the idea of his own cock not working, but with his brother’s declining health, he would not rule it out. “I will not do it.” He decides. “We will leave for Braavos if he decides to push the issue.”

"My love," Ellaria sits up, shaking her head. "If you leave here, I would follow. You know this. But you would still have four daughters you would not be able to see and we both know that would break your heart." His children are the most important thing in the world to Oberyn – everyone knows this – and Doran would certainly use them as a punishment for insubordination. "Exile is no choice, Oberyn. Even self-imposed."

Pausing mid-stride, his robes swish around his legs as he turns to stare at the woman who had been with him and by his side for nearly twenty years. “You would have me entertain this idea?” He demands, surprised she would consider this.

“I would not have you be less of a man than you are.” For all her complexities, Ellaria Sand is not the temptress or the snake that some make her out to be. Her genuine love for Oberyn is rooted in as much respect as it is passion, and their four daughters currently have a father that they can look up to as a good and wise man. “What is the worst this girl could be?” She poses the question carefully as he shifts his weight anxiously in front of her, and she folds her hands in her lap. “Ugly? That is not her fault. The sun and good company can make anyone more beautiful. Cruel? Doran has already said you do not have to spend much time with her. Or perhaps childish? Spoiled? Then you treat her like a child and send her to her chamber without a treat if she misbehaves.” There is anger in his face, which Ellaria hates to see, but she tries to be encouraging. Motherhood has taught her that encouragement can be a balm on almost any wound. “So you would be married. What does that signify? Nothing in so far as you and I are concerned. You are still my soulmate, my love. And the father of my children. She cannot change that.”

“You are my sun.” Oberyn reaches down and takes his lover’s hand to draw her to her feet. Pulling her against his body, his broad hand covers the small scar on her side, a knife wound that he had earned in the fighting pits. “My world.” He promises, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss, trying to rid himself of the idea of tying himself to another. Ellaria is his soulmate, which is why he had said that he would only marry the woman who bears his marks.

"And no one will ever change that." She vows just as solemnly, giving herself over to the kiss without restraint. There are parts of his world that she does not stray into, or they would have fought with Doran for the right to marry years ago. The elder Martell brother may not mind her as Prince Oberyn's paramour, but she is not what he would envision for a princess of Dorne, nor does Ellaria particularly want such a title. For Oberyn she might have borne the duty of it all, but he never asked that of her and she was grateful. Now, whoever this girl is that is being thrust into their life will bear that burden instead. Ellaria does not envy her the responsibility.

******

“My love, you must calm yourself.” Within the walls of your chambers, Raeden Stone knows that the two of you are safe. Your maid will not interrupt unless necessary and she is sworn to protect your happiness and well-being above everything else, including your parents. “Stop.” Striding across the room, the sword at his side clanks as he grabs your hands filled with dresses, and takes them from you. “We cannot flee under the cover of darkness like we are thieves escaping the sword.” He knows that if he is caught, he will be killed or sent to the Wall as well.

"I won't do it." The very idea is offensive, leaving the taste of burnt crumbs in your mouth and the feeling of insects crawling on your skin, so that even with Raeden clutching your hand all you can think of is being rid of the horrible sensation. This whole horrible situation. Your eyes are already red from tears, their dried tracks left on your cheeks and down your neck, yet still more threaten to spill over as he holds you still. "I won't marry a stranger and move halfway across the world. I won't leave you behind!"

“You will not need to leave me.” Setting the clothes down on the trunk that is meant to be packed for your journey to King’s Landing and then to Dorne, he cups your cheeks. “I will pledge to accompany you.” He promises, his dark eyes boring into yours. His heart aches but he had known this day would eventually come. “I will ride into all seven hells if need be to stay beside you.”

"Why can we not just tell them?" Your smaller hands wrap around his long fingers, holding tight to him as though he might disappear if you let go. "To marry my soulmate should not be such a shocking thing to do, surely?" Having gone over and over it in their time together, you know why. Status. For a young noble woman to marry a bastard of no consequence, soulmate or otherwise, would be unacceptable in any part of Westeros.

“I have no name to offer you, other than Stone.” Raeden reminds you, aware of his station. He had only become a trusted member of your guard when he had risked his life for you nearly three winters ago. No one knew of the shared marks on your skin. No one could know. “No coin, no land, no future.”

"I could be your future." The argument is an old one. Aged and worn like the stones in your floor. The fact that you would abandon your station and your family for him is moot now that your father has sold you. "Three brothers married wealthy wives and yet I am the sacrificial lamb to be offered up to the lecherous second prince of Dorne." The stories of the man's temperament and deeds preceded him, of course. Lusty and vengeful, the second son of House Martell was to be feared never spoken of above a whisper in polite company. And now you have to marry him?

“I have heard he is handsome.” Despite his own heart aching at the thought of another touching you, he has to make this seem like a good thing. “They say he will treat any in his bed respectfully.”

"He could be the most handsome man in all of Dorne and he would still not be as handsome as you." Soulful eyes the color of chestnut shells, plush lips, and a perpetually mischievous smile when he’s pleased, there is no one more handsome than Ser Raeden Stone. Firm muscles and an impressive strength make him as formidable on the battlefield as they do in the bedroom - a fact which you have kept mum about for years now. Raeden's broad frame and towering height envelope you fully when you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his chest to muffle a sob. "I will never lay with him. Or love him. Not as long as I live."

“You will be his wife.” He swallows as he says those words. “You will bear his children, love or not. And I will protect you.” It will be his own special kind of hell, watching you grow with a child that is not his, marry a man who is not him. “You must not tell him, love.”

"How can you be so calm?" You demand, looking up at him with fear and hurt swimming in your eyes. "My father is sentencing me to stand at the side of another man and you...my love, I cannot believe you are accepting of this?"

“I have no choice but to accept it.” His voice hardens slightly. “If we try to run away together, we will be caught. I will be killed or sent to the Wall.” It rankles, but he had known that one day you would be married off. “I cannot protect you if I am dead or taken the oath.” He growls, shaking his head and leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I cannot risk leaving you alone.”

"Only cruel gods would have given us to each other as soulmates without ever intending to allow our love." It is an unfairness of life that you have lamented more than once, but right now it feels as though a dagger has been plunged through your heart and twisted violently.

“The gods know of our love.” Raeden knows it, sighing softly. “We are together and we will still be together.” He kisses you softly. “I spend more nights in your bed than my own. It will be the same in Dorne.”

"I will not allow it to be any other way." Despite the fear of the unknown, the thing that you can cling to is the strength of your feelings for Raeden Stone. Since the day he arrived rather triumphantly in your life, he has been a constant and welcome presence and you will not allow any power to steal your soulmate from your side. "No prince from Dorne will ever keep you from my arms."

“There is my girl.” Raeden smiles, happy that you are calm again and he presses closer to you. “Now…do you wish that I take your mind off your worries?” He coos softly.

“I always wish for you.” Though time is precious now, as you leave for King’s Landing in just three days and the road is no place for a romantic interlude. Raeden will not even be allowed to ride in your carriage during the journey. His place as your guard demands that he protect you, not indulge in you. Although he is fully capable of doing both.

The grin that you have said melts you flashes across his face and he pulls back so he can remove his belt and sword. “Then let me make you forget about Dorne, forget about marriage and only think of me.”

******

The painstaking journey feels ludicrous, and your weary mother certainly has not made it any easier with her complaining. The decision for your parents to accompany you was entirely your father’s and even then it was only so that he could brag to his small group of friends that he attended the king’s wedding. If this were only about delivering you to your groom, he would have sent you with your guard and your maid and thought no further on it. As it is, you have spent every day sitting beside your mother’s lady’s maid in the cramped and uncomfortable carriage praying that you might get even ten minutes alone with Raeden before the end of the day. It has hardly happened, and you have found yourself near tears rather constantly. Ignorant man that your father is, he imagines you so delirious with joy that you are weeping for your good fortune. The truth could not be further away.

“Do not fret.” Your mother assures you softly. “We have long had daughters marry in Dorne or Dornish brides sent to us.” She reminds you. “While most will look their noses down at a Dornish man, we know he will treat you well.”

“I still do not see why this marriage is even necessary.” And since no one has offered you any sort of explanation, you’re inclined to just ask. “My brothers married wealthy women. We do not need the favour of House Martell. So I am forced to wonder again why I am being offered to them in sacrifice.”

“Change is coming to Westeros.” Your mother leans in, her words quiet and fervent. “Dorne is the last kingdom that still has royalty. You will not just be a lady, you will a princess.”

"I do not want to be a princess." You inform her flatly, ignoring the way her lady's laid looks aghast at your ingratitude. "My own maid had more freedom than I do. At least someone asked her if she wanted to be shipped south like chattel. And she was even able to say no!" Though Clarey had served you since you came of age, your own maid had been able to marry her soulmate and had recently discovered she was with child. Your father had considered himself quite magnanimous for not breaking up that family to send her to Dorne with you.

“You would have your father break his contract with Dorne?” Your mother asks, appalled at the mere idea. “You were born into a noble house. You have grown up knowing your father would arrange a marriage for you. Most are married at seventeen.” She clicks her tongue in disappointment that you are forever ungrateful for the time your father had allowed you to remain unwed. If you only knew the rumors that had swirled.

"If you always planned to marry me against my will then I wonder that you waited so long." Staring out of the carriage window, you can see Raeden up ahead, face drawn in concentration as he keeps constant vigilance over the route you are traveling. "Why not have signed me away to the Starks when I was born?" The bitterness in your voice is obvious. "Then I would have been a queen."

“You will watch your sharp tongue, or you shall be sent to your room without dinner.” Your mother hisses, sitting back and shaking her head. “Your father wanted to hold out hope for a soulmate.”

"I am not a child, as you so love to point out when it is convenient to you." The threat of no dinner is nothing when you have no appetite to begin with. It would be a blessing not to be stared at over a meager meal. "And you can hardly send me to my room when I haven't one. We will not even arrive in King's Landing before first light tomorrow."

Your mother’s hand strikes out, slapping your cheek with a sharp crack. “You will not shame your father and house.” She hisses. “I have long begged your father to marry you off, to stop giving into your childish notions, but no more. You will marry Oberyn Martell.”

If the impulse to cup your own cheek was present, you don’t give in to it, not wanting to show the satisfaction of acknowledging that she has caused you pain of any kind. At the moment all you can really think is that it is good Raeden did not witness your mother striking you, or he may have given himself away with his reaction. “At least in Dorne I will never again be forced to breathe the same odious air you have exhaled.” No one in all of Westeros could ever have mistaken your mother for your ally if they saw you interact in private – it is only her sickly sweet countenance in public that made others think that she had babied or favoured you in any way. More than once in your life you’ve wondered how such a hateful woman could even grow a babe let alone birth four of them.

“You will learn your place soon enough.” She promises you. “You are a woman, not a man.” Her disappointment in you pours off of her in waves. “Be thankful your father did not choose a fat, aging lord.”

“Fat and aging means he would die faster.” At least antagonizing your mother is passing the time, you decide, staring straight ahead at the pompous boil of a woman who has lorded herself over you for the last twenty-five years. “I think I would do very well as a widow.”

“I wonder if your bravery would falter learning that your guard will not be staying with you.” The sly, evil menace in your mother’s voice is clear.

“Of course he will.” Brazen confidence is the tone which drowns out your panicked fear, and you tell yourself not to look outside and give yourself away. That could ruin everything in less than one heartbeat. “He swore to Father to protect me and Father accepted.” If something had changed, surely Raeden would have told you.

“Hmmmm.” Her smile is acidic, her fingers twisting around her handkerchief. “You think you are soooo clever. That I did not know.”

“Honestly?” Honestly you really did not think for a second that anyone besides your former maid knew anything, but you swallow down the boiling acid in your throat and keep your chin poised to stare your own mother down. “I do not know what you could possibly mean.”

“I birthed you.” She snorts, a very unladylike sound. “You think I do not know when my daughter had decided to spread her legs and become a Stone’s whore?”

Of course the thing that bothers her most is that Raeden is a bastard – Stone, as they are named in the Vale – and not an actual concern of safety or care. “I can assure you, that is not the case.” Though saying it would be a waste of breath, nothing you have done with Raeden could mark you as a whore. Just a woman very much in love with her soulmate.

“At least you just bled.” She scoffs. “Not carrying a bastard in your belly.” She leans in, her eyes flashing with malice. “Behave. Or I will allow your father into my bed for the night and he will do as I say. Including making sure your precious Raeden rides home to the Vale with his lord, your father.” She threatens.

Though you have serious doubts that your mother’s cunt is magical enough to control your father’s thoughts, it isn’t a chance you’re willing to take. If Raeden is ordered to return to the Vale and you are forced to ride for Dorne without him, you are more likely to see the bottom of the seas than your marriage bed. “My Lord Father loves me and wishes to protect me,” is all you say in response.

“Your Lord Father will do what makes me happy.” She promises you with a self-assured smirk. “Especially now that I have convinced him to marry you off.”

“It was you?” You should not be so shocked. Her hatred for you has been obvious from the time you were a child and had never seemed to waver. Your father, on the other hand? Doting and indulgent, always picking flowers for you and bringing you books instead of suitors. Your brothers are strong men with discipline instilled in them. You had been allowed to read and dream and sing and ride at your leisure. Of course his sudden change of heart was down to your bitter, angry mother.

“Who else?” She sneers. “Your father would be content to keep you around until you are nothing but a spinster. You are already past your prime. Luckily enough, the Prince of Dorne already has eight bastards.”

The way her utter dismissal of you makes your blood boil is beyond explanation, but as you squeeze your hands together in the pockets of your robe, only one precious thought floats to the surface. “My only solace is that if I should ever see you again after this week, Mother, you shall have to curtsy to the person you despise most in the world.”

“I will not.” She hisses, glaring at you. “I will never bow to a little whore like you.”

“Oh, but you will.” A victory, even a small one, is enough to grasp at as you square your shoulders again. “When I am Princess of Dorne it will be required of everyone save King Joffrey himself. You included.”

“Bitch.” She hisses, glaring at you. “I should have drowned you the moment you slipped from my womb.”

“A regret you will live with forever.” If Knocking her from her wicked confidence is the best you can do in this conversation, you will not take that for granted, for your mother has always been a formidable enemy. “Now leave me to read, Mother. Lest you earn yourself another wrinkle and find your hair a shade greater than it was when we left home.”

“I will be overjoyed to not see your face every day.” She spits, hating that you don’t seem cowed by her threats. “Dorne will be eye opening for you. And everything you deserve:”

“As you say, Mother.” Without another word, you take the small book of histories from your reticule and open it to the place where you left off last night, too distracted by Raeden’s handsome face to give any more thought to words. False confidence is a thing you learned very well in the face of your mother’s vitriol, and apparently on this one occasion it has actually yielded a victory. You may still be terrified of your future in Dorne, but she never needs to know that.

******

“This city still smells like shit.” Two weeks of travel has left Oberyn irritable, grumbling as he pulls his horse up to the gates of the city. “Let us go find comfort and a bath.” He tells Ellaria, unable to stay in the carriage and deciding to ride ahead of the contingent of troops Doran had sent with him.

“At the brothel, my love?” She smirks at the suggestion, far less uncomfortable from travel than he is. “A bath, fresh food, and a good fuck will restore your mood.”

“Of course.” Oberyn scoffs. “I will not accept chambers in that keep.” He hates even being here and seeing it. Wanting to burn it down, considering his sister, niece and nephew died in that keep.

“Nor should you.” As a prince he should have the most resplendent rooms available, but they both know what would happen if Oberyn ever set foot in the Red Keep beyond the wedding in two days. “We will visit this Littlefinger you have spoken of?”

“I had sent word that we were arriving.” He chuckles, smirking at Ellaria because she knows him so well. “Tell me you don’t want a hot bath and an even hotter cunt?”

“If I am honest, I am ravenous for a cunt to bury my tongue in.” There is never any judgment between them, or jealousy, and Ellaria sighs indulgently at the idea of a slick cunt and perky tits to indulge in. “Will you share with me, lover?”

“Always.” Oberyn waggles his brows. “We will pick out a whore together.”

“A favorite pastime.” Ellaria laughs softly. She has not spoken a word about Oberyn’s intended bride since they left Dorne and she won’t until it’s necessary. His mood is volatile here in the northern capital and she does not relish his moments of anger.

“Silk sheets.” Oberyn groans, not willing to admit that he is weary of travel, but he needs to recover. Especially if he is to be meeting this bride. He had decided that the poor girl deserves to be told in person that he will have nothing to do with her.

“Silk sheets. Roasted meats. Wine. Berries and nuts fresh from their trees.” She giggles when his hand slips inside her dress to caress her skin. “And a pert ass for you to bury yourself in.”

“We could get two. A man and a woman.” He reasons, smirking at the idea. “Perhaps we will have Littlefinger line them all up for us to choose from.”

“As many as you like, my love.” After all, it is not as if the coffers of Dorne lack for funds. They have brought a fortune with them under Doran’s insistence that Oberyn shower his intended with gifts – and a second fortune to pay for the bills his natural extravagance will no doubt incur. “We will have whatever you desire. And when you have had your fill we will rest and then begin all over again.”

“Wine.” Oberyn decides, frowning despite thinking of nicer things as the two of them enter the walls of King’s Landing. “I will need a lot of wine.”

Their destination is not far, but the duo of Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand attract attention by virtue of their combined beauty and the onlookers who cluster to gaze at them make their journey last longer. Oberyn sends their driver off with the carriage to find stables nearby and Ellaria wraps her arms around him when he returns to her side in the steps of the building. “Do you hear the false moans, my prince?” She pouts in sympathy for the unsatisfied women inside as they cross the threshold together. “We will make them scream so they never forget us.”

Oberyn smirks, holding her hand with no shame. He does not hide Ellaria, she is his paramour. Much more than that, although that is something that is kept between the two of them, private at her insistence so she does not become a liability to him. “We will, my love. Every whore in this brothel will pout when you leave.”

“Very pretty pouts, I hope.” Ellaria loves a very pretty pout when the time is right. To be begged to come back to bed. To have a lover cry her name with such passion that their heart aches for more. She saunters into the brothel beside Oberyn with her head high and looks around as the prettily dressed woman at the entrance fawns over Oberyn. Everyone fawns over Oberyn, that is of little interest to her.

Oberyn eyes the cunts and tits on display, lifting a brow when he sees earrings through one woman’s nipples. “I see we are in the right place.” He smirks, watching as Littlefinger rushes over to the pair.

“Prince Oberyn.” Though he does not ever bow deeply, he does bow, eyes tracking over to Ellaria with an oily smile. “My lady. What an honour to be graced with your presence. What can we provide for you this morning?”

“My lady?” Ellaria scoffs, making Oberyn smirk and squeeze her hand. “We will be needing accommodations for the duration of our stay in King’s Landing.” Most brothels do not rent rooms and he is sure that Littlefinger’s establishment is no different but Oberyn has learned that his title and the gold of his coin makes things possible when they previously weren’t. “For now, until it is ready, we need baths and whores to join us.”

“The duration of your stay?” The man does not bother to hide his surprise, but smiles broadly like the showman that he is. “I will send someone to ready your accommodations,” he promises, hand on heart. “Our baths are this way,” Littlefinger motions deeper into the building. “Do you have a preference for who should join you or shall I send you a variety to choose from?” There is enough gold dripping from the Prince of Dorne that Littlefinger will unfold the world of pleasure at his feet if that is what he wishes, without worry for his ability to pay what is owed.

“Your choicest men and women.” Oberyn looks over to Ellaria for her approval. “Clean.” He insists, although Littlefinger’s whores are always of a higher caliber than most. “We will send the others away once we have chosen.”

“Leyth.” Littlefinger waves to a tall, buxom girl with orange curls down to her waist. “Tend to the prince and his lady for me,” he instructs her, obviously trusting that she can do the job. “Anything they need, you will acquire for as long as they are here, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” The girl called Leyth nods and smooths her thin skirt, looking between the beautiful prince and his stunning lady. “I will be happy to serve them.”

“Good.” The chuckle that bubbles out of Littlefinger is full of approval. “Take them to the baths and then fetch them food and wine.” He smiles at Oberyn, a thing dripping with false charm. “I will send you a selection of company to choose from.”

“Berries.” Oberyn adds, the need for fresh fruit after weeks on the road is great. Ellaria chuckles, well aware of his fondness for snacking, especially when he is fucking.

“Berries.” Leyth bats her eyelashes prettily as she leads the pair down the hall. “Do you prefer sweet things, your Grace?”

“Hmmmm.” He doesn’t answer one way or the other, although his gaze is sliding up and down her form and he reaches out to caress her ass through the sheer robe she is wearing.

She hums right back at him, playful but bidding, and slows her pace slightly to let him touch as they turn the corner to the bathing room. The deep bath in the floor sits full and waiting for paying customers, beautifully tiled with trays of soap and sponges for gently scrubbing skin. The oiled waters smell of flower petals, and two baths are even littered with the things. Leyth walks toward the bath of floral water with a sultry smile and a swing in her hips. “I will wash you with my own hands if that is your wish, after I fetch you food to break your fast.”

“What do you say my love?” Oberyn asks Ellaria. “Leyth and whoever catches our eyes?” He would love to see his paramour’s thighs spread for the orange haired beauty. “Or would you prefer to choose the woman?”

“You are lovely, Leyth.” Ellaria praises, already having decided that she likes this woman’s spirit as well as her figure. “We will see who else catches our eye when they arrive.”

“Show me your tits.” Oberyn commands the woman. Eager to see if they are as perky as they seem or if it is an illusion of the gown she is wearing.

Obedience is necessary to work for Littlefinger, but Leyth is lucky to have been given to this couple she finds so attractive. She slips the ties from her shoulders and lets her silken dress fall to the stone floor with pride. Her body is well worth selling and has given her a good living, so she proudly bares her large tits and curved waist to this prince when he demands it.

“Very nice.” Oberyn groans with a smirk. “They will look lovely bouncing when you ride my cock.” He predicts. “We can undress ourselves.” He promises, turning to Ellaria and pushing aside her own gown so he can cup her bare breast, tweaking an already hard nipple.

Ellaria moans happily when the girl excuses herself to fetch their food, and drops the traveling robe she was wearing to the ground immediately. “Lover…” she sighs, her body arching to seek Oberyn’s touch instinctively. “You were right about this place.”

“Of course I am right.” He teases playfully, leaning in and dragging his nose along her throat. “Now, we need to wash so we can be ready to play when the whores are brought in. I want to feed you fruit while a tongue is buried in your cunt.”

“Leyth is a beauty.” Ellaria disrobes easily and quickly, leaving her things scattered as she steps into the bath built deep into the floor. It is warm and smells sweet, like summer in the Water Gardens. “Pale, but I like her freckles.” She looks up at Oberyn with admiration as he shrugs off his own robes. “I like your freckles better, though.” Especially the one on the inside of his right thigh, high on his muscled leg where she can kiss it before swallowing his cock.

“Just like her tits are gorgeous, but yours have suckled four of my children.” His cock twitches and he kicks off his boots, throwing the loose, pale yellow shirt off and reaching for his leather breeches.

“Hers are bigger than mine.” Ellaria chuckles at the way he loves tits. “Enjoy them, lover. I know I shall.”

“You always do.” He chuckles, thanking the gods that his soulmate is just as adventurous as he is. “Maybe she will be the only one we choose for now.”

“Perhaps.” Sighing as she lays back in the water, Ellaria tilts her head and soaks her hair, enjoying the way she feels cleaner already. “Perhaps we will develop a taste for sun-red hair while we are here.”

“Whatever we develop a taste for, we will indulge in.” Oberyn does not mind sharing her, doesn’t get jealous because she is his sun and world. No one could break their bond.

“Come to me, lover.” She beckons him with both hands, pouting for him prettily. Now that travel is behind them, Oberyn is already cheerier and it lightens her heart. “Soak with me. It has been weeks since we had a bath.”

“With pleasure.” Stripped down, Oberyn strides over to the bath and starts to descend the stairs to join her in the deep tub.

Ellaria moves to him immediately, arms welcoming him home and lips finding his with a deeply satisfied moan. Her legs are around his waist as quickly as his hands find her ass, and his growing cock twitches against her soft skin.

Oberyn turns around, letting his paramour cling to him as he drops down onto the seat under the water. “I love you.” He murmurs quietly against his lips.

“As I love you.” Since the day they first spoke the words to each other they have not wavered, and Ellaria runs her hands across Oberyn’s skin reverently. “My warrior.”

“My sun.” Oberyn squeezes her ass and rocks her onto his hardening cock. “My world.” The passion between the pair has not wavered over the years, growing stronger in a way that could only be because of their soulmate bond.

“Oberyn.” No matter how many times she takes him, the stretch of his cock inside her takes her breath away. Her hands find his shoulders to cling to him as they find their pace, with his grip guiding her as she begins to bounce on his length in earnest.

“Too soon, my love?” He teases, knowing she is far more than adequately wet. She is dripping.

“Never.” She shakes her head before throwing it back, letting her moan ring out through the echoey chamber. “Never. I am always yours.”

Multi-tasking is a gift that Oberyn has. Results of a wandering spirit and a restless mind. It was one of the reasons he had joined the maesters and eventually left after forging eight links. He reaches for the perfumed soap and a rag to wash his lover.

They are fully enraptured with each other when Leyth returns, and she sets the tray down beside them before seeing about pouring two goblets of wine. It’s rare to have pairs of lovers visit the establishment but not unheard of, and she smiles indulgently, watching the passion they share for a moment before making herself known. “I can do that for you, your Grace,” she offers, knowing her employer will be upset if she neglects them.

Even with Ellaria impaled on his cock, Oberyn tears his mouth away from her lips and looks over at the woman. “Join us and bring the wine.” He orders. “Are the others coming?”

“They are right here.” Leyth slips into the water easily, taking the sponge from him and resumes the work of bathing his lady without missing a beat. Four women and two men all of varying ages and looks pour into the room behind her clad in next to nothing looking apprehensive.

“Do not be shy.” Oberyn turns Ellaria’s head and groans when she clenches down around him. “Any who wish to not join us may leave now.” He does not want someone who is timid.

The most tired looking of the women takes the youngest girl by the hand and leads her from the room with a respectful nod of her head, and one of the men bows before stepping out behind them. "Leaving us with five supple bodies to learn," Ellaria groans appreciatively. Between Oberyn's cock and Leyth's hands massaging her back as she washes her, this is surely already one of the seven heavens. One of the girls is the first to step forward, beautiful dark skin on display and bright eyes full of mischief as she easily discards her meager dress and slips into the water right away. She has heard legends of the second prince of Dorne and intends to find out for herself if they are true.

“Eager.” Oberyn chuckles and beckons her forward. “I like that.” His eyes slide past her towards the remaining man, tall and broad. His tawny skin clear and it’s obvious that his cock is starting to harden as he watches. “You—” he motions towards him. “Do you suck cock or like cock in your ass?”

"I like whatever you like, my lord." After all, is that not what he is here for? Being a man with a voracious appetite for pleasure makes him an asset in a place like this.

Oberyn growls, eyeing his cock tenting the loose trousers he is wearing. “Strip and join us if you are going to.”

Spacious as it is, there is not enough room for everyone in the bath, and the last remaining girl lays down bare on the edge after everyone has climbed in and patiently plays with herself while she waits her turn. There is plenty to feast her eyes on until one of them decides to bury their face in her pussy.

Twitching inside his lover, he kisses her gently and pulls her off his cock. “Go play, my love.” He urges her, knowing she wants to do more than just be touched.

"We may learn to enjoy King's Landing after all." Ellaria laughs, happily letting hands explore her skin. Leyth and the man gravitate toward Oberyn, and she is happy to drown herself in a sea of pussy until she is drunk on the sound of women's pleasure.

When he is close enough, Oberyn reaches down and cups the man’s cock firmly. “What is your name?” He demands, squeezing him gently and jerking him slowly.

"Cal, my lord." His eyelids flutter slightly at the firm touch, eager for more. "Or whatever you want it to be."

“Cal….” He smirks and presses his thumb against the head of the man’s cock. “Have you ever been fucked by a Prince?”

The way Cal shudders and his breath hitches is reverent, and he shakes his head as he tries to remember to breathe. "No, your Grace. But I would like to be."

He turns to Leyth, jerking his chin up. “Kiss me.” he orders, stretching his neck out and lets go of the man’s cock so he can slide his hand around him to press between the cheeks of his ass.

The room fills with moans as Leyth eagerly complies, licking into the prince's mouth with surety. She knows her skill and she hopes to impress, even pressing closer to him to wrap her own hand around his cock.

Oberyn hisses, his tongue sliding against hers happily as he finds Cal’s puckered hole quickly and starts to rub around the opening.Hands are everywhere as Cal lowers his head to lay kisses along the taut muscles of the prince's neck, one hand caressing his skin and the other groping for Leyth's breast to squeeze the supple flesh and play with her nipple. They are paired together often, when clients wish for a show, so he knows her body as well as any instrument.

“You are lovers.” Oberyn groans, pushing a finger inside the man’s quivering hole. On the other side of the bath, Ellaria and the ebony skinned beauty are tangled together in a passionate embrace.

"Sometimes." Leyth agrees, leaning over to give Cal a kiss without missing a single stroke of the prince's cock.

The sounds of heavy breathing and pleasure are filling the bathing room and he can feel the way Cal’s body squeezes his finger as he pumps it into him to stretch him out. “So do you want his cock or his tongue while I fuck him?”

"If I have his cock, I will feel every time you fuck into him." She moans at the idea, chest heaving with just the thought. "You will be driving us both wild with pleasure."

He chuckles and nods, pulling his fingers out of the other man. “Then get on your knees and let him slide inside your cunt.”

Kneeling on the bench where he had been sitting, Leyth presents herself easily for both men to appreciate and sighs out loud when the familiar stretch of Cal's cock presses inside of her wet heat. She knows that Cal is truly the one getting spoiled today and hopes the prince lives up to every rumour for his sake.

Oberyn can’t help but reach out and slap her ass and groans when her generous skin jiggles. “I will fuck you after I have had my fill of your lover.”

"He is insatiable," Ellaria offers, chuckling deeply before burying her face in the cunt nearest her talented mouth. Oberyn is not the only one with an endless appetite. It is one of the reasons that they have so much fun together.

“It has been two weeks.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. There hadn’t been any place to stop and fuck while on the road. He was pent up.

"No one here will complain, my lord." Cal promises, burying himself again in Leyth's cunt and groaning at her heat. "The stories of you are legend, and most of us are eager to know if they are true."

“They are true.” Ellaria pulls his tongue out of the cunt to purr her vote of confidence.

“Thank you, my love.” Oberyn chuckles and reaches for the oils that are kept on the edge of the bath for things such as this.

"Then we will add our praise to the stories that already exist." Soon Leyth will be able to do nothing but take the thrusts from the two men above her, but for now she meets each movement with a roll of her plush hips.

"We are yours for as long as you wish to stay." It is only half of a promise from Cal himself, having been instructed by Littlefinger himself to give Prince Oberyn whatever he wants, but at least now Cal can make the vow with pleasure.

Oberyn has no doubt that these people have been told to do whatever he or his paramour likes but he will only take what he deems right. “Only if I bring you both pleasure.”

"I cannot imagine you have trouble giving pleasure." Cal moans, bending over Leyth's back to present himself to the prince for the taking.

Coating his cock in enough oil to wash his entrance, the water in the bath sloshes as he shuffles closer and takes himself in hand. Pressing closer and pushing the head of his cock against the other man’s hole and slowly rolls his hips forward to break him open.

Cal curses, eyes rolling back into his head as the prince's girth fills him, and in turn pushes his cock further into Leyth's fluttering pussy. The bathing room may as well be their own private party in this moment, because of the large handful of people indulging in each other no one notices Littlefinger lurking by the doorway. True pleasure is rare in a whorehouse, so this is sure to be a lucrative visit for the proprietor.

Oberyn lets out a lusty groan when his hips are flush against the other man’s ass. “You do not flinch away.” He praises, wrapping his long arms around the man so he can cup Leyth’s generous breasts while he waits for the man’s muscles to relax around him.

“Pleasure is a gift.” Cal’s body shudders as he takes Oberyn fully, the stretch of him making the man pant and reach back to grasp the prince’s hip. “You have a very large gift, my lord.”

Oberyn chuckles quietly, pleased with Cal’s words and leans in to nibble on his ear. Enjoying the way he shudders again. “Let me show you what I can do with that gift.”

******

The Red Keep looms above you when you finally step out of your carriage, trying with all your might to block out your mother’s voice muttering indignities that your party was not greeted by a royal retinue at the city line. What utter nonsense. Your house is ancient and wealthy, yes, but certainly not royal and there is no reason for the royal Baratheons or Lannisters to pay you any heed. At least, outside the carriage, you can finally be more than a foot and a half away from your mother again.

“Alright, pumpkin?” Your father beams down at you before swinging off of his horse.

“Of course, Papa.” Of course not is the truth, but after days of spitting venom you are too tired to put up much of a fight. Besides, now that you know this is your mother’s doing, it is hard to be upset with your father for simply being a fool.

Your father beams at you as he steps beside you and offers you his arm. Not having an opportunity to talk much on the road, he wants to assure you. “I understand you are nervous because you have not been to Dorne, but your grandmother and her mother are from Dorne.” He reminds you. “And there is family in Braavos and across the Narrow Sea.” The long tradition of finding love outside the Vale is common, your father finding the free-spirited prince to be a far worthier match for you than some sniveling little lord grasping for favor. The idea that his daughter will be princess is also a factor.

“I shall visit them all at my earliest ability.” The idea of traveling to see family you have never met sounds infinitely preferable to spending even a minute in the presence of the prince you never agreed to wed, and for a moment you almost relax at the idea.

“I doubt your husband will allow anything other than you spitting out his heirs for the next few years.” Your mother scoffs. “You will be visiting his bed.”

“That is not for you to know or to decide.” You tell her, though the fact that she may be right makes you sick to your stomach. Two steps behind the three of you, Raeden could not have missed the comment but you cannot exactly turn to look at him.

Raeden keeps his gaze down, your mother’s words in his mind as he tries to decide if he had made the right choice. Perhaps he should have run away with you. He’s noticed the captain of your father’s guard eyeing him so he had tried to be as impassive as possible. His heart aches at the idea of you in the Prince’s bed, despite the rumors of his prowess and propensity for men and women, something that he shamefully shares with the Prince of Dorne. He had fought his attraction to the other men around him. Not even sharing it with you.

“My lord. My ladies.” A steward in the hallway bows to you dutifully and opens his mouth to welcome you to the Red Keep, but a swish of skirts and a silky smooth voice cuts him off from behind. “Lollard, I will greet my guests,” she instructs, sounding nearly severe before her voice pitches up to something delighted and seemingly terribly excited. “I was so pleased to see your banner approach that I could not help myself.” The woman declares, and you cannot tell if she means it or not. “Lady Margaery Tyrell,” she introduces herself with a broad smile. “It was I who sent your invitation. Welcome to King’s Landing, and to the Red Keep.”

“You are even more beautiful than your portrait, Lady Margaery,” your mother gushes, simpering to the woman who appeared to be several years younger than even you. “And how thoughtful of you to include our House in your nuptial feast. We are honoured.”

“It is I who am honoured.” She steps toward you with a smile. “To have the future princess of Dorne amongst my guests, and of course the ancient connection between our Houses makes us loving cousins, does it not?” The marriage of a Tyrell daughter into your House was four generations ago, but Margaery has never been one to overlook a string that might be pulled in her favour. At least not after her grandmother pointed it out.

Future princess of Dorne. Raeden’s fists clench at his sides as he tries to ignore the fury in his heart at that simple phrase. You will be a princess, and the gap between your stations will be more vast than before.

“We are flattered by such a personal welcome.” Beside you, your father is talking and patting your hand on his arm, but you barely hear him. Each time another person calls you princess or refers to the man who bought you, you feel closer and closer to being sick all over the floor. Or perhaps sinking in a wasting depression. If both are possible simultaneously, that may be the answer.

“Forgive me.” When you find your voice it almost cracks, but you put one hand to your stomach delicately. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Margaery, but I am afraid I feel quite ill from weeks of travel. Would it be possible to be escorted to our chamber so that I might be well enough for a turn around the gardens later?” An ally – any ally – may be worth grasping, and you enjoy the way this young woman made your mother frown by not paying attention to her. For right now, though, you would do anything to be alone so that Raeden could visit you.

“Forgive me.” Margaery bows her head respectfully and gives a small, sincere smile. “My manners have forsaken me.” She gestures towards the keep. “Allow me to show you personally to your rooms. A light repast has been laid out for your pleasure as well.”

“How very kind of you,” you murmur, knowing you won’t touch a thing. The reality of your situation has stolen your normally healthy appetite.

Clever blue eyes catch the subtle grimace when she mentions food and yet she doesn’t comment on it. Sensing that you will have much to talk about, Margaery had invited you to stay in the keep as her guest after learning of your betrothal to Oberyn Martell. “This way.” She smiles and motions towards the left corridor.

Though you might not be fond of the games of society, you were raised in them, and you have sense enough that when the future queen offers you her arm you take it. That is how the first glimpse many guests to court ever have of you is strolling arm-in-arm with the woman who will become queen in two days time. It does not matter that you just met. It does not matter that she is chattering away politely while you simply smile your polite smile and nod. The future queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the future princess of Dorne paint a very pretty picture on their way through the halls of the Red Keep with your family trailing behind. If you weren’t so desperate to be alone with Raeden again and attempt to forget all this is happening, you might more fully enjoy the way your mother is green with envy.

______

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[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 7

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst​

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.  

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 20.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* Flirty Oberyn deserves his own neon sign of a warning. References to pregnancy and childbirth. Oberyn has a short fuse. Dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), hair pulling, spanking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, cum play Summary: Your trip out to the marketplace ends up being a more fruitful and more meaningful endeavor than you ever could have guessed. And with the burden of secrets lifted, things between your foursome are beginning to progress. Notes: Honestly this chapter brings me so much joy. Things are growing and coming together, and these four have So Much Emotion. I just adore the way they fit together.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

“I have brought plenty of coins to make sure you buy whatever you wish.” Oberyn confides, guiding you through the halls of the brothel after leaving your lovers to explore the marketplace of King’s Landing together. “Though, we should decide what to do about your ring.”

"Ellaria should have hers back." Although it is the one that he put on your hand at the Citadel, it does not belong to you. It belongs to his paramour, and she was only kind enough to provide it as the answer to a desperate question at the moment. "Whatever you prefer me to wear will be lovely, I am sure."

“I was thinking about that.” He tilts his head as he walks with you out of the building and onto the streets. “Ellaria gave it to you.” He explains. “I was thinking that we could find a ring for her. And one for your Raeden.”

"Perhaps..." Toying with the bauble on your finger and rolling the idea over in your mind, you turn your eyes to him again as he leads you out of the brothel. "We could find some that compliment each other?" You suggest, unsure if he will like the idea. "For all of us?"

“That seems like a good idea.” He smirks and nods as he covers your hand with his own and pats it. “I believe that our lovers would like that. Tell me, is your Raeden’s cum crusting your thighs from the make up sex?”

"I think you would like it if it was," you surprise even yourself by laughing softly, but you shake your head. "He is far too exhausted and our talk was much too serious. But I am sure that he will be recovered by this evening."

“I thought it was disappointingly silent.” He muses. “However, the passion of make up sex is often incredible.”

"I hope not to fight with any of you again any time soon." The people that you pass on the street either pay you no regard whatsoever or they pause to stare. The prince pays them no mind, only giving his attention to you or where his feet will step next, and you try to take your cue from him.

“Fighting is a natural part of love, my star.” He does not always enjoy fighting, but it does happen. “But we will muster along and find a happy agreement.”

"It may be natural, but it is far from pleasant." And pleasantness is something you crave more often than not. You know that about yourself. "There are much more comforting and pleasurable things we could be doing rather than fighting."

“I agree.” Oberyn hums as he looks around. “And perhaps in time, you will realize that not all fights will end like the ones with your mother.”

"I hope to learn it sooner rather than later." He turns you down a lane to the right and deftly avoids others walking by, keeping you close to his side as you go. "There is something else I wished to speak to you about."

“Oh?” He tights his hold on your arm and steers you around a cart that is stopped in the middle of the street. “Anything in particular?”

"There is the little matter of our marriage." You murmur quietly, knowing that you cannot be overheard. "And that it is not yet...official."

Oberyn frowns slightly. “If you were examined by a maester, he would say that your cunt has been used.” He reminds you. “They do not need to know who’s cock filled it.”

Swallowing nerves and the pinch of fear of the unknown that accompanies any leap of faith, you squeeze his arm gently in your hand as you pass by an entire family out together in the street. "What if I were to admit to you that the thought of sharing our marriage bed has already crossed my mind favorably several times?"

It is not often that Oberyn is not prepared for a sassy comeback immediately. The words that he might have said to a mere stranger who admits their want of him are not suitable for this situation or you. He’s not unaware of your growing fondness, but he looks to you again to gauge your honesty. “I would ask you how you and your Raeden feel about such an idea.” He admits. “Along with your own feelings, beyond favorable.”

“It is not for me to tell his tale, but we have both confessed to our own desire to share your bed.” It is not an insignificant thing to confess this to him, and you can only hope that he has no real objections or conditions. “And Ellaria’s.”

“Then when you are ready to do so, you will be most welcomed.” He can’t help the smug smirk on his face and he sucks his teeth happily. “We will spend all day learning what ways pleasure you and your lover.”

“You are pleased.” His smile can mean nothing else. “I know that we began together in a rather odd way, but I—I do wish to be a proper wife to you.”

“You mean most do not beg their betrothed to marry them to save their lover’s life?” He asks teasingly, arching his brow as he looks back at you again. “Shocking.”

“And most do not house their new bride in a brothel,” you remind him with your own teasing tone. “Perhaps we are not proper at all.”

“You are safer in that brothel than the keep up on the mountain.” He reminds you, squeezing your arm against his body, “and there is more entertainment.”

“Far safer.” The market is not far, sprawling out along the city wall that looks out into the Narrow Sea. Tents, tables, stalls, and carts line a winding path that welcomes visitors and buyers to peruse goods at their leisure and haggle with the merchants in the warm sea air.

He chuckles when you do not mention the entertainment. Instead of pointing it out, his brows raise and he immediately steers you towards one stall that has an open flame and the mouth watering scent of roasted meat filling the air. “I did not realize that a stall here had Dornish food.”

“It smells like my grandmother’s house.” A nostalgic scent, and one that almost has you closing your eyes against the happy memories. “She was of House Yronwood, and kept a Dornish cook.”

“Meats here are so bland. It is why I eat so many fruits here.” He groans, walking up to the stall eagerly. “We will have to order some to be delivered to the rooms.”

“To have something of home will be comforting. For you and Ellaria both.” They have come farther than you have after all, and to an entirely different country. The Vale is not so dissimilar from King’s Landing except for being a slower pace of life.

“Do you have favored meals from the Vale?” He asks as he peruses the meats available and points to one particular roasted joint when the merchant rushes over.

"A few. It is a colder part of the world even in summers, so some of my favorite things have been soups or stews." You end up smiling, shrugging as though you have been caught when he sees you eyeing the pastries in the Dornish food stand. "Some sweets, of course."

“We will take four of each.” Oberyn nods towards the pastries and picks up one to offer you. “And a portion of your meats to be delivered to the brothel.”

The honey-syrup soaked fried dough is sprinkled with chopped nuts and dusted with a powder you do not recognize, but it looks delectable and you obediently open your mouth to accept the morsel without a second thought. Oberyn hums, smirking slightly as he feeds you a bite of the pastry. Watching as your eyes flutter in pleasure and your moan makes his cock twitch under his robes.

A distant memory from your childhood floats to the surface, the taste of roses in the honey reminding you of when your grandmother's cook used to serve the delicate pastries with sweet cream and you had tried to soak rose petals in a glass of milk the next day only to be vastly disappointed with the results. "Wonderful," you hum, cheeks warm with delight at the expression on the prince's face.

“Good.” He smirks and takes a bite of his pastry himself before offering you the rest of the treat. “The honey is most delicious licked off a lover’s body.” His smirk turns lasciviously wicked as he chews and swallows while watching you.

"I will bear that in mind..." Leaving 'my lord' or any other honorific off the end of the thought, you find yourself shy to meet his eyes but smiling nonetheless. After being so honest as to tell him directly that you desire him, it seems pointless to be coy about such a thing.

He chuckles, leaning in and kissing the edge of your mouth. Letting his tongue slide out to lap at a drop of honey that had escaped your notice. “You do that, star.” He murmurs when he pulls back.

It should be a sin to desire someone this way, but it is your husband, so the way your knees quake under you and threaten to give out when his tongue touches your skin and his voice pitches low is a welcome torment.

"Something amiss, star?" He asks with the tilt of his head and an amused smile on his lips. "You seem...flustered."

"Nothing amiss." You assure him, though you do feel the heat of your own cheek when you touch your fingers to the place that he just kissed. "Only enjoyable thoughts."

"Enjoyable thoughts become pleasurable moments." He hums, looking back at the merchant to hand over several coins.

"Perhaps not before too long." Without really knowing how ready you are to advance your marriage, the thoughts are firm encouragement. Almost as much as the few kisses you have exchanged.

Once he has paid, he informs the merchant which brothel he is staying in and is assured that it will be delivered with haste. Craning his neck, he looks around and then back at you. "Where to next, my princess?"

There are more merchants here than you have seen collected in one place in a very long time, and you look up and down the rows with interest before a stall catches your eyes. "My lord..." A breath of excitement is very telling from you. "There is a bookbinder's stall. Just there."

He steers you towards it without another word. He has seen your love of books and would never despair it. Encouraged to find that his wife has a love of reading and learning. “We shall see what they have.” He hums. “The library at Sunspear is vast and very diverse.” He tells you. “We have had to split it between the original keep and the Water Gardens, it has grown so large.”

"My father's library was my favorite place in the world," you tell him honestly, the shine of another dream on your face that has nothing to do with carnal pleasure. "There were days I would throw open the windows and let in the salt air from the Narrow Sea and do nothing but drink tea and read books from sunup to sundown."

“It sounds ideal.” He smiles, happy that there are some good memories from your father’s house. “There will be many more days like that in your future.” He predicts. “Although the air will be much warmer and the shade sweet if you wish to sit under an overhang and watch the children frolic in the gardens.”

"I think I certainly will." Knowing that he has so many children already both eases a certain measure of your anxieties about producing an heir as well as heightens them. He is certainly virile, able to continue to father many children through the years to come, and you do not fear sharing a bed with him any longer. But the prospects of childbearing remain terrifying.

He frowns when he sees fear cross your pretty face and he taps your hand to ask silently what is bothering you.

"My eldest brother's wife did not have easy births," you explain quietly, letting your fingers dance across the spines of the beautifully bound books in front of you in a soothing, familiar action. "She nearly lost her life to their son. But both are well now."

“I see.” Oberyn knows well that many women pass while giving life. It is a miracle that his daughter’s mothers had all survived. “Again, wife,” he murmurs softly. “If you have no wish to provide me with an heir, you do not need to.”

"I would not say that, exactly." As it is something that you have actively worked to prevent in the past, and something that you have viewed as your duty for so long, the gift of choice is almost startling. It forces you to think of whether you want to be a mother, or whether you had simply accepted an inevitability. "I think...it deserves to be thought on."

“Then you let me know.” He nods seriously. “After you have made a decision. Your decision.” He knows that you feel it is your duty to provide him with the promised heir, but he does not care about that. He has children, he has his older brother’s son. What matters is that he would not force you to give him a child, like he would not force you into his bed.

"Raeden was correct." The smile you offer him is grateful and true. "I have been most fortunate in the choice of my husband."

"I feel as if I am not so terrible." He hums, slightly smug about his own qualities. "At times."

"There is certainly the potential for fondness," you laugh, knowing that you have already surpassed potential in the few days you have known him.

"Do you see any books that you wish to have?" He asks, picking up a particularly lovely bound book of what looks to be poems to examine them further. With the king's wedding, normal merchants were displaying far costlier offerings than normal with all of the nobles gathered in the city. Soon they would pack these away and it would be a long time before Oberyn steps foot in this place again.

"I would read anything and everything." It is a deep truth, that you will read almost anything handed to you, but you have found yourself hovering over some volumes telling the tales of tragic lovers and another set of volumes telling the stories of sailors from generations past. "These are beautiful pieces. Either one would be a lovely keepsake."

"Get them both." Oberyn hums, looking up from the poems with an indulgent smile. "The ship back to Dorne will be a perfect backdrop for you to lay in a hammock and read on the deck under a sail all day."

"Are we sailing?" As much as you love the sea, you have never done more than look out over it or play in the tides when you were small. It was not ladylike to do when you were older, according to your mother.

"Yes." Oberyn looks out towards the sea. "It is quicker to get to Dorne, I would rather not spend weeks traveling." He smirks. "Plus Cersei has gifted her daughter a ship for us to take back."

“That is very kind of her.” The bookbinder is not very subtle about listening intently, so you smile pleasantly at the mention of the late king’s mother.

"Yes." He knows why you are being so diplomatic, and he approves. Even if he did not share that diplomacy normally when it comes to anyone who bore the Lannister crest.

"We will enjoy our voyage, then. It will be my first time at sea." The binder ties your book sets with cord and leather while you wait, and thanks the prince with an excessive amount of bowing and scraping when payment is given. For you, the joy of new books has already made the entire day most worthwhile and you accept the bundle with great care.

"What shall we peruse now?" Oberyn hums, his own book purchased for Obara. She would like the ofte morose verses. He looks over at you with an indulgent smile. "Jewelry? Trinkets? A new sword for your lover?"

“We should look for rings.” It would be a welcome gift, you think, to show that you had been thinking of Raeden and Ellaria. “Raeden’s sword is very precious to him.”

"Yes, I could tell it was something that he did not wish to part with." He hums, taking your books from your hand and tucking them up under his elbow. "Was it his father’s?"

“It was.” The bond between fathers and sons is not lost on you, having seen it with your own three brothers. Raeden’s relationship to his own father is unique. “It was a gift to him, before he sent Raeden to train.”

“Who was his father?” He asks, knowing that the man should be from a noble house if he was given the opportunity to train.

"Monford Velaryon." The whole story is still somewhat of a mystery, even to you, but you certainly know the great House that your soulmate is descended from. That is sometimes all that bastards know. Raeden is, technically, quite fortunate to have any sort of relationship with his father.

That is surprising and Oberyn's eyebrows arch up as he makes a sound of understanding. "I see." He knows of the man. "The brother of the Bastard of Driftmark." He hums with an amused smirk. "No wonder he treated his own bastard well."

"He rarely speaks of his father, but he has known him a little over the years," you explain the little that you know as the pair of you stroll toward the metal workers and trinket makers at the other end of the market stalls. "He sent Raeden to Lord Royce to train, which is how he came to the Vale."

"Then it is fortunate that he had sent him to you." He guides you towards a stall that has a dazzling display of gold. "I believe that the fates or gods always allow us to meet our soulmate at least once." He informs you. "Otherwise why would the gods, old or new, have us bear each other’s marks?"

“It is not easy to think of things as being left up to chance.” In that, you must agree with him. “You have been very fortunate to have so many years with Ellaria.”

"Yes, I am." He does not doubt that. "It was a chance meeting." He admits, sliding his arm down so he can lace his fingers with yours. "She spilled an entire carafe of wine on me in the little tavern she was working at, fired on the spot and nearly overwhelmed by her misfortune."

“I cannot imagine her as anything but poised, but I suppose everyone is young and nervous once.” It makes you smile, actually. To think of the young prince swooping in to rescue the young damsel he saw in distress.

"She lived above the tavern and was kicked out." He squeezes your hand and frowns at the memory of the past wrong. "When I was done drinking that night – I had dismissed her from my thoughts, after all, what was one clumsy serving girl? – I found that same girl pacing in front of the whore house I was going to seek pleasure at."

“Deciding whether or not to find work?” You guess, nodding solemnly despite reveling in the comfortable way your hand fits into his.

"She was." Oberyn bites his lip and looks at you. "So I bought her first and only night as a whore."

“It seems you are accustomed to rescuing young ladies from possibly terrible fates.” Of course not every whore leads a life of poverty or sadness, and not every woman separated from her soulmate is doomed to misery and despondency. But luckily for you and Ellaria both, there was no need to find out what other possibilities life might hold.

"Perhaps I have read too many stories of fabled knights." He chuckles, dismissing any compliment that you might offer. "It is always an easy read."

“I enjoy them very much myself.” With your hand in his, you squeeze his fingers gently and keep close to his side. “But I seem to enjoy the real men themselves far more.”

"What you do not read in those books is that those same men are quick tempered, stubborn, sharp tongued and deadly." He winks at you and then nods towards the jewelry. "Shall we see what baubles catch our eyes?"

A silversmith and a goldsmith seem to be sharing quite a large area with their backs to the ocean wall, and both men have their apprentices scurrying around doing all manner of small tasks when you and the prince approach. “What does Ellaria like best?” You ask, wanting to make sure the gift that goes to her is nothing short of perfect.

Obeyrn chuckles. "She loves beautiful things, especially ones that caress her skin like a lover." He taps your finger with the ring on it. "Things like this."

“But you do not think it should be returned to her?” The ring is beautiful, its shining stone catching the light wonderfully and scattering it everywhere for all to enjoy, but you would not keep it for a moment if it would sadden her to go without it.

"My lover would not have offered it if she had wanted to keep it." Of that he is certain. It quite possibly brings her great joy to see her ring on your finger, a little claim of her own on his wife. "Offer it back to her if you wish and hear what she says."

“No, I trust you to know her mind.” Just as you would hope he trusts Raeden to know yours. “Perhaps we could find her something that resembles a sun? I have…heard you call her that. And it is a beautiful sentiment.”

"She is my sun and world." He nods, smiling approvingly at your sense of sentiment. "She is very like the bursting sun of Dorne. Radiant and beautiful."

“She might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” That is something you can easily admit – after all, you have eyes.

"She is enchanting." Oberyn agrees and looks at you. "But she and I both agree that you are just as breathtaking and appealing." He assures you with a small wink. "We have talked at length about how disappointed it is that you would not be joining us in our bed. Before your change of heart."

“Many things have changed in the last few days. For the better, I think.” There is a ring in one of the goldsmith’s cases that holds a red-orange stone in a spiral of intricately woven golden metal, with barbs that neatly resemble the sun’s rays or a great explosion of fire because of the color of the stone. “Do you think she would like this?”

His hand must let go of yours to pluck the ring from the soft cloth it is laying on and he hums as he holds it up to the sunlight to examine. "I think that she would love this to be on her hand while she caresses your skin, or your lover's skin." He admits with a smirk when he tears his eyes off the ring and looks back at you.

“Or perhaps both.” Which might be altogether the most scandalous thing you have ever said in your life, but with a husband like the Prince of Dorne, no one seems to pay it any mind.

"Then she would need one ring on each hand." He chuckles. "My paramour is greedy."

“She should have one for every finger if that is what she desires.” A woman like Ellaria – if there are any other women like her – deserves to be showered with gifts and affection the same as any noblewoman.

"I think you should get her this." Oberyn decides and hands the ring to you before he sets down the books so he can pick up linked chains of gold. "And I will get her this."

“Beautiful.” Nothing Ellaria wears is simple, and the delicate golden chains will flow over or under her dresses beautifully.

"It will drape around her breasts and draw eyes and mouths to her skin." He predicts before he looks towards the goldsmith. "I need two of these." He orders. "I need one for my wife and one for my lover."

The man seems confused at first, but when you neither flinch or react at all, he nods slightly. “Would you like them to be identical, my lord? Or have them specially made for your ladies?”

He turns towards you for your input. "What do you say, star?" He asks seriously. "Would you like to match Ellaria? Wear this and nothing else as you entice your Raeden and your husband?"

“It would be an honor to have something identical to your paramour.” To have something that marks you both as his sounds as enticing as the image he has painted.

He hums in approval and turns back to the goldsmith. "I would like two of the exact same." He orders, handing over the chains. "And we require a gift for my wife's lover."

“What…sort of gift did you have in mind?” It is obviously not the sort of request he is not used to receiving, and even as he sets to work collecting your purchases he tilts his head in curiosity.

"Star?" Oberyn turns towards you and he lifts your hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of it. "What kind of bauble would your Raeden like?" He asks. "I have not gotten a chance to know him quite as well as you so I will defer to your knowledge."

“I think he might like a ring as well.” Not usually one for baubles, you have seen his admiration for rings at other times in the past. Particularly one like his father wears. “Something like a signet? That he could seal letters with.” A nobleman’s signet with the sign of his House is something altogether extremely special, but of course simpler ones exist.

Oberyn's eyes narrow as he thinks about it and he nods. "Yes." He agrees, biting his lip. "Perhaps–" He looks at you in question. "Perhaps he might like a signet with a sword piercing a stone?" He imagines the image of a large stone with the hilt of a sword sticking up from it.

"I think that would be most fitting, and appeal to him immensely." It would be the mark of considering him a man, more than a servant, if nothing else. Sometimes you doubt that your father even knew Raeden could read and write. It was not that he thought his guard an idiot, but rather that he had simply never bothered to notice.

Pleased with your agreement, the prince turns towards the smith and raises a brow. "Can you craft that?" He demands. "I will not accept poor work. It must be a ring that a noble would wear."

"It will be costly, my lord, but it can be done." The merchant nods, again looking between you with curiosity. "Would you like it engraved? A name? Or initials?"

"Does he have a second name?" Oberyn asks you, only aware of the name you had told him. If he were a noble’s son, he might have been given another name.

"Monford." Though Lord Monford Velaryon could not claim his bastard son, he had done the best he could. Giving Raeden his name in another way. "Raeden Monford Stone."

Nodding, Oberyn turns back to the smith. "Have the letters R, M and S intertwined, like this." Oberyn removes his own signet ring and offers it to the smith to see.

Considering the commission, the merchant gives the prince a cost and the amount of time it will take, inflating both for his own benefit. Fast work is not quality, and cheap clients are not worthwhile.

"Five more coins if you have it done tonight." He tells the man, well aware it would not take as much time as he had estimated and ballooned the price to fill his pockets. It was honest thievery and from what he can see, the man has quality goods. "Polished and delivered to where I am staying."

"Tonight, my lord?" The merchant considers for only a few moments, knowing the coin more than warrants leaving his apprentice here to sell his goods while he works. "Aye. That can be managed. The whereabouts of your lodgings will be needed, of course."

"The brothel." Oberyn supplies the name of Littlefinger's establishment and nods, before looking back at his display of rings. "Now I need to find something specifically for my bride."

"And I should like to find something for my husband." You have your own coin, though it may not be as plentiful as his, and have found that you enjoy the idea of the prince wearing a token of your affection. It is nothing so bonding as your wedding ring, but it is a sweet symbol nonetheless.

"Star..." Oberyn turns back to you with a small smile. "You need not get me anything." He hums. "The presence of your beauty and intellect is gift enough."

"If you do not wish to wear a token, that is your choice." Although, you note with surprise that the rejection does not fill you with dread and bile the way it might of yesterday. Instead, only a flutter of nerves makes you shift in place. "But if you are willing, I should like you to have something that I have chosen for you."

"My dear." Oberyn shakes his head and reaches out to cup your cheeks with both of his hands. "I will wear anything you give your husband with pride." He assures you softly. "I just do not wish you to feel obligated to give me anything."

"It is not an obligation at all." That is an easy enough, and honest, reassurance. "It will please me to dote on you. That is all."

Oberyn is not one to not give into his impulses so he does not not resist leaning in and kissing you softly. "Thank you, star." He murmurs, keeping it simple and quick before he is pulling away.

"You will look for me, and I will look for you." The warmth and hazy quality of his kisses are still new to you, and you can feel your cheeks burn when he pulls away. Whatever is given to the Prince of Dorne must be extraordinary in at least one aspect, so you set to work looking through the goldsmith's wears immediately.

"My lord–" Oberyn's eyes turn back to the merchant as he shifts uneasily. "There is a matter of payment for–"

"You will get your coins." He promises him, his voice low and warning. He understands some of the lesser lords would try to pinch pennies and delay payment, but he is not such a man.

"The Prince and Princess of Dorne are not the penny pinching squabblers that you have been used to making your deals with," you inform the merchant, for the first time using your new title entirely on your own. There is a note of pride in your voice that is unmistakable.

Being a merchant in King's Landing, he had known the man was not from around here, but his eyes widen in fright when he hears who he has just insulted. "I– apologies, my lord, my lady." He bows so low he nearly folds himself over. While he might not have recognized Oberyn on sight, he has no doubt this is the fabled Red Viper. The rumors that he had finally wed seem to be true.

"You have a right to protect your business, ser." A ring on the far end of his stall has caught your eye and you wave him over to ask about it. Many strands of shining gold twist around each other again and again in an intricate pattern that your eye cannot trace easily, but both ends of the strand end in viper's heads with precious stones embedded there – one bright red and one deep blue. "This piece. You designed it yourself?"

"Aye." He nods, rushing over to eagerly hand you the ring. Now that he knows how deep your purse goes, he is very happy to accommodate any and all of your whims. "Me wife designs them. She's handy with a piece of coal."

"Very handy indeed." It is a fascinating design, and now that it is in your hand you turn it over several times and chirp with delight when it seems to fall to pieces in your fingers. "It is made to do this?" You ask the man quietly. "To be solved each time before it can be put on?"

He nods, looking particularly proud of that piece since you seem so impressed. "Somethin' to keep idle hands busy." He boasts, puffing his chest out slightly. Oberyn smirks at how he chatters with you while his eyes roam over the remaining rings to find the perfect gift for you.

"It is perfect, I think." May it take every ounce of your pin money, it does not matter. The merchant gives you the price after you insist on paying separately from your husband, and you produce the coins for him with a nod. The ring will be added to your order and hopefully Oberyn will be as taken with the bauble as you are.

One ring catches his eye and he has to reach over the stand to pluck it up to get a better look. Large, clear stones surround an even bigger milky white one. The delicate scrolls etched into the twisted gold reminds him of star dust streaking across the sky when he witnesses shooting stars. It would be the moon and stars, perfect for you.

"Have you found something of interest, my lord?" Ready to cater to the infamous prince's whims in whatever way he is able, the merchant carefully adds the ring you chose to the cloth-lined box he has selected for the prince's order.

"This." Oberyn holds the ring up and looks at the merchant. "Are the stones precious?" He asks. "I have not seen these before."

"Aye." He looks down at the piece and smiles, particularly proud of the way the craftsman ship turned out. "These on the edges are diamonds of different sizes. The center is called moonstone. Particularly beautiful, if I might say so, your Highness."

"It is." He agrees, humming thoughtfully as he looks at the ring. "I want it."

The merchant scrambles to comply, wrapping everything that has been ordered and looks up eagerly. "Is there anything else that I can do for you, my lord?"

"Make sure that you have my other ring available tonight." He reminds the man, opening his purse and starting to drop gold coins into his hand.

"My son will deliver it himself." The man assures him, all but groveling when the prince places payment in his hands. "It is my honor, ser."

“The rest of your coins will be given to him upon delivery.” Oberyn tells him, taking the box and nodding his thanks.

"I think he may tell everyone he meets for the next month that we visited him," you hum as you walk away, slipping your arm around your husband's as you go.

"As long as he does not call me cheap." Oberyn huffs in amusement before spying a merchant with large bags. "Perhaps one of those is in order for our growing purchases." He suggests. Between the books and not the box, his other arm is full.

"My eldest brother's wife favors one of these," you recognize the styling immediately. The material is nicer than the reused ship's canvas that many in the Vale make goods out of, but the style is the same. "It looks near identical to hers, but for the fabric."

"Pick the one you like best." Oberyn tells you, sending you an indulgent wink. "There are still many more coins to be spent if we wish."

"You are an indulgent husband." It earns him a kiss to his cheek before you step forward to choose a bag, greeting the merchant merrily when you come up to her stall.

He chuckles as he ambles behind you slowly. Letting you take the lead in this interaction. Watching you with a certain fondness that he had not expected to have, especially at this point.

To your delight, when you ask the merchant about her wares, she happens to have a bag made of the same disused ship sail material that you are so used to seeing. The pattern that she has stitched into it is a beautiful pattern of roses and their vines that make it a breathtaking work of art. Something so delicate with such a strong material takes a talented hand, indeed.

Oberyn looks around the waterfront, aware that there are many eyes on the two of you and he smiles. Let the word get back to Cersei that he is walking the streets of the city.

"Where else shall we walk?" It is impossible not to notice the eyes on you as the prince helps you carefully layer the purchases into the beautiful bag and put it on his shoulder. "Is there anything else you wish to explore?"

“You have said it has been a long time since you have come to King’s Landing.” He reminds you, taking your hand again and holding it rather than having you hold his arm. “And it might be years still since you return. Is there anywhere you wish to visit?”

“I was brought to be presented to the king.” The way you shrug your shoulders gives the impression that it was no great adventure and it certainly was not. “It was endless social engagements under my mother’s thumb. I see now that she was trying extremely hard to have me married quickly to be rid of me, but obviously that did not happen the way she wanted.”

“May I ask why?” Oberyn asks curiously. “You are a beautiful woman and I have no doubt there were many lords to wish you as a wife for themselves or their sons.”

“I have always been bookish.” It is not something you regret, though clearly something others do not find as desirable. “An educated girl with an opinion is not usually a lord's first choice for his son. Too headstrong. But I think also that my eldest brother, who came with us, had been directed by my father to be quite picky about my match.”

“I see.” He wonders why the man had been so choosy but it does not matter now. You are wed to him and he enjoys your intellect. “If you had a cock, maesters would be impressed with your eagerness to learn.” He snorts. “Women bear our children and yet some feel that they are weaker.” Shaking his head, he sends you a small smirk. “If they truly understood that a smart woman controls her lord with ease.”

“My father was content to let me choose for myself until my mother convinced him to accept your brother’s offer.” Walking along the market together is rather aimless now, but you still enjoy it. “But marrying for love when you are a nobleman’s daughter still does not allow the possibility that you should love someone of a different station.”

“You never told your father about Ser Raeden.” He can’t fault you for that logic, sure that you wouldn’t have been allowed to marry him. Most likely Raeden would have been sent away.

“There would not have been a point.” As unfortunate as it is, and as kind a man as he is, your father still only considered matches of rank or wealth for you. “I struck a deal with my eldest brother after his second child was born. If our father allowed me to stay unmarried, I intended to live with Antony and his wife and help to raise their children. A spinster aunt would have taken the place of needing to hire a septa to educate them, and Raeden would have simply stayed in service to our family.”

“Then I apologize for leaving your brother without his spinster sister.” Oberyn jokes dryly, sending you a wink.

“I hope that one day my brothers might be able to visit us in Dorne?” It is a long journey from the Vale, but it would sadden you immensely not to ever be able to see them again. They have been your constant companions for your whole life. “I think you would like them. Particularly my second brother. He has more of an artist’s temperament.”

“Your brothers are welcomed in Dorne any time they wish to visit.” He promises with a serious look. “I regretted not being able to see my sister more and I would not wish that on any brother.”

“Perhaps I will write to them tonight to tell them so.” You squeeze his arm gently in your hands as you walk together. “Who knows how long it will be before we are allowed to leave King’s Landing. I will write to say I am safe, that we are married, and that they are welcome whenever they choose.”

“We can arrange for you to send a raven.” Oberyn offers. “We do have a few that are designated for the Vale, we will acquire more.”

“I would be very grateful for it.” He might protest, but the prince truly is a kind and most helpful man. “But all of that is really only to say that the most I have seen of King’s Landing is the inside of a handful of ballrooms and assembly rooms.”

“Then I shall take you to a favored tavern of mine.” He decides with a grin. “The Coachman is where I have shared many drinks and laughs when I have had to be here. The wine is not Dornish, but it’s drinkable.”

"In fact...that is one of the only places in the city that I have been before." It makes you tense, to remember that night was only a few days ago. It seems like months or even years. "But I expect you knew that."

His head tilts curiously and he looks over at you, wondering at your unease. “Why would I know that, Star?”

"Perhaps she simply did not tell you where we were." That is the most likely explanation, even as you trail your eyes down to your feet to watch the toes of your boots appear from under your skirt with each step. "I would be interested to know what Ellaria did tell you about our first meeting."

“Hmmmm.” Oberyn knows that his lover does not keep important things from him so it does not bother him too much that she had met you before he had. “I’m afraid that she did not tell me.” He admits as he stops and turns towards you. “This is the first I am hearing of such a meeting.”

"I thought she would have told you..." Suddenly terrified to have spoken out of turn despite the prince not appearing to be upset at all, your eyes stay glued to the ground rather than looking up at him. "It was the day before we were invited to break fast with Queen Cersei," you murmur, convinced he could start railing at any moment. Your mother would have, certainly. "She sent a note to the Red Keep asking me to meet her. I–-I brought Raeden. For protection. As I had no idea who she was."

Chuckling, the prince shakes his head, admiring his lover’s tenacity and her capabilities. She is not a woman who sits on her hands and worries. “And what did you think when you met her?” He asks, wanting to know what impression you had of her.

"That she was very protective of you. And that she loves you very much." Both of which are true, but at the time you had not known what to make of the conversation.

“I believe that no one could argue that point.” He agrees, squeezing your hand. “Ellaria would take issue with someone arguing that.”

"And now that I know her a little better, I would never dare think otherwise." The action brings your eyes to your joined hands and you smile weakly. "I thought she would have told you."

“My lover is independent.” He hums, watching as you fluster slightly. “She probably thought that if she knew what to expect, she could manage to redirect my attention if needed.”

"I would not blame her for wanting to know what I am like." After all, you were as much a stranger to them as they were to you.

“It speaks very highly of her view of you that she did not tell me about the meeting.” He admits. “She felt no need to warn me.”

"Is that what it means?" You look up at him with nerves written on your face.

“Nothing to fear, Star.” Oberyn winks at you and smirks smugly. “My lover knows what I like, and she knew I would be very intrigued by you.”

“Then I am glad to not have disappointed either of you.” Feeling the earnestness of the moment, you bring his knuckles to your lips to kiss them and find it much easier to smile. “Should we go then? Being there for perhaps ten minutes in the middle of the night, I have very little memory of what it was like.”

“We shall.” Oberyn turns back and guides you a few blocks over to the Coachman’s Tavern, grinning when he hears the rowdy noise from inside spilling onto the streets.

The inside is crowded and rowdy just as it was a few nights ago, but there seem to be more people eating meals and fewer just drinking for the sake of it at this time of day. Fewer dancing girls too, from the look of it. If Oberyn is aware of the looks, he ignores them, catching the attention of one of the serving girls and smirking. “A table and some wine.” He demands.

“Aye.” She nods, giving him a sultry smile and pointing. “Just there. I’ll fetch your wine.”

“Come, princess.” His hand is still firmly linked with yours as he pulls you towards the table that had been pointed out. “We will share some wine and discover more about each other.”

“What would you like to know?” There can be no secrets now – the two things that you had kept from all others are things that you had divulged to him very easily.

“Anything you would like to tell me.” The bag on his arm is set beside the chairs and he watches as you sit down before he sets his royal self down beside you with a slightly dramatic flare.

“I do not think there is terribly much interesting about me that you do not already know.” His complete attention flusters you all over again, but the difference is noticeable. This is a pleasant, warm, encompassing feeling. Not fear. “I am passably accomplished. My singing and dancing are exemplary, but playing music and needlework are less so. I can paint, though, and I know geography and the noble houses of Westeros.”

“What did you do when you were a child?” Oberyn asks, leaning in and watching you with interest. He wants to know about your past, your interests. The things that he has long learned about his lover, he will now learn about his wife.

“Played with my brothers.” With those being such fond memories, you smile and lean closer to him in turn. “Antony, Bennick, and Corwen always seemed very amused by me, even when I was very little. As if a little girl made no sense to them. So they taught me to fence with sticks and climb trees and tumble around with the dogs instead.”

He smiles, imagining you running around and fighting with your brothers. “My daughters do the same.” He tells you. “They are fierce and strong like I imagine you must have been as a little one. Clamoring on your papa’s shoulders and demanding sweets.”

“Bennick would sneak us all sweets when the septa wasn’t looking.” The memory makes you smile. It’s such an innocent thing but it felt like being bandits. “Mother was very strict about treats, but Ben always found a way.”

“Sweets are demanded often around the halls of Sunspear.” His youngest especially. She has a sweet tooth that rivals her father’s. “The cooks keep pastries and cookies for the girls to ‘steal’.”

“It makes you feel terribly clever, as a child.” The serving girl comes over, depositing two goblets on the table and the wine, but giving her full attention to Oberyn when she simpers and asks what else he wishes for.

“Are you hungry?” Oberyn looks to you as he asks, pouring wine into your goblet and pushing it towards you.

“I—yes, actually.” The food in your room was probably wonderful, but you hadn’t had any stomach for it this morning. “If you are,” you add quickly.

“Food.” Oberyn decides, turning back to the server. “Whatever is best.”

“Aye.” The girl casts a glance at you but nods and walks away without a fuss.

He chuckles quietly as he turns back towards you and arches a brow. “What do you think of her?” He asks teasingly. “Do you like the width of her hips? Her breasts were very big.”

“I hardly noticed,” you admit. It felt very much like the girl was judging you, so you barely gave her a second look. “I…I have only noticed a few women in my life. Like that.”

"So you are selective." He nods as if he is learning some kind of great insight into the way your mind works. "That is good to know."

“Perhaps.” He seems to approve of this, and you smile as you drink your wine. “There are very few women in the world who are not beautiful somehow, but to be entranced by them is something different.”

Being entranced is a rare thing. He knows this because there have been very few lovers that have actually entranced him. "I know exactly what you mean." He agrees as he reaches for his own goblet. "True intoxicating beauty is something that is rarer than the most delicate bloom."

“You are very lucky to have Ellaria.” You tell him honestly, safe in the knowledge that you have shared with him. “She is precisely that rare. Brynna was that rare, too.”

He reaches out and finds his fingers trailing over yours. "You are that rare as well, star." He assures you. "Just like they are. Yet you have your own beauty that shines through like the softest moonbeams."

“I have spent my entire life being told by my father and brothers that I have a lovely smile and beautiful eyes. I thought them my only good features until Brynna and Raeden began to teach me otherwise.” His fingers are warm and teasing, stroking your skin softly, and you stretch your own to touch his skin as well. “Now to hear you say such things?” It makes your cheeks burn and your heart flutter. As if your whole body could take flight. “It is more than I could have imagined.”

"They do not see the fire in your eyes." He insists, curling his fingers around yours and toying with them idly as he keeps his eyes fixed on yours. "The strength in your spine and the love in your heart." He adds. "It is wrapped up with a clever mind and a selfless determination to make sure that those you love are safe."

It is hardly likely, when you look back at the prince – at your husband – that he does not know what he is saying to you. But you wonder if he knows how fully he sees into your heart or how he sees things about you that even Raeden did not perceive at first. And you wonder, too, if he understands the desire you already have to keep him safe. “You are a very insightful man,” you murmur, lacing your fingers together through his. “I hope I am able to live up to what you think of me.”

"You will not disappoint me." He murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to your fingertips one by one. "You cannot, because all I wish is for you to be yourself."

“I will always do my very best to make you happy,” you promise him quietly. And if that means more moments like these in the years to come, you will be very grateful.

He nods and then the server comes back with the large platter laden down with food and sets it down in front of Oberyn. "Anything else my lord requires?" She purrs as she leans over to give him an up close view of her breasts.

“You will be the very first to know if he does.” The girl’s forwardness does not bother you so much. She earns her coin how she can and that is her business, but you are obviously enjoying an intimate moment.

Her eyes cut over to you and she would dismiss you completely to turn her attention back to Oberyn. Annoyance at her treatment of the woman in his presence makes him strike out, grabbing her chin and narrowing his eyes on her own wide ones. "Do not disrespect the princess of Dorne in my presence again." He warns her slowly, his voice low but the fact that he is not yelling is more dangerous.

“M’sorry, milord.” The panic on her face is obvious, eyes flicking frantically between his face and yours, pleading for help but too frozen to pull away. “Never again, milord!”

“Husband…” Slowly, you are unsure if you should say anything at all but you feel badly for the girl. Your hand rests gently on his shoulder, not willing to test his temper any more. “You cannot blame her for liking your attention. No harm was done.”

Oberyn watches her for another moment before he finally lets go of her chin and leans back, looking over to you. His temper got the best of him and normally Ellaria is the only one who can somewhat reign him in, but your soft words had soothed his ire. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two coins to drop onto the table as he looks back at the server. "Go."

The girl disappears faster than lightning in the sky, and you breathe again softly. “Every person in the world cannot expect to have seen a portrait of every royal. Everything is fine.”

"Princess or whore." He growls slightly, cutting his eyes around towards you again even though they are not quite as dark anymore. "To ignore a lover in their presence is an insult. One I do not accept lightly."

“And I am sure she will never commit such an offense again.” The hand you have on his shoulder presses slightly more firmly and you hold his eyes. “All is well, my prince.”

There is an excitement that washes over him with the firmness of your touch and voice. His cock twitches and he grunts in agreement. "It would be a shame to waste the food."

“It would.” The tray that was delivered holds meat pies, cheese, roasted vegetables, and even a portion of sweets to share, and you offer him an encouraging smile. “And it all looks very well. So why do not we eat, and talk more, and afterward we can return to the brothel?”

"That sounds like a plan, princess." Oberyn's dagger comes out of its sheath and he spears a potato to offer to you.

Conversation returns and you watch carefully as his humor returns to normal. The meal is filling if not the most delicious thing you have ever eaten, and you distinctly remember the moment of being fed that Dornish pastry in the market earlier when you offer him a bite of the little spice cake and its apple filling from your own fingers.

Oberyn hums but his favorite part of the treat is letting his tongue lap at your fingers. Smirking when he watches your eyes widen and he leans back to swallow. "Shall we return to our quarters?" He asks, the meaning much heavier and intimate than previous.

“That…seems wise.” The way he looks at you gives you the impression that he is going to devour you whole – something you have only seen in Raeden’s eyes before this moment. It is not at all unwelcome, but it does make you a bit nervous as you rise from the table. Once again, you find yourself worried about being a disappointment to the prince.

He sees the way your expression changes, your lips pinch together in harmony with your brows. You are uneasy and he will not have that. "Yes." He hums and stands to offer you his hand. "We will return to our quarters and then...." He shrugs one elegant shoulder. "We shall see."

******

Returning to the brothel bears almost an odd sense of calm and even welcoming, although you have not seen Lord Baelish’s face since yesterday. Or perhaps it is somewhat because of that fact. Either way, you and the prince are greeted cordially by Cal near the entrance and he takes the bag of purchases up to the rooms you have been using after asking if the prince has any other needs to be met. The obvious hope in the man’s voice is not something you can blame – just like the attention of the serving girl at the Coachman. The prince is irresistible.

His eyes flicker back to you and then to the man who had spent several nights in his bed since his arrival in King's Landing. "Some wine, Cal." He hums, sending him a wink. "I do not know where the night takes me but I think that you need rest from my attentions, no?"

His disappointment shows in a pout, but he just nods before veering off course to obtain more wine for the prince’s chambers. He will deliver everything at once, including the various packages of food that were delivered to the door just a few minutes ago.

“Shall we go see if your Raeden is awake?” Oberyn offers, sure that you are not wanting to immediately jump into anything intimate.

“I’m sure he would like to see you, as well.” Now that you know there is an attraction there, you would not deny them time together, just as the prince has not denied you time to be with Raeden.

“That remains up to your lover, much like it is up to you.” He strolls with you down the hall, smirking at the sight of a large breasted, giggling redhead dashing towards one of the rooms farther down from yours.

Inside the rooms that are designated as yours and the prince’s, Ellaria is sprawled out with a sheet of parchment and quill in her hands, both of which she disregards entirely when Oberyn appears in the doorway. “Lover,” she smiles broadly and rises from the bed elegantly to embrace him. “How was your walk?”

Like everything in Oberyn’s life, he embraces his lover with a passion that would have you believe it has been years since they have been together rather than hours. His mouth slots against hers hungrily and he slides his tongue against hers for a long moment before he pulls away. “It was perfect.” He hums, turning his head towards you with a smile. “The princess has excellent taste.”

“Is that so, Beauty?” Ellaria hums and leaves a kiss on each of your cheeks. “You must have impressed him.”

“We…” Your cheeks burn at the attention, but you clear your throat as Cal comes into the room and deposits your things on the table before leaving again. “I found something for you. That I truly hope you like.”

“For me?” Her kohl lined smokey eyes widen and she does not know to look pleased or shocked that you thought of her while you were with the prince, your husband. “That is incredibly generous of you.” She muses, stepping closer and caressing your cheek with an amused smile. “Buying my affections, Princess?” She teases. “There is no need.”

“It is a token of appreciation…and affection.” It is becoming increasingly clear to you that Ellaria makes you nervous not because she is so impressive and confident – though she is – but because you are attracted to her.

“I accept any and all tokens.” She leans in and hovers her lips over yours but does not kiss you. “You are most generous.”

“You have more than earned my appreciation.” The pull is far too great not to close the distance between you, but the kiss only lasts for a moment before you part again with your skin on fire. “I will wake Raeden and we will give you your gifts.”

Ellaria steps back from you and finds Oberyn’s side, watching with speechless interest as you disappear behind the door to your chambers. “That was unexpected.” She murmurs, reaching up to touch her lips.

******

“My love?” When you push open the door to the chamber you have been sharing with Raeden, there is little light to be found. He has lit no candles and left the curtains closed, so perhaps he truly has slept the afternoon away. “Are you awake, Rae?”

Raeden groans softly, turning onto his side and his eyes flutter open, only to see dim light. “My love?” He croaks out, raspy from sleep. “Here.”

“Returned to you safe and sound, as promised.” He must have been far more exhausted than you thought, making you feel all the more guilty for fighting with him earlier today. Setting yourself down on the edge of the mattress, you lean over to dust kisses across his cheek and lips. “Sleep, darling. I am sorry to wake you.”

“No.” He shakes his head and lifts himself to his elbow with a groan and a yawn. “If I sleep much longer, I will not sleep tonight.” He frowns. “Unless it is night now?”

“It is nearly dusk. I am afraid we were gone longer than I expected.” In truth, all you had thought was for a stroll down the market lane. Your adventure had been far, far better than that. “There is food and wine in the other room. Perhaps…we might spend some time with the four of us together?”

“Of course.” He will always do what you wish to do. He is wearing his drawers when he crawls out of the bed and stretches. He hadn’t felt comfortable stripping down again after the earlier confrontation since he would be here alone with Ellaria. “Let me get dressed.”

“The prince’s gift for you should arrive tonight.” It is his to give, and you won’t spoil the surprise if he intends it to be one, but you still smile while Raeden dresses. “It is…well, I hope that you like it as much as I think you will.”

“He…got me a gift?” He is pulling on his undershirt when he freezes, his head whipping around to stare at you in confusion. “Why?”

"Because he is fond of you." You can certainly venture that far, offering him a reassuring look. "And because you are my soulmate, and a good man. Those are all excellent reasons."

“He should not have.” He frowns slightly, aware that he has very few coins to buy gifts for anyone. His belongings had been in his trunk when it was delivered but his coin purse was far lighter than he had remembered it being.

"There is something for all of us, my love." Seeing the anxiety on his face, you stand again and reach to hold both of his hands in yours. "He does not expect anything in return. It is a gesture, that is all. For all of us."

“Your husband is a generous man.” He is aware that there is no way he could afford to keep you here, safe and belly full. He is grateful that the Prince has seen fit to be a benevolent man to you and your lover.

"You deserve to be treasured." And although it is not always easy for him to believe, you will tell him so every day. "Come, my love. Finish dressing and we will feed you. You must be ravenous."

“Of course.” He will want to come to be where you are. Especially since you mentioned food. It has been some time since he has eaten, since he was asleep.

The prince is handing coins to a stout young man delivering a package when you and Raeden come back into their room, and you are glad to see that Raeden's ring has arrived without trouble. There are bowls and platters of all manner of Dornish delights spread out along the table for enjoyment and Ellaria is enjoying a plate of comforting food with pleasure. "It appears everything has been delivered."

“It has.” Oberyn looks very pleased as he gestures towards the table of food. “While we ate some already, let us indulge more with our lovers.”

"You already know I cannot say no to sweet delights." There is an entire bowl of the honey-soaked pastries that you had indulged in at the stall. The merchant must have noted your obvious enjoyment of them.

He chuckles and picks up a pastry when he joins you beside the table. “Then we will have to make sure you have something sweet every meal.”

"He is extremely pleased with something that has happened today," Ellaria assesses, knowing Oberyn's moods as well as her own after so long together. "You must have enjoyed yourselves thoroughly."

“We went to find gifts.” Oberyn purrs. “There is one gift that is a matching set, for you and the princess and one day I will have you both model it for me.”

"Oh?" Ellaria hums her approval. "It must be very salacious if you are so excited to see them worn."

He smirks, aware that his lover is very versed in his tastes. He sets down the box that was just delivered and moves to the one you and he had brought to open it and pulls out the packets with the necklaces. “Just them lover.”

The identical multi-strand necklaces are beautifully crafted, and Ellaria sighs in delight as she pulls hers out of the wrapping and holds it up in the firelight. "Lover, it is stunning," she coos honestly before her eyes slide over to you. "When your princess is ready we will wear them together. It will be a beautiful sight."

“Yes it will.” His eyes shift from his lover as he strokes her arm to your Raeden. “Ser Raeden and I will be hard as stone taking in the beauty of you and the princess wearing nothing but these golden chains on your skin.”

Raeden's cheeks burn but he does not deny it, looking between the two people across from him before his eyes move back to you. "You are stunning in everything, my love," he answers diplomatically. "Any ornament pales in comparison the two beauties at this table."

“A poet.” Oberyn’s eyes flash in surprised delight and he hums. “Perhaps I shall give you your trinket next?” He looks to you to see what you think about this.

"It is hardly a trinket, but yes. Please do." You nod approvingly and sit back, hoping that Raeden will love the gift like you think he will.

He’s a man who gives gifts often to those he loves, but he does not love Raeden. He wants the man, he wants you and your lover in his bed but he has not yet formed the attachment to him that seems to be so easy with you. Still he had wanted to gift Raeden something to show the man his place, that Oberyn was not going to send him away from your side. “Ser Raeden, your lover told me your full name and I decide that my Princess’s lover, her soulmate should wear something both honorable and intimate.”

"Then you know who my father is." It is not a common name, and unmistakable to a noble with such a vast knowledge of the nobles of Westeros. If you had told the prince his full name, then Raeden has no doubt that the prince knows whose bastard he is.

“I do.” Oberyn nods seriously. “Which is why I know the sword you carry is a gift. I should have recognized the sea horse in the handle before now.” It’s subtle and small, but visible when you are looking for it. Raeden had left his sword in his rooms when he went to sleep while you walked with your husband.

"He did the best he thought he could for me." Though it was not always perfect, at least he had some connection. To the man himself and to his family. They knew he existed, which is more than many bastards can say.

“I know about bastards.” He knows that he is luckier than most, all his bastard children are accepted, loved. He would tolerate nothing less than that. “Yet the next time you send your father a letter….” Oberyn reaches for the box and hands it to him. “Seal your missive with this, if it is your desire to do so.”

Raeden opens the box with tentative fingers, curious as to precisely what might be inside. There is a small cushion inside and the glint of gold atop it and Raeden looks up at the prince curiously before reaching in to the little wooden square to extract an intricately carved gold signet ring. The carving bears the image of a sword hilt extending out of a stone, some of the blade exposed to make the image all the more dramatic. Engraved in the band, the letters RMS are intertwined beautifully and delicately, making him gasp quietly. "My lord..." he looks up at the prince with awe. "This symbol. Is it Dornish?"

“It is your symbol.” Oberyn tells him. “Your sword from your father and the stone to signify your lineage.” He clasps his hands on the other man’s shoulders. “You bear no shame of being a bastard in Dorne and your signet should be worn with pride.”

"You cannot mean..." There is water in Raeden's eyes when he looks over at you and then back at the prince, trying to fully understand what has just happened. "Your Highness it is...it is more than I could have dreamt." His own signet and his own symbol is tantamount to having his own House. It legitimizes him in a different way – not as the son of his father but as the beginning of his own lineage. It is an act of graciousness that frees him in a way that could not be imagined and he looks to you again with wide eyes. "My love, did—"

"It was Oberyn's idea," you tell him honestly, seeing the way he is so overcome with emotion. "I suggested something for you to use in your correspondence. The symbol was of his own creation."

“Lover.” Ellaria is soft, melting into Oberyn’s side as he watches the man try to compose himself and nearly fail at it. He understands why this is so emotional to him and he turns his head to look at Ellaria before back at Raeden. “Your sons will bear your symbol.” He decides. “Under the Dornish banner.”

Swallowing fresh tears, Raeden squeezes his eyes shut before extending his hand to the prince in gratitude. "I will endeavor to deserve it with every breath I take, my prince." This gift is far more than a trinket. It is a future. A future at the hands of the man who has married his soulmate. Fate is very strange indeed.

The prince takes Raeden’s hand, jerking him towards his body to clasp his arm around him in a fierce embrace. “I know you will.”

Having nothing like Raeden's restraint, you have been sitting to his side with silent tears streaming down your face and you wipe them now to move closer to your soulmate and offer him a kiss. This is a moment of pride and you know he has desired something like this for his entire life.

Oberyn steps back from your lover, allowing you this moment together. Your history is far longer than his own brief one with the man. Ellaria cups his cheek and turns his head towards her so he can be gifted with a kiss of his own. “You did a wonderful thing, lover.” She whispers against his lips.

Raeden turns the ring over twice more in his hand before fitting it to his finger, overwhelmed and beaming with such unexpected pride at wearing his own symbol. At having his own symbol. A knight in service to a prince with his own lineage to begin. That is an extremely remarkable thing.

“It is not so very momentous,” you murmur after the pause, picking up the small box that contains Ellaria’s gift. “But this is my thanks to you.”

Letting go of her lover to take the box, Ellaria hums and her eyes find yours. “I already know it will be beautiful.” She declares. “In everyone’s eyes, you are Oberyn’s wife and could easily pretend I do not exist.” Oberyn would never allow that to happen, but some other woman could try. So it is only fair to acknowledge that, the way you acknowledge her lover's generosity to Raeden.

“You are his soulmate.” It is every bit as important as being his wife. Arguably more so, and you reach across the table to squeeze her hand gently in yours for a brief moment. “And the mother of four of his daughters. You have been the most important woman in his life for many years. And I am grateful to you for accepting and welcoming my presence. I know that if you did not, things between all of us would be very different.”

“They would.” Ellaria knows this and she smiles at you as she opens the small box and looks down. Biting her lip when she sees a small flash of gold wrapped in cloth. Reaching down and pulling it out, she sighs softly and smiles. “It is beautiful.” She murmurs, admiring the ring before looking back at you.

“I thought it only fitting, considering you gave me your ring at the Citadel.” The expression on her face is one of true appreciation and perhaps even happiness, and it warms you through completely to see it.

“I will be proud to wear it.” She sets the box down and slides the ring on her finger before she reaches for you. Pulling you in for another brief kiss to show her affection.

There is a comfort in it this time, something warm and welcoming, and you are smiling when you sit back again. “There is something for you, as well,” you remind your husband, knowing that the last two remaining boxes are your gifts to each other. The things that you had selected separately as surprises.

“Yes.” Oberyn smiles as he moves towards the box once more to pluck out your ring. “A wife should always have a gift from her husband.” He does not actually know about what a wife should or shouldn’t have, but he will treat you as he has his lover.

It is an elaborate thing. Shimmering stones that twinkle in the candlelight like stars surround the milky center stone, and you gasp softly to see the way it seems to grow ever more brilliant from every angle you examine it. “It is beyond words,” you murmur, looking back up at him. It slips onto your finger so easily that it truly seems meant for you. “I will treasure it always.”

Oberyn nods, pleased that you approve of his gift to you. Smiling as you admire it on your hand. Each one having a ring on it.

The moment lingers, as does the sentiment, and you get up from your seat to step around the table. Perhaps the pull between you is only imagined since your vows and perhaps it is not, but either way it is strong. You lean over at his side to give your husband a kiss, murmuring thanks to him softly.

“You are welcome, Princess.” He winks at you. “You deserve to be adorned in all manner of beautiful things.”

“I would say that you deserve the same, but you have already ensured that for yourself,” you tell him, offering Ellaria a smile before you move the box in front of him. Only his ring remains. “The last is for you, husband.”

Oberyn takes the box and looks at you in curiosity before he opens it. The ring makes his brow furrow and he picks it up to examine it. “How intriguing.” He hums as he starts to fiddle with it.

Ellaria and Raeden lean in to watch his fingers work the knotted metal, only for all three of them to look delighted when the pieces finally fall into place and reveal the design of intertwined snakes. You are all but holding your breath, hoping he will like the unconventional jewel, but the way he examines it with such care bodes well.

Oberyn’s chuckle is delighted as he sees the emerged pattern. Grinning at you when he can tear his eyes from the ring, he reaches for you. “Princess, I will wear it always.” He decides as he pulls you in for a kiss to thank you.

The warm moment does not make Raeden’s stomach twist the same way it would have yesterday. The emotions that he was determined not to allow to rule him are not as heightened with all of the revelations that have come to light today, and the burden of his own blood is eased by the ring he now wears. Such a small thing, but with so much meaning.

“I am glad you like it.” His kiss floods you with pride and pleasure, and you cannot help but smile broadly. “The merchant’s own wife designed it, he said. He was very proud to think you would wear it.”

“I am called the Red Viper.” He muses, stealing another quick, yet passionate kiss before he pulls away to put the ring on. “It is fascinating to see how it comes together.”

“It is one of the few things I knew about you before meeting you.” It fits his finger well, and you are glad to see him so happy with the choice. “Your color is red, and the other stone is blue…like my own House’s banner. It felt appropriate.”

“A perfect choice for a newly made match.” He assures you, reaching out with the hand that has your ring on it to caress your cheek. “I will carry a piece of you where I go.”

“And I you.” And how glad that makes you is something that settles over you like a warm blanket.

“This is a welcomed outcome.” Ellaria hums, smiling at Raeden. “We will have to exchange tokens of affection later.” She decides with a playful wink.

“It seems so.” He does not blush, truly, but he does feel the warmth in his cheeks under her gaze. Desire is a powerful feeling and this is a most powerful desire. “Perhaps,” he swallows the nerves that plague him, watching you with your husband. Be it the remains of jealousy or something new and bold in him, he looks back to Ellaria. “We could take our own walk? Some time?” He cannot buy her precious baubles, but he cannot deny wanting to spend time with her.

Her brow arches and there is a sense of the cat who got the cream reflected in the curve of her lips. “I would love to stroll through wherever with a handsome and kind man such as yourself.” She nods. “It will be good for all of us to become social, I believe.”

"It will give us a chance to know each other better." He ventures, seeing the glint in her eyes.

“I always enjoy getting to know handsome men better.” She purrs, stepping closer to your lover and laying her hand on his chest before looking at you. “As much as I do beautiful women.”

"That is..." Tearing your attention from the prince, you look back to Raeden and smile gently when he nods. "That is something that we have agreed that we would like to explore," you tell both Ellaria and your husband with equal seriousness. "Our disagreement ended with some things coming to light that have put us both more at ease with our desires."

“Oh?” She can guess what the root of the problems were, but she will not voice those opinions until you share them with her. As free as she is with her own affections and ideas of love, not everyone is.

"Sometimes the things that we were taught and the things that we feel are not always the same." You know that Ellaria understands you, her eyes are full of understanding as she nods. "Sometimes the ferocity of anger and fear is necessary to see the errors we have made in our own minds."

“Yes.” She nods, looking back at you seriously. “As free as Oberyn and I are, we would never overstep.” She assures you with a soft smile before looking back up at Raeden.

"Life has changed swiftly around us." Raeden acknowledges, for the first time, allowing himself to be caught in admiring her. To simply exist in the moment. "To change with it might be freeing."

Ellaria hums and despite your own shared kisses with her that were not permissible, she reaches up and cups your lover’s cheek carefully. “May I kiss you?”

It would be the first time since he saw his mark on your thigh that he has shared intimacy with any other person, but he nods as he holds back his own nerves about this bold step forward. Whatever claim Ellaria Sand has on him, it began the night the three of you met at that tavern and has taken deep root without regard for restriction or restraint.

“Thank you, lover.” She hums quietly, raising up on her toes as her hand slides behind his neck to press her lips to his.

It is certainly not the polite, chaste first kiss that you exchanged with the prince at the Citadel, and the way it seems to envelope all of Raeden's senses is a heady, dizzying feeling. She fits into his side and against him so well that he could deceive himself into thinking she belonged there if he gave it too much thought.

Oberyn watches the kiss develop before turning to observe how you feel about watching your lover and his kiss.

It is odd, because by all accounts you should be jealous. You should despise seeing Raeden so thoroughly kiss another woman. But you surprise yourself by smiling. "They look well together." Is what you end up whispering to him, finding that once again you truly want only what will make Raeden happy. If that means that he visits Ellaria and shares his bed with her? He has said it does not mean he loves you any less, and you believe him.

“Yes they do.” His own smile curves his lips, his hold on you tightening slightly. “They will be a vision of sweaty limbs and cries of pleasure when the time comes.” He predicts. “Have you ever watched your lover pleasure himself, Princess?”

“Sometimes.” The question makes you bite your lip as you fight self-consciousness. “We have rarely had that much leisure time in our encounters, you explain, watching now as Raeden’s hand slides across Ellaria’s back. “The first morning here was the first time we have been able to wake up in each other’s arms.”

“Watching your lover touch another is very much like watching him pleasure himself.” He leans in and whispers. “Often when I see Ellaria with another, my cock is aching.”

“It is appealing to you…to watch them.” It does not need to be a question, because you can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. The arousal makes his tone huskier as it darkens his eyes.

“Yes it is.” He hums. “Just like I would like to see you and your lover together.” He has thought about that and honestly never imagined an opportunity for it to happen, but perhaps now it is not so out of reach.

“I have never…been observed before.” It had been, along with your experiences with Brynna, something too shameful to speak about. But if your first lover being a woman was not so wrong, then perhaps neither are some of the other desires that you have been denying.

“If you wish it, watching you sit upon your lover’s cock would be a thrilling experience.” He hums. “One of Ellaria’s most favored things is to have her cunt licked while she is on my cock if we have another in our bed.”

The way you have to shut your eyes immediately to call yourself to order means that you have to miss the moment that Raeden and Ellaria break from each other. Desire hangs heavy between them like most air in the hottest days of summer, and their hands grasp tightly to each other.

Raeden pants and his lips tingle, his cock tenting his breeches from how hard he is. Almost wishing that he had worn the robes that Oberyn had given him, it would have covered his reaction to kissing the Prince’s paramour.

“If you fuck and fight as well as you kiss, you may be Oberyn’s favoured man in many ways,” Ellaria praises, keeping the hand on Raeden’s chest curl into his shirt to keep him close.

His eyes flutter and his cock twitches. “I would like to show you.” He admits, voicing his wants more quickly and freely than he had ever admitted before or ever thought of admitting.

“What does our princess think of that?” Ellaria looks to you with curiosity, ready to take Raeden to bed at a word but not if it will cause more issue.

“Of—” In truth you had almost lost full faculty of yourself from the images that the prince was painting in your mind, but you manage to steady yourself. “What do I think of…?” To your utter surprise, what you feel is glad for Raeden. “I cannot think of anyone I trust to treat my soulmate with as much care as I would.”

Raeden’s eyes widen in surprise. Despite the conversation, he had honestly thought you might protest. His gaze slides over to Oberyn, who hums and nods. “She is not shy about what she likes.” He promises the other man. “And she will suck your soul out through your cock with her talented mouth.”

“I want for you to be happy, my love,” you remind him. A soft kiss across the table is very different from the one he just shared with Ellaria but that is because you are different women.

“I love you.” He reminds you. “It does not change that.” He never wants you to think that his love for you could wane because of spending time with another.

“No. It does not. Nor does it change my love for you.” You clasp his hand before sitting down again. “Enjoy yourselves, my love. When I hear Ellaria’s cries of pleasure tonight I know I will be in complete agreement with her about your talents.”

Raeden's chest puffs out slightly, proud of your favorable view on his talents even if he is wary of how he will measure up to the Prince and the numerous lovers Ellaria has had. "Come lover." She takes his hand and smirks salaciously at the two of you. "Let us adjourn to the other room and I will find out firsthand if mounting that cock of yours is as pleasurable as I imagined when we bathed together."

“They will enjoy their night thoroughly.” You do not have any trouble believing that as the door shuts behind them.

"Now..." Oberyn hums thoughtfully as he watches the door close and he turns towards you. "We just need to decide how we will be enjoying our night." He says with a small smirk. "Indulge in reading, perhaps?" He offers playfully, though he knows that if you were not willing to fuck him, he would not protest.

“At first, perhaps?” There is a certain pleasure in being read to, but it is not what is at the front of your mind right now. “But…perhaps there might be other indulgences to be had?”

"What indulgences are you interested in, princess?" Oberyn demands, lifting his hand to your cheek and letting his fingers drift down your throat and over your collarbone. "I think I should buy you more dresses." He hates that you are wearing one of your dresses from the Vale. Too much skin covered for his liking. "Sheer ones. Flowing and letting the warm sun kiss your skin like a lover." He smirks. "Easier to disrobe."

“We can call for a seamstress tomorrow, if you wish it.” There was a dressmaker at the market today that you noticed had excellent wares, and your mind drifts momentarily to wondering if she could make something that combined the things you found comfortable and your dresses from home with the more freeing things the prince enjoys about the garments of his homeland. For now, though, you tilt your head at him. “I hope this dress will not be too difficult for you to remove? It is one of my favorites.”

"May I remove your dress?" He asks, arching a perfectly crafted brow. "See the body of my wife in her full glory and touch her?" He rasps out. "Make her cry out and shake in pleasure and fill her with my cock? Fuck her until she is limp with exhaustion and her body tingles, never to forget my touch."

Each and every time he postulates in such graphic terms, you feel your whole body turn burning hot with desire that you had been clouding over with embarrassment. Not knowing how to understand your own feelings, you had denied them. Now, as you hear Ellaria giggle and moan for the first time in the room next to you, you will attempt to simply allow yourself to want him. To want this. “Yes.” Your nod is more confident than your voice, but they are united in their message. “Take me to bed, husband.”

“Perfect.” Oberyn’s smile is anticipation and desire fused together and he steps around you to work on the laces of your dress. He is an expert in lady’s dresses and yet the only reason he does not pull his dagger to cut through the ribbons keeping the fabric on your body is because you had told him it is a favorite. “No more of this.” He vows, Finding another layer of laces and cloth beneath the dress. “It will be far too heavy in Dorne.”

“I will save it for if we ever visit my brothers.” Having him touch you even a little – even through layers of fabric – is like being burned in a wholly desirable way. “Or perhaps a seamstress can make it appropriate for Dorne. For the heat, and for the eager hands of my prince.”

“You will be free in the silks of Dorne.” He assures you. “Sliding over your skin like a lover’s hand. “Flowing around your legs and giving your lovers teasing glances of your body.”

“You and Raeden would have me in as little as possible.” When his fingers finally find the bare skin of your back you nearly gasp.

“Naked would be preferable.” He agrees. “I am a simple man.” There is nothing simple about Oberyn Martell but he manages to say it without chuckling.

“I doubt that.” Though it does make you smile as you look over your shoulder at him.

He does chuckle at that, bending down slightly so he can press his lips to your shoulders as he starts to push your dress down to pool at your feet. “Desire and lust are very simple.”

The heavy, structured dress barely deflates around you, but billows when it hits the stone floor to leave you in your stays and thin shift. It is more layers, more covering, and despite having been bare in a bath with him just yesterday you feel positively exposed.

“If you want to stop, you tell me.” Oberyn watches as your shoulders round slightly.

“Being nervous does not stop me from wanting this.” It does, though, make you turn around to face him. “I do want this, I promise you.”

Oberyn reaches out to capture the back of your neck, dragging you closer to kiss you like he had kissed Ellaria earlier. Passionate enough to steal his breath as he passes it to you.

To be so utterly intoxicated by him is disarming still, but tonight you welcome it. Passion as you have only experienced with one other person seems to soak into every aspect of your being. The strokes of his tongue against yours are equally coaxing and demanding, making you gasp into his mouth and quake in his arms as though you had never been touched at all.

As he kisses you, his hands slide up and own your body, blindly working your stays until the material falls off your waist and he pulls it off your body. Gathering the material of your shift up in his hands, he starts to pull it up over your hips.

It takes so little to bare yourself to him, and yet when he leans back from kissing you to take in the full sight, it feels as though you have laid the world out for him. Your world. The greatest gift you have to give is yourself, for better or worse, and this time your hands are on him instead of hiding your body from view.

"Beautiful." Oberyn praises, his hands reaching for his belt, eager to unknot it and to be as bare as you are. The need to touch you has been building since the day that you first met and even if it has not been but three days since then, it seems as if it has been a lifetime.

His garments are much simpler than yours, despite being more sumptuous, and you watch with breathless attention as he pulls open ties and buttons to rid himself of every piece. The next time you will do everything yourself without him even needing to lift a finger.

His boots are kicked off and his breeches unlaced, Oberyn looks back at you. Dark eyes roaming over your body and he smirks. "Go lay down, princess. Spread your legs and show me your beautiful cunt."

The sprawling bed is more than enough room for the two of you, and his dark eyes on you would be enough to compel you there even if his throaty voice was not so commanding. While normally you would object to being given orders, the tenor of the prince's voice when what he wants is within reach makes your pussy drip.

Your thighs spread and Oberyn groans as he sees the glistening sheen of your cunt lips coated in arousal. His own hardening cock twitching and he swaggers towards the bed with his breeches still on for a closer look.

It must be what deer feel like under a hunter's eye, but no deer has ever laid out for their hunter so easily. He knows precisely what he wants and how to achieve it, and your chest heaves, imagining this man lowering his mouth to you.

"You are like a shining star." He praises, reaching down and pushing his breeches down so he can kick them off. His cock juts up proudly and he kneels on the bed, eager to join you and touch you.

"It is hard not to feel like one when you shower me with such praise." You reach for him, already wanting him as close as can be.

Kneeling on the bed, he smirks and starts crawling towards you. "You want to consummate our vows, princess?" He asks with a growl.

"Gods...yes." He prowls closer and you seem to melt immediately in response. Breathless and covered in gooseflesh from wave after wave of arousal, if you were not already laying down you might have dropped to your knees at that question.

"I am glad you are not a shy, virginal miss." He admits, kneeling between your thighs and sliding his hands up your thighs. "So you are not shocked when I do this." He drops his head down and dives into your cunt with his tongue.

The ferocity of his resolve has your head dropping back to the pillow and a whimper crossing your lips immediately. Every encounter you have ever had has been clandestine and your own sounds of passion have always been muffled because of it. The idea that you do not have to hold back tonight is making your mind spin as much as anything else. Your knees draw up to your chest and your back arches, your body undulating with pleasure beneath him and your hands twist in the sheets on either side of you. A virginal miss you are not, but he is still only the third lover ever to touch or taste you in this way.

As much as Oberyn likes to receive pleasure, he also likes to give pleasure. Some might think it's his ego or reputation that makes him focus on his lover, but it's the sounds they make. Pulled from them by the flick of his tongue, the curl of his fingers or the thrust of his cock. "Hmmmm." He groans as he looks up at you and smirks at the rapturous look on your face as he devours your cunt.

There is no tentative exploration, no time spent delicately mapping the dips and dimples of your skin. There is only the fervent and greedy sounds of Oberyn's tongue spearing into your pussy as your soft sounds of pleasure grow slowly but steadily louder. His hands squeeze and grope your hips and thighs, coaxing you to start rolling your hips against his face. He pulls his lips away to smack them. "Enjoying yourself, princess?"

"My–" A gasp passes your lips when he licks a stripe up the length of your slit. "My husband is very p–pleased with himself." Even teasing him comes out stammered as your whole body shakes with every stroke of his talented tongue.

"Very pleased, wife." He chuckles before he reapplies himself to making your cunt cream and quiver with pleasure while you shout his name. In part to show you what he is capable of when you visit his bed, but mostly because he wanted to taste you. So he is.

The first time your hand strikes out to steady yourself against him it is a very odd sort of revelation. Raeden has never had hair on his head for as long as you have known him, and you were careful not to dislodge a single strand on Brynna's head for fear of discovery. But now? This is your husband. And a man who has made his fame as a lover, no less. So when your fingers find his hair by accident you let them explore, wondering if the prince will enjoy such a sensation.

Oberyn groans while your nails scratch against his scalp, eyes fluttering as his tongue swirls even faster. You have discovered his love of having his hair played with and his fingers dig into your hips.

"Gods." The more you explore the more he dedicates himself to his task, and your voice cracks as it raises. That familiar feeling of a knot twining around itself in your belly is building like a wildfire and you cry out wordlessly.

When you start to cry out, Oberyn is instantly addicted to the sound. Sucking your clit into his mouth, his chin gets soaked in a flood of your cum as your cunt spasms around nothing. This bliss is not unfamiliar, but it comes with an intensity this time that has you shaking and arching off of the mattress. With the freedom to be vocal you very well might cry yourself hoarse but for pleasure like this it will be exquisitely worthwhile.

He loves how your cries ring in his ears, very different from the quiet moans that he had barely heard the first night that you had stayed here. Your wedding night. Now it's loud and telling everyone who passes by that you are being pleasured in here.

When the dam breaks you feel every inch of your body tense up, spasming tightly so that even your fingers twine into his hair with fervor. The crashing waves of pleasure turn the world blank around you until you soften, going limp against the bed and sighing with the first breath you've taken since you started cumming.

Oberyn pulls his lips off your clit with a smug, satisfied smile as he watches you try to catch your breath with a soft puff of air. "Did your husband disappoint?"

"Of course not." If you could move you would be crawling down to him to return the affection but you will need at least a moment or three before you are anything but limp. "I knew you would not."

"Good." He purrs, smirking and he drops a kiss on your hip before he climbs up your body. Dropping another kiss on your lips before he caresses your cheek and shifts to lay down beside you.

The taste of your own arousal from his lips has you humming again, drawn to him and rolling over to your side to stay close to him. Your hand wanders tentatively, tracing the muscles of his chest and arms dreamily. "Are all women so similar that you know our bodies by instinct?"

"Years of practice." Oberyn chuckles, as he runs a finger down your arm and then around your nipple, looking down and watching it stiffen even more from the gentle pressure.

Your breathing turns shallow all over again, your back finding that familiar arch to chase the soft sensation of his touch. As if following it could make it more firm. "You have learned your skills well."

"Yes?" He smirks as the nipple tights even more, gooseflesh breaking out over your flesh. "You enjoy my touch, wife?" He asks softly. "You are not just enduring my touch?"

"I would never have endured any unwanted touch." That was a promise that you had made to yourself, but now you shake your head and inch closer to him on the bed. "I...cannot explain why I have felt as drawn to you as I am. But perhaps it is lucky."

"Many have been lucky." He admits, deciding that he is done teasing your nipple and he pinches it, rolling it in his fingers just harshly enough to make your breath hitch.

The feeling is sharp, shooting directly between your legs and making you shiver. "I have no trouble believing that you have entranced anyone you have ever crossed paths with."

"I wanted you from the first time we met." He confesses easily, watching you with dark eyes as he continues to pinch and pluck at your breast. "Your spine. Your defiance."

"I am far less defiant after cumming," you laugh softly. Spine, though, you have. In this moment it comes in the form of cupping your hand over his, showing him the much rougher pressure you prefer to be touched with. Featherlight touches are pleasurable to begin with, but the mornings you are sore after taking Raeden are always your favorite.

Humming delightly, he is thrilled that his lady wife is not the prim and proper miss he had feared. You like a rougher touch. "You like a little bit of pain with your pleasure, star?" He growls. "How do you like to be fucked, princess? Should I have Raeden come in here and show me?"

That suggestion conjures an image that makes you whine instinctively. Allowing yourself to accept these desires you once considered sinful encompasses more than you might have been willing to admit to yourself. "Raeden is sometimes afraid to hurt me," you admit. Though other times his passion knows no bounds. "I..." A gasp passes your lips again when his fingers twist your pebbled bud sharply. "I think...to be wanted as a woman is more pleasurable than to be worshiped on a pedestal."

"You like it rough?" His eyes flash and he leaps up to his knees to reach down and grab you by the elaborate braid that your hair is tied up in. He pulls you up, not harshly enough to hurt you but enough that you hiss.

The initial sharp sound from the back of your throat is nothing compared to the next – a vocal moan that would embarrass you if you were not so intrigued by the prince's seeming glee at this revelation. "I want to know what it is like," you tell him, chest heaving even at the thought.

"I had thought to take you slow, sweet." He admits, holding your hair and wrapping his hand around it. "But now I think the princess would like to be treated like a whore." He taunts with a grin. "So I will fuck you on your knees until your arms give out."

"You are pleased with this?" The depth of the rumble in his voice says he is, and the way he bends your back with your hair tight in his grasp. If this is how it felt to him to have your fingers in his hair a few moments ago, you fully understand how much he enjoyed it.

His cock presses against your ass as he positions you how he wants you, spreading your knees farther apart than normal, pushing you low to the bed. The smear of precum dribbles across your ass and he twitches when you moan again. "I do." He grunts. "You will look good, exhausted and dripping my cum."

The cool air washes across your skin and raises gooseflesh all over again. The way he has you positioned means your cheek is pressed into the mattress and your cunt is on full display while he takes in the view of you. "I think it will be harder to exhaust me than you expect."

"You do, hmmm?" He smirks wickedly and raises the hand that is not wrapped up in your hair. Bringing it down sharply on your ass.

"Ah!" The sound could be mistaken for pain if he was not looking at you, but the way you squirm and roll your hips back to him to ask for more is very obvious. That cry was pleasure and pain combined, the very way you hoped it would feel.

"You would not doubt me if you had been paying attention to the cries of pleasure last night." He hums, slapping your ass once, twice, three more times one right after the other.

It was not the time to listen last night, it would have angered or frustrated you rather than proving any other kind of point. But instead of saying so, you whimper eagerly and try to look over your shoulder at him. His hold on you is too tight to allow it and somehow that is even more arousing. "Prove it to me."

He puffs up his chest, his grip of your hair even tighter with the way you twist your head. With his cock, firmly in his hand, he pulls back the foreskin that covers the sensitive tip and he pushes his hips closer to line up and sink into your cunt without warning or any pause until he is buried completely in your warmth.

"GODS." He feels thicker than Raeden once he is inside you, making it not matter in the least that the prince's cock is not quite as long. Your whole body seems to shift to accommodate him and when you moan again it is pleading. More. More of this. It is exactly what you want.

He gives you long enough to cry out to the seven before he is pulling his hips back. Barely giving you time to miss the feeling of him inside you before he is snapping his hips forward and filling you again.

It is a feeling so sharp and dizzying that you are glad to be pressed into the bed with your ass in the air or else your mind might spin. The brutal pace he sets has you sobbing in pleasure and moaning at the sharp pull on your scalp. The bed creaks beneath you, and though there is no headboard to bang against the wall the frame certainly knocks against stone with every thrust.

The hand in your hair serves to keep you near, using it as if he were holding the reins and riding a horse. The swings of his hips slap against your ass and he watches your body bounce and jolt from the force of his thrusts. "You feel me now, princess." He hisses, gritting his teeth and increasing his pace.

You can feel nothing but him, and the overwhelming sensations are flooding your body to make you crave that same rough touch everywhere. While one arm braces you on the mattress, your other hand kneads your breasts and pinches harshly at your nipples, giving yourself the extra sensations your body is seeking.

Oberyn growls watching you and approving of you taking your pleasure for yourself. Once you are used to being in his bed, he will have someone bite and suck your nipples while he fucks you.

The great cacophony of sounds overtakes everything else. Every sense is his, every sound and sinful scent. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising and you relish it, hoping to ache there tomorrow as surely as you will ache between your thighs. The prince’s talent has not been exaggerated, not at all, and you are climbing that peak to pleasure again more quickly than you ever thought possible.

Oberyn rides you hard, the slap of skin filling the room, sweat glistening on his skin. He changes the pace, instead of hard and fast, it's hard and deep. He makes sure that you feel every fat inch of his cock as he pummels it into you, your back arching at every thrust when he bottoms out.

When your second peak washes over you it is more like the crashing of a great wave on the ocean. It comes with a cry of his name – perhaps now the fourth time you have ever said it and this time you feel as though it is the only word you have in you. Your body locks down on him, drawing his cock as deep inside you as you possibly can while you spasm beneath him, all the while praying for more.

As soon as your grasping cunt relaxes around him, he pulls free, letting go of your hair as he rolls you onto your back and shuffles his way between your thighs again. His cock bounces, dripping with your release and still rock hard since he has not found his own pleasure yet.

Instinct and want give way to all else tonight, and when you push up on shaky arms to kiss him it is a devouring thing that demands to be known. Your own attraction has cracked and become hunger and you will not apologize to anyone for it anymore. Not even yourself.

If he’s surprised by the ferocity of your kiss, he does not allow it to be seen. Matching it, battling with your mouth even as he is pushing his cock back through your folds and impaling you once again. Swallowing your gasp of air as he fills you again.

Being under him in any way is wonderful, you have decided, as his renewed thrusts crush you to the mattress again with a force that speaks of desire that easily equals your own. This time your arms and legs twine around him to keep his deep thrusts close and encourage him to grind his hips as far into your body as he can.

Braced above you, Oberyn's necklace swings between you as he rocks his hips forward. Crashing them into yours over and over as he grunts and groans when your cunt flutters and squeezes him.

Like the torrents of a storm-blown sea, every rock of his hips sends you reeling. There is no mercy from his force and at the same time you would not want there to be. Wordless cries from both of you flood the air as your slick bodies move together and you start to feel his thrusts grow steadily less measured.

Oberyn watches you, memorizing your face as you start to come apart underneath him again. Feeling his own end getting closer with every thrust. He shifts, grabbing your hair and pulling you up to crush his lips to yours while he pushes you over the edge again.

It is fortunate that when your body stiffens and pulses for the third time, that your mouth falls open wide instead of clamping shut, or else the slide of his tongue against yours would be cut short quite unfortunately. But instead you cling to him, kept close by his grip and your intertwined bodies, desperate for him to find his own end and feel even a morsel of the pleasure he has given you tonight.

He is desperately close, body tense and every spearing of his cock and his tongue into you is accompanied by the groan that is breathed into your mouth. Only to rip his lips away from yours to groan your name as he thrusts deep one last time and rocks his hips to grind deeper, shooting his spend deep into the hot cavern of your womb.

A deep, comforting silence falls between you as you both work to find your breath again. The only sounds for a long moment are panting and the soft sounds of endless kisses as you both float back down from your peaks together.

"No one can say you aren't properly wed." Oberyn hums cheekily, smirking as he twitches inside you and your walls grip him in reflex. "How do you feel, princess?"

“As though I will still be feeling you tomorrow.” You giggle slightly, feeling the sound come from deep in your chest. “If that is how you fuck your whores, they are all of them very lucky.”

"It is how I fuck anyone that likes it rougher." He hums. "Although I did not go quite as hard as I could have." He admits. He didn't want you to be horrified by it if you were not used to such things.

Your eyes widen slightly but the idea of more, but at the same time it sounds good enough to have you sighing. “I hope you are not too surprised at me. For that to be how we are together the first time.”

Oberyn chuckles and he leans down with a softer kiss before he pulls out of you. His body shifts and he leans on his elbow to gaze down at you with a smile. "There is nothing surprising about our needs, star." He assures you, unable to resist sliding his hand down your body to push your closing thighs back apart so his fingers can be soaked in a combination of your fluids. "It was perfect because it was honest, genuine."

Curled into his side, the fact of his fingers between your legs is an odd comfort. The fact that he is not simply turning over to sleep is not what, apparently, most women receive from their husbands. “Do you enjoy this?” You ask him, looking down at his hand with curiosity. “To feel what has come of pleasure? Wonder if another child has been made?”

"I always enjoy pleasure." He trails his wet fingers over your mound and circles your belly softly, where your womb would possibly one day house his heir. "If your tea has not been drunk, then perhaps a child has been created." His dark eyes find yours, soulful and full of interest. "If a child has been made, would you be proud?"

“I think…I think I would be, yes. Although I would probably cling to Ellaria with nerves.” He knows your apprehensions about childbirth now, and surely understands why you will be glad to have an experienced mother nearby for your confinement. “Although,” you tilt your head at him. “I am curious to know how you know about my tea.”

"There are few methods that are used to prevent children." He smirks and slides his hand back down to dip it back into your cunt to gather more of his seed. "I have brewed tea for my lover, and if you wished, I would brew it for you now." He offers softly, circling your womb again as he looks at you expectantly.

Leaving it up to you is a surprise, but you give the idea real thought now that he has given you the opportunity. The silence lingers, but finally you look up to meet his eyes and shake your head. “Let a babe take root whenever the gods will it. I will grow your heir proudly.” It is a duty, as well as this boundlessly growing affection for him, and you lift your head to kiss him softly. “Thank you for giving me a choice.”

“The choice is always yours, Princess.” He promises you softly, pleased that you are willing to see what the Gods will. It speaks to your growing bond, only three days old and he knows that he is irresistibly drawn to you. Feeling as if you were fated by the seven or the old gods themselves.

Your fingers gently stroke the long line of his cheek and that pull you feel around your heart is beginning to feel undeniable. But you smile, that soft affection lining your face, and lean up to kiss him. “We will let the gods decide, then, when your first heir is born. I will stop drinking my tea for now.”

“If you stop drinking your tea, your Raeden cannot finish inside you.” He reminds you softly. “My named heir will be of my seed.”

“I remember our agreement.” The choice is not one to be taken lightly, but it is of great importance. “It is enough that I might be able to one day bear the children of both the men I treasure. That yours must be first is a matter of more importance than just desire.”

Oberyn nods, his face filled with respect and pride at your decision. “I will not mind you carrying your soulmate’s child.” He promises. “As many as you would wish to have them bred on you.”

“We will see.” It makes him more extraordinary than you can say, that he is so willing to accept Raeden as a part of your life, and instead of trying to form that particular thought you end up kissing him again. “Thank you for what you did for him. To not have a place in his father’s House or a name he can take pride in has caused him great pain through his life. I know it means more than all seven heavens to him.”

“He is a good man.” Oberyn knows that just from his few interactions with the man. “He is honorable and honorable men deserve to feel as if they have a place in this world.”

"You are both good men." you tell him without the intention of brokering a single doubt. "And Ellaria and I are very lucky to have such soulmates."

He smiles, accepting the compliment and nods. “Handsome men.” He adds with a roguish wink.

It does not matter that he is correct – that both he and Raeden are incredibly handsome on their own and that together they present a nearly irresistible pair – you must tease him for it at least a little. "And terribly humble," you add, rolling your eyes for effect.

“Terribly.” He agrees with a grin as he leans down and kisses your jaw right before he nips it with his teeth. “Shall I tell you about all the men and women who want me? Crave my cock and my attention?” He teases. “But I wish to be right here.”

"I have watched every person you pass by fall instantly in love with you in at least some small way, and I have only known you for three days." That he wants to spend time with you is precious enough, you will not waste it with hearing of any others. When he wants to be with them, he will go to them. And if they become important enough in his life, you will surely hear their names and learn their faces. "But I am glad to know that you enjoy the time we spend together."

“I am sure there is more time to come.” Of that he is certain, feeling that it will be important as time goes on.

______

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[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 3

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst​

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.  

Rating: Explicit for violent circumstances. 18+ Word Count: 10.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* This chapter contains mentions of Elia’s assault and murder. Blunt discussions of sex. Arguing/fighting, physical violence, threats of further violence. False accusation of sexual assault.  Summary: The first meeting between Prince Oberyn Martell and his future bride goes very differently than either one of you planned, and what happens immediately afterward is quite possibly your worst nightmare come to life. Notes: It all takes place in the space of one morning, and this is an extremely busy morning...

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2

"If you tighten my stays anymore I will not be able to breathe." The problem with having your mother's maid dress you during your stay in King's landing is that she does your mother's bidding. The stays that envelope your entire middle have been strapped onto you this morning so that your posture is more like a board than a noble woman's, and though the dress that has been selected for today is lovely there is no need for this sort of binding. It fits you perfectly as it is.

"Her ladyship's orders." The maid mumbles as she slips the lavender velvet gown over your head and tends to each and every button and tie with precision before nearly forcing you down in a chair to style your hair into an elaborate series of small plaits, curls, and twists that is a far cry from the simple three-strand plait you have favored for nearly a decade. Apparently your mother has determined what you will look like today and has left no room for argument. How terribly unlike her says the petty and slightly childish voice in your head as you roll your eyes to yourself.

The breakfast invitation from the Queen Regent was unexpected, but the utter delight on both of your parents' faces made it obvious that it was unavoidable. Queen Cersei had offered to host the meal at which you will meet your intended for the very first time, and that sort of invitation is impossible to refuse.

******

“I will hide my brother’s chair once we return to Dorne.” Oberyn hisses, his normally loose and relaxed gait is more rigid, annoyed with every step he takes towards the Red Keep. “Or burn it.” His hand is firmly entwined with Ellaria’s, insisting she join him for this dreadful occasion.

"He can still give orders from his bed, my love." Ellaria shakes her head as she walks beside him. No good can come of this meal this morning. Oberyn is in a foul disposition at being summoned anywhere by a Lannister and you are certain to be cagey and snobbish after the meeting last night.

“Not if the servants are not around.” He grouses, annoyed to be woken by none other than Tywin Lannister to be ‘invited’ to this meal. Tense words and barbed meanings were bandied about and the mettle of each man was casually examined. “I have no doubt Cersei is already deep in her cup.” He snorts, wishing there had been time for a cup of his own wine before leaving the brothel.

"Yet I think even a drunk Queen would not be pleasant enough company." She has her own reasons for not wanting to be near the Keep the day before the young king's wedding, but mostly it has to do with what vexes Oberyn. He was supposed to have one more day before this betrothal became public knowledge. A day he was counting on to collect himself. And now it seems he will not have it.

“Where did you go?” Oberyn asks suddenly, squeezing her hand. “After supper last night?” Before he had met Tyrion and very satisfactorily put his dagger through the hand of a Lannister. Then fucked Littlefinger’s man since Cal had been away from the brothel.

"To obtain a gift for you." Ellaria tells him with a sultry smile. "Leyth told me of a shop that sells wares you will be most interested in. But it will not be ready for several days." Before making her way to the Coachman, she had indeed visited an artisan that crafts exquisite garments to display any kind of body. With all of the aggravations he will be suffering here in the capital, she thought it would be a pleasant surprise for him.

“You are all the gift I need.” He smirks, eyes dipping down to the deep v of her dress where her lithe body is very nearly on display. It is a gown she is comfortable in, yet would make all the other ‘ladies’ uncomfortable. Which makes it all the more amusing for Oberyn.

"But you love to unwrap your gifts," she reminds him. "And so I thought I would find some very pretty wrapping."

For the first time today, Oberyn’s eyes light up with something other than annoyance and he grips her fingers tight. “We will not be staying long.”

"A few days." It had been something he was very firm on. Oberyn did not want to stay here any longer than necessary and she would follow his desire on the subject. "But first...." The Red Keep looms as it comes closer, almost seeming to lean over so it can swallow them whole. "Into the lion's den."

“Fucking Lannisters.” Oberyn growls, trying not to imagine his beloved sister’s blood splashed over the stone floors and her crumpled, violated body laying forgotten.

"No good will come of drawing your blade this morning, my love." Though her hand does tighten around his, knowing that anything is possible.

“I make no promises.” He relaxes slightly, knowing he would not act rashly. It would put Ellaria in danger and while his paramour can protect herself, he would not do that.

"Think of your daughters left without their doting father," she reminds him as they start up the stairs of the keep. If anything happened to Oberyn, his eight bastard daughters would surely be left wanting. Doran is too proper to do more than send apologies to their mothers.

"Prince Oberyn." The footman at the door of the keep bows deeply, though he shoots a confused look in Ellaria's direction. "And...guest. Please follow me. You are expected in the gardens."

“Guest.” Oberyn chuckles under his breath, amused that Tywin hadn’t thought he would bring his paramour.

The halls of the Red Keep are narrow and damp with chill despite the warmth of the sun and Ellaria sticks to Oberyn's side as they follow the man through the maze out to the gardens on the other side. This is sure to be an unforgettable morning, no matter which way things go.

“At least I will not have to eat in that moldering pile of shit.” Oberyn grunts under his breath, rolling his shoulders back and immediately adopting a more relaxed stance than the rigid form just seconds ago. He will not allow these lions to see he does not like being here.

"Prince Oberyn." Cersei's voice is dripping with insincere joy the moment she spies gold peak around the corner of the palace walls with her footman solemnly leading the way. "How kind of you to join us this morning." Though she does not want him here any more than the Dornish Prince wanted to attend, Cersei has little choice. That little schemer Margaery Tyrell has gotten her claws into you already and Cersei cannot be left without allies. Not while her only daughter is kept under the lock and key of the Martells.

Prince Oberyn. As soon as you hear the name, you turn from examining the hydrangea bush beside you and hold your breath. If you could, you would flee. Damn the consequences and damn the danger, you would grab Raeden's hand and run. But you seem frozen to the spot as your future walks out into the garden with one hand firmly holding Ellaria Sand's.

Oberyn can hear the immediate whispers and dismisses them. The movement out of the corner of his eye is servants, scurrying to place another setting for his ‘guest’ and he musters as charming a smile as he can possibly gather. “Cersei.” He nods, purposefully not using her title. “Shall I call you queen, or dowager? I should think you relish the use of the title for one more day.”

"I believe the proper term is Queen Regent." Her teeth don't grind like the gears in her mind, but only because she commands them not to. "I gathered at supper last night that you had not yet had the fortune of meeting your betrothed, so I took it upon myself to help you toward happiness." She smiles at him, sickly sweet and insincere, and begins to lead Oberyn down the steps to where the table has been set up. Everyone with half a brain knows that Prince Oberyn never intended to marry and that he travels everywhere with his mistress. There is no possible way that this marriage was his idea, but still she has to work with what material she has.

His hand doesn’t slip from Ellaria’s, holding firm to it as he follows the queen with his jaw tight as the eyes around the table follow him closely. Dark eyes meet yours when he is halfway to you and his brow arches, surprised that you are older than he imagined and even more beautiful than the miniature portrait that Doran had provided.

There is a moment, right before his eyes find yours, that you consider running all over again. The people who called Prince Oberyn of Dorne merely handsome were foolish, lacking the vocabulary to describe such an ethereal being. He is nothing short of devastatingly magnetic, and just as you realize that he is looking directly at you the feeling that he has gone far past your eyes and into your soul is unmistakable. Only one other person in the gods' own world had ever made you swallow your heart the moment you saw them, and he has been your constant bedfellow for years.

This man is the one you have vowed never to lay with or to love. Never to bear his children or to enjoy his company. It is a cruel trick from the universe that he should be so captivating in his looks. So much so that you have forgotten to curtsy and now your mother's hand is on your shoulder trying to tug you downward. How unlucky for her that you seem to be made of stone at the moment.

“So this is the future lady wife.” Oberyn would not shame you, even as much as he might be justified in it because of his objection to the union. Your name rolls off his tongue as he feels Ellaria let go of his hand so he can take yours, bending down to kiss the back of your hand even though his own station is higher than yours at the moment. There’s something about the fear and defiance in your eyes that intrigues him. You are not some overjoyed miss, happy to have landed him as your husband. From the tightness of your eyes, you would rather be anywhere else and he can’t help but wonder where you would go.

"Your Grace, we cannot say how delighted we are to unite our families." When you cannot muster the intelligence to speak or even curtsy, your mother pushes in as delicately as her usual grace allows. "Our House's relationship with Dorne is so dear–"

“Don't lie to a prince, Mother." Even you have to admit to being shocked at yourself when those are the first words out of your mouth in his presence, but her bowing and scraping is ridiculous. Embarrassing her a little now, with the contract signed and the match already made, cannot do much but color his opinion of his future mother-in-law. "It is my Father's house that has connections to Dorne, your Grace." You still haven't curtsied, and yet now you feel like you will not just out of spite. "My mother is overjoyed you are a prince. It does not matter where you come from."

The sharp inhales from the nosey busybodies that are the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting are all that is heard for a long moment. The birds and insects are still as well, as if the entire world holds their breath for his response. Fabric rustles and your mother opens her mouth again while his eyes bore into yours. “Your Grace, I must apolo–”

Oberyn holds up his hand, the one not holding yours, to silence the decidedly shrill voice of the poisonous pit viper of a woman to your left that is currently looking as if she might faint. “Be quiet.” He orders sternly, still staring at you.

It is possibly the only time in your life that you have heard her follow an instruction the first time it was given – if at all – and you swallow thickly, wondering what he will say to being told the truth. If you could look past him even for a moment you would see the utter amusement on Ellaria's face or the drawn shock of Raeden's expression some feet away where he stands with your father, but you find yourself frozen under the prince's observation. "I was told that you did not ask for this arrangement, either, your Grace." At least you remembered to address him properly, this time, even if your voice has dropped to something quiet. "So I would not add insult to the situation by having her lie to you."

He wants you. If for nothing more than to find out if your obstinate passions extend to the bedroom. Oberyn is almost disappointed by this discovery, anticipating finding a mousy, shy wallflower that he could wed and ignore. “I did not.” He admits, although he keeps his words low enough that only you can hear them, squeezing your hand just the tiniest amount. Meant to be a comforting gesture, or at least signal that you have not blundered too badly. “So we have that in common.”

"It remains to be seen if there is anything more than that." You murmur back to him, despising yourself for the heat that you can feel coiling inside you. Animal attraction means nothing. This man is not who you have given your heart and your soul to, and you truly wish that you could communicate that to your body right now.

"Perhaps we should sit." Cersei suggests, looking between every guest in the garden and wondering how exactly this is going to work itself out. The guard that seems to follow you everywhere stands dutifully by like no more than a tentpole and the woman that Oberyn brought is most likely the paramour everyone speaks of, but this train wreck might serve as an entertaining morning before she has to return to the task of preparing for her son's wedding tomorrow.

Glancing over at your guard, Ellaria smirks, finding his eyes not watching Oberyn with hatred and distrust. Those dark eyes are hungry, blinking and letting his eyes find hers for a moment. She doesn’t know why she keeps looking at him, he’s not a threat to her lover or anyone else, but it is like she is compelled to seek out his gaze.

As wounded as your mother is, she cannot discipline you in front of a queen or a prince – let alone both at once – so she sits in the chair that your father holds out for her and smiles primly to the queen from the other end of the table. Etiquette has her sitting in between her useless husband and her insolent daughter, and across from the whore the prince has brought as his companion. A wholly unsuitable place in her mind, but at least she can reach over and pinch you soundly on the hand under the table. Surprised by the move, you nearly yank your hand away after you have been seated, almost laughing at the childishness of it. If you had a toy she might have stolen it out of spite.

Oberyn catches the movement, glancing at you and then towards your mother. Sensing that the woman is not happy with the current tone. “Despite extending the invitation personally, Lord Tywin is not attending this feast?” He asks Cersei, looking around the gardens expectantly.

"My father is spending some much needed time with his grandson the day before his wedding." Cersei answers politely before signaling to the servers to pour wine and leave the pitchers. "Tomorrow is quite a busy day, my lord. As I'm sure you can imagine. Your own nuptials will be much the same, I have no doubt."

Sucking his teeth for a moment, he flashes a bland smile. “Unlike the crown, we focus more on the celebration than the wedding.”

"Oh?" Your mother titters, trying to recover from her earlier embarrassment. "Do enlighten us."

“There is a giant feast where all are welcomed.” He informs her. “From the lowliest bastard to the highest lord. All drinking ale and eating meat pies. Dancing, music, for days.”

Despite needing to be near you for this first meeting, Raeden wishes he could plug his ears to hear no talk of this impending wedding. The most he can hope for, for the moment, is that Ellaria Sand did not poison the prince's ear against him and suggest refusing his services in Dorne.

"For days?" Your mother simpers, already starting to sip the wine that has been poured for her. "My word, that sounds very exciting."

“What do you do if the bride and groom are disinclined to dance?" If you are going to be forced into false gayety, you would prefer to know in advance. At any normal affair, dancing would be your entire occupation. But this wedding? Your own? You cannot see either of you wanting to dance with the other.

Oberyn turns his head towards you, his lips twitching slightly and he is almost amused. “The happy couple are not present.” He tells you, shrugging slightly. “They are in their chamber, doing their duty to Dorne while their people celebrate.”

That effectively shuts you up, your eyes dropping to the plate of food in front of you that suddenly holds no appeal whatsoever. This was easier when you imagined that the Prince of Dorne would be handsome to everyone in the world except you. Now that you are sat across from him and able to see down the length of his loosely tied robe to catch glimpses of deeply tanned, freckled skin, you simply hate yourself as well as the situation.

“The people are very accepting.” Ellaria feels the need to reassure you, watching as your face falls and your expression sours.

"My grandmother always spoke very warmly of her home." It is the best you can do, under the circumstances, though you are surprised that Ellaria would seek to give you any kind of comfort whatsoever. She is the most perplexing kind of woman, and you had spent too much time last night before falling asleep thinking of her. Wondering what she could possibly have considered the outcome of last night's meeting.

Oberyn nods, aware that you have a familial connection to Dorne, despite being from the Vale. “The sand and sun are warm, much warmer than here.” He huffs, reminding everyone at the table that he does not like King’s Landing.

"You will be trading your velvet for something lighter before you know it, my dear." The Queen smiles, though it does not feel warm in any way. When Cersei Lannister smiles you have a distinct impression that there is still a snake hiding behind her teeth ready to strike.

"It took the strength of twenty men to keep her from packing my entire library in her trunks," your father jokes, jovially enjoying his meal as though nothing at all is wrong. "There would not have been any room for gowns whatsoever if we had let her."

“A love of reading is not a curse.” Oberyn shrugs slightly. “I spent much of my time at the Citadel reading the great tomes before I grew bored of the idea of being a maester.”

"A love of reading is not a curse for a man." You can't help but look up, finding the prince looking around the table with a frustratingly leisurely air. "When you are a woman it is a danger and will give you unladylike thoughts. Or worse yet? Opinions of your own."

He arches a brow at your words and tilts his head towards Cersei. “You teach your women such strange things here in the North.” He comments before turning back towards you. “Dornish women are strong, opinionated and not afraid to speak.”

"Well, we have solved the mystery of why Northern men dislike Southern women." Having met Ellaria even once, you can see that strong women are at least not humbled around this one man. "They do not like to be challenged."

Oberyn snorts in amusement and leans back with his wine in his hand. “That is because the women best them in a battle of wits. Most men think with their cock, stomach or both.”

The way your mother looks absolutely affronted to hear such a word out loud nearly throws you into a fit of laughter, but you just barely manage to stifle it. "Well said, your Grace." There is a possibility, albeit a small one, that this man might not make you want to throw yourself off a cliff in frustration after all.

“Well.” Cersei’s smile is tight, frozen on her face. “Shall we eat?” She asks, trying to change the topic. “There is still much to be done today.”

Polite conversation focuses on the nuptials that are impending tomorrow, which quite brightens the queen's mood and turns your mother into a veritable lapdog simpering and agreeing with everything she says while your father says nothing at all and the prince speaks mostly to his lover. As the odd person out at the table, your only solace is that no one has commented to you on your lack of enthusiasm for eating or seemed to notice that occasionally you manage to glance over at Raeden to check in with him. He barely reacts, but the communication between the two of you has been silent for enough years now that you know there will be much to talk about the next time you find a moment alone.

“You like her, my love.” Ellaria’s voice is low, amused at the turn of events. She had thought he might be intrigued by you.

“She is…not what I thought.” Oberyn admits, glancing back at you just as you turn your head to look longingly at your guard.

"Not a wilting wallflower." Ellaria agrees, a smirk tucked into the corner of her mouth as she whispers. "And doing a very poor job of hiding how besotted with her guard she is."

His eyes slide over to the guard and he hums. “I understand her desire.” Oberyn chuckles quietly. “He would look good in our bed.”

"I found myself thinking the same." She finds her eyes drawn to the wall of a man once more, smile growing mischievously when she catches his eye before looking away. "Do you think it will be so difficult to marry her after all?" Ellaria has no fear of losing Oberyn. Their bond is too strong for that and his love too fierce, both for her and for their daughters. But adding a wife into the pattern of their lives will certainly shake things up. More than a little.

“It will be no hardship to bed her.” He watches you glance back at the guard again. “Do you think she carries his bastard?” Oberyn doesn’t care about bastards, he has eight of them that he loves very much and his own soulmate is a bastard, but he would not have you pass off someone else’s child as his.

"It is possible." She certainly wouldn't blame you, if that were the case. He is an extremely handsome man. "It would account for her family's urgency."

He grunts, watching you closely. “She is not eating.”

"Nerves." Ellaria guesses with a shrug. "Or sickness from the babe."

“I will need to know when she last bled.” He decides. “Just a lover or her soulmate?” He asks his own soulmate.

"If it is both, it will account for her anger." It's a characteristic in you that she had noticed last night. That you wear your armor of verbal barbs and half-confidence to hide fear and anger at not being able to determine your own life. She would call you a 'poor child' over it, but you are much older than either of them had expected. For her part, Ellaria is glad about that. "Will you turn her away if she is?" It would certainly be an excuse to end the arrangement, although you would be ruined for another offer.

“No.” Oberyn decides, straightening in his chair. “But she would have the babe before we wed.” Being unmarried, any child born out of wedlock would not be considered to be his legal heir, like his own bastards.

"Not quite the speedy timing that Doran bet on when he bought her for you." Ellaria shakes her head a little. Having a bastard in the north would make you a pariah. In the south, at least, the babe would have ten thousand Sand siblings.

“If she has bled, or is bleeding, we will be wed as soon as Doran wishes.” He shrugs slightly, reaching for her hand to kiss it. “What do you think of her?”

"She's very beautiful." There is no reason to deny that, not when Oberyn has eyes of his own and is already clearly intrigued by you. Instead, Ellaria squeezes his hand slightly and smiles. "And I like her spirit."

“It is surprising to see a Northern woman with a spine.” He hums, smirking slightly.

"I think she grew it in spite of everyone else," Ellaria almost giggles, amused at the thought. "But I admit. I like the look of her lover as well."

“They would both look good in our bed.” He agrees, smirking slightly when the man’s eyes drift over towards him again. “He is either going to attempt to kill me or fuck me.” He tells Ellaria. “He has not decided yet.”

“I do not think even he knows,” she hums in amusement.

The demented nature of the meal is certainly not helping anyone feel relaxed other than perhaps Oberyn and his whore, and when Cersei stands after some time longer she smiles politely. “Do stay as long as it pleases you,” she encourages, not caring whatsoever as long as she doesn’t have to suffer through it. “But there is much to attend to and I am afraid my time is demanded by many today. Good morning.”

Everyone else shoots to their feet, but Oberyn simply nods and reaches for the wine to refill his cup.

“Are you enjoying your stay in King’s Landing, your Grace?” Your father asks after a moment, resettling himself in his chair when he realizes that this morning is certainly not over.

There are many ways to answer that but Oberyn keeps himself from snorting in disdain. “Of course.” He chuckles darkly. “I always enjoy visiting the city where my sister was violently raped, her and her children brutally murdered by the Lannister’s lap dog.” His stare is intense as he looks at your father over the rim of his cup.

The entire table has the wind sucked out of it at that, with your parents looking baffled by the declaration and even Raeden's eyes widening in surprise. "I–I'm very sorry to hear that," you murmur, not even realizing that your hand is over your heart when you say it.

“You didn’t know?” Oberyn asks, lifting a brow in surprise. He would have assumed your family would have coached you in the intricacies of the Martell House. “Elia was married to Rhaegar Targaryen. Her blood was spilt in this keep during the Baratheon rebellion.” He sneers, drowning the rest of his cup and Ellaria reaches out for his wrist gently, trying to calm him.

"I know almost nothing about you." Of course there are plenty of people who know very little about their betrothed ahead of time, but it seems like in this case there should have been a few things mentioned to you in advance.

He relaxes slightly, aware that this is not your fault. “Perhaps you should take a turn around the garden.” Ellaria suggests softly. “Learn about one another.”

"What a wonderful idea. We could all–"

"I think she meant alone, Mother." You interject, having no intention of letting your mother tag along or chaperone this walk in any way, shape, or form. She has done plenty enough damage to you in your life already, the prince does not need to hear her vitriol – or worse, her false adulation.

“She should not be here.” Your mother hisses, unable to contain herself, glaring at Ellaria.

Oberyn’s eye twitches slightly and then he smiles, a twisted curl of his lips that is not handsome at all and displays his displeasure at your mother’s outburst. “My dagger is sharp enough to tame that tongue. My paramour goes wherever I decide she belongs.” He threatens quietly, eyes dark as they slide to her husband. “Control your lady wife or I will be forced to.”

"I think we can leave our daughter with her betrothed." There is nowhere your father wants to be less than around a man who makes that kind of threat, and he stands to offer his hand to his wife. "Stone." The command in his voice is firm. "Remain here and escort her ladyship back to her chambers when she is ready."

Oberyn can tell your mother has never been talked to that way and she doesn’t know how to respond. Instead of paying her any attention, he stands and kisses Ellaria’s hand before walking around the table to offer you assistance in leaving your seat.

One mark in this man's favor will be the way he does not suffer your mother's nonsense, but you still take his hand tentatively. Knowing that Raeden has been instructed to wait for you, not chaperone you, means that you will actually be alone with the prince on your walk and that gives you an unexpected twist of nerves in your stomach that you do not like at all. Apparently, instead of hating this man as you planned to, you are supremely nervous around him.

He doesn’t speak as you stand, your hand in his is surprisingly warm since he had anticipated you being cool with dread. Turning, he guides you towards the edge of the trellis that will take you away from Ellaria and your guard’s sight.

The entire situation feels uncertain, and you wish to all the gods that Raeden could still have been nearby, just for the security of his presence. What do you even speak to this man about? Should you speak at all? Your nerves truly are higher than ever this morning.

“I suppose the gardens are the only thing of true beauty in this city.” Oberyn offers, breaking the silence between you. “Though they do not compare to the water gardens in Dorne, they inspire me to write a poem for my Loreza.”

“You write poetry, my lord?” Focusing on that first, instead of cautiously inquiring who Loreza is, at least gives you hope that there may be some common ground between you. There had been no cause for hope before now.

“I do.” He smiles fondly as he looks over the flowers. “My children enjoy it when I am away.”

“And you have…several children?” The figure you have heard is eight, which has previously made you wonder. But the prince is older than you had expected and eight seems suddenly like not so large of a number.

“Eight daughters.” His smile shifts to something beaming, proud of his girls. “My Sand Snakes.” If you are going to be his wife, it is best you know now that they are not to be neglected or mistreated. “Obara, Nymeria, Tyene, Sarella, Elia, Obella, Dorea, and Loreza.”

“You are very proud of them.” A fact which you find oddly reassuring. Most lords in his position would have paid off the girls’ mothers to disappear already. “Having sisters sounds wonderful,” you offer wistfully. “I have only brothers.”

“I am the youngest of both.” Oberyn offers. “Doran and I are brothers and close, but there was a special bond between Elia and I.”

The name registers with you after hearing it three times now, and a reflexive smile tugs at your lips. “I think there must have been. Since you named one of your daughters after her.”

“Yes.” He’s surprised that you have paid attention; his eyes leaving the flowers to find you looking almost wistful at the idea of a man being so sentimental. “Is your guard your soulmate?” He asks bluntly. “Or just the man you allow between your thighs for the time?”

Your face falls, shoulders rolling in on themselves as though your youngest brother has once again head butted you in the stomach as he used to when he was at his most annoying. You could lie. That is a possibility. But you have lied about it for too long and you are certainly not ashamed of loving Raeden. Shame has never even occurred to you. “He is my soulmate, your Grace,” you nod even though your voice is quiet. If he throws you over for this it will only make him a hypocrite. “And I love him very much.”

“My paramour shares my marks.” Oberyn stops, turning towards you and understanding why you look so conflicted. Neither one of you is being given a choice. Oberyn will not be exiled from his children and you have no control over your own future as a woman and a noble. “Have you bled? Or do you carry your Stone’s bastard? Is that why your father is eager to make this match so hastily?”

“My father makes the match hastily because my mother despises me.” Honesty comes pouring out of you in a way that you cannot seem to stop. For a man that so many call violent, the prince seems to be putting you wholly at ease now. “It was her insistence to send me as far away as possible. I—I bled before we left the Vale. I am not with child, if that is your concern.”

He watches you for a long moment, your eyes not shifting away. The truth burns in them and reflects from their depths. Making you even lovelier than you first appeared. He frowns slightly and reaches out to caress your cheek, pushing back some hairs that have escaped the pins. “Then you will bring your mate back to Dorne with us when we leave.” He decides. “I am a man who does not mind sharing my lovers. I will never bar Ellaria from my bed and it would be wholly unfair of me to bar your Stone from it as well.” He smirks slightly when your eyes widen. “He is a very handsome man.”

“You mean to—” That temporary wave of comfort is replaced by naked shock as you try to wrap your mind around what the prince is suggesting. Nevermind the fact that his fingers on your face are so warm that a pinch of disappointment in yourself twists at your heart again. “He is not…inclined that way.” You finally manage to stammer out. The idea of sharing had simply not occurred to you and now you are flustered by it.

“Pity.” There’s some doubt in his mind but you are more intimate with the man than he is. “It would have made our time together much sweeter.”

“So you…you do not intend to separate us?” That thought had never passed your mind even once, always assuming that you would be forced to deny Raeden with the prince as you have been forced to deny him with your father.

“When you give birth to my heir, I expect the child to be from my seed.” He answers honestly. “I bring my paramour where I wish, she is my soulmate. The future princess of Dorne will have the same luxury.” It is simple in his mind. You will have his heir and strengthen the alliance Doran wants, then you will be free to share his bed or keep to your own with your lover. “What is his name?”

“Raeden, your Grace.” It will be your torture to deal with the fact that visiting this man’s bed does not seem horrible after meeting him, but you swallow down your guilt for now. This is about keeping your soulmate safe. Safe from the hateful hands of your mother, who would see his head on a pike if she had any real evidence of your affair. “He saved my life, years ago, and my father gave him a place in our guard as a reward, so he is Ser Raeden Stone.”

“Ser Raeden Stone.” Oberyn smirks slightly and steps closer to you. “I had been convinced that it would be impossible to bed you, to fuck you,” he admits softly. “And I am a man of great appetite.” His dark eyes flicker down to your lips for a moment but he does not lean in to steal a kiss. “Now I will be pondering how often I can convince you to join me in my bed without your Ser Raeden Stone.”

The shock must be written on your face, because he chuckles lightly when your lips move but no sound comes out right away. “You—” Even the one word cracks, and you have to long away to compose yourself. “You are entitled to demand companionship whenever you wish it, your Grace.” It is simply a fact, although not one that you agree with. But as your husband he could simply order you to his bed and that would be that.

Oberyn snorts and shakes his head. “I pay, I seduce, and extend an invitation.” He tells you. “I do not order it.” He chuckles slightly at your shock and confusion. “There are many who will jump into my bed, and do. I have no need of forcing anyone to take my cock.”

"So you would not force me?" That, if you are being completely honest with yourself, has been one of your greatest fears. The idea of forced intimacy seemed inevitable once you were made to marry.

“I would not force the lowest whore.” He scoffs. “Why would I force a woman that bears my name? If you never share my bed, you will be barren to all. As long as you do not bear your Stone’s bastards.”

"I understand." That tea that you had been drinking for years now seems more valuable than ever, and the mix of gratitude and shame for even thinking such a thing swirls in your blood like a sickness. If this prince is any indication of what men in the south are like, you will vastly prefer that setting in many ways.

He’s slightly disappointed in your reaction and he drops his hand from your face and turns to resume the walk again. “What else do you wish to know?”

He does not exactly mask his emotions well, and it is obvious to see that you have either upset or disappointed him, though what you possibly could have done wrong is beyond you. Hadn't you just said that you would obey his wishes? "When do you intend to leave once more for Dorne?" Whenever it is, it will be the last glimpse of the north you have for a very long while. Perhaps for your entire life. So you would like to be able to plan for it rather than being yanked away.

“As soon as I have recovered from the wedding celebrations.” He grunts. “I will be much pleased to put this stinking shit pile of a city behind me.”

"Is there anything you wish to know of me?" He does seem somewhat upset, and you have no wish whatsoever to anger him on this walk or make him take back any of the promises he has made you.

“When did you find out your Stone was your soulmate?” He is always curious about the dealing of soulmates. It is an intrigue that there is not more effort out into finding the people who share your marks among nobility.

"After he saved my life." Wishing that he had not taken his hand away, you clasp your own together as you walk. "The boar that intended to gut me ended up digging into his leg instead. When the scar from that wound appeared on my own thigh, I went to him immediately."

“And you have been secret lovers ever since.” He hums, finding the story to be sweet and innocent, much like you appeared to be.

"It did not start right away." You tell him, finding again that the urge to be honest is overwhelming. "His sense of propriety is admirable. But we found quickly that we could not keep away from each other."

“The bond between soulmates is irrefutable.” Oberyn can understand that. Ellaria had quickly become his sun and world after meeting her. The chance encounter that had taken her from nearly being a whore to nearly being a princess. “It is impossible to stay away from your soulmate once you know them.”

"It truly is." And you count yourself extremely lucky, in this moment, that he understands that. "Raeden is a good man, and a loyal one. Intelligent and kind. I think..." You raise your head again, bold enough to find him watching you as you walk. "It may be presumptuous to suggest, but I would hope that there could be a way for the two of you to be friendly with each other. Just as I would hope that there could be a way for me to be friendly with your soulmate." After meeting her last night you have left shaken and concerned. But first impressions are not everything.

“There is only one way to determine that.” Oberyn counters, not unkindly. “We will have to spend time together. Ellaria has already expressed an interest in learning more about you and your guard.”

"She seems very interesting." Complex was the word you had ascribed to her already and it seemed to hold true. "And you...you love her very much, I think." Which should not cloud your heart the way it does. Not when he has been so kind and open with you. "And she is the mother of some of your children. So it would be...neglectful, I think, to not extend a hand of friendship to her."

“She is a warm, compassionate woman.” Oberyn promises you. “Loyal like your Stone and loving.” He chuckles. “She also finds you fetching.”

"She is very beautiful." For your entire life you would have given almost anything to be as stunning as that. Ellaria is self-assured and magnetic. You are lucky if you can affect those things for long enough to get through a confrontation. "That is very kind of her to say...especially considering I would not blame her at all if she decided to despise me."

“She would not despise you, unless you hurt me or the children.” Ellaria is protective over those she loves, more so than over herself but she knows that Oberyn will protect her. “She knows you have no real interest in becoming my Princess.”

"If I had been allowed to choose my own destiny, I would have married Raeden long ago." There is no harm in admitting that to him, as you are certain beyond a doubt that he would have married Ellaria if he had been given the opportunity.

Oberyn hums, understanding what you mean. “The titles we bear are often burdens, even with the freedoms they allow.”

"There are as many constraints as there are advantages." You nod as you walk together. "I would not ask you to forsake her." Not that you would truly be able to stop him if that is what he desired. Most men do not take the opinions of their wives into account. "That would be unthinkably cruel, in my mind."

“Then you understand why I have no wish to separate you from your Raeden.” Oberyn states. “There needs to be more love in the world, not less.”

"I do understand. But I admit that it surprises me. Most men I have known would sooner be rid of their wife's lover." Having lost track of how long you've been walking, you find yourselves near the sea wall and the scent instantly relaxes you. "I am grateful that you do not seem to be like most men."

“I am not most men.” He assures you with a chuckle. “I would fuck your lover. Have my cock deep in his ass so you could feel me as he fills your cunt. Or share you. Each of our cocks filling one of your holes as you screamed in pleasure.”

The sheer, unbridled honesty of it stops you dead in your tracks, staring at him with the same expression of shock as if he had just confessed to murder. Although your body's response is much different – pulse jumping and blood streaking quickly through your veins making you both flustered and inexplicably aroused. "I—" As surprised as you are, he seems equally amused as more truth tumbles from your lips. "I have only ever been with him, my lord. In that way."

“Of course you have.” Oberyn doubts you are free with your cunt. If you were, you would have no issue taking Oberyn into your bed, you might have even anticipated it. “Just like I am sure you have never had a woman lick your cunt.”

Before now, having taken a lover at all made you particularly promiscuous. But now you feel positively like the most legendary of whores and liars as you shake your head. For two women to embrace would be shameful – yet according to the septa who taught you all manner of difficult lessons about this life, it is not to be compared to laying with a man. "Never." The lie tastes sour in your mouth, but it is done. The shame that you have never spoken of to anyone remains unsaid.

“It is a beautiful sight,” he promises, cock twitching under his robes. “The sight of two women giving each other pleasure. A woman knows how she likes to be touched. Just like a man knows how he likes his cock sucked.”

"And that is something...that you would...wish me to do?" It is a troubling idea to wrap your head around, and you now know that he would not force you to share anyone's bed. Not even his own. But trying to know this man better seems to include understanding his sexual appetite. In the south, perhaps, their shames are different.

“It would be something you could explore if you wished.” He corrects you. “If you wanted to be with Ellaria or another woman, a whore we bought or someone you have an interest in, there would be no rebuke.”

"It is not something that should ever have crossed the mind of a northern noblewoman." The evasive way you skirt admitting your secret seems not to phase him, thank the gods in all their heavens, and you promptly shut your mouth again so as not to ramble and expose yourself.

“I doubt you have been exposed to such things.” He hums quietly, aware of how most Northern women are raised.

"It is..." You sigh slightly. "To say that it is looked down upon would be an understatement."

“The North is so…boring.” Oberyn agrees. “Limiting pleasure and judging is not something I am a part of.”

“Then I find myself very grateful that your brother and my father made the arrangement that they did.” For all you can tell, this next chapter in your life may wind up being far less dreadful and far more freeing than you could ever have imagined. “And I will do my best not to be a disappointment to you.”

He nods but he doesn’t say anything. You seem to have decided that the marriage will be in name only and he will not fight you on that, but it is disappointing. “We will decide how to arrange things when we get back to Sunspear. My brother lives at the Water Gardens most days now.”

“Until meeting you, I was not under the impression that I would have any choice.” That is how it would have been if your parents had married you to a northern lord, anyway. “I assumed I would eat and sleep where I am told and do as my husband bids me. That is…before this morning, the only expectation I have had for my marriage.” You shrug slightly, almost shaking your head at yourself. “So you can see why I have not been exactly excited for the prospect. But you…” The words you are looking for elude you, and you end up feeling embarrassed at not being able to articulate yourself. “I am optimistic enough to hope for more than a contact, now that I have met you.”

“That remains up to you.” The table comes back into view and Oberyn smirks as he finds Ellaria leaning into a now seated Raeden as she pours him a cup of wine while she talks. He cannot hear what she is saying, but there is an air of seduction that he recognizes.

The picture in front of you would likely have tickled that reflex of jealousy in all devoted lovers if you did not have a better idea of the way the prince and his soulmate view promiscuity. Now that you have touched on the topic together even just barely, you can breathe much more easily. No one is attempting to steal away a lover or to toy with a reputation. Sex seems simply to be the Prince’s favored hobby. “We will see you both tomorrow, then?” The morning wedding is sure to be a long and tedious service, as all royal ceremonies are, but at least the company will not be bad if you are able to spend a small amount of time with him.

“Tomorrow.” Ellaria unwinds herself from her seat and stands, smirking as Oberyn strides towards her with a very hot blooded look. He’s been affected by you. The prince drags her into his arms and she moans softly when he fuses his lips to hers in a movement that reveals the frustration he must have kept hidden during your talk. Once she has him alone, she will ascertain what has caused such a reaction.

They are extremely passionate people, there is no denying that, and you clear your throat gently before stepping away to give them some semblance of privacy. Raeden had stood after Ellaria and stepped out from the table, and you are at his side like a magnet. “Did you have an interesting visit with our friend?” You ask quietly, wishing it was safe enough to kiss him as Ellaria does the prince.

Raeden’s eyes shift back towards the pair, swallowing slightly and feeling incredibly guilty for the attraction he has to both the prince and his paramour. He is drawn to Ellaria, much the same as he had been you and it is confusing. His attraction to the prince is shameful, one he tries to ignore. “She is…open.” He settles for that as he wishes he could look away from them.

"He says that she likes you." The relief you feel after speaking to the prince is overwhelming, and you almost laugh as you shake your head. "I cannot blame her for having excellent taste."

“She is a very beautiful woman.” Raeden admits, albeit reluctantly. He doesn’t ever look at other women. There is no one that could possibly compare to you, until now.

"My love." He is looking anywhere but at you, and right now you are too full of news to realize why that might be. You are taking his hands tightly in both of yours before he can draw away, despite being out in the open. "He does not intend to separate us. We will have nothing to fear in Dorne."

“Truly?” His eyes widen and finally rip away from the lovers to look at you in shock. “He— he will allow me to come with you? To continue as we are?”

Your nearly ecstatic nodding does have conditions, of course, but you squeeze his hands tightly. "He would even allow me to bear your child. It...it would not just be a dream any longer."

“How?” Raeden frowns, unable to believe a man, a husband, would allow you to bear your bastard lover’s bastard. Especially when he is a prince.

"In the usual way." Is your cheeky answer, but Raeden's face is not one of laughter and your smile falls in turn. "If I visit his bed and give him an heir, he would not shame me afterward for also bearing your child. It is far more than any other man would allow."

“No.” Raeden shakes his head. “I will not have you do that for me.” He insists, squeezing your hands. “It is– it is more than I can ask of you. I do not wish you to force yourself to lie with him.”

"Would you try to forbid me if I did it of my own free will?" The prince is extremely handsome, after all, and you are more than certain that there was some kind of clause in the marriage contract your father signed that will require you to birth an heir anyway. If you are entirely honest with yourself, it would not be a hardship to lie with the prince. Since meeting Raeden, no one had turned your head for more than a mere glance. Now you find your thoughts to be full of possibilities for pleasure.

“I–…no.” Raeden shakes his head, lifting his brows. “My love– are you– do you wish to sleep with the prince?” He asks softly and his eyes slide back to where Oberyn and Ellaria are still deep in their embrace.

"He...is very handsome." It's not an answer, but you do not know whether or not you could give an honest answer right now. Your mind is too muddled by the surprise of attraction. "But I do not know him well enough to say."

“You will be his wife.” He reminds you gently. “He can have you in his bed whenever he wishes.”

"He said he would not force me." Which is another source of great relief, as you are sure he can understand.

“He said that?” Shocked again, the caliber of the man is becoming very obvious. “He– the rumor is that he has fucked half of Westeros.”

"It seems that those conquests have all been by choice." Which makes a smile twitch at the corner of your mouth, but you shake it away. "He also said that he and Ellaria would happily welcome both of us to their bed, but I informed him that I did not think you are not inclined that way."

Raeden’s heart stops, freezing in place and stiffening as he wants to immediately protest and say yes. Shamed that it is almost gleeful in the way his cock twitches, he is glad he is not pressed against you.

"Have I–done wrong?" The way he seems to become a statue on the spot is alarming to say the least. "Are you...you did not...mention finding Ellaria attractive after our encounter last night. I did not think...?" It's surprising that you do not feel jealous, but instead worried that he might be upset with you.

“It is nothing.” He makes himself relax and shakes his head. “I was only…surprised.”

"Please do not lie to me." After feeling the compulsion to be completely honest with the prince, it is an alarming feeling to have Raeden withhold the truth.

“I–” he looks into your eyes and he shakes his head. “I cannot speak about this with you now.” He admits quietly. “I– you will not understand.”

"I would understand perfectly if you thought Ellaria was beautiful." But since you also respect the topic enough not to push it now - in public - what remains is only for you to be hurt by the idea that your soulmate does not think he can trust you with something. For the moment you can only push it away. "We will be leaving for Dorne as quickly after the wedding as the prince is ready," you tell him instead, changing the subject all together. "It may be as little as two days before we are traveling again."

“I will be ready as soon as you are.” Raeden promises. He had determined that he would be going to Dorne no matter what. Relieved that you are dropping the subject, he tries to avoid looking back at the couple as he squeezes your hands. “Where you go, I will be there.”

******

Saying a temporary goodbye to the pair from Dorne, Raeden escorts you through the halls of the Red Keep once more to the chambers that you are sharing with your parents. You have every intention of spending the rest of the day reading and repacking your trunk to be ready to leave a moment's notice – eager to be off somewhere where you would be able to love your soulmate openly and be afforded the freedom of choosing who you wish to spend your time with.

“Once you are in your rooms, I will make sure that I have my things ready.” Raeden promises you quietly. He wants to be ready whenever the prince is ready.

"The journey to Sunspear will be long, but far less tedious than the journey from the Vale." Inside again, with your parents near, you don't reach to squeeze his hand or kiss his cheek. Instead you offer Raeden a reassuring smile and move through the small sitting room to the room you have been sleeping in. Only to find it very much occupied by the last person in the world you ever want to find near your bed.

“You can leave.” Your mother spits at Raeden. “I doubt my daughter needs protecting in her chambers.”

"With you here, I very well might." You tell her honestly, but still you turn to Raeden with a resigned expression on your face. "Go and pack," you suggest to him instead. "We want to be ready as soon as the prince wishes to depart."

“How dare you talk to me that way!” Your mother screeches in utter dismay, flying to her feet and obviously ready to impose her wrath on you. “You little bitch!”

When she flies at you she obviously expects you to be either too astonished or too demure to react at all. Any of your governesses would have known better – having seen you duck away from your older brothers' torment dozens upon dozens of times. You had been plunged bodily into too many stone walls in your youth and now veer out of the way immediately so that it was your mother who collided with the wall instead of pushing you into it. "What has possessed you?" At least your voice is shocked, punctuated by a small oof when Raeden catches you before you can stumble to the ground in an effort to flee from the attack.

“You had to humiliate your father!” She bellows, even though her anger and rage has nothing to do with your father and everything to do with your embarrassment of her. “I did not raise such an opinionated bitch!”

"You did not raise me at all!" Standing again, your hand holds fast to Raeden's for security. "What is it precisely that you are accusing me of, Mother?" Presumably she is angry about being embarrassed in front of the prince, but pretending it is about your father is imbecilic.

“You made me look like a fool! Unable to keep that stupid tongue inside your head and just act like the lady you are supposed to be!” She fumes, glaring at you as if you are shit on the bottom of her shoe.

"I am very much a lady. A lady who will be the Princess of Dorne in just a few weeks' time. And so I refuse to continually be insulted by you." At this point you had expected to return to your chambers and put up with your mother's hate for only a little while longer, but the gods did not have that in mind for you, it seems. "If you were under some illusion that you would still be able to control me from across the continent, you are sorely mistaken."

“I should have drowned you the moment you slipped from my womb!” She hisses, rushing towards you again and drawing her hand back to land a vicious slap on your cheek. “I will kill you now!”

If it were the first time she had ever laid a hand on you, or the first time she had ever expressed regret at not killing you at birth, you might have been shocked. Unfortunately the impact of those vile actions had long since faded away and it is only the fact that she is running at you again that surprises you. This time it’s enough for you to burrow yourself into Raeden’s broad frame – barely moving to his side in time for him to draw his blade in her direction with the tip mere inches from her chest.

“You will stop, my lady.” His voice is deep, and firm, brokering no question or argument as fire flashes in his eyes. “I do not wish to hurt you but if it is the only way to protect her, I will have no choice.”

“Bastard.” She spits in his face and then her face freezes and the evil, manical look in her eyes blooms happily. “I will not kill you.” She tells you with a sugary sweet voice, reaching up and grabbing a sleeve of her own gown so it rips. “I will have your lover killed.” She threatens. “Beaten and beheaded in front of you to scream and mourn for all your days.” Her laugh is hollow and grating as she rips the front of her bodice and drags her hands through her hair to wreck her carefully styled look.

“I wonder how you will do that if we are not here to be commanded by you.” If you had not met him today, if you had not seen the good and just man that Oberyn Martell is with your own two eyes, you would have feared for Raeden’s life at this moment. You truly would have believed that she could get her claws deeply enough into him to take him away. Now, you know there is someplace safe that you can go. Looking back at him, you quickly grasp his free hand with determination. “We are leaving, my love.” Without a single one of your things, or his, which you’re sure she will destroy in a rage, you must go now before she has a chance to spread her vile lies.

Screaming, your mother rushes after you but in a moment of providence surely gifted by the gods, both old and new, she trips on one of the silk rugs and collapses to the floor.

“Run!” If you are lucky, you can find the prince and Ellaria before they are too far from the Red Keep. If you are even luckier, you might find your father during your escape to tell him the truth of what his wife has done. It will be up to the gods whether or not he believes you, but you will certainly be writing to your brothers just as soon as you stop shaking and find safety.

Raeden heeds your command. Holding your hand tight, he leads the way. Rushing through the halls and out of the keep through a servants door. Ignoring the turned heads as he attempts to lead you to safety, though your heavy gown makes running slower for you.

Down stairs, around corners, through paths crowded with servants and tradespeople until you are far enough away from the Keep to be certain that neither of your parents can catch up to you but equally certain that the prince is nowhere to be found.

“Did she tell you how to find them?” You are panting, not having ever run frantically for your life before, but even as you slow down you don’t stop. There can be no stopping. “Did Ellaria tell you where their lodging is?”

“She did.” Raeden nods, frowning because he is uncomfortable with where he must take you. “They are staying at a brothel in Flea Bottom.” He stops and rips his cloak off to drape over your shoulders. “You will need this to hide your finery.”

"I promise to you that when I apologize to you properly for this later, I will do everything I can to make it up to you." This decision did not only affect you, but it has torn him away from his life and his worldly possessions, as well. You may as well be bandits on the run for the punishment you would face if you were caught – for surely the uninformed observer would believe your mother's tale if you cannot reach safety before she is able to spin her web of lies for someone in authority. "But there is no time now." As soon as his cloak is around your shoulders, you are running again: as swiftly as your muscles can bear.

______

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[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 2

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.  

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 8.1k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol* References to general Joffrey fuckery, internalized guilt, fingering, hand job, vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Summary: A walk with the future queen, a moment with Raeden, and a clandestine meeting all make your first day in King’s Landing a memorable time indeed. Notes: We are creeping closer to that fateful first meeting!

Ch 1

The invitation that is delivered to your chambers several hours later is a note from Lady Margaery, addressed explicitly to you and asking you to meet her in the gardens an hour hence, that you might walk together. It is incredibly polite and deceptively friendly, but when you nod to the serving girl who delivers it you can't seem to muster any enthusiasm beyond good manners. Lit with the orange sun of the afternoon, you appear at the mouth of the gardens freshly bathed and in a clean gown, still not having eaten a morsel for days. You doubt very much that you will be able to stomach more than a few bites at dinner but since you will also be dining with the future queen, you have to at least try.

“Isn’t the evening beautiful?” Margaery asks, appearing beside you as her lady in waiting falls back so that it is just the two of you.

"It's very...warm." That isn't quite the reply she was hoping for, you know what, but nothing at all in the world seems beautiful right now. And King's Landing is significantly warmer than where you grew up in the Vale, so at least you're being honest.

Her laugh is light, tinkling out and capturing the attention of anyone nearby. Her arm is linked with yours and she tugs you forward to propel you into the gardens. “It is warm. Although the breeze along the sea wall is quite refreshing.”

"The sea is always refreshing." Your windows in your family's estate faced the cliffside, overlooking the Narrow Sea at the very tip of the Vale's Fingers. The sound of the crashing waves has long been your favorite lullaby. "Thank you for the invitation." Remembering your manners, and the fact that this woman will be queen in two days, you do manage to offer her a smile. "You must know that I have not been to King's Landing since my presentation at court, so I truly know very few in the capital."

“You are not missing much.” Margaery leans in and whispers, although it is loud enough that the lady in waiting that is walking three steps behind the two of you giggles softly. “As a future queen and princess, we must stick together, you and I.” She knocks your shoulder softly, friendliness in the gesture. “Otherwise we might expire of boredom.”

"I cannot imagine you are very bored here." Margaery Tyrell seems very fixated on the fact of who you are supposed to marry, and it makes you shudder. Surely she has better things to do than be focused on your own arrangement?

“You would be surprised.” Margaery is terrified here, afraid of misstepping but her grandmother assures her that you would be a strong ally to make. “There is not much I am in charge of…yet.” She decides to switch topics. “Have you already started planning your own wedding? Will it be in Dorne? I have never visited, however, I’ve always wished to.”

You swallow, barely keeping from biting your lip as she steers you through the lush garden. "I have not even met him yet," you admit quietly.

“Oh.” Her eyes widen in surprise, her hand tightening ever so slightly in comfort and she nods. “I see.” She hums, lowering her voice slightly. “He is quite handsome and despite what his reputation portrays, my grandmother says he is an honorable man.” She informs you, seeking to comfort you some. “He does not have rumors swirling as some do.” Her own husband-to-be, for example.

"Our family has a good relationship with Dorne. They are...quite positive that it will be beneficial to both families." There has been no regard for your happiness whatsoever, no reassurance of anything besides the fact that the Prince of Dorne will no doubt give you children as quickly as he desires. "I think, perhaps, that you know far more about the man my father promised me to than I do myself."

“I have met him.” It was long ago, when she was far younger and unconcerned with the dealing of adults and kingdoms. He had come to see if the Tyrells could be persuaded to send money and men across the sea to find the Targaryen prince and princess that were rumored to be alive. Her grandmother had declined but she had privately commended him for his efforts.

"Then you know much more than I do." When it came down to it, your father did not even have a portrait of the man to show you. All anyone can seem to say is that he is handsome, which is not at all helpful if he is a monster in some other way.

“He brought his small daughter with him.” She confides. “My father was furious because she was a Sand, but Oberyn ignored him. He had just taken the girl from her mother.” She bites her lip and leans closer. “The mother was a whore. And he was only a lad himself. Yet he did not employ a nurse for her. She went where he did.”

"I understand he has...several children?" The figure your mother had hissed at you was eight but surely that cannot be true. He would either have to be quite a lot older than you or incredibly promiscuous for that to be the case.

“From my recollection he now has eight daughters.” Margaery confirms with a small laugh. “You will be carrying your own child quickly, no doubt.”

"A fact which everyone has seen fit to assure me of." For the first time, when you turn to look at her, she seems much less a beautiful noble daughter and simply a girl. She may have met her groom already, but her situation is just as arranged as yours is and even more influential. "Forgive me if I seem less than excited," you admit, tucking your hands into the sleeves of your gown. "The arrangement is still so new to me."

“I understand.” The fact that she had been married to Renley Baratheon before his untimely death is not mentioned. Her grandmother had gone to great lengths to have that swept under the rug. She isn’t excited about marrying Joffrey. She’s dreading it, but she can’t show that. There are too many eyes and ears here in the keep. “At least his rumored skills shall bring you pleasure. There are worse things.” She shudders delicately, thinking of the time her betrothed had tortured one of the chambermaids.

"There are also more important things." For all his supposed prowess, you have yet to hear anyone claim that Prince Oberyn is a kind man or an intelligent one. "At least you know the man you are meant to marry. For all I know, I have been sold to a man who will infuriate or despise me." Love does not even cross your lips, knowing that it will be impossible. There is simply no chance that you will ever love this man. Not when your heart already belongs to Raeden.

“Prince Oberyn…admires beauty in all forms.” Margaery murmurs delicately, aware of her brother’s own interest in the man. “He loathes the Lannisters, yet Myrcella Baratheon is fostered in Dorne.” She reveals. “Where the girl is quite happy and not one hair on her golden head is molested. Plays with his younger daughters.”

"Why is Princess Myrcella in Dorne if he despises Lannisters so?" This is more information than you have ever been able to get about the man at once before and from a person that you cannot let know that you do not want to marry him. Curiosity is a virtue that you can afford to have – simply gathering information without ever expressing your own opinion on the matter.

“Peace treaty.” Margaery’s brow raises and she wonders how much you know about the history between Dorne and King’s Landings. “It was promised years ago.”

"I see." Apparently being in the Vale has left you out of a great many things as far as the ways of the world go. But then, you have never been one to enjoy politics and your father afforded you the freedom to avoid such conversations. "So it is his brother who affords her safety, then? The elder Prince of Dorne, I mean." The intricacies between brothers, at least, you understand perfectly.

“No.” The queen-to-be shakes her head, her hair swinging softly behind her. “He does not blame the child for things that happened before her birth. Or for who her parents are.”

“I see.” This time you nod when you say the words, chewing on the information you have been given. It does not make you like the man necessarily, but it is oddly comforting to hear that he is not outwardly cruel, as some men in power can be. “Well…” A stolen glance is met with Lady Margaery’s wide eyes staring back at you, as if she is trying to pull information from deep in your soul. “Mercy is a virtue,” you offer, not quite knowing what else to say.

You are not giving her much, practically nothing, and she wonders if you are in love with someone else. Margaery smiles and nods. “Yes it is.” She agrees, looking out over the gardens again, pleased that several other guests have seen the two of you together. “We shall have to visit more during your time here.” She decides. “If you are not too taken with your betrothed.” Her smirk is small and sly, slightly envious of the fact that you will be sharing the Prince’s bed.

“From what I have been told, there is no reason I should not be.” And yet? You know better. You know that every minute spent with the Prince will be one less minute with Raeden and you want to scream about the injustice of it all.

Your turn around the garden leads you straight back to the entrance and Margaery comes to a stop. “There are still several hours before dinner.” She murmurs. “Most of the staff are taking their own meals now so there are not many in the corridors.” Her eyes watch you for a moment before she tilts her head. “I believe I will go to the library and choose a book myself.”

“You have a library?” There is no reason it should surprise you, but the idea of sitting amongst books is delightful and calming, and you can easily picture bringing a borrowed book of poems back to your room to share with Raeden tonight. This is truly the first good news you’ve had all day. “Would it be presumptuous to ask to accompany you?”

Her smile is slow and sincere. "It is not presumptuous," she promises, winding her arm back through yours and starts walking again. "The library of the keep has been studiously stocked by the maesters." She tells you. "Although the Citadel has a more extensive collection."

“I think reading is better than almost anything in the world.” It is truly the most excited she has heard you about anything so far, and the first time you feel like you have truly smiled in at least a week. “But I read all of the books I brought on the journey here. Something new would be wonderful.”

"There is many to choose from." She laughs. "I will have to select a few of my favorites for you to take back to your chambers."

“How very kind of you.” She has clearly found your weakness – or at least one of them – and you cannot help but be relieved at it. So many women at court care only for gossip and fashion. To find someone else with an active mind is an unlooked for blessing. “My father has the greatest library in the Vale, and I will miss it desperately.”

“I have no doubt you will curate the greatest library in Dorne.” It’s on the tip of her tongue to inform you that Oberyn writes poetry, at least according to her grandmother, but she doesn’t want you to feel as if she is pushing the man on you.

“It would be a great pleasure.” Sitting for hours in a stack of books with Raeden and endless pots of tea is perhaps one of your greatest fantasies, but that kind of freedom has simply never existed for you. The ability to fulfill that has never been within your grasp. Still you find yourself clinging to the thought and inadvertently clinging to your companion’s arm. “Have you ever read a book that simply made you feel transformed? It is the greatest magic in the world.”

Her own experiences with magic have not been positive but she understands what you mean. Nodding, she smiles as she leads you inside the keep and towards the eastern wing. “I often lose myself in books of poetry.”

“Poetry is a wonder.” Feeling much more yourself at the prospect of books, you smile a true, broad smile as you pass through the halls of the keep. “I wrote love poems for my brothers when they were courting their wives. They were hopeless at it and begged me to help.”

Margaery laughs and sighs. “I wish someone would write poetry for me.” She admits softly before she presses her lips together. “However the king is more of a physical man.” She corrects quickly.

“Oh.” That was not a revelation you were expecting, but you try to school your expression away from surprise. “Well, there is…there can be no sin in that, can there? As you are to be married so soon.”

“We have not—” She shakes her head and shudders slightly. “The king has not attempted to woo me into his bed as of yet.” She assures you. “He is just not a man to whom flowery words are forthcoming.”

“Forgive me for misunderstanding.” The way she reacts to the mere suggestion, though, surprises you even more. There is almost an edge of revulsion to it that makes you unsure if you ought to be offering her comfort. “I am sure that in time love will help his tongue to find the words he surely feels in his heart.”

Margaery seriously doubts that Joffrey’s tongue will be anything but vile and vicious but she smiles and pretends nothing is wrong. “Love does temper the roughest stones, does it not?”

“I think so.” It brings a warmth through your whole body that could nearly make you sigh if that would not have given you away completely. Instead you clear your throat and affect a demure expression. “My brothers, for instance. They were quite rough once.”

“I see.” Margaery doesn’t ask about the momentarily dreamy expression on your face, needing you as an ally. The large double doors to the library stand sentinel and she stops in front of them. “Here it is.”

The Red Keep’s library is enormous, stretching far above your heads to a vaulted ceiling and far beyond your view to rooms and rooms of volumes just waiting and begging to be perused. The intricately carved banisters and shelves along with the elaborately decorated windows make it lavish and nearly forbidding, but that the familiar scent of old paper and bindings beckons you inside like an old friend. “How lovely,” you sigh out, looking around you with glee. “I swear it is bigger than my father’s library. It must be. I cannot possibly thank you enough for bringing me here.”

“It is my pleasure.” Margaery assures you. In the library, she doesn’t have to worry about her intended showing up here, not even sure if he knows the keep has a library. It was her safe space in a decidedly unsafe situation. “Look around. There is a lot to be offered.”

It is the most welcome invitation in the world, and you find yourself wandering toward the nearest shelf and inspecting every volume you can get your hands on to find just the right one. It doesn’t matter what the right one even is. You will know it when you find it.

******

Slipping inside the keep had been easy enough. Plenty of servants coming and going, and it was obvious that none of the nobles knew the people who served them. Cal keeps his eyes on you, the description given to him accurate down to the unhappy glaze to your eyes. The crumpled letter is in his pocket, unsure of what it says since he can’t read but after hovering outside the double doors to the library, he slips inside and starts to look for you among the shelves of books.

It seemed like not another soul inhabited this place other than you and Lady Margaery right until you nearly walked head on into a nervous-looking young man standing right in front of the next bookcase you had intended to inspect. “Oh! I— ex-excuse me. I didn’t see you there.” There are already three small books tucked into the crook of your arm and it’s a miracle that you don’t drop any of them. “Pardon me,” you murmur again, rocking back with the surprise of seeing another person.

Cal wasn’t expecting an apology, shoving his hand into his breeches pocket and thrusting the folded and sealed letter into your hand. “My lady.” He mumbles, turning around and rushing from the library. He had done as he was ordered. He had delivered the message.

It’s all a little too odd, and you stare after him for a moment before looking down at the carefully folded piece of paper in your hand with its bright orange wax seal. There is no mistaking that your name is scrawled beautifully on the front, so you crack the seal with careful hands and unfold the letter.

The privilege of your company is requested after supper time this evening to share wine and entertainment at the Coachman’s Tavern. We have much to discuss, Ellaria Sand

“Who…?” You breathe the question out loud but realize there is no one to answer you. Who in the world is Ellaria Sand?

******

Raeden’s boots strike the stone floors harshly as he strides towards the library. The lady-in-waiting, mistress Mariana Tyrell, had informed him that you had been shown the library but he needs to speak to you. His position as your guard would not cause too much attention, but he must warn you.

Still standing with a dumbstruck look and a letter in your hand when the library doors open again, you turn from your place in the stacks to look out into the main room. “Ser Raeden.” He is a sight for sore eyes at any time, but as you come out from amongst the stacks of books you can see Lady Margaery emerge as well. “Am I called for?” You ask him, wondering if maybe your parents wanted to know how your walk went and sent him to fetch you.

Pulling himself to a halt in front of you, he bows. “Yes, my lady.” He lies, needing to get you alone. “Your lady mother requests your presence.”

“How unfortunate.” At least your frown is not at all false, and you turn to Margaery with an apology on your tongue. “Lady Margaery Tyrell, this is my guard, Ser Raeden Stone. Come to whisk me back to my mother’s side, it seems. Thank you for your kindness, I hope this time together can be repeated before long.” After all, a walk in a garden and a visit to the keep library is a very pleasant way to pass an afternoon, and she is to be queen. You are not foolish enough to think you should not be kindness itself to her.

“Go.” Margaery nods towards your guard, her lips twisted into a small curve. “We will visit again.” She decides. “Soon.”

Striding from the library at Raeden’s side, you wait until you are well past the doors before looking up at him again. “What is it really?” You ask him as quietly as you can. “You look worried.”

“Not until we are in your room.” Raeden insists, his eyes shifting around as he guides you back towards your chambers.

The tense walk seems to take forever and you find your mind wandering to the worst possible news. Prince Oberyn has decided you will wed immediately being at the top of the list.

He opens the door to your chambers, blessedly one that you do not have to share with your mother or maid. Hustling you inside and barring the door behind him. “Your mother knows.” He rushes out without preamble.

“She only thinks she knows something.” Because you haven’t had a moment alone with him, you haven’t been able to tell him what transpired in the carriage on the way here. “She tried to frighten me into saying something but I swear I didn’t give us away, love. We’re still safe.”

“No.” Raeden shakes his head, taking your books and dropping them on the table where a floral arrangement is sitting so he can take your hands. “She– she called me to her chambers.”

“Gods above.” His fingers laced through yours immediately and you hold them tight. “What did she say?”

“She informed me that she knows that we have the same marks, and she will make sure that I am dragged back to the Vale with her, naked and tied to the wagon if I interfere with your marriage to the prince of Dorne.” He shudders, scowling at the hateful diatribe he had been subjected to.

"I am sure she said a great deal worse than that." And yet that is enough. You pull him into your arms with a deep sigh and hold him there, knowing that this is no one's fault but your own. "She has scared you because she could not scare me. I would not cower before her in the carriage when she threatened to take you back to the Vale if I misbehaved, so she struck out at you instead. I...my love, I am so sorry."

“I am not.” Raeden shakes his head. “Your mother is a vile woman, but I needed to make sure you know what I do.” He sighs, understanding why you had not been able to tell him about the carriage ride, but he wishes you had. He would not have panicked.

"I am sorry I could not tell you. It seems nearly impossible to have privacy here." That, it occurs to you, is no excuse for not finding a way. But at least it is honest.

“How do you think she found out?” He murmurs, frowning slightly. “I do not change in front of the men.”

"The only possibility is my maid." It had not occurred to you that there might be more than just the reason of her family to stay behind, or that she might have lied to you about being pregnant, but she is the only one who knew.

“It is possible your mother threatened her, my love.” He knows how repulsive your mother can act, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Whatever happened, my mother's grasping fingers have dug into our lives with certainty." You sigh, tightening your arms around his waist. "What did you say to her? When she confronted you?"

“Nothing.” He promises you. “I said that my lady was mistaken and as your guard, my duty is to protect you with my sword and life.”

"I think you must be the only truly loyal man in the world." It is a relief to know that he gave your mother no satisfaction in her prying, and you tilt your head back to slot your lips against his gratefully.

The mere act of kissing you does more to calm him than anything else could have. Groaning, he pulls you closer to him and lets his hands roam.

"My love..." Who knows who saw him come into this room with you – if your odious mother has paid off the castle servants to spy already. If some spying laundress is already running off to give her an account of a man's moan coming from inside your chamber. "Rae." It is not often that you stop him from free exploration of your body, but caution is in the air now. "There is something else I must tell you."

“What is it?” He pulls away, confusion marring his handsome face. It has been days since he had been close enough to touch you and he is aching with the need to reassure himself of your bond.

"A messenger found me in the library just before you did." Either for comfort or because you cannot resist, you kiss him once more before fishing the letter out of the pocket of your dress. "I have no idea who it is from, but it is very clearly addressed to me."

“What does it say?” He can read, but it is your letter and he would not pry unless you offered it to him.

"Someone named Ellaria Sand wants to meet me." You press the letter into his hand, wondering what he will think of it. "It is certainly an enigmatic invitation."

“Who is Ellaria Sand?” Raedon asks, taking the letter and reading it carefully. “She’s a bastard. Sand is the surname for bastards in Dorne.”

"Dorne?" Fear flits across your face in equal measure with confusion. "She may be an enemy. Or an ally. There is no way to know."

“Are you going?” He asks, looking up from the letter to you. “To see what this Ellaria Sand wants? I will be with you.”

"I was going to ask you what you thought I should do." His sense of the world is more defined than yours. More informed. There are many things that you have been shielded from in your life, and he has been one of those shields. "I trust you, love. Implicitly. Whatever you think we should do, we will do."

“I think you should see what she wants.” Raeden answers slowly. “There are many games afoot here in King’s Landing, it is best we know which one you will be involved in.”

"And you will come with me?" Going anywhere in this city entirely alone is not only foolish but dangerous. Which is precisely why you have a guard in the first place – for your protection. "Wherever this Coachman's Tavern is, I have an inkling that it is not in the most reputable part of the capital."

He nods once. “I will not leave your side. I will be with you the entire time, my lady.”

"Rae." You tilt your head at him. "We are alone. There is no need for formalities."

Biting his lip, he contemplates pulling away, leaving your chambers – but he can’t. “My love–” he murmurs softly. “Let me touch you.”

"We must be quiet." That is the only warning you give him before tossing the letter aside and moving to the door to bar it. If anyone has seen him come in, large excuses will have to be made. But as long as nothing is heard, you will be safe.

His eyes darken as he reaches for his belt to untie his sword. “My love.” He murmurs quietly. “I have missed you.”

"I despise travel," you declare, firmly but barely on a whisper as you fairly fly across the room to be back in his arms. "I despise anything that keeps us apart." Unbuttoning his great coat, he doesn’t bother to remind you that soon you will be parted. He cannot know how the prince will react to him being your soulmate.

"Too many layers." Your hands may be smaller but they are determined to shed every layer he is wearing, from his coat down to his stockings. Every button and tie offends you by being in your way. "My love..." The request is unspoken, granted as soon as you look up at him and his lips crash against yours once more.

There have been so many times he has prayed to the gods for forgiveness. He knows that he is wronging you by staining your skin with his touch, but he cannot help himself. You are his soulmate, his other half. He feels complete when he is skin to skin with you.

Nothing can make two people faster to bare themselves than the need for reassurance, and this moment is no exception. Stripped down to nothing, Raeden lifts you off your feet and lays you out on the bed like a feast to be devoured. "Love." The term is reverent even when whispered – or perhaps more so this way – and you reach for him even as you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation. "Touch me. Please."

Nights spent in your bed, quietly stifling your sounds as he learns your body, has made him an expert on how to touch you. He kisses you slowly, sliding his tongue into your mouth as his fingers delve into your folds beneath the thatch of curls covering your cunt.

He swallows your gasp, humming in contentment that you still make such perfect sounds after so many nights together, and you shamelessly roll your hips down toward his hand in a determined motion. His thick fingers are the only possible preparation for a cock as impressive as his and you relish these early moments of intimacy as much as any other time. Sometimes all you need to be satisfied is to have his fingers or his tongue and then to kiss away your essence from his lips afterward. But today you need all of him. After weeks without being able to so much as touch him, you are desperate for him.

The hard muscles from hours of training and practice bunch and coil under your fingertips as he fingers you. His cock already hard at your hip, pulsing as he continues to kiss you. Breaking away from your lips to kiss down your jaw.

Every inch of him is worth exploring, but your focus is entirely on pleasing him right now. Your hand wraps around his cock, squeezing the base and stroking slowly up and down the shaft with a subtle twist of your wrist that never fails to make him shudder. The game is simple: whichever one of you breaks first will inevitably end up begging for the other, or pushing the other onto their back to be taken with pleasure.

“I love you.” Your name is whispered after his promise, his vow to you. You are so perfect, his hips chase the feeling of your hand as his fingers curl up inside you and he kisses down your chest to take one nipple into his mouth.

"I love you." When your hips roll up to meet his hand you let out a shaky breath and your other hand clutches his shoulder, holding him to your chest while his tongue swirls around your pebbled bud and flicks at it like he's trying to spark magic. Perhaps he is – if that were his goal then it is certainly magical the way he makes your legs shake with an impending climax.

It is always sweet the way that your body responds to his touch. Making him grin against your nipple as your hand covers your mouth to stifle your sounds. He knows your body so well that it may as well be his instrument, and he strums you as perfectly as any harpist does their strings. It takes biting down on your own fingers tonight to stifle the sound of ecstasy that threatens to bubble out of you, but your body greedily drags him in in every way that it can. Back arching to urge him to devour your tits, cunt clenching to keep his hand from ever leaving your body again, even your hand tensing around his length to promise him how tight you will hold that wondrous part of him inside you when he does eventually take his hand away.

Making you come apart for him is Raeden’s favorite task. If he were a lord, an idle and wealthy man, he would spend all day with you in bed. Or perhaps go about his business with your trembling body responding to his touch. In the darkest, most shameful thoughts in his mind, he thinks about that. Displaying you for others in the great hall while his fingers or cock are buried inside you and your screams of his name are echoing through the halls.

There can’t be any echo here, no cry of his name reverberating through the keep for all to hear, but you still come apart for him as sharply as if you were under command. It isn’t enough. Not tonight, at least, and you squirm under him like a needy beast already begging for more. “What do you need, my love?” He asks, pulling off your nipple with a wet pop. His eyes are onyx from need and desire, staring up at you.

“You.” The answer may be simple, but the need runs deep, and you have to swallow a moan when your muscles tighten around his fingers again and a gorgeous squelching noise comes back as a result. “Will you let me ride you, love?”

“Always.” Raeden groans, loving the sight of you on top of him. He is not exactly dominant and when you take control, he is blissed out by the time he cums. “Have you taken your tea, or do you need to pull off?”

“I have had my tea.” The recipe was taught to you by your septa years ago. The woman was no fool, teaching you to understand that men who seek to control a woman do it very often by controlling her womb. The tea, therefore, has been your constant companion even when you are too sick for anything else.

He groans, enjoying the thought of staying inside you as he finishes. “Ride me.” He begs, rolling over and dragging you on top of him.

“Shhhh.” Playfully chiding him to keep his beautiful groans quiet, you bracket his hips with your knees and rise up to set the head of his cock at your dripping slit. His hands on your back steady you, holding you in position while you sink down on him and your mouth drops open on a silent moan of pleasure to feel every inch of him inside you again.

His fingers dig into your hips and he bites his lips to stifle his moans. “Shit.”

Going two full weeks without this should be considered torture, but the feeling of coming home to him that you feel makes all of the stress and anxiety melt away. This is where you belong, coupled together with this man, and there is no more natural a feeling to be felt. Love may not always be simple or pure, but these moments together certainly are.

Holding his breath, Raeden watches as you start to move. Sex with you has been almost a religious experience for him. The rise and fall is like a dance, hips seeking out every ounce of pressure they can find and chasing every motion that makes his breath hitch. He has learned your body as well as you have learned his and every movement counts for more than just a simple bounce.

It is hard to keep his hips on the bed, grunting softly while you bounce on his cock. Drinking in the vision and knowing that for now, you are his. One hand reaches up and cups your breast, fingers rolling over your pebbled nipple just like you enjoy and he tugs on it gently.

Some nights could be spent forever in his lap like this, while others must be shorter encounters. Today there is some luxury to be had, but the need is too great. Every day that you spent apart had made you more desperate and that second climax tingling at the base of your spine is already so close.

“You are mine.” He needs to claim you, even if it is for a moment. A fleeting sensation that will be overcome by duty. Soulmates didn’t matter among the nobility unless it was an advantage and Raeden Stone was of no use to your father.

"Always." No matter if another man's ring sat on your finger, your heart will always belong to him. And in the face of the terrible reality that your decisions are not your own? At least you can promise him that.

He hasn’t met Oberyn Martell, but he is jealous of him. Jealous that you will be his spouse and bear his name. That he has a name to give you that is respectable. He closes his eyes and bites his lip.

"My love..." Bending down to him does not stop you from moving, only changes the angle, and you press your lips to his with earnest dedication. As much lust as there is in his eyes, it is mixed with a sadness that you know is your fault and your desperation veers away from your own pleasure in order to bring him as much distraction and satisfaction as you possibly can.

“Don’t.” He huffs quietly. “We know what we mean to each other.” He promises, knowing this is not your choice.

"What we will always mean to each other." Dread floods you, sickeningly thick sadness that makes your limbs heavy and washes arousal away like a cold flood. Instead of the twist of pleasure it's just agony, and you can see it painted across Raeden's face as well, so you slip off of him and burrow into his side to cling to him instead. "I will always love you," you promise him through the veil of impending tears. "Nothing will change that."

He can’t think about this, can’t dwell on it. Rolling you onto your back, he parts your thighs and settles between them before pushing back inside you, “Nothing.” He hisses.

The need for reassurance can have many essences to it, and this one rings the edges of your intimacy to make it lovemaking. His thrusts are slow and measured, pushing you steadily to the edge and toppling over it after you like his last night of life.

Raeden can’t make it hard and fast. He needs this to rip apart the very fabric of his being. Gasping your name with every slow rock of his hips, he kisses every inch of skin he can reach.

When the trembling finally subsides neither one of you will let go. If a sinkhole opened under King's Landing in this instant you would fall into it together as one, arms clinging tightly to each other and dreading it less than you dread the eventual meeting with Prince Oberyn. Tomorrow will be a horrible reality, and for all you know, the Dornish woman you meet tonight might only make it worse.

“I love you.” He murmurs quietly, meant for your ears only. “Only you. You are my soul, my entire reason for being here.”

"As I love you." Your fingers graze his cheek and for the moment a sad smile is the best that you can offer him. "To the furthest depths of the ocean and the highest peak of the sky."

“From now until the gods take me.” Raeden promises, pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

******

The Coachman's Tavern is just an ordinary building of white and gray from the outside. It signifies nothing, just stone and plaster with a painted sign that hangs over the door to tell travelers they can find shelter inside. The only thing of interest or note that you or Raeden can find as you approach is the sound of music coming from inside and stamping – perhaps meaning there is dancing to be had. The invitation had spoken of entertainment after all.

Ellaria sits at the table she had procured for this meeting, a carafe of wine and two goblets are already sitting, wine poured into the one in front of her. It’s not Dornish, so it’s not nearly as good as what she usually drinks, but a glass to settle her nerves is necessary right now.

No one seems to pay you any mind when you come into the tavern, seeing you and Raeden simply as hooded travelers seeking food or shelter like anyone else. Sneaking out of the keep had been task enough, but now you have to find a woman you have never met in a building full of strangers. As your father says – it is a search for a needle in a haystack. "Which one do you think it is?" You whisper to Raeden, looking around the tavern to find any women sitting alone. Perhaps she did not come alone just as you did not?

The small oil portrait that Oberyn had been provided was accurate, if dated. You are older, more assured than the slightly meek countenance in the portrait. Smiling, Ellaria beckons the serving wench over and points to you, instructing her to send you and the delectable man following you over to her table.

"Miss?" The girl who approaches you is significantly younger than you but arguably far more sure of herself, and she offers you a keen smile when she catches your attention. "The lady in the corner is waiting for you," she says before swanning away to the attention of a table of men near the instruments being played.

The lady in the corner.

You look to where she has pointed immediately and find a beautifully dressed goddess of a woman with a curtain of pitch black curls cascading down her back, sitting at a table that bears two goblets and a pitcher of something that you have to presume to be wine. "My word..." The breath you take is tight with nerves and you look back at Raeden. "I suppose now we will finally find out what she wants."

"And who she is." Raeden murmurs, nodding once. He will follow wherever you go, and in this moment you are already moving toward the table where Ellaria Sand is sitting.

Her eyes sharpen when you look her way, wariness and apprehension are written on your features, though you are lovely. Humming to herself, Ellaria straightens and waves you forward, smirking slightly at the protective stance of the gorgeously dark man behind you. She wants to know more about him. Instantly heated and her cunt clenching when she imagines this soldier, this protector in hers and Oberyn’s bed.

"Ellaria Sand?" If your look of concern gives you away, your voice certainly does not. It is the same voice you use with your mother when she is being particularly combative, or with your oldest brother's wife when she attempts to command you about like a child despite being five years younger than you. It is a voice full of confidence, though right now it is at least half feigned.

Her brow arches up, surprised that there is a spine underneath that robe and dress. Nodding, she motions to the free seat and glances at Raeden. “Apologies, I had assumed this would be a private meeting. Please, pull up another chair for your companion.”

"This is as private a meeting as is possible," you assure her, biting back a smile when Raeden is quick to find his own stool instead of letting you find one for him. "I travel with a guard instead of a lady's maid. Anything that would be said to me can be said in front of him."

Quiet for a moment, Ellaria’s eyes flutter back and forth between the two of you before she nods. Looking past you, she beckons the wench again and smirks. “Another cup.” She asks softly, reaching for her coin purse to offer her another coin.

A cup is procured and wine is poured, but you don't touch the cup. You have no more information now than you did hours ago when her servant sought you out, except that you now know she is exquisite. A fact which does not exactly figure into this clandestine meeting. "Can I know what you have asked me here to discuss?" You ask, trying to be polite but also make the point that you have no wish for this time to be wasted. "Your note made it sound most urgent."

“To the point.” Ellaria smirks, her goblet inches from her lips to take a small sip. “And fuckable. That is a relief. Although you are unhappy about the arrangement.”

"I beg your pardon?" There is shock in your voice and Raeden's seat scrapes against the stone floor, already not liking the way this night is turning despite the woman's self-assured countenance having given him less pause than expected when you walked in.

“You are not prudish, are you?” She tuts, clicking her tongue and shaking her head in disappointment at the idea that you would be as boring as the other ladies of the North. “Pity.” Setting her goblet down, the lazy way she unfurls her body is measured. “I am Oberyn’s…lover.” She announces. “And his soulmate.”

That is, without a doubt, the very last thing you expected to hear from this woman, and instantly your eyes widen and you turn back to look to Raeden for some kind of guidance. You feel like your jaw has been unhinged and your heart clenched in a vice, though you cannot tell if it is from dread or relief. "I was..." But whatever you were, or whatever you intended to say, it sticks in your throat.

"My lady was under the impression the prince had many lovers." Raeden recovers his voice before you do, reading your mind as only he is able. The matter of her being the man's soulmate will be next.

“Oh,” Ellaria chuckles huskily, “but he does. Sometimes just the whores we pick out, sometimes a lover that is with us for some time.” She smirks and eyes Raeden and you both with equal interest.

“If your intention was to try to make me jealous, I’m afraid you will not be satisfied.” Confused, more like. As you do not know why she keeps looking at you like a roast beast at banquet. “You must be well aware that I have not even met the prince yet.”

“I know. Just like I know your own lover sits beside you.” She murmurs, smirking slightly at the way you frown and bite at your lip.

“What is it you want?” Raeden bites out, when you do nothing to refute the woman. If word about the two of you has gotten out, it could spell ruin for both of you – putting both your reputation and his life on the line.

“To see what kind of woman my lover will be chained to.” She admits very bluntly, picking up her own wine again. “He had no desire to marry your…soulmate? Or just a lover?”

“I have no desire to marry him, either.” That, at least, you have in common and it makes you sit up a little straighter. “Do you mean to tell me that we were both strong-armed into this match?”

“The problem with nobility is that you are bound by the rules that make you better.” Ellaria shrugs slightly, unconcerned with that since she had always been a bastard. “Whereas I and your lover are not.”

“You presume to know quite a lot about us.” Something which troubles you much more than you are willing to admit. Have you truly been so blinded by love that you did not see the signs you gave to the world? “Spies in the Red Keep, I assume?”

“It is obvious.” Ellaria sends you a tight, woman-to-woman smile. “Oberyn has no issue telling the world that I am his lover, I have birthed four of his children. Though I can see why you would keep your affair a secret.” She flicks her hand in annoyance. “If you were a whore, no one would care who you fuck. But because your person was pushed from a noble woman’s cunt, your existence is monitored, judged.” Her smile turned acidic. “It is a man’s world. Unless you know how to move in it.”

"And yet the only thing I can protect her with is my sword." Raeden cannot explain the feeling, because he would normally bristle at the sort of attitude this woman is displaying, but aside from knowing that she is right, there is a surety somewhere deep in his soul that she can help. Or at least that she is not actively seeking to hurt you, which is far more than you have been afforded by your own mother.

“Protect her?” Ellaria hums and takes another sip of her wine as she contemplates the two of you. “There is no need in Dorne.” She assures him. “Unless your sword is your cock–” she chuckles. “And then I hope you will share.” Draining the rest of her cup, she stands and sets down four more gold coins. “This was much needed.” She tells you. “Now I must return to my lover’s arm.” She smirks. “Good eve to you both.”

______

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[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 4

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst​

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.    

Rating: Explicit for violent circumstances.18+ Word Count: 10.2k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* Groping, ogling, plenty of references to sex. Hurt/comfort, half truths, angst, protective instincts are very high. Summary: The afternoon after meeting your betrothed is arguably even more eventful than the morning was, but in a very different way.  Notes: We are in it deep now, my dears! Secrets being kept, truths being revealed, and a big step forward that will open up a whole new world of possibilities for our two pairs of lovers.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3

Things are lusty right off the bat this chapter, so we begin under the cut...

“You look like the cat who got the cream, my love.” Oberyn drags his nose against Ellaria’s shoulder and places a kiss on it as he pulls the shoulder of the revealing dress down. The whores are on their way and the wine carafe has been filled, along with the table of refreshments that Oberyn required. It was going to be an entertaining time. “Are you imagining Cal’s cock or my own?”

“Stone’s,” she tells him with a hum, unembarrassed and unashamed. The allure of the man is so great that she has been thinking of him since last night though Oberyn still has no idea of the invitation she sent you.

“He is gorgeous.” Oberyn’s tone is one of regret, since you have indicated that he would not be open to exploring sexual pleasures with him. “Almost as breathtaking as you.” His hand slides up to cup her breast, the small mound filling his hand and he squeezes. “You will look good on his cock.” He has no doubt that Ellaria will end up with the man between her thighs, he had recognized the desire in the other man’s eyes when returning you to him.

"I hope he plays well." The deep chuckle from the back of Ellaria's throat becomes a quiet moan as his large hand gropes at her skin and she smirks at Oberyn. "He will be an excellent sparring partner for you."

“We will have to spar outside the bed, I am afraid.” Her nipple pebbles beautifully and he enjoys the throaty whimper she gives him when he rolls it between his fingers.

The pronounced pout on Ellaria’s lips comes with heavy doubt, and she looks down at her lover as she swings one leg over his lap to straddle him. “She is not willing to share him?”

The other hand comes to hold onto her ass, dragging her closer to him. “He is not inclined to have a cock in his ass or mouth.”

“Or at least he has not told her that he desires it.” Ellaria tuts as she settles herself in his lap. “In the North they shame men for far less, my love. You know this.”

“This is true.” He acknowledges, letting go of her tit so he can slap it lightly. “We shall see if he will be intrigued enough to admit it if it is a secret.”

The small act of dominance is not unusual for Oberyn but Ellaria still still smirks while she unties her dress and lets it hang open for him. “What about her, my heart? You have not told me about your walk yet.” You may not be enough to be considered competition, but she is interested in you. You represent a great change in Oberyn’s life, and therefore hers as well.

“She is…” Oberyn frowns slightly and gropes her again greedily. “Not what I expected.” He admits. “She has spirit for a Northern lady. And she freely admitted to fucking her lover.” Looking back it had surprised him because despite everything, she could still be punished for not being innocent. Not that Oberyn cares about the falsities of purity.

“I doubt she said those words.” She might have a touch more of respect for you if you did. The way you hold yourself is strong. You have confidence but not about everything. And certainly not about your desires. Hopefully you will mature beyond the shame that was used to control you in the North. “I can only say that I am glad she has some spine. The father had none at all.”

“The father is a sniveling coward, controlled by his wife’s cold cunt.” Oberyn snorts, having decided the woman is a bitch, one that he would have struck if she had been his. The disrespect for him and her daughter was appalling. “He should get his balls untangled from her purse strings.”

"It may be an irreversible condition," Ellaria huffs and shakes her head. "Frozen balls, cold cunt, greedy hearts."

“Mmmmhmm.” Oberyn leans in and captures her lips again in a hungry kiss, tired of talking about people who are inconsequential to him. Once you are married, he will not have to deal with them again.

The sound of a woman clearing her throat is loud enough from the doorway to bring the lovers out of their moment of passion and Leyth is standing in the doorway looking apprehensive when they finally turn their attention to her. "Your Grace..." she clears her throat again, this time out of nerves. "You have visitors."

Oberyn hums, not terribly concerned with it, assuming Tyrion had sent the whores he had spoken of so fondly. “Send them in.” He orders, turning his attention back to his lover’s breasts. “And when you are cleaned up, you and Cal will also join us.”

"Yes, your Grace." She has a feeling that the prince will be slightly less inclined to pleasure after he has received these urgent guests, but she doesn't have a chance to say so.

Hearing Oberyn's voice and his permission to enter, you burst past the girl who announced you – serving girl or whore, it makes no difference to you – with Raeden following immediately behind you. With barely enough time to catch your breath and knowing what you're about to ask of him, this time when you enter Prince Oberyn's presence you drop into a deep curtsy. Groveling, you can hear your septa's voice in your mind. Only worms grovel. Well...perhaps that is what you are. You cannot tell anymore. "I am sorry to disturb you, Prince Oberyn. We would not have come if it was not absolutely necessary."

Oberyn’s mouth had just wrapped around Ellaria’s nipple when he hears your voice. Turning his eyes, he finds your Ser Raeden Stone staring at him in shock as your own head pops up from your curtsy.

"I—" There is no second syllable or word, whatever you had meant to say immediately dying on your lips as you look away in embarrassment.

"Sadly it does not seem to be a visit for pleasure," Ellaria observes. The pair of you are flustered and winded, and there is fear in your eyes.

Oberyn pulls off her tit with an unhappy pop, eyes curious as they take in his intended bride and her soulmate. “I see.” He motions to Leyth. “Pour our guests some wine.” He orders. “They look like they are parched.”

Leyth moves wordlessly, pouring wine into goblets and disappearing with the mostly empty vessel to fetch more, and you swallow your fear even as it makes you feel sick to your stomach. "We need to speak to you." Nothing else can come first. No pleasantries or flattery or anything else. There is no time. "I am afraid...it is a matter of life or death."

“Life or death.” His brow arches up and he pats Ellaria’s hip softly to urge her to lift off of him. His hand runs up to cover her back up, even though he doesn’t mind others seeing her. You, however, might object.

"I am afraid so." With no one else in the room, the one thing you are not afraid of is reaching back for Raeden's hand. "If it were only my life that my mother had threatened, I might not have considered it a very serious thing, but..." As much as you hate her, the idea that she has finally cracked and gone mad is not an easy one to swallow.

Raeden squeezes your hand, nodding subtly and raising his eyes to the prince and his paramour. "She attacked my lady when we returned to her chambers. And intends to spread the lie that I forced myself on her. They will hang me for it, your Grace, regardless of the truth. Unless you are willing to shelter us."

Oberyn pauses, his own wine cup almost to his lips. His eyes flicker to Ellaria and he pulls the cup down. “Those are grave accusations.” He agrees. “Your neck would be stretched before the sun rises.” He is shocked to see you here, but now he understands why you would show up to the brothel with your soulmate’s life in danger.

"She is angry that I was disrespectful to her this morning." You never would have thought she was capable of being so intentionally cruel before, but the last few weeks have been eye-opening on that front. "But her anger is far beyond anything I have seen before. She tore her dress and pulled her hair and announced to us what she planned to say."

“Spiteful cunt.” Oberyn snorts and shakes his head, aware that the mere accusation alone would tear you from your soulmate. Something that would be well within his right, as well, as your future lord husband. “What will you ask of me?” He asks. “Prepare you a room? That is easily done.” He turns to see where Leyth has skittered off to.

"Raeden is under my family's thumb as long as I remain their property." What you have to ask of him is far more than you were prepared for an hour ago – and arguably more than you are prepared for even now. But to save your soulmate's life? You would do anything. You would give your own life for Raeden. Or, in this case, your freedom. "But he is pledged to my safety." Hands trembling, you manage to raise your chin and find Oberyn's eyes in the sunlight that streams in through the windows behind him. "If—" It has to be done, but the words stick in your throat and you simply have to be grateful that there are no tears with the request. Although, if you thought they would sway the prince, you would be sobbing on your knees. "If you and I were already married, he would be protected by your name and title."

The silence hangs over the room for a long moment. Ellaria holds her breath, her eyes wide in surprise that you would be so bold as to beg the prince to marry you. She looks to Oberyn to see how he will react to your request. “We will go to great lengths to save our soulmates, will we not?” He asks you after a moment, looking between you and your Raeden. His gaze settles on the man beside you. “You will pledge your fealty to Dorne.” He tells the other man. “Wear our colors and ride under my banner.”

"That was always to be my fate." As much as Raeden may bristle at how it is being done, he understands the situation. That a return to the Red Keep without this protection will surely mean his death. You have just stepped out onto the precipice of the unknown for him without hesitation and he won't do you the dishonor of challenging you in front of others. If it was your life on the line he would do anything. "I would do so now with a grateful heart if you are willing to protect me when you could just as easily throw me to the wolves and be rid of me"

There is a sense of honor to admitting that your Raeden acknowledges the power that Oberyn holds over the situation. A nobility that cannot be taught to most and your low born soulmate possesses it, like his own does. Oberyn nods after a moment and glances at your dress. “There is no time to collect your things from the keep, so I hope you are not disappointed to marry in your day dress.”

"It would not surprise me to find my mother has already destroyed my things in a rage." There were plenty of personal items in those trunks that you brought from the Vale - your journal, treasured gifts, beloved books - all things that may already be lost to you. You simply do not know what happened after you fled. How could you? "Thank you, my lord." The heavy ache in your heart at having to marry anyone who is not Raeden is lessened knowing that he will remain well and at your side. If it is by the grace of Prince Oberyn Martell, then so be it. "It is my understanding that my dowry has already been paid to your brother, if...if that was a concern of yours."

“I do not care about that.” He waves his hand and takes a sip of his wine. “My brother takes care of those things.” He knows that you are not happy with having to bind yourself to him so he walks over to Ellaria. “We will give you two a moment alone to talk before we make our way to the Citadel.”

"Thank you, my lord." There is nothing else to say, not to him. What to say to Raeden is a very different matter.

Ellaria and Oberyn sweep out of the room and Raeden turns to you, hurt radiating out of his eyes. He had not been privy to your plot the entire time you had been running across the city and he can’t help but feel betrayed.

"If you hate me now, at least you will be alive to do so." If you had told him what you were going to ask – made him party to the only thing you could think of that would ensure his survival – you know he would have objected. He would have been noble and tried to spare you from your fate, insisting that he would find another way. But there is no other way, not one that does not involve spending the rest of your lives on the run. "I have told you more than once that I would give my life for you no matter the circumstances. It was not an empty promise, my love."

“You should not have to sacrifice yourself, your body for me.” Raeden shakes his head and grips your hands tightly. “I cannot let you do this, my love.”

"What is the alternative?" He seems more upset than angry, and you will consider that a small mercy for now. "I marry him and you die? I do not marry him and we flee? If we flee we will be found, or else live our entire lives in fear. That is not a life. It is a sentencing."

“I–” his voice cracks and there are tears in his eyes shimmering just under the surface of his brown orbs. “I thought I had more time.” He confesses. After tonight he will not have to you himself. The fear that despite what the prince had said, he would be kept from you is always in the back of his mind.

"So did I." Your arms wrap around him, clinging to him with a desperation that you had been able to push aside while you were running. "More time. More chances to see if there was a way forward for just the two of us." His frame shakes with a stifled sob and you follow him immediately, tears staining his shirt as you bury your face in the fabric. "But my freedom is a small price to pay for your life." Especially when your measure of actual freedom was dubious in the first place.

Clinging to you, Raeden closes his eyes, accepting that you will be another man’s wife. That he will not have you for himself. There is no chance to have a life beyond bearing a Prince’s children and being his princess. Swallowing harshly, he pulls away to kiss you one last time.

The moment tastes of desperation, salt tears staining the kiss and making you wish for the first time that you had actually kept your mouth shut this morning. Your insufferable and cruel mother has outdone herself this time, and dragged you down with the depths of her rage. If you must remind yourself every moment of each day that this is worth the sacrifice, you will. All it will take is looking Raeden in the face to know that you did what you had to. He will live. That is all that matters.

From the doorway, Oberyn watches the tender moment. Feeling for the soulmates, because this is due to no fault of your own. It is natural to feel trapped and hopeless at this moment. He clears his throat and motions towards the door. “We must make haste before your mother determines where you have fled.”

"Of course." Just because you have reached the prince's side does not mean you are free - in fact in many ways it now means the opposite. Drying your tears on your handkerchief, you barely step back from Raeden but nod to the man who now securely controls the trajectory of your life. As soon as a maester can be persuaded, he will be your husband. At least you can go into it knowing that he is a good man. "Show us the way, my lord."

Ellaria is waiting in the carriage that has already been pulled in front. Oberyn walks in front of you slightly so that you and your soulmate may have another few moments together. “We will go to the Citadel.”

******

The ride is quiet. Thick with tension and discomfort. Staring at the frayed hems of your gown instead of watching for the approach of the Citadel, you end up jolting upright in surprise when the carriage comes to a stop, as though you are afraid that it might be your mother in the road that you have stopped for instead of your destination.

“We have arrived.” Oberyn hums, opening the door and hopping out of the carriage to look up at the building that he had left so many years before. “It has been a long time since I have been here.” He muses, reaching back to help you and then Ellaria out of the carriage.

"You will be remembered, lover." Ellaria steps out of the carriage after you and gathers her skirts, trying to offer what support she can to her soulmate on this extremely unusual afternoon. Her own dislike for the situation is not what is important. Oberyn's decision has been made.

There is a moment where he continues to hold her hand, squeezing it gently. Once the two of them had left the room, he had spoken honestly with her. Reassuring her that this would not change her role in his life. “Undoubtedly.”

The wizened man by the door when the four of you enter is proof enough of that, and he bows deeply when his eyes fall on the golden-robbed man leading the way. "Prince Oberyn." There is a smile on his lips and he moves to offer the prince his hand when he stands. "It has been twenty years since you graced our halls. Welcome, my lord. Welcome."

“Maester Rhodestone.” Oberyn chuckles as he takes the man’s hand and shakes it firmly. “You have finished your links. You did not grow weary of it?”

“Oh, many times. But it was something to do.” The old man laughs, honest amusement lacing the sound as he shakes the prince’s hand. “What honor has earned the Citadel such an illustrious visit? And with such lovely guests.”

“I studied under this man.” Oberyn explains, mainly to you. “He was the one to not chastise me when I impregnated the High Priestess of the Sept.”

Of course he did such a thing. Your instinct is to bury your face in your palm at that news, or at least it would be if you were not so frozen with fear and tension. “I am very honored to make your acquaintance, maester.” You say instead, bowing your head respectfully.

“Who have you brought to our door, Oberyn?” Maester Rhodestone looks your party of four over with interest and offers a smile to you and Ellaria. “What service may we be to these beautiful creatures?”

“I wish to marry.” Oberyn announces, not one ounce of irony in his voice. “The contract between my house and my bride’s is set, the dowry is paid, and my lady wishes to remain pure until the vows are spoken.” He lies easily, turning to take your hand and guide you forward.

“I have never known a lady to remain pure for very long in the presence of Oberyn Martell,” the maester chuckles with delight. “You have agreed to this, my lady? To wed the prince and stand by him in all wifely duty until the expiration of your days?”

“I have very nearly begged for it.” As giddy as the sentence could be, that is how harshly you must swallow your fears and pride. This is the decision that will save you and Raeden from your mother’s ire. It must be done before it is too late. “We do not wish to delay any longer, maester.”

“It is unusual to have these things rushed.” He’s curious, tilting his head towards Oberyn as if to ask for an explanation. Especially the day before the king’s wedding. A Prince should have more than vows spoken in haste, but it is not his place to make that judgment.

“It is.” You know that. There is no way around it, and since the prince has already declared you to be pure you cannot claim that you wish to be married because you have felt the pleasures of his bed already. In fact, you may have to lean squarely in the opposite direction. “As you have witnessed, maester, the prince is capable of…stirring great passion in those around him.” The lie nearly makes you shiver, knowing Raeden is right behind you, but you pretend to demure instead of being terrified. “Pleasures that should not be indulged in before our vows are spoken, lest the prince’s heir be argued a bastard.”

“Ahhhhhh.” The maester nods wisely, well aware of why you would be worried about that considering the numerous bastards Oberyn has already fathered. “I see. Well, then I see no reason to require you to wait.” He chuckles and winks at you. “You will be in his bed tonight.”

The sharp intake of your soulmate’s breath behind you is painful beyond explanation, but you have to let your heart break in silence. “We are lucky to have found you first, Maester Rhodestone.”

Oberyn turns back to see Raeden looking like he would rather face the hangman’s noose and Ellaria frowning slightly. He knows this is not ideal, and yet it will be the only way to make sure that all four of you make it back to Dorne. “We do not need any ceremony.” Oberyn tells the maester. “Just the vows and the record of it.”

"Have you brought a ring for your bride?" The maester asks. There is no rule saying both must wear one, but for a wife to wear a ring is tradition as everyone knows.

He hadn’t since this was so rushed and he hadn’t exactly wanted this in the first place, but the maester doesn’t know that. “Here is your ring, my prince.” Ellaria steps forward and holds out a gold and amber ring, intricately designed with vines that make up the band. It’s the ring he had bought his soulmate the last time he had been away from her on a trip for Doran. Her gift when he had come home to her.

Stunned at the gesture, you cannot tear your eyes from Ellaria as she hands over the ring from her own finger. She could so easily despise you for being betrothed to her soulmate. Or thwart your efforts to save Raeden's life. But instead she is offering something of her own up to a moment that arguably has nothing to do with her. It fills you with a deep sense of shame when you remember that you do feel attraction for the man that the gods determined should be hers. If there is ever a way to alleviate that guilt, you hope it will come swiftly as this next stage of your life falls out around you. Thank you, the words might be mouthed to her behind the maester's back, but they are sincere.

Ellaria nods discreetly, her hand caressing Oberyn’s back as she steps back and stands beside Raeden, making it appear as if she had come with him to see the marriage completed rather than her own soulmate binding himself to someone who is not her. She cannot deny the pang of surprising jealousy, but it will pass. What she and Oberyn share is real, unbreakable.

The maester leads the four of you through a maze of hallways as impressive and intimidating as any in the Red Keep before indicating a small room to the left of where you have come to stop. "My lady, you and your maid may make yourselves ready here, I will acquaint your betrothed and his witness with their duties at the altar. Will you be requiring a septa for spiritual guidance in your last unmarried minutes?"

"No, maester." A glance at Ellaria shows neither of you is pleased with the assumption that she is your servant, but you suppose it is a natural mistake. You should have a maid. "Thank you. We will join you shortly."

Ellaria scoffs when the door is closed and turns towards you with a roll of her eyes. “These northern maester believe that all women from Dorne are whores or maids.” She huffs, reaching up and starting to fix your hair where it has been disheveled from your run through the city. “I will hold my tongue because Oberyn holds him in some respect.”

"Ellaria." Your hands shoot out, grasping hers with more immediacy than even you expected. "I cannot—this situation is not what—" Blowing out a breath only makes your hands shake and a few tears escape your eyes before you can stop them. "I am sorry. And so grateful. Please know that."

“Hush.” She clicks her tongue and squeezes your hand encouragingly before she pulls it away and produces a handkerchief from a pocket she has sewn into her far more revealing dress. “There is nothing to be sorry for.” She had known that this day might come. “We would not let your soulmate die for falsehoods.” She wipes away your tears and her dark eyes stare into yours. “No tears when you marry a prince.” She chides softly, cupping your cheeks.

"If I could turn the world on its ear, it would be me readying you to wed the prince." It's a shuddering and grasping kind of sadness that sits deep in your stomach, but you try to straighten your shoulders. Anything to shake this blanketing fear. "You sent that invitation to find out what sort of a person I am. And the truth is that I am the sort of person who would give her life for those she loves. And so I am."

“I do not wish to be a princess.” She hums, with a small smile. “We have that in common. Along with the need to protect those I love.” She leans in and presses her lips to your softly. It’s not a seductive kiss, or punishing. It’s meant to be soothing and welcoming. It only lasts for a few seconds before she is pulling back. “You are not giving your life.” She murmurs quietly. “You are beginning to live.”

"I promise that I will never keep him from you." Since it is your intention to demand as little of his time or attention as possible, this should be a simple enough endeavor, but it is important that she hears this promise from you directly. "He will be half myself by the law, but he is half of yourself by decree of the gods."

She doesn’t answer, because she knows that life will not quite be what you expect married to Oberyn, but Ellaria smiles. “We should not keep them waiting.”

******

Maester Rhodestone seems very deliberate when he leaves Oberyn and Raeden alone at the altar for a moment to retrieve the volume he requires to perform the marriage, but Raeden does not move. He is staring past the intricate windows set deep into the walls of the Citadel and wondering if he truly wishes he were dead or if that is simply what having one's heart ripped in two feels like.

Oberyn feels for the man, watching him for a moment before he steps closer and claps one firm, heavily muscled shoulder. “Your soulmate will be Princess of Dorne, loved and protected by her people.” He tells him. “You will be there to make sure of it. That is what is intended here.” He knows it is a small comfort, but it is what he can offer. Both you and he are marrying for different reasons, but marrying nonetheless.

“She is very easy to love.” Raeden chokes out, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He takes two deep breaths, but his mighty frame could be knocked over by a simple leaf right now. “It will not take long for you to see.”

“If that time comes, do you think that I would forsake my own soulmate?” Oberyn asks bluntly. “My love for Ellaria will never waver. Just like your own for your soulmate will not.”

“I do not know what to think,” the younger man admits quietly. His voice is as far off as his gaze and his fears are directly on the surface of his being.

“All will be well.” Oberyn reassures Raeden, reaching out and caressing the man’s cheek softly. The man really is gorgeous and Oberyn feels for him. Despite his reputation, he feels he is more of a lover than most men.

“She likes sunrise. And wildflowers. And sweets, anything to nibble on.” The sickness in his stomach pushes words out of his mouth instead of bile, as though he is trying to match the erratic beating of his own heart with rambling. It all seems to just tumble out of him. “If she could spend her whole life drinking tea in a library she would be ecstatic. I have seen her literally give the suffering the clothes off of her back when it would help them and despair for days until she figures out how to assist them when it does not.” The shine of water in his eyes is pure admiration, and Raeden exhales shakily. “Be good to her, my lord.”

“She will have the same respect my paramour does.” It seems as if Raeden has not been told, or does not believe that he will be allowed to stay by your side as your soulmate. He would say more but the shuffling steps of the maester sound long before his appearance, the clanking of his chain loud against the soft robes he wears.

“All is prepared?” Maester Rhodestone reappears with a thick volume and sets it on the altar where the two men are standing but his attention is at the door of the room where the lady’s maid has appeared. “The lady is ready?”

“The future princess is ready.” Ellaria nods, unwilling to call you ‘my lady’ as if she is a servant. Slowly walking over, she exchanges a look with Oberyn and stands beside a distraught looking Raeden.

“Come, child.” The maester beckons you forward and you know you must step forward or else it is Raeden’s blood on your hands. Your smile is a lie, forced and afraid, but you still stand before the maester at the prince’s side. “Splendid. There is nothing to fear. Marriage is not the prison for all that it is for some,” he smiles as if he knows a secret. “Not when there is love.”

It is hard to not roll his eyes, but Oberyn takes your hand and leans down, pressing a kiss to it. “My lady knows how I feel.” He assures the maester, giving you a fond look. While he might not be enamored with you, you do intrigue him and Oberyn enjoys his intrigues. You are sharp witted and surprisingly clever tongued which means that there should be no reason that you cannot adapt to his life easily. Either that or he will set you up on a small estate and leave you be.

"Then let it be known." A craggy smile from the old man is enough and he begins to recite the small ceremony from memory. You have to supply your name and the name of your House for him when the time comes, but at least your voice works well enough to say them. “Let it be known that these betrothed are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.”

Breathing as steadily as you can force yourself, you turn to Prince Oberyn as you're supposed to, knowing the words you are meant to say in unison: “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger...I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

With a low, measured voice, Oberyn repeats the vow with you. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.” He had never imagined saying these vows, never wished to, and now the die is cast. His eyes are watching yours, and he swears he sees the guilt and sorrow swimming in them, but he knows this is what must happen.

There is a momentary pause where he slips the ring that Ellaria had given back to him onto your finger. The sound of two pairs of soulmates holding their breath is a stony silence indeed but the maester seems either not to notice or not to mind. "With this kiss, I pledge my love." The last words you will ever say as an unmarried woman seal you to a man you barely know, but you have to have faith that you are making the right decision.

His eyes shift past you to Ellaria and Raeden. “With this kiss, I pledge my love.” He vows, looking back at you before he steps closer to you and reaches for your chin to press a fleeting kiss to your lips.

"Your marriage will be recorded for the gods to bless." Maester Rhodestone declares with a satisfied and perhaps slightly oblivious smile. "I wish your Graces every happiness."

“We thank you, Maester Rhodestone.” Despite the maester swearing off worldly possessions, Oberyn knows how much the old man likes his drink and his whores. Or at least he had when Oberyn was studying. He slips a stack of gold coins in his hand and nods, “Gods be with you.”

Just like that it is over, and the four of you exchange stunted looks of uncertainty. The maester thanks the prince once more and leans over the book in front of him to record your names before sweeping the volume out of the room in his arms.

"My lord..." Raeden swallows the bile threatening to rise in his throat and turns to the prince with his hand on his sword. "My blade is yours."

There is a moment where the prince wonders if the man will be sick or draw his sword on him, but it passes. Oberyn nods, feeling as if the moment deserves more formality, but this is not to be had. “Dorne accepts you as one of their own.” He pledges. “Our enemies are your enemies, and your enemies are ours. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken, that is the House Martell creed and the creed of Dorne.”

“Unbowed, unbent, unbroken.” The younger man nods solemnly. To be a knight in service to a prince is not altogether that different than being in service to a great family, and although everything seems to have changed by the edge of a coin - not much truly has.

“Now.” Oberyn reaches for Ellaria’s hand and pulls her to his side. “Shall we adjourn back to the brothel?” He asks, raising his brows in question. “We have a wedding night to commence.”

“Of course.” Even though he reaches for Ellaria instead of you, the statement turns your stomach. Technically the marriage is not legal until it is consummated, and that will require going to his bed. Halfway between fainting and being ill right there on the stone floor of the Citadel, you somehow still manage to follow him out of the room while you grasp blindly for Raeden’s hand.

Ellaria sneaks glances at her lover as they walk, noting the slightly smug look on his face. An expression that can only mean that he is plotting and she wonders if it is about you and your soulmate or upstaging the Lannisters at the king’s wedding tomorrow.

In minutes you are back out to the carriage, and this time those low and reverent bows are for two of you. The magnitude of what you have done is overwhelming, but one look to your soulmate beside you as the carriage pulls away is enough. He is here. He is alive. He is safe.

In the carriage, Oberyn sits beside his soulmate and lances his fingers with hers, leaning in and kissing her cheek softly. “You are my world, my sun.” He reminds her softly in her ear.

“My heart.” Ellaria tucks herself close to him, murmuring the words barely loud enough to be heard.

He decides that he will not discuss things with you or your lover, allowing you time to accept the monumental change that has just occurred in silence. The carriage sways and the shouts and noises from outside the vehicle get louder as the driver takes you back to Flea Bottom and the brothel.

******

“Prince Oberyn.” Littlefinger is at the door of the establishment when the carriage arrives, and like any good purveyor of people and knowledge, he likes to keep track of everything that happens within his walls. “I trust everything is well?”

“Splendid.” He does not trust Littlefinger with the news of his nuptials. The man is far too good at supplying information when it is beneficial to him and right now, your mother and father might be looking for you. He pulls the man to the side, away from you and the others. “I find myself requiring an additional room, next to my own. And another carriage to fetch some trunks from the Red Keep.” He tells the man quietly. “Discreetly.”

“Arrangements can be made this evening.” Littlefinger promises, glancing past the prince to the rest of the party disembarking from his carriage. Petyr Baelish of Baelish Castle is the other lord of the Fingers in the Vale and he always takes great care in knowing his rivals. In this case, the children of his rivals. “Discreetly.” He nods, wondering if the Dornish prince has absconded with you against your father’s wishes. Sniveling man with an insufferable wife, if he remembers correctly.

“The room needs to be available now.” Oberyn insists. “Fresh sheets, next to my own room.” His demand that you be close is probably a little selfish, but this is a brothel and you are a beautiful woman.

“And a meal?” Littlefinger guesses, knowing that the last spread for the prince had barely been touched. He keeps track of every berry and goblet, of course. “Your Grace, I am not in the business of…hiding the ladies of the Vale.” The smile he aims at you is meant to be charming, but he falls just short and instead looks pinched. “Is everything well?”

“I know you.” From out of the carriage, you are able to see the face that matches the voice, and the two are not easily forgotten together. “You are Petyr Baelish, are you not?” It would be a waste to wait for him to answer, and you turn to the prince. “This man knows me, my lord, and knows my family. The last time we saw his face at our home was at my youngest brother’s wedding.” You frown, remembering the incident distinctly. “Lysa Arryn was very upset when he asked to dance with me.”

Oberyn sighs softly and turns to bring you forward after you exit the carriage until you are standing by his side. “My wife.” He introduces you to Baelish, watching the decidedly small eyes of the man’s rodent-like face widen in surprise. “We have just returned from the maester’s recording of our vows.”

“I see.” Baelish’s pointed face spreads alarmingly, pointed on a grin. “It is your wife’s things that need fetching from the Red Keep?” That is a service he will provide with glee. “I will see it done myself, your Graces. And without giving the lady away to her parents, of course. That happy news is yours to report.” He will, however, relish every ounce of information he can gather along the way. “Leyth will see to the extra room. I will tell her to spare nothing.”

Oberyn nods stiffly, aware that the news will now spread far faster than he had intended for it to. “I need a drink.” He states, taking your hand and guiding you towards the chambers where he had first been interrupted from his play.

“I did not know Baelish was the proprietor here.” You insist, hurrying along the halls at his side with Ellaria and Raeden behind you. “I knew nothing of this place. Surely you understand that?”

“I understand that Baelish will pass along whatever information will curry him the most favor.” Oberyn retorts. “And you can most certainly guarantee that your mother will learn you are here, unless it is of greater profit to him to keep that information from her.”

“Tell him you will take your business elsewhere.” It is the best suggestion you can think of, as you seem to be spending every moment of your time in your now husband’s presence panicking. “He would lose your favor and your coin. That is worth far more than anything my parents could offer.”

“Then he will know that there is blood in the water.” Oberyn shakes his head and throws open the doors to the chambers. “We will do nothing.” It’s entirely possible Baelish will not say anything, fearful of Oberyn’s wrath.

“As you say.” The room is lush, housing an oversized bed and plenty of seating with a long table for banqueting with candles in their elaborate holders all along its length. Two trunks sit in either far corner that you assume belong to Oberyn and Ellaria each, and a connecting door opens to a room just beyond where two women around your own age are hurrying around laying fresh bedclothes and food. The perfumed air is heavy and inviting, speaking to oils or incense as prominent as the sounds of pleasure echoing from other parts of the building. It would be a welcoming enough place if you were to come here for its intended purpose, but you would never have done anything of the sort.

“He knows what is best,” Ellaria assures you, dropping back onto a plush, cushioned chair without hesitation. “Do not think more of it. You need rest after everything that has happened.”

Walking over to the table, Oberyn reaches for the wine goblet that had been replaced in his absence. “Raeden.” He turns his attention to your soulmate as he pours wine into the cup. “Remove your clothes, you will not wear those colors again. You will wear mine.”

The younger man freezes for a moment at the order before it is complete, but nods at the full thought. He is not meant to entirely undress in front of his soulmate’s new lord and husband. That would be entirely too cruel. Instead he strips his armor and your house’s colors, leaving him in only his soft shirt, leather pants, and boots. “Will you require me to give up my sword?” He asks, glad that for the moment you are holding it rather than leaving it laying on the table. You know what it means to him.

“Your weapon is your own.” Oberyn shakes his head. “You will be offered others, when we return to Dorne but you choose what you carry.” He knows what it is like to prefer your own weapon and how skill can be affected by carrying an unfamiliar one. He hands Ellaria the goblet and pours another. “My love, get our Ser Raeden a set of colors from my trunk?” He asks, eyeing the man unabashedly.

"Gold will be your color, I imagine." Ellaria hums as she digs through the layers of fabric, coming out with linens and silks in all the colors of fire that the royal guard wears. This trunk has gifts and tokens in it - all things that Oberyn can distribute as he sees fit. "Here, my love. Robes as lush as a Dornish summer."

The material is far finer than most of the guard who had traveled with Oberyn wear, but it is fitting. Raeden’s station will be one of importance to you, to the Martells, and tomorrow it will be a statement to your family. That he is under Prince Oberyn’s banner and protection. He takes the robe and saunters over to where you and your lover are standing. “It will look very becoming against his dark skin.”

The layers are simple, but the soft linen shirt in the pile will replace the one he is wearing now and Raeden glances momentarily at you before stripping off the white fabric and replacing it with amber. The embroidered silk robe that goes over it may be the finest and most elaborate piece of clothing he has ever owned but that makes sense considering who it represents. It isn't like the robes that the guard who had driven the carriage wore, or like anything he has seen before.

Oberyn doesn’t watch as you help your lover lay the robes properly, pulling Ellaria close and kissing along her neck gently. “He will look good in our colors, will he not?” He asks quietly.

"Almost as if he was born to wear them." Oberyn might be looking away but Ellaria watches intently, observing the way the two of you are together and how doting you are as you help him dress. It may be your guilt, in part, but it is also love. "You will let him continue to guard her, won't you? Or do you have more gifts in that clever mind of yours?"

“He is a bastard with a very costly sword.” Oberyn can tell the weapon means far more to him than just a favored tool. “I wish to know more about Raeden Stone.” He admits. “Who sired him. He was raised with honor.”

"Mmmm," Ellaria chuckles deeply, her approval marked with a sigh. "My love is curious. That is always worthwhile."

“His fate is intertwined with our own now.” There is something about the man that draws his lover, he is not unaware of it, watching the way her eyes seek him out.

"And hers." Looking back at Oberyn, she smiles softly and presses her lips earnestly to his. "She is very sweet. If innocent."

“Her mother must have thought she was sentencing the girl to hell, convincing her father to marry her off to me.” Oberyn snorts, shaking his head.

"I think so." Another laugh bubbles out of Ellaria and she kisses him again. "But I think she was also more concerned with what you could give to her. She will be very disappointed to find that the answer is nothing."

“That woman is wretched.” He huffs. “We know whores with more honor.”

"Many of them." Ellaria huffs and brushes her fingers along his trim beard. "She will be better off with us."

“She does not believe so.” He’s unsure why that thought irks him so. Normally he is very unconcerned with what anyone thinks of him. “I might as well be a dragon of old, haunting her dreams with a fiery breath that consumes all.”

"She thinks that she is taking my place." Which, if it was true, she would be grateful for your apologies and your humble attitude. "And probably fears that you will go back on your word and tear her soulmate from her side or force her to your bed. The men where she is from do not keep their promises." Ellaria shakes her head and cups Oberyn's cheek in one hand. "She needs time, my love."

“And they call Dorne savage.” He hisses, shaking his head. “She could never take your place, my sun.” He looks back over at you and your soulmate and sighs.

"I mean to say she is afraid to take my place." Ellaria clarifies, with a tut. "She does not want to. Which is to her credit. Her horrid mother and sniveling father seem to have birthed a woman of caring."

The servants that were preparing your rooms disappear and Oberyn hums, wrapping his arm around Ellaria’s waist. “Now, the wedding night can begin.” He announces with a smirk.

"I—" You look as if you are about to burst out crying, standing there in the center of the room with your eyes wide and your shoulders rounded over. Raeden's hand on your shoulder tightens but he nods. You both know what comes next, but neither of you can seem to move.

“There is wine and food laid out, and your trunks should be delivered soon so you can settle.” He can tell that you don’t understand what he is saying. “Enjoy yourselves and if you wish to join, we will be having a wonderful set of whores in our bed tonight.” He smirks again and pulls Ellaria closer. “Aren’t we, my sun?” He asks, leaning in and nipping at her jawline playfully.

"We have been playing favorites, my heart." And from the pleased purr in Ellaria's voice, she is not the least bit sorry about that. "Cal and Leyth will either be very sad to see us go or they will sleep for a week from exhaustion,"

"You mean...?" It has taken a few extra moments – and some clarification – to wrap your mind around what the prince is saying, but when you fully realize it you practically run to his side to embrace him. Though you may not have done more than the barest press of your lips to his before the maester, you can certainly put your arms around your husband in a grateful hug. There is no more merciful man in Westeros, and now you are married to him. "Thank you, my lord."

Oberyn reaches out and captures your arm. “I meant what I said.” He promises softly, “I will not force you.”

"And I will not be stubborn or willful." They are two things you were called often enough by your mother as a child, but as you understand them to be the least attractive traits possible in a wife, you are glad to make that promise to him here and now. It is a small thing to give in thanks for everything he has done for you and for Raeden.

“That is a shame.” Oberyn huffs, letting go of you and smirking. “I do not care for boring subservience. It tells me you are dim witted.”

The frown on your lips is confusion, but Raeden's hand on your shoulder when you step back is soothing. "He is teasing you, my love," he murmurs quietly when you have the same expression as when you could not teach yourself Dothraki in under a week just from a book.

Oberyn’s chuckle is quiet and he nods in agreement. “I am sure that your day has been exhausting.” He says. “Go. Enjoy your night together and tomorrow we will present ourselves to the entire kingdom.”

"Proudly." Yes, today has been tiring in a way you cannot possibly express, but this man is one worth standing next to with dignity after the way he has helped without hesitation.

He doesn’t watch you withdraw with your lover, turning to Ellaria and capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. Ready to resume the activities of earlier and release some of his inner turmoil in the pursuit of pleasure.

******

The room is clean and well appointed, draped in luxurious fabrics with food covering the full length of the table. The bed under the windows could surely fit four but it will hold only you and Raeden tonight, and for that you are so relieved that you feel yourself sag against him when the door shuts behind you.

“I fear I am in a dream.” Raeden murmurs, shocked and bewildered by the turn of events. He had been sure that he would witness, or at the very least hear, his soulmate being claimed by her lawful husband. The loud shout through the door rings out, a call for Cal and Leyth, most likely the whores that he had been talking about.

"If you are, we are sharing it." You reach for him immediately, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in the new robes he has been given.

“It is— he— I—” Raeden shakes his head and holds you close, relaxing for the first time since this horrible trip had begun. It is your wedding night, or day - for it is still light outside. You should be draped on your husband's bed, impaled on his cock, and yet you are here with him. “My love.”

"I am sorry for not telling you my plan before we arrived here." When you look up at him there is such relief in his eyes that you hope forgiveness will be easy. "But if I had told you that my only plan was to marry him for your safety, you would have fought me."

“Yes, I would have.” He can admit that now that the deed is done and you are Oberyn’s wife. With his reputation, no one would believe that you have not consummated your vows. As if on cue, a loud moan sounds out from next door.

“And that will most likely be all we hear for the remainder of our stay in King’s Landing.” What can you do besides shake your head? It is simply a fact that should be accepted, especially when you are so grateful to the prince. “I will choose to prefer it vastly over my mother’s self-important howling.”

“It sounds enthusiastic rather than shrill.” Now that you are away from your mother, he feels a little more confident being critical of her.

“I do not envy whomever Lord Baelish sent to retrieve our things.” If there still are things to retrieve, you are certain that the poor people who arrive to get them will get an earful.

“If there is nothing, I will make sure that every book and gown is replaced.” He promises softly, feeling his body warm up as the sounds from next door get louder.

"You will do no such thing." There is food and wine and a place to rest, and you nudge him over toward the table knowing that neither of you has eaten a speck today. "I will be the one replacing all of your belongings if they are gone. It is my fault that we had to run."

“You are not responsible for your mother.” While it could be argued that holding your tongue would have prevented the situation, he would never tell you to take her abuse. He knows how she picks and picks at you until she finally gets a reaction.

"And fortunately, she no longer has any hold on us." The pitcher of wine is elaborate, and you pour two goblets out to hand him one. "I will be delighted if she is not told where we are today. Seeing her face tomorrow will be well worthwhile."

“It will be an event to remember.” He agrees, taking the wine and barely refraining from draining the cup from how parched he is. Now that you are safe, he is safer, his appetites have returned. “You should eat.”

"So should you." The challenge is there, daring him to say that your health is worth more than his when you both know that it is not. "We will eat together."

“It might be the first full meal we have shared together.” He chuckles. There have been shared treats, breads, but there has never been a point where a complete meal was shared.

"In that case, it is all the more reason to sit down together." It would be simple enough to pretend it is your wedding night with Raeden, like this, and the thought is deceptively easy to slip into. A thing you have wanted so desperately and for so long is more or less at your fingertips.

For the first time, Raeden looks over at the table and his eyes widen. “That is…an impressive table.” He murmurs. Roasted joints of meats and pies are surrounded by bowls of nuts and fresh fruit. “It is a wedding feast.”

"It is." That cannot be disputed, but you look at him with a soft expression on your face. "It is a wedding feast that has been laid just for us."

“I am sorry that it could not be our own.” He guides you over to the seats and pulls one out for you.

"The world has been unfair to us." You sit in the seat he has held out and reach for his hand when he sits down beside you. "A few moments of peace like this one are well deserved. Besides..." The smile on your face is a little crooked and your cheeks warm. "I rather like you in Dornish colors. The gray of the Vale compliments no one."

“Your husband is very generous.” Raeden looks down at the robe and shakes his head. “I have never worn such a fine robe before. I do not understand why he would give it to me.”

He is your husband now, but it is still jarring to hear the words. "Perhaps he simply likes you?" You offer, picking up your glass of wine. "He did say as much." Specifically, he had been blunt about his desire to bed both you and Raeden – together or separately. But that might be too much information for your soulmate.

Raeden frowns slightly, unsure of what you mean by that and uncomfortable with how much that comment pleases him. He simply tilts his head. “No doubt it is because I am your soulmate.”

“I…do not think so,” you admit, looking down into your cup of wine. There is a chance that this may badly embarrass or even offend Raeden but it is a part of your reality now – as evidenced from the moaning in the next room. “The prince’s…appetite…extends beyond the usual expectations.”

He had concluded that, with the decidedly male voice moaning about the Prince’s cock. He had been trying to ignore it, the twitching in his breeches dismissed as nothing more than the reaction to his surroundings and the anticipation of an evening with his soulmate that would be uninterrupted. “I see.”

“I already told him that you are not inclined that way,” you assure him, seeing the utter discomfort in his expression and the way he seems to freeze under the mere suggestion. “Please do not worry.”

“It is nothing to worry about.” Raeden rushes out to reassure you. His eyes sliding towards the door and back to you guiltily.

Wrongly interpreting the expression on his face, you rest your hand over his on the table and try to seem like it is not affecting you. When, in fact, hearing what is going on in the next room is piquing your curiosity quite intently. “We will have to grow used to the sound of it.”

“Yes.” He nods quickly, turning his hand over and squeezing yours. “We will adjust. I am just glad that you are away from your mother. And the prince seems to be a generous man.”

“Much more than his reputation.” The prince is known for voracious appetites of all kinds, but the giggling ladies who spoke of him certainly never spoke of his kind heart. Or at least Lady Margaery never did, and you wonder now if he reserves that kindness only for some. Shaking off the thought for now, you smile and reach for the trenchers that have been left for you to fill from the feast on your table. “Here, my love. We will feast and we will indulge in time together.”

“A night between your thighs is a good night indeed.” Raeden smirks slightly, sure that these errant thoughts of his will leave once he has spent an entire night in your bed.

“Tomorrow morning will be the first morning we have ever woken up together.” And that alone is well worth celebrating, the thought alone making your heart skip a beat. “This new life does have its merits, even if it is not perfect.”

“I cannot believe that many lives are perfect, my love.” He murmurs quietly, thinking about the poor soul who is marrying the king. “You are safe and that is all that matters to me.”

“I could say the same to you.” After all, it’s why you did what you did today. Why you married a man you do not love in order to secure the safety of the one you do. There are, perhaps, worse situations in the world.

“Let us celebrate being free to love one another.” Raeden proposes, wanting to forget about everything but you for now. “I am hungry for food and then I am hungry for you.”

______

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My Masterlist!

[wardenparker]

The Viper's Bride - ch 16

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 13.1k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid. This is a MMFFF polycule, folx. Get on board or don't click to keep reading. Pregnancy!* It's time orgy, friends! MMMFFFF group sex. Oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, fingering, anal play, anal sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pregnant sex, rough sex, multiple partners. dirty talk, voyeurism, substance use, sexual experience enhanced by substance use. Canon typical violence, poison, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of sexual assault (Elia's), eye gore, murder, character death. Summary: The night before Oberyn fights in the Trial by Combat holds special meaning for your group, and for Raeden in particular. And the fight itself? Is worse than you could ever imagine. Notes: Well, my loves. This is it 🧡 The final chapter of Oberyn's soulmate extravaganza. Next week will be the epilogue and then we'll dive into spooky season head first with Max Phillips' soulmate story the week after that!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15

It is almost surreal to watch your father and brother step away together. The tension that had filled the room seems to dissipate all at once, and you fall down again in your seat beside Raeden with a sigh. “That was…unexpected.”

“Completely astounding.” Oberyn muses thoughtfully, still reclined in his chair and shaking his head. “Fate is playing in your life, Star. The Gods have truly taken an interest.”

“Perhaps.” Looking around you at the table, it feels hard to deny. Otherwise why would those same gods have blessed you with so much love and companionship? “Perhaps I am simply very lucky. Who can say?”

“You will be very lucky tonight.” Raeden predicts with a salacious grin, his fingers still stroking his wife’s arm, although he is grazing the curve of her breast.

“I believe that will be you, my love.” Your prediction carries equal weight, considering Oberyn’s dark eyes turned to Raeden the moment your father and Salin had left your chambers. “My husband looks as though he might pounce.”

“I must admit that I am eager for the rest of our night to begin.” Draining the rest of his wine out of his cup, he passes it to Ellaria to refill as he stands. Striding over to the other man and caressing his jaw with one finger as he looks down at him. “Take off your clothes.” He orders huskily.

There could not be a more obvious signal to the whole party that the night has officially begun, and Raeden’s calmly curved grin of anticipation tucks itself into the corner of his mouth as he reaches for the ties of the robe over his shirt and trousers. “As my prince commands,” he intones, knowing from many nights of seeing you and Ellaria use that same line to entice him, that Oberyn enjoys the acknowledgment of his power during sex.

His eyes shift to Margaery: “Tonight, you will watch your husband take my cock.” He informs her. “The best pleasure he will have will be if he cums inside another. You or any of the other lovely ladies or Cal can be under him if you wish to be.”

"My husband can cum in whomever he chooses." Margaery hums, having found very quickly that she enjoys the shared pleasure of multiple partners. "As long as I have a beautiful woman's thighs on either side of my head, I do not mind if it is me or someone else."

“You should watch, lover.” Ellaria coos as she smirks slightly. “Let me lick your cunt while you watch, you will not regret it.”

"I would be a very stupid woman to give up that kind of offer." Margaery grins, leaning in to brush a kiss across Ellaria's lips.

Ellaria cups her lover's face while you look on, kissing her passionately. “Cal, Leyth?” Oberyn looks over at the couple who have been serving faithfully. “Would you like to join us in our pleasure tonight?”

"Please." Leyth is already nodding halfway through the question, clutching Cal's hand in eager anticipation. "We...have missed being asked to join you. Very much."

“We have not wanted you to feel as if you have to join us.” Oberyn knows the couple is aware of the changing dynamic and the time needed to adapt.

"The freedom to choose is not lost on us," Leyth assures him, always grateful that that choice has been afforded to them and that their choices are actually respected. "So let us say that tonight we eagerly choose to accept your invitation."

“Fuck.” Raeden pauses before he shucks his breeches and laughs. “Is this to be a proper orgy, in the Red Keep?”

"Why should we not?" You have stood from the table as well, and share in Raeden's amusement. "Cersei already assumes it is what we do every night. We might as well make her correct just once."

“Then I hope that all the lords and ladies around us complain about the noises we make.” He decides with a grin, feeling completely free for the first time and reveling in it.

"We will make sure of it." Ellaria promises, cradling Margaery at her side and nipping at the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

Leyth turns and gives her lover a soft kiss on his lips before she moves towards you. “Princess…” she murmurs softly, having wondered what you kiss like or if you would want her to touch you.

“Come here…” Beckoning her closer, you offer her an encouraging smile and readily meet Leyth’s lips for a kiss.

She’s relieved, her own admiration and respect for you growing into a crush that she has been unable to express. Sliding her hands up and cupping the back of your head with greedy hands.

It is surprising but not unwelcome, the enthusiasm that Leyth has for the kiss drawing you in more and more to explore what is being offered to you. Leyth is stunning — you have always thought so, even since the first day you set foot in the brothel — and you are not about to turn up the chance to know her better tonight when everyone will be indulging in whomever they please.

Ellaria hums in pleasure as she sees that everyone is very well occupied. Smirking at her soulmate’s wife, she starts to pull off her dress. “We should get comfortable.”

“I have never been more comfortable in my life,” Margaery promises her, following the cue and beginning to undress Ellaria in turn. Her Dornish dress is much simpler and easier to remove, making Margaery remember the first time — not so long ago — that you had pouted about the complexity of northern dresses. It is a welcome feeling, to connect the two experiences, and the younger woman hums happily at how easy it is to slip her hand inside Ellaria’s dress and palm the welcome weight of her breast with one hand.

“We will enjoy ourselves immensely.” Ellaria moans breathlessly when the other woman pinches her nipple. With sexual freedom, Margaery Tyrell, now Sunstone, has quickly developed the skills that most whores only dream of when pleasuring another woman. “If I lick every cunt and fuck every cock, it will be a good night.”

“Perhaps we should make that our new motto,” Margaery suggested, giggling immensely even as her other hand is working diligently to slip Ellaria’s dress away from her skin. “For nights such as this, I cannot think of anything better.”

Raeden stands naked in front of Oberyn, his cock already hard and jutting out proudly, making both Oberyn and Cal groan as they look on. “How do you want me?” He asks, slightly breathless as he shivers in anticipation. It has been so long since he has felt a man’s touch, and this man, both of these men, are beautiful and he wants to embrace the freedom he has been given by your marriage to the man who is going to fuck him.

“However the prince wants us, he will have us both.” Cal can barely keep himself from touching, but he has been privy to how long Oberyn has waited to have Raeden in his bed. He can very easily wait his turn so the prince can have what he wants.

“Lay down on the bed.” Oberyn orders both men. “Cal, strip down as well.” He grunts, satisfied that he will be able to have everything he wants tonight. “Show me what it looks like to have the two of you kiss.”

It is an achingly easy set of instructions to follow, and if Cal were wearing something other than the robes that the prince had given him befitting his station, he might have simply torn them off. As it is he struggles to get them off as quickly as possible and follows Lord Sunstone onto the bed to all but fall into the larger man’s arms. He has wondered endlessly what the new lord will be like to have his hands on and it takes him no time at all before he is moaning against Raeden’s lips.

Cal is lithe, yet there is strength in his touch and embrace. Raeden doesn’t even hesitate, one large hand sliding down his chest and over his abs to brush against the other man’s cock before wrapping his hand around it and giving him a gentle squeeze.

It is not unusual for this suite of rooms to be filled with the sounds of pleasure. In fact, each and every night there are people fucking in more of these beds than not. The difference is that tonight you are all in one room. Raeden is fisting Cal's cock on the bed with Oberyn kneeling over them with dark, predatory eyes as they kiss. Ellaria has Margaery spread out over the largest arm chair before the fire, carefully and methodically chasing her own touch down the younger woman's body with her tongue to taste every inch of her. And on the other side of the fireplace, Leyth has laid you down on the chaise to let you watch the proceedings as she eagerly learns what touches make you sigh and moan.

His eyes feast on the sight and his own fingers quickly pull at the ties and strings of his robes. Wishing to be as bare as his lovers. “His cock is wonderful.” He praises as he watches the dark hand glide up and down the lighter toned cock. “Now, I wish to taste yours.”

Raeden does not need to be told twice, rolling to his back with his hand still stroking Cal's length so that he does not have to give up any contact but still exposes every inch of himself to Oberyn's desires. "I am yours," he promises, and the truth of it rattles him more than he expected.

“Not yet.” Oberyn chuckles as he kneels on the bed, running his hands up the muscular calves of your soulmate. “But you will be.”

It is the kind of declaration that shoots to something visceral inside him, and Raeden's cock twitches unmistakably in response. "Then take me," he poses, his words laced with a seductive challenge that he knows Oberyn will not be able to resist. "Make me yours."

There’s a rough little growl the back of the Prince’s throat, smirking as he lunges forward and wraps his hand around the thick length of your lover’s cock to roll down the foreskin and prove to the new lord that despite his lofty status, he is not unskilled in the art of sucking a cock.

As determined as he had been to continue stroking Cal's length, Raeden's hand stutters immediately and he lets out a groan so deep that it seems to rattle the windows. His fingers dig into Oberyn's short hair, encouraging his movements without directing or pushing him, and Raeden's head falls back for just a moment as he shudders with the intensity of the prince's attentions.

It’s about pleasure, but it’s also about preparation. Oberyn knows it’s been years since Raeden has touched or been touched by another man. The last time was when he was a younger man. He is not used to taking a cock and will need to be stretched out. Taking his fingers down to the hole he wishes to possess, he smears his spit around it in a gentle massage.

The gasp and grunt that releases from somewhere deep in Raeden's body vibrates through his body and his fingers tighten in Oberyn's hair desperately. It has been far, far too long since he had this sort of experience and it is only now - having it offered to him on proverbial silver platter - that he realizes how deeply he has been missing it. Spreading his legs and reminding himself to relax, Raeden falls back onto the pillows which his next moan.

Cal decides that Raeden's too distracted for kissing, but his lips move down his chiseled jaw. Kissing along the smooth skin and down to flat, hard nipples so he can flick his tongue over them and help work the other man up. He knows he wants to be under this man while the prince fucks him, his own cock twitching at the thought.

"Gods above," Raeden chokes out, his head already swimming. There is something so singular about experiencing pleasure from someone of your own sex. A person who knows the intricacies of what touches and pressure bring pleasure because he himself has felt the pleasure that it brings. It makes Oberyn's tongue agile and sure, and every flickering touch from Cal is filled with confidence.

Oberyn chuckles and pulls off the cock with a satisfied sound. Lazily licking down his soft, full balls to take one into his mouth, still steadily rubbing, though he is adding more pressure. Not quite breaching the other man, but close.

It has Raeden squirming, trying to move toward the pressure he wants so badly without missing out on any of the touches he is already receiving – begging for more without saying a word.

Oberyn’s eyes find Margaery’s then yours in a slow perusal of the room. “Watch.” He orders, pulling his fingers away momentarily to wet them even more before slowly starting to push the first finger inside the man’s ring of muscles.

There is a collective holding of breath when Raeden moans, with every set of eyes watching as his own close in bliss. "Fuuuck..." It is low and growling and delicious and Raeden is laid out like a feast on the bed for Oberyn and Cal to devour.

The tight heat has Oberyn eager to sink into him, slowly pushing his finger deeper until it is sunk to his knuckle and then carefully searching for that wonderful little spot that makes every man keen when he is entered. The one that can make him cum without anything wrapped around his cock. “Why don’t you prepare Cal to take your cock like I am readying you?” Oberyn suggests as he smirks. “I think the man is salivating to be impaled on your cock.”

"Lover." His attention had been so singularly focused on Raeden that Oberyn has not noticed Ellaria slipping temporarily from the space between Margaery's thighs to bring him a bottle. "You will all be happier to have this," she suggests, setting the small, corked bottle of oil on the bed beside her soulmates.

“Thank you.” The oil will greatly aid the pleasure and he takes it with a small smile and a wink. “Thank you, sun.” He coos softly.

"I want to hear all three of you scream," she confides, diving into kissing Oberyn with her usual, dedicated, passion where she does not pull back again until she has relearned every contour of his mouth. "But only with pleasure."

“Tonight we will make the halls of the keep ring out in pleasure.” He chuckles before he unstops the bottle.

It is not a prediction that anyone doubts, but as the men turn back to each other to focus on pulling as many sounds as possible from each other in these early stages of pleasure, you stop Ellaria on her way back to Margaery. "Join us?" You almost beg her, having made room on the large chaise for more bodies. There is nothing you want more right now than your own tangle of limbs - all four women sharing space and sharing each other.

Smiling indulgently, Ellaria curls her finger towards Margaery before she leans in to press her lips to yours. “Shall we see how we can tangle our bodies together in pleasure, lover?”

Margeary comes to your sides like a moth to flame, practically moaning as she watches you and Ellaria sink into a deep kiss. "It is only fair," she decides, leaning down to kiss Leyth, as well. The curvaceous redhead had not escaped her notice for even a moment.

It is funny how the group has been separated, although not surprising. Leyth and Cal have discussed at length the dynamic, murmuring the dark from their own small, yet comfortable bed off the chambers. Now, tonight, is a fulfillment of those desires that have been repressed and it should be a night to recall fondly.

"My prince." Cal looks up from the nipple he has been lavishing attention on and his fingers, run down to tease Raeden's cock with a slow pump up and down his length. "At the brothel, we used to take this...herb, it kept our cocks hard after we had finished." He explains. "Perhaps tonight would be a good time to use it? To make sure everyone gets to exhaust themselves?"

In the middle of the conversation, very literally, Raeden’s hips buck subtly at the idea of such an increasing, wondering if the prince even needs such an aid. But then — there are seven of you. And that is an enormous amount of Fucking no matter who you are. “I—I would partake,” he agrees, eyes fixated on Cal’s hand.

He can't help himself, it's too tempting with the pearl of liquid that is pooling on the dark tip of his beautiful cock. Cal ducks his head and wraps his lips around the first inch of Raeden's cock while Oberyn's lubricated fingers push back inside him. Looking down at the prince, he wonders if he will agree because his own cock throbs at feeling both men inside him tonight.

“Does it help women?” Margaery asks with curiosity, thinking of all the ways this night might go. She has never had trouble becoming aroused for her partners before, but the idea of more is beckoning her tonight.

“It does.” The answer comes from Leyth. “It is why the women in the brothels are always so wet.” She tells you. It might be the one good thing Littlefinger did for his whores. Even if it was only so there was less probability of being hurt when fucking an unattractive client.

“Then perhaps we could all partake?” You look to your husband with curiosity. “Anything that enhances our pleasure tonight is surely welcome.”

“Would it hurt the babe?” That is the only reservation that Oberyn would have as he looks between the two servants.

“No.” Leyth shakes her head immediately. “Some of the girls…the ones who could bear children…they took the herb nearly every day but the babes were never affected.” She would never do anything to put your or the child in harm’s way, and dearly hopes that you and Oberyn know that.

Smiling slightly, Oberyn nods his head and looks at you with lust fueled eyes. “Yes, Star.” He agrees. “Anyone who wishes to take it, should.”

Cal moves gracefully from the bed to retrieve a simple metal box from the room he shared with Leyth. The powdered herb is familiar to them but not unwelcome, which was why they had kept it with them after leaving the brothel. The thought of one night in the future being like this was tempting. “Put a pinch of the powder under your tongue and let your spit wash it away,” he tells all of you, providing an example by demonstrating before he passes the little metal box around.

Leyth also demonstrates when the box reaches the ladies, moaning slightly at the familiar taste. “We will have a very good night.”

The powder is minty and dissolves quickly, leaving all of you looking a little more mischievous afterward. With debauchery ensured, you all tangled in each other’s arms immediately. The four women in the chaise are spread over every inch of the overlarge piece of furniture, and even with Leyth and Ellaria firmly between yours and Margaery’s thighs, you find your way to grope and lavish each other with kisses.

Oberyn groans at the taste of the herb and pulls Cal in for a kiss before turning his attention back to Raeden. “Now. I am going to ready you and I think Cal and I both will suck your cock.

It is not something either of the other men are going to object to, and Raeden falls back into the pillows with a groan. The sight of Oberyn and Cal twined together in a kiss would be enough to have him rock hard under almost any circumstance – but now they are bent over him so that his cock is receiving every lick of attention and it has set his entire body on fire.

Again, his fingers start to push back into Raeden’s body as he sucks on the man’s cock like it was the sweetest of treats. His tongue tangling with Cal’s as they try to wring cries of pleasure from him.

He is in ecstasy and there is no mistaking it. Raeden writhes and bucks under Oberyn and Cal's attentions, grasping at the sheets or their shoulders or anything he can get his hands on and you cannot tear your eyes away. "Look," you instruct Margaery, nudging her jaw with your nose and sucking a mark into the pale skin of her neck when her eyes move to the bed. "My husband is going to fuck yours, just like I fuck you."

"It is not quite the same, lover." She hums, her greedy eyes fixed on the way that her husband squirms and whines in need. "But just like they enjoy the sight of us wrapped up in one another, I will savor this view."

Of course it isn't exactly the same, but it is close enough to make you moan just at the sight of them -- which Leyth heightens with a stroke of her masterful tongue and chases with two fingers sliding inside your dripping pussy the way Oberyn's fingers are slipping deep inside Raeden. It is all like an incredible dream, and you truly hope that you will be able to sample every single pleasure possible tonight.

“You will look magnificent on my cock.” Oberyn groans, pulling off his leaking cock to purr pure filth to him. “Imagine our lovers walking in at any time to find you bent over, my cock buried in your ass and my hand wrapped around your cock as you moan my name.” He smirks. “Or on your knees, my cock in your mouth and Cal’s in your ass as we spit roast you, your leaking cock neglected until you cum from our attention.”

The entire room moans in unison at the images presented. There is not a single one person in this room who would not immediately climb into the bed and join in if they saw it. “If any of us walked into that, we would swallow every drop of cum and beg for more,” you predict, knowing that it is true for you at the very least.

“If he is bouncing on my cock, I expect you to ride his.” Oberyn chuckles, curling his fingers deep and pressing against his spot that immediately has Raeden keening.

He had forgotten. Or else thought that he was remembering the sensation with exaggeration. But the way pleasure courses through him with the press of Oberyn’s fingers on that specific, seemingly magical spot inside of him makes Raeden sure that this sensation is better than what he had felt years ago. Perhaps it is down to the skill of his partner but it is utterly remarkable. His broken cry to the gods is met with a moan from his wife when Ellaria sticks on her clit just so, and at once all of you seem to commit that much more to the debaucherous goal of the night.

"The Sunstones are having the time of their lives tonight." Oberyn quips, very pleased with himself as he finds that spot and curls his fingers against it again. If this herb works as well as Cal claims, he feels like Raeden will cum and cum and cum. He wants to see if his theory is correct.

“And we will make sure you do too,” Margaery promises, breathless, with one hand buried in Ellaria’s thick hair and the other squeezing the weight of your tit in her palm. Raeden squirms, panting his agreement and just trying to get as much of Oberyn’s fingers as possible inside him when he knows for certain that it is not enough. “More,” he begs, the word cracked with another moan even as his own hand is dedicated to making Cal ready in the very same way.

“You will.” He has no doubt of that. The night is too full of promise and he drinks in the moans of the group. “I will fuck every one of you tonight, including you, Lady Sunstone.”

“You too will be marked by her,” Raeden manages to tease even at the expense of another moan. He wears the marks from his wife’s fingernails like a badge of honor, and so do you. After tonight, all of you will.

“Vicious little tiger.” Oberyn chuckles, adding a third finger into her husband as he talks to Margaery.

He had asked for more, and he groans at getting it. His cock leaks precum, twitching and aching with need, and his back arches off the bed in eager anticipation. “Gods—yes—fuuuck—”

"How thrilling that I will possess both you and your wife tonight." He coos, smirking at the way Raeden's head tilts back. "Just as I have your soulmates." It's not meant to taunt him, just show him how he belongs here.

“As I have possessed yours.” Raeden grunts, groaning at the stretch of having another finger added to his tight hole. “Ours.”

Oberyn groans, his cock twitching in response and he hums. "Yessss, ours." He agrees. "Now you are going to spill into Cal's mouth. Give him a taste of what you are going to pump into his ass in just a few minutes."

Taking orders as a soldier and taking orders in bed are two different circumstances, but Raeden surprises himself with how little it bothers him to have those orders given. Instead, it only seems to spur him on tonight, and Cal too. Cal who has Raeden's cock so far down his throat that the man on his back is surprised he has not outright choked yet.

Ellaria hums as she looks up from between Margaery’s thighs. “He is close, lover.” She confides. “And sounds so sweet, but he tastes even sweeter on your tongue.”

Cal's own cock is beaded with precum as he swallows around Raeden's length, desperate to find out just how sweet that taste really is. Oberyn has three fingers buried deep, curling them expertly while he other hand kneads the flesh of Raeden's thighs and caresses his heavy balls, knowing that they - like his own and Cal's - will be emptied many times tonight. Raeden's breathing comes in ragged pants, moans becoming whines and keening curses the closer he gets to his first peak of the night. Climbing and climbing, his back lifts off the bed entirely when Oberyn and Cal's names tear from his lips for the first time and that first spurt of hot cum is followed by countless more.

Oberyn throbs, his own cock pulsing at the sight of Raeden cumming. Nearly about to burst himself from how erotic it is. Groaning as he continues to pump his fingers while the other man fills Cal’s mouth to where cum is sliding down his chin.

Cal's own moan is almost as loud as Raeden's, the other man scrambling to swallow as much as he possibly can while still losing a few strands of sticky cum to the column of his neck. For the first climax of the night, it is the perfect way to begin and has him nearly bursting in his own right.

Oberyn pulls his fingers out at Raeden and he hums with a grin on his face. “That is beautiful.”

"The first of many beautiful sights tonight." You had been watching too, always unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of Raeden's pleasure.

“Now one of our ladies needs to cum.” Oberyn says as he watches Ellaria dive back into Margarey’s cunt. “Will it be my star or my flower?” He asks curiously.

The so-called competition of the question is taken quite seriously by Ellaria and Leyth, it seems, and both women redouble their efforts on Margaery and your pleasure. As talented as Ellaria is, and as eager for this night as Margery has been, it is decidedly the newest member of the group's chance to come apart next – although you feel you might be directly at her heels with Leyth's clever tongue drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

Ellaria’s tongue curls around Margaery’s clit, sucking it into her mouth as a hand slides up to squeeze her breast. Her dark eyes fixed on her face and she’s humming to vibrate her bundle of nerves.

Margaery’s nails dig into Ellaria’s shoulder without apology, biting into the skin as her body tensed and her mouth falls open on a vocal scream. Her eyes nearly cross from the pressure and her cunt bears down on Ellaria’s king fingers tightly, drawing them in deeply before flooding them with slick release that runs all the way down and drips to Ellaria’s wrist.

Raeden moans, both from his own release and the loss of Oberyn's fingers while Cal pulls off his cock and watching his wife cum. He knows how talented that mouth is and he is sure that tonight, every one of you will collapse into a deep sleep for the few hours you get.

“How do you want us?” Cal asks Oberyn, knowing that however the prince wishes to have his newest lover, he will find a way to be under Raeden and take the force of them together with as much pride as pleasure.

His brow arches as he looks at Raeden. Contemplating the positions and how easy it will be for the other two men. “On your knees.” He decides, lifting to his own knees and wrapping his hand around his cock. “Hand me the oil.”

Call practically flattens himself to the bed immediately, hips rolled back to entice Raeden but also because he can’t help grinding his own cock into the mattress right now. Raeden takes the moment to sit up, lips crashing against Oberyn’s for a deep and intense tangling of tongues before he pulls away again to gasp for air and takes his position over Cal with his own ass in the air.

“Fuck.” Raeden groans when he hears the slick sounds of Oberyn piling up his cock and the bottle is pressed against his arm. “Ready yourself to plunge into Cal.” Oberyn strokes his ass possessively.

Four of you are watching from the chaise as Oberyn starts to slide inside Raeden, and Raeden in turn begins to break open Cal. The three men are as coordinated and careful as they can be in this moment but they aren’t the only ones moaning. It is a sight to behold and you are instantly panting with increased desire — chest heaving and threatening to have you moaning with every shallow breath.

“Ohhhhhhhhh.” Raeden’s eyes close, mouth open on a moan as the prince rocks into him steadily. Not forceful or impatient, it is just the right tempo to have him take the thickness of the man and desire more as his own cock sinks into the tight, welcoming hole of Cal’s body. The servant whimpers his name, making him twitch as he pushes back against him, eager to feel the lord’s cock firmly buried after so long without this kind of pleasure.

“If you feel half as good as you look, my loves, you must all be in ecstasy.” Even Leyth has paused to watch, kneeling between your legs, and she smiles up at you momentarily when you speak before curling her fingers determinedly inside you to hear the gasp it will pull from your chest. “You will cum so easily watching them, I expect,” she purrs. “I know you like to watch, princess. So keep your eyes on our men while I make you scream.”

“You know the Princess.” Margaery pulls Ellaria up for a kiss and to turn her over so she can touch and kiss while watching her husband as the filling to a delicious treat. “Her cunt gets so wet when she watches her lovers.”

"Can you blame me?" It is difficult to keep your eyes open as Leyth's remarkably clever tongue has your eyes nearly rolling back in your head as she works you closer and closer to the edge.

“Not at all.” She hums as she slides her fingers down and starts to rub Ellaria’s clit while her tongue shoots out to circle her breast.

Watching the three men together is vastly unlike watching them with anyone else. That tendency toward gentleness that Raeden has with partners who are not as physically strong as he is has vanished. He is not in control here but willingly giving all of that up to Oberyn. His groans rumble out from the depths of him as he submits completely to one man while still soothing his hands over Cal’s back whenever he needs to steady himself.

The choked cry catches in his throat when the next thrust comes rougher than the ones before. Signaling that the pace will pick up and there’s a sense of freedom to be had from the way Cal mewls under him.

"Gods." The moan from you on the chaise is more of a keen, and your fingers thread through Leyth's hair even as your hips grind down to meet her lips and tongue eagerly. "They will be the death of me but I will die a happy woman."

Oberyn’s eyes are fixed on where he is joined with Raeden until you whimper that statement. Chuckling as he looks over to where you are very eager splayed open for the lovely servant, he hums. “Not tonight, star.” He chides. “Perhaps we will let you expire when we have wrung every scream out of your throat.”

"Not a minute before," Margaery agrees, leaning over to flick her tongue across one of your nipples in a move that is surprisingly affectionate, before returning her full focus to Ellaria.

“Perfect.” The caress to Raeden’s hip is surprisingly gentle even as his hips snap forward. “You have chosen a perfect wife, Rae.”

"Is she n–not?" The last word is turned to a grunt with the forceful swing of Oberyn's hips, and Raeden's own slam into Cal with equal determination. The feeling of it is exquisite.

The chorus of moans pleases Oberyn, the feeling, the moment exactly what he had wished for. Tonight is about living, experiencing life to the fullest and what is better than a tight ass a round his cock while one of his soulmates has her cunt licked while the other is finger fucked? Surely the halls are filled with the sounds of pleasure coming from this room.

Leyth pitches you off the cliff of pleasure just moments later, humming into your dripping cunt as her fingers curl against that perfect spot inside you. The only thing stopping your thighs from squeezing Leyth's ears shut is her strategically-placed arm, holding you spread out for her so that you cannot do anything but quake and cry out as she skillfully shatters you into a million blissed out pieces.

Margaery and Ellaria watch. Her fingers curled deep into the paramours cunt, Margaery’s head twists around as she moans softly at the sight of your body shaking and heaving with pleasure.

“Fucking gorgeous.” Raeden’s head had been turned to you as well, and the way he groans when you cum is only half to do with Cal’s body bearing down on his cock so tightly. He nearly growls at the feeling, scratching his blunted nails down the other man’s spine. “Cal thinks so, too.”

“Yes.” The other man whines. “All of you, so -“ he moans when Raeden’s hips slap against his ass again, cock spurting a dribble of pre-cum onto the bed below him as he throbs. “So sexy. wanted to touch all of you.” He babbles. “W–wanted to.”

“Next time I hope you will not hesitate,” Ellaria purrs, watching the way his cock pulses with hungry fixation. “You need a cunt, Cal.” She declares with mischief in her voice. “Who do you want beneath you?”

“Anyone.” He moans, eyes rolling back into his head as he imagines filling one of the gorgeous ladies spread out and teasing him with the wet views of their cunts. He has never wanted to sink into a group more, even when he was having sex all the time. Even Leyth has admitted that the Prince’s lovers and friends are all people she would fuck willingly every day if asked. Neither one of them having an reservations about that now they have had months with just the two of them together and no demands on their bodies. “Please. I-I am close.”

“It should be you, lover,” your hand caresses Ellaria’s cheek only because you are not close enough to kiss her. “I know you have missed Cal’s cock.”

“You do not want to experience his cock?” She asks curiously. She had thought that you were becoming close to the servants and would want to be involved.

“Oh I do.” You can promise her that without hesitation. “But you have not cum yet. If you would rather cum for Margaery, I will gladly let these men weigh me into the mattress.”

“We will be in this position many more times.” She tells you breezily, tamping down her own fears. If Oberyn is lost tomorrow, she will not have you regret missing out on one experience with him. “Take your place under them and feel the power of all three.”

Leyth does not miss a beat, transferring her attention to Ellaria and Margaery after helping you off the chaise. The five steps you need to get to the bed are quick, and you slide across half the mattress to cup Cal’s jaw and bring his eyes to yours. “Hold still for just a moment and then you will have a slick cunt to cum in.”

His neck stretches slightly, eyes dark and lust blown. “Kiss me, Princess?” He chokes out.

That is a request you are glad to bend to, and you meet his lips with equal desire as you slide yourself under the clutch of slick bodies for which Cal is the anchor.

“Do not collapse on her.” Oberyn has no issue with you being under the group, but he will not have you take all their weight when his child is nestled inside your womb.

“Never.” They are all very aware of your condition and happy to have the new babe in the way. Making sure you and that babe are safe is the very top priority. Even so, Cal groans when you slip into place below him and wrap your hand around his cock to guide him into your velvet heat.

“Princess.” Breaking you open is an exquisite feeling. Looking down and seeing you beneath him as you take inch after inch of his cock. His own body being pushed forward by the much slower thrusts of the men behind him. “So— you are so tight.” He groans.

“She is ma—magnificent.” Raeden groans, so close to his own end that he can barely think. Every sense has been taken over by Oberyn and Cal.

“Yes she is.” Oberyn agrees, smirking slightly when he feels the way that Raeden is pushing back desperately. “I think my lord Sunstone wishes to spill his load again.” He teases, his fingers gripping the man’s hips fierce and he snaps his hips forward.

“Not everyone has your stamina, lover.” Ellaria is close now, too, with Leyth and Margaery both dedicated to pleasing her, and she throws her head back on the chaise when Margaery grazes her teeth along her swollen clit. “Cal will burst any moment,” she predicts with a moan.

“Fuck.” Raeden grits his teeth and feels his own body respond to the words and the way that Cal’s body is gripping him like a vice.

“Cum for us, love.” From where you are, you can look him in the eye with no effort in between Cal’s passionate kisses. “Cum in Cal and make him fill me, too.”

Your words make the world explode for Raeden. Gasping out a choked combination of Cal and Oberyn’s names, he gives into the pleasure that has been denied to him for years. The cock in his ass striking against pure Heaven, his own throbs and starts to fill the man below him with hot ropes of his seed.

Cal’s hips stutter mere moments later, slamming into yours with as much force as he can muster and painting your cunt with his own sticky cum. Both men are panting, glassy eyed with lust and still hard thanks to the powder that Cal has supplied.

“Cum, my prince.” Raeden begs desperately, enjoying the way Oberyn still rocks into him roughly. “I need to feel it.”

Oberyn’s answering grunt comes with a gleam in his eyes, and he knows you are all watching him with held breath. You all need to witness this as much as Raeden needs to feel it, knowing what it means to him. His jaw is clenched, giving him away, and you practically moan when you notice it. “He is close,” you promise your own paramour. “Squeeze his cock even once more and he will not be able to hold out.”

Oberyn hisses when Raeden immediately follows your suggestion and bears down on his cock. “Vixen.” He chokes out, snapping his hips forward one last time and grinding deep, closing his eyes as the orgasm consumes his attention.

There is no heat in the chastisement, just in Oberyn’s eyes, and you marvel at the way his beautiful body tenses completely and he groans Raeden’s name a the most holy prayer. They have both waited so long for this that it makes being a part of it all the more meaningful. Raeden shouts at the first feeling of Oberyn filling him — calls out to the gods in their heavens and then growls Oberyn’s name so fiercely that anyone would think that he was coming apart all over again. His fingers dig into Cal’s hips as Oberyn rides out his pleasure and Raeden unconsciously holds his breath. The moment seems to invigorate and nearly collapse him simultaneously but Cal is already angling the men to one side on the bed. When they did slump over and need five minutes of rest, they will fall beside you, not on you.

“This is the beginning of a glorious night.” Margarey hums, moving off the chaise so she can pet and kiss both you and her husband. Another affectionate peck for Cal and then last but not least, Oberyn. Showering everyone with attention as thanks for such a wonderful scene.

The pile of bodies on the bed grows one more time as Ellaria and Leyth move to join you, and the easy touches between all of you grow to more kisses before too long. There will be no rest tonight until everyone is entirely satiated — and that will not happen quickly.

“We must clean up before we touch you.” Oberyn murmurs against your lips. You had crawled out from under Cal and was dividing kisses between Raeden and Oberyn as they had stated to kiss fiercely.

“Am I so very pure?” To his mind you are, and you know that. Revel in it, even. He treats you like the most precious creature in the world now that you are carrying his child.

Oberyn snorts, nibbling on your pulse even as his still hard cock twitches inside Raeden. He has not pulled out of his body yet, could perhaps stay buried if he did not want to touch as man as he could tonight. “Very.” He teases. “The woman who begged me to marry her could not even fathom the woman carrying my child.”

“I think I would not even recognize that woman if I laid eyes on her again.” You could beg for more kisses, but that is about it.

“She is much more confidant about taking what she wants.” Ellaria coos, pulling away from Leyth and Cal for a moment. Her hand is already around the other man’s cock and pumping it as he moans against his partner’s breast.

“I learned that it is not a sin to take what is freely given.” And that, for you, has been so immensely freeing.

“Everyone here gives freely or they are not in this bed.” Margaery had been immensely comforted by the fact that both Leyth and Cal wished to be here.

“That is true.” Raeden purrs at his wife, plunging himself across several bodies to demand a kiss and pluck at her breast. “And you have taken to it very well, wife.”

Her moan is loud and symbolic of the night itself. Everyone pleasured and enjoying themselves.

“I believe it is your turn to be fucked by a prince, Lady Sunstone.” She is now the only one who has not had Oberyn’s cock and one who very much wants it, and you grin before leaning over to nip at the sensitive skin of her neck. “She is like me, husband,” you warn Oberyn, knowing it will actually delight him. “Slap her ass, pull her hair, and fuck her hard. You will be rewarded with the scratch of her nails and wailing moans of your name.”

Oberyn smirks as he rolls over, moving quickly to the water basin to wash and to get a cloth for Raeden and Cal. “We will see, Princess. I will paint her ass with my seed and see if it makes her any lovelier than she already is.”

“She is most beautiful when she is exhausted from cumming,” you attest, winking at Margaery before you lay back in the pillows and trace your fingers up and down the length of your slit. Cal’s cum mixed with your own and the feeling is wonderfully decadent. “That leaves us, my love,” you hum at Raeden as he quickly cleans himself. “Unless you plan to share Margaery with Oberyn? Then I will gladly finger fuck my own pussy at the sight.”

“Very fitting.” Raeden watches shamelessly, looking back and forth between you touching yourself and Oberyn cleaning his hard cock before he comes back to the bed. He aches, pleasantly so in a way that has been sorely missed, and he can feel the prince’s cum start to drip out of him. “He fucks my wife while I fuck his.”

“Then come here.” Reaching for him immediately, the smile on your face turns from amused to beaming and you tug him toward the bed again by his fingertips. “Take me however you want me. I promise my screams will reach the gods.”

“The night will be one that the gods are envious of.” Oberyn predicts with a smirk. “Old and new.”

******

The morning light wakes you first, as the pile of bodies on the bed in your chambers has wrapped itself up in a comfortable ball with seemingly only you facing the window. Or, at least, Oberyn has his face buried in your back with Raeden curled around him. Leyth is facing you in the center of the bed, with Margaery in Cal's arms on her other side, and Ellaria has one arm stretched out across all of their bodies as though she was reaching for you in her sleep. The night had left all of you as exhausted as you were satisfied and you had all fallen into dreams with your last partners and no hesitations whatsoever with your intimacy.

This morning, however, you would banish the brightness of the sun if it was in your power. Blot out its power and let night last forever. This morning, Oberyn will stand up and fight for his sister's honorable memory and Lord Tyrion's innocence. He will fight for his life. And the worry that that churns in you has you turning over in his arms to watch just a few more minutes of his peaceful sleep.

He wakes the moment you move, although he doesn’t give that away. Keeping still as you sigh heavily and his body stays relaxed as you shift and turn to face him. He can sense the sun, the light brighter than the flame of waxy candles that he had finally passed out to. Sometime, perhaps an hour before dawn. Even though he should be exhausted still, he’s invigorated, feeling as if he could fight a hundred Gregor Cleganes.

“The morning has come, my love.” As bare as a whisper, your fingertips do not even graze his skin but ghost over it as you watch Oberyn’s relaxed face. “Your morning. Your time in the light of the gods to bring Elia’s murderer to justice. The poets will sing about this morning with reverence.” Your voice shakes a little, tears threatening to burst through, but you swallow them with determination. “I promised you that I would be strong today, my love, and I will. You said for our people, but it is for you.” The tears you promised not to shed are close to the surface and you swallow again, thickly. “To fall in love with you was unthinkable, husband. It was never an option in my mind. But you—gods help me, you smiled at me and looked into my eyes and I knew somehow that my heart had room enough for two.” Your fingertips graze his beard gently and you almost choke, holding the sob in so you will not disturb anyone else in bed. “I believe you could conquer all Seven Kingdoms if you set your mind to it, my love. But—if you do not—if this morning goes awry—” Voice dropping impossibly lower, your open eyes are set firmly on his closed ones. On the set of his eyelashes and the tone of his skin in the rising sun. “Then the Mountain’s blood shall run from my dagger instead. I swear it on my own life.”

It is humbling to hear that vow set down from your sweet lips. Vengeance is not in your nature, revenge not steeped in your blood. That you would love him so fiercely to make that promise is like a soothing balm to the raw edges of the morning. He would never wish you to have to do that. He wants you to live your life peacefully, exactly how you wished. Neither does he want you to mourn him. Your first child, growing them, nurturing them in your body, should not be spent wallowing in misery.

“I love you, husband.” If he were awake you would seal the promise with a kiss, but as it is you study his features in repose. Memorizing his face one more time. “My soulmate.”

“I love you, wife.” His voice is scratchy, husky with sleep and he keeps it low to not disturb the others. Wanting this moment with you before any intrusions. He will have another moment like this with Ellaria as well, needing it. Just in case. “My soulmate.”

Under any other circumstance you might be upset with yourself for having woken him. But there is too much at stake today to lie to yourself that you are not glad to hear his voice. Instead you reach up again and let your hands rest on the line of his jaw. “Good morning, beloved.”

“No lovelier sight to greet the day.” Oberyn smiles as he looks over your still sleep softened features. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“A most pleasant ache,” you admit with a sly grin. There is not one single member of this unusual family that will not be sore today. “Did you sleep well?”

“For the few hours that I have slept, I feel as though I could move mountains.” He hums, smirking at his pun.

“My husband feels very clever this morning.” The pun practically has you rolling your eyes but you lean forward to kiss his lips instead.

“I always feel clever, but for you I will admit that I am going to be happy when this is over.” He accept the kiss and gives you another.

“As will we all.” As confident as you all may be in Oberyn’s abilities, he will not be the only person in that ring today. He is not the only factor at hand. And that alone is terrifying.

“We will be back in this room, making ready to leave this city in just a few hours.” Oberyn reminds you. “Every noble of Dorne who has come will be there as well.”

“It cannot come soon enough.” Pressing one more kiss to his lips, you summon a smile and remind yourself that sewing doubt in him helps no one. You are his wife. His soulmate. His support. And you can clutch Ellaria’s hand in mutual fear when the time comes.

“Would you like to join Ellaria and I in the bath?” He had thought to spend that time with his other soulmate, but he knows you might want to stay close while you can. “She will be helping me dress.”

“She deserves time with you this morning.” Ellaria has known him much longer and loved him much more ferociously, and it would be cruel of you to intrude on her moment with Oberyn. “I will wash and dress with Raeden and Margaery, and we will all present as a unified party to the capital.”

He touches the necklace that the three of you had worn. Raeden’s necklace was equally beautiful and It had made him incredibly possessive when he had seen all of you wearing it. It only made the night even sweeter when you had disappeared together and then reappeared wearing them. “Dorne is stronger with the three of you beside us.” He tells you honestly. For so long, it has been him and Ellaria. Lovers have come and gone but the two of them are no longer just the two of them. He has subtly started thinking of your group as his, just as he is yours.

“Dorne will be stronger when we all return home together.” Having made your promise when he was sleeping, you will not allow yourself to entertain any other possibility aloud this morning. It will do no good, especially not for him.

“Of course it will.” Oberyn smirks, “we will set Dorne on it ear and it will be better for it.”

“The only thing I have ever done that would shock Dorne is make a husband of its prince.” Still though, you smile. Knowing how unbelievable that news will be to many of the people. “And I am honored that you love me as I love you.”

“I do love you.” Oberyn whispers seriously. “Until the end of time and my bones turn to dust.”

“May that be an extraordinarily long time from now,” you murmur, fingers delicately tracing the lines of his face.

“It will be.” The vow is make as he traces your own face gently and the others begin to stir. “When I am too old to sire a child.”

“That will never happen,” Raeden chuckles, his voice hoarse and cracked as he stretches at Oberyn’s back. “You will be making new babies the same age as your great-grandchildren.”

“Especially if I get more of whatever Cal fed us last night.” Oberyn jokes as the man’s eyes open. “My legacy will overrun the Seven Kingdoms.”

“There are three women in this bed who would be glad to bear you more children.” It would be four if Leyth could have children, but there is no use harping on the impossible. “And you, too, Lord Sunstone.”

“It is my hope that one of you is already carrying my child.” He can’t help but look smug at the prospect as he leans in and kisses Oberyn’s shoulder. “So our children can run the gardens together and grow up as close as siblings.”

“That is a wonderful dream,” Margaery murmurs sleepily, already smiling. “When we reach home I will see a Maester right away.”

"It is time." Oberyn grunts softly, hating to pull away from the warm bodies in the bed, but he needs to prepare for his trial by combat battle with the man who had murdered his sister.

******

When the party from Dorne arrives in the stadium with matching emblems, Dornish dress in House Martell's colors, and looks of fierce pride on all of your faces, it is the sound of bells that welcomes and warns you all at once. The leather trim on all of your cloaks and gowns matches Oberyn's armour. The oils rubbed into your skin even smell of Dornish herbs. You, Ellaria, and Margaery are all even wearing your hair in traditionally Dornish styles. There is no question whom you represent, and Oberyn walks proudly out in front with you on one arm and Ellaria on the other as Raeden and Margaery follow close behind. Today is about honor, and no matter what happens, you will all hold your heads high.

Oberyn smirks as Tywin, Cersei and their dower looking entourage arrive. The head of the Lannisters looks as if he’s sucked down a cup of sour wine. Or had walked in on his children fucking. “Look at him.” Oberyn hums as he strides to the tent that has been erected with his weapons already in place on a table. “He looks like he had taken a disappointing cock in his ass.”

You and Ellaria snicker softly at the image Oberyn paints, and walk with him directly to the table. There are chairs in place but you all know that you will be too nervous to sit, making you all the more grateful for the pitcher of wine that has been placed out. This is Cal and Leyth's doing, for there is a small pitcher of fruit juice beside it for you, and you step forward to pour Oberyn a goblet of wine knowing that Cal will have made sure it is Dornish.

“Make sure not to touch the spear, my love.” Oberyn cautions. “It has fangs.” The poison has been applied, although there is another powder he will rub on it before the fight begins.

There is some cheering from spectating peasants who have no idea the enormity of the importance this morning bears for Oberyn. but the ripple of a gasp rips through the crowd when the legendary warrior prince drinks his wine in one gulp and turns to Ellaria to bestow a passionate kiss before giving the same to you.

“I think they might hate you more than me.” Margaery hums as she looks towards the seats where her former family sits. Her father’s face is mottled red and he might snap the arms of the chair he is gripping it so tightly. Tywin’s glare matches Cersei’s and she’s felt the weight of their anger.

"My husband's sense of humor is rubbing off on me," you mumble just loud enough for all of your party to hear. "I could suggest that the prince and Lady Sunstone share a kiss as well."

“That might make my father keel over.” She giggles quietly and hums pleasantly at the thought. “Although I will kiss him as soon as you and Ellaria does after his victory.”

“I should like to see his reaction to that,” Raeden chuckles and leans down to kiss his bride, drawing an even more animated reaction from the crowd.

"It would be one that all of the Seven Kingdoms should see." Oberyn chuckles himself, his eyes sliding towards the Lannisters and he smirks.

The bells cease their tolling only moments before Tyrion Lannister appears with guards flanking him on either side. "Looks like very light armour," he observes when he is hurried under the same tent as the Dornish party to stand beside his champion. Clearly, Tyrion is concerned.

Oberyn breaks away from his kiss with Ellaria, annoyed by the criticism. "I like to move around."

The youngest Lannister is obviously unamused with his answer because he continues to grumble at him. "You could at least wear a helmet." Oberyn picks up the goblet that you have refilled and starts to drink. "You shouldn't drink before a fight." Tyrion huffs.

Motioning towards the man in chains, Obery quips, "You learn this during your years in the fighting pits?" He looks down at the cup. "I always drink before a fight."

"It could get you killed." Tyrion reminds him flatly, looking around at the party surrounding him. At the support he has. It would be useless to admit that he envies the man for being so adored, and instead he grumbles again. "It could get me killed."

Oberyn sets down his cup and looks at the little man with certainty. "Today is not the day I die." He assures him, aware that the poison will guarantee his victory against the Mountain. Ellaria hums happily, sliding her hand over his leathers and looking towards you with a smirk. She knows both of you find his confidence sexy and right now, all of you need to believe that statement.

"Have faith in your Champion, Lord Tyrion," you remind him, as the crowd begins to roar again. It is louder this time, more excited than merely intrigued, and you turn to watch Gregor Clegane himself - the Mountain - walking into the arena. So that is why they call him a Mountain, you think to yourself with instant terror. And you know Ellaria is just as scared when she grips your hand tightly. "You're going to fight that?" She asks Oberyn with wide eyes.

Oberyn swaggers over to the edge of the table and leans against it, looking over at where the Mountain has made his appearance. "I'm going to kill that." Ellaria's eyes are fixed on him. "He's the biggest man I've ever seen." Her grip tightens, nearly crushing your fingers as her own worry spills over the edge of her calm facade. Oberyn will do as he pleases, he has for years and she has never truly worried, but that? That is a foe that he might not be able to beat.

Bending over the wash basin, Oberyn cleans his hands of the wine. "Size does not matter when you are flat on your back."

"Thank the gods." You and Tyrion manage to murmur at the same time.

A horn sounds its simple fanfare, calling the combatants and the audience to order. Grand Maester Pycelle has appeared on the edge of the ring and though he is surely doing his best to be heard throughout the stadium, his aged voice is not powerful. "In the sight of gods and men, we gather to ascertain the guilt or innocence of this..." he stumbles, not quite knowing what descriptor to use until he settles on the usual one. "Man...Tyrion Lannister. May the Mother grant them mercy. May the Father give them such justice as they deserve. May the Warrior guide the hand of our champion–" He is cut off when Tywin grows impatient and motions for the horn to blow again, ultimately bowing lamely and shuffling off to the stands once more.

Oberyn turns, pulling Ellaria into his arms and kissing her passionately, before she steps back and you take her place. Every feeling, every touch and mark on your body that belongs to him is poured into the much too short kiss. His heart starting to pound in anticipation.

Ellaria has one of Oberyn's hands in hers and you have the other as the sound of Gregor Clegane's immense sword leaving its sheath can be heard across the ring. "Don't leave us alone in this world." She entreats Oberyn with a note of desperation that is so unlike her but so like this situation. Realistically, would either of you be truly alone? Of course not. You would have each other, if nothing else. But formally? Legally? You could be denied everything without him there to provide for you – and that is what terrifies her. That everyone in this tent is under his protection and his alone until the time you set foot on Dornish sand.

"Never." He can promise her that. Without hesitation or contemplation. He would never leave any of you alone if he could help it.

As soon as Ellaria lets go of his hand, you pull Oberyn into your arms and place the hand of his that you had been holding on the curve of your stomach. The nature of the gesture is unmistakable, and as the announcement of your pregnancy had not yet been made, a gasp ripples through the crowd. But that is precisely what you were hoping for. While the people of King's Landing are murmuring in shock, they do not notice you slipping the sheath of an extra dagger under the folds of your husband's leather armour. "For Elia," you whisper to him, giving the sheathed dagger a quick tug to make sure that it is secure before you kiss him once more. "And for your family. Be swift, my love."

There is a quick wink towards Raeden and the squire that has been a part of Oberyn's travels and will attend him during the fight, tosses him the spear. The lightweight, yet sturdy wood feels perfectly balanced in his hands and he wastes no time twirling it around in his hand. Showing off is part of his very nature and part of his strategy. He wants the crowd to cheer for him. It's obvious they do when he spins around for the final time and grins up at the covered tents where Twyin and his whore daughter try to look unimpressed.

From where you stand under your tent at the edge of the ring, you and Ellaria are already on edge as you watch Oberyn showboat and the look of disinterested murderousness in the Mountain's eyes deepens. The crowd cheering pushes your heart up into your throat because you know that it bolsters him – he feeds off the energy of those around him in almost every circumstance. This one is no different.

Turning to face the man who had murdered his beloved sister, the grin on his face is satisfied, eager to address the man who would confess his crimes to the crowd. "Have they told you who I am?" He demands, wanting to know if he remembers his sister, or if the years and his numerous crimes for the Lannisters have dimmed his memory. The Mountain seems unimpressed. "Some dead man." He tells him right before he lunges with a swing of his broadsword.

The first few strikes sound terribly, the clash of metal and strong wood echoing through the space like taunts. Every strike seems to pierce your heart rather than deter Oberyn's confidence, and if that is how it must be then you will gladly absorb every blow.

"I am the brother of Elia Martell." He announces, keeping his voice loud but not shouting into the stands because he's addressing the man in front of him. "Do you know why I have come all the way to this stinking, shit-pile of a city?" He asks, squaring his body in front of the giant of a man. "For you." Instantly, he crouches and attacks, swinging his spear and nearly catching Clegane under his heavy helmet.

Oberyn swings his staff elegantly. Of course the weapon was molded for him but he has also molded himself to the weapon – and Clegane's lumbering and grunts only serve to make him look inelegant compared to the smaller, much nimbler form of the Red Viper. Even though you gasp when the Mountain lunges, you cannot tear your eyes away. Oberyn slides backward, deftly avoiding the attack as he continues to taunt his foe.

"I'm going to hear you confess before you die." This time Oberyn isn't facing the beast in front of him, instead his words go up into the crowd with a ripping of confusion from the spectators. Tywin's jaw is so tight that it could shatter if he clenches his teeth together. Turning back to Gregor Clegane, he makes his accusations. "You raped my sister. You murdered her. You killed her children." There is hatred in his eyes and swings his spear up. "Say it now and we can make this quick."

Your hand tightens around Ellaria's as you watch the growling Mountain lunge at Oberyn and the clanging of their weapons rings through the stadium. Feeling their presence at your back, you cannot tear your eyes away from the ring to look to them, but you know Raeden and Margaery are just behind you. Oberyn was right - of course he was - it is his speed and his dexterity that keeps him ahead of Clegane.

When he hits the Mountain across his back with the spear, he knocks the man's helmet off. Revealing his disgusting face to the crowd. "Say it. You raped her." Oberyn spits out, deflecting another attack from the other warrior. "You murdered her." He can still sling his accusations as he spins around, although the Mountain is just shouting as he lunges for Oberyn again. Again, his spear is used to push the sword's momentum down to the ground and he looks into the eyes of his sister's killer. "You killed her children."

The accusation is repeated with every swing, every lunge, and every blow. Oberyn is a blur in the ring as the lumbering Mountain tries to keep up, but the Red Viper of Dorne is too quick for his reflexes and heavier armor. Once he manages to knock Oberyn toward the ground but the prince only springs up to his feet again seconds later – the sharp intake of breath under your tent is loud enough for other to hear but still none of you can take your eyes off of the fight.

His rage manifests as amusement, a smile on his face, although it doesn't reach his eyes. The fight has gone beyond playful and taunting. The years of fury have built up and the Mountain knocks the spear out of his hand, knocking him to the ground.

The crowd may cheer as Oberyn flips out of the way, his training making him lithe and athletic while you and Ellaria swallow shaky gasps and clutch each other's hands impossibly harder. Tyrion may hyperventilate at any moment, watching his champion be so performative, but he says nothing. He knows that you and everyone else under this tent are terrified for the life of the Prince of Dorne, not for the life of the Imp of Casterly Rock.

The next spear is tossed to Oberyn and his attacks turn more vicious. Even as he's sent down to his knees, he is bouncing back. This time after a flurry of attacks and deflecting, the giant grabs Oberyn and tosses him across the combat area.

By this time you count three wounds that the poisoned blade has made in the Mountain's flesh, but you know nothing of poisons. How long will it take to begin killing him? How will it kill him? Will it weaken him immensely, or simply slow him down? Was there even enough poison to do Oberyn any good in the moment? You flinch when he is thrown to the ground but Ellaria holds to your fast, urging you not to look away. The two of you have promised to survive this fight side by side and that is not a promise either of you can break.

Stomping away from the Mountain as he tries to regain his footing, Oberyn's fervor spirals. "You raped her!" He shouts, "You murdered her!" He watches as the other man attacks again, spinning around and this time, he digs the hook of the spear into the back of the Mountain's heel. Ripping open flesh and making him scream in agony. Panting as Clegane drops to his knees. Gripping his spear, he screams again. "You killed her children!" Running forward, Oberyn leaps up and drives the spear into the Mountain's chest, making blood spurt from his chest.

There is a moment where people almost smile. Tyrion and Jamie Lannister both look like they are about to, mostly out of shock, and Ellaria almost laughs in relief. You and Margaery make identical sobbing sounds that are halfway like laughs, and even Raeden blows out a long breath. Clegane is flat on his back, and you could swear that you see him twitch while Oberyn circles him with growling anger.

To add insult to injury, Oberyn leaves the spear in the man's chest. "Wait. Are you dying?" He asks. "No. No. No." He growls as he paces. "You can't die yet. You haven't confessed." He reaches over and yanks the spear out of his chest, assured that poison has worked through the man's body. He will die in agony and yet it will still not be good enough. "Say it." He resumes marching around him as he groans on the ground. "Say her name. Elia Martell." As his blood boils, his mind spins in a murderous rage. "You raped her. You killed her children." The spectators are quiet as his voice rings out of the seats. "Elia Martell." He points at Tywin Lanniser sitting on his cushioned chair. "Who gave you the order?" He looks back at the Mountain and then back at Tywin. "Who gave you the order?! Say her name! You raped her! You murdered her!" Around and around, Oberyn circles the fallen man, his voice climbing higher ever time he speaks. "You killed her children." Nothing matters but this. Nothing. Not Tyrion. He had never really cared about the little man's guilt or innocence. He cares about his revenge.

Oberyn circles the giant, roaring his accusations and demanding that Clegane confess. Once - just once - he manages to look up to the tent where all of you are watching, and the unmistakable pride in Ellaria's expression and the firm determination in yours makes him smile with grim satisfaction. But he inches just a hair too close to the dying man in the middle of the ring. Clegane's hand comes out and snatches at Oberyn's ankle, sending the legendary Viper to ground once more. Tyrion panics, eyes widening; and you and Ellaria gasp out loud. The Mountain is moving and Oberyn is on his back.

Please, Gods...please do not take him like this...

There is a split second where the future flashes in front of his eyes. One that he would not be present for. His lover becoming jaded and bitter, obsessing over revenge for his death and oddly enough, he does not want that. His Sand Snakes being killed by the bastard Lions in a vain attempt to find justice for their father before they are ready. Raeden being run through in a battle to get you and his heir out of the city. It's not above Tywin Lanniser and he knows that the man had seen the way you had brought his hand to your stomach. Then you, his lovely wife. Carrying his child. The horrible idea of you suffering the same fate as his sister. Perhaps even at the hands of the same man.

His hands flail for a moment as the weight of the man presses him down into the stone. "Elia Martell." He growls, hands reaching for Oberyn's head and the Prince's eyes squeeze shut as the gloved thumbs cover them and start to press. Oberyn screams, the sound pure agony as he touches the dagger you had tucked into his waist and he knows that confession would be the best he would ever get. Not before the man seriously damages his eyes or kills him. His pride, his arrogance had landed him on his back, the poison not killing him fast enough. "E-Elia." He gasps out, wrapping his fingers around the hilt and pulling it out, shoving it up through the bottom of the Mountain's chin and into his head as hard as he can. "Elia Martell." Oberyn chokes out. "Of Dorne." Gregor Clegane's eyes widen and he gurgles, blood spewing out of his mouth onto the prince's face. "This is for her."

The collection gasp of shock from the assembled audience cannot compete with the way you and Ellaria scream. The fierce shrieks coming deep inside both of you when all you can see of Oberyn is that the man you both love - your soulmate - is flat on his back beneath the Mountain's murderous bulk. Raeden has to push Margaery backward into Cal's grip so he can wrap one arm around you and Ellaria, barely managing to stop you from storming the ring yourselves to finish the Mountain with your bare hands. He knows you would manage it somehow. That together there could be nothing from stopping you and Ellaria if you got your hands on Gregor Clegane.

You struggle against Raeden in tandem, screaming Oberyn's name, until you see a flash of metal against the late morning sun and another flood of blood. It is impossible to tell whose blood it is at first, until a look of relief washes briefly over Jamie Lannister's face.

"Oberyn!" Prying Raeden's hand open, you sprint for the center of the ring as the Mountain's lifeless body is shoved aside to reveal a triumphant Prince of Dorne has, indeed, survived.

He has survived.

Avenged his sister.

Won the day.

And you pull him into your arms just a moment before Ellaria reaches his other side so that both of you can help him to his feet.

"The gods have made their will known." Tywin Lannister's voice shakes with anger and disbelief, but the results are indisputable. "Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name...you have been found innocent of the murder of King Joffrey." He sounds as if he could throw something, but you barely hear the declaration. Oberyn is standing on his own two feet with his arms around you and Ellaria, and that is all that matters.

Panting and breathless, Oberyn absorbs the roar of the crowd, but is doesn't mean anything to him. Neither does the effusive gratitude of a near sobbing Tyrion as the guards unlock his chains, setting him free. All that matters is that he is still breathing and you and Ellaria are in his arms. He surges forward, pressing his lips to Ellaria's and then yours in front of the crowd as Raeden and Margaery stand to the side. His need for justice has been quenched. While the Mountain did not implicate Tywin, he can live with the fact that her murderer has breathed his last breath and all of King's Landing now knows.

"Let us leave this fucking place." He decides breathlessly, grinning at you and jostling Ellaria closer to him. "Never to return. Dorne calls us home."

______

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[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 5

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst​

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.  

Rating: E for Explicit  Word Count: 15.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* A whole lot of nudity, reflections on poor sex education, internalized shame, Mom-frontation, absurd amounts of tension, we’re not even sorry, dialing up the yearning, anxiety, mentions of parental abuse, a whole heaping dose of inadequate communication. Summary: The day of King Joffrey and Lady Margaery’s wedding holds surprises for everyone. Notes: Y’all the WAY this chapter makes me cry. There is so much going on and the day is so intense to begin with. Keri really and truly out does herself with every step forward this quartet takes.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

The sun rise does not wake you, nor the sound of servants moving in and out of the room. The warmth and security of having Raeden's arm heavy on your waist has kept you deep in a blissful sleep more revitalizing than you have had in a very long time. Food has been laid and your trunks delivered from the Red Keep while you slept with your soulmate like a rock at your back, and it is not until the scent of freshly lit incense breaks through your dreams that you even have a sense of the world outside of your beautiful dreams.

The warm sun pours through the curtains that Leyth opens, and she hums to herself softly as she moves around the room. Prince Oberyn had given her specific instructions on waking the new princess and her lover gently and hanging the dress he had produced from his trunk, even making sure that the bath room would be emptied for you to have privacy. Though why you need privacy in a whorehouse makes no sense to her. It seems rather...precious. But she does not know your story.

The moment you stir, Raeden opens his eyes. He has spent the last hour awake, holding you close as you continued to dream. As a soldier, he is often up before the sun, training. This morning he had woken due to habit. For a split second believing that yesterday had been a dream until you had sighed softly and the weight of your body pressed against him registered. There were still noises from the chambers where the prince and his soulmate slept, this time it was softer, more intimate. Making him wonder at the paradoxical nature of the prince and if he had not been toying with you when he had said he was interested in a lowly soldier like him. A man who is reliant on his good graces for taking breath today. And why Ellaria’s eyes haunted him enough to dream of her last night.

Leyth catches the movement, smiling at the broad man in the bed and whispering when she sees you haven’t opened your eyes yet. “Meal is laid and so is her dress. When you are ready, Prince Oberyn has ordered the bathing room be emptied so she can have privacy.” That is all she came here to say, so she smiles once more at the handsome man and leaves, shutting the door gently behind her.

He’s grateful that the prince seems to accept your modesty, even if he might not share those same proclivities. His hand slides from his hold on you and he strokes your side softly. “Morning has come.” He murmurs softly, kissing your shoulder. “It is near a dream to wake up with you in my arms.”

“I thought I was dreaming still.” Rough with sleep, your voice is still soft as you open your eyes and turn to burrow into his side. The mix of dreams you had are still fresh in your mind’s eye, sleep barely receding enough to allow you to be present in this moment. “Did you sleep well, my love?”

“Better than ever.” He promises, smiling at your sleepy face. If he had stayed up late thinking on the sounds that had come from next door, it was nothing you needed to concern yourself with.

“Morning light becomes you.” Reaching up to kiss him in the sunlight that streams in through the windows, your fingers dance through the traces of stubble on his jaw and even the top of his head and you giggle to yourself. “Did I hear something about a bath?” He is meticulous about his appearance, and you know that on a day as important as the king’s wedding, you will both want to look your best.

“Your husband has arranged a private bath for you.” Raeden nods and leans in to steal a kiss. He wishes he could give you those things, give you everything you need, but he holds no power.

The sentence stings for a very different reason than it had yesterday, after spending a night dreaming about both men alternately. The guilt you carry for finding yourself attracted to the man you have already married is difficult to reconcile, and you wonder how angry Raeden would feel if he knew. Or worse, betrayed. “That…is kind of him.” You murmur finally, tucking in closer to Raeden’s side.

“It is.” Readen won’t deny that, and his eyes widen when he sees the gown that had been brought in for you. “Like the dress is…shockingly brief.”

“What do you…” Sitting up in bed, you find yourself face to face with a beautiful golden gown embroidered with elaborate flowers across the bodice and vines that extend down the skirt. The light material is silky and inviting, but the brief part of it is the sleeves that look as though they will simply dangle off your shoulders, and the deep dip in the front that would surely do everything in its power to highlight your breasts for any who might look. “It’s…exceptionally beautiful,” you admit, finding it to be stunning but a little shocking. You would never see the ladies of the Vale wearing anything so revealing. “It must be the fashion…in Dorne.”

“It is a most temperate climate from what I know of it.” He murmurs, wondering how jealous he will be with eyes on your skin. “Perhaps comfort is afforded over modesty?”

"Perhaps it will be more modest on the body than it seems to the eye." It is more intimidating than you would like to admit, to come to these changes all at once, but it is what you chose. A new gown is hardly a terrible price to pay for Raeden's safety. "Either way, it is what I will wear to the king's wedding. Dornish colors and Dornish fashion."

“You will be fit to cling to the Prince’s arm.” His own robes will be splendid as well, he will make sure to take great pains to shine his boots and his sword. “It will be a grand introduction to the new princess.”

"It will be a great shock to some." You can think of a half dozen names off the top of your head. "I only hope that Lady Margaery does not view it as an attempt to steal sunshine from her day. The last thing I wish is to offend a queen."

“I doubt she will view it as such a thing.” He assures you, turning and kissing your shoulder. “It is not like the prince announced your wedding and invited the kingdom.”

“Nor would I have wanted him to.” Turning your head, you plant two soft kisses on Raeden’s lips and smile. The moans and calls to gods and the prince himself are nearly at a crescendo – a sound with which you are now well acquainted. And that, you tell yourself, is the only reason you must have dreamt of him last night. “Let us break our fast and bathe, my love. Today is sure to be long and tiresome.”

Breakfast was far more elaborate than even you were used to. The brothel apparently sparing no expense to make sure that the prince was kept happy. Dates and fruits surround fresh bread and some eggs that were still steaming in their shells. All washed down with a mulled wine that was very pleasing to the palette. It was a meal unlike anything he had experienced before beyond last night.

The bathing room is at the other end of the not inconsiderably sized building, according to the man who escorted your trunks into your chamber last night. He was personable and handsome, like almost everyone else who seemed to do very well working in Baelish’s brothel. The arrival of your trunks with most of your belongings intact meant that you can wrap up in your dressing robe to walk to your bath this morning, a luxury you had not expected. In fact, most moments spent here seemed to be luxurious ones with the exception of the luxury of quiet.

Stepping into the room, Raeden is impressed with the size of the room. The tub is sunk into the middle of the floor, water already pouring into the large cavity from a pipe that comes from the kitchen – he can only assume – as steam swirls up. That is a luxury in itself, not using someone else’s water in a bath this size. The smell of incense and spices fills the air and makes him hum in approval.

“I admit, I had no idea a brothel would be a beautiful place.” Only ever having heard of them as places a lady should never go, you had assumed they would be as dank and unappealing as the men they attracted. As much as you dislike Lord Baelish, his establishment seems to be far above what you had imagined for this house of ill repute.

“I feel as if Baelish like to accommodate the lords that come to King’s Landing.” Raeden pulls off his undershirt and smirks when he sees the shaving tools set off to the side.

“So much the better for us, then.” Your robe joins his clothing on the tiled floor beside the bath and you slip into the steaming water, sighing at the way it relaxes you instantly. There are few things better in the world than a hot bath.

“It is good?” The washing cloths are to the side and Raeden lets you enjoy the warm water as he gathers the perfumed soaps and the cloths.

"It would be better with company." Waking with him has somehow only made you greedy for more time with him, and you admit that you are trying to wipe other thoughts from your mind. Seeing the gown that was left for you this morning now makes you wonder what the prince will be wearing to today's nuptials.

“Company you shall have.” The doors to the bathing room open and Oberyn and Ellaria stroll in, half naked and without a single care. The prince grins at you. “How was your wedding night, my dear?”

“My lord!” The shock of seeing them walk in so brazen and unashamedly has you attempting – and failing – to cover yourself with only your hands and the shrinking away of your body into the far corner of the bath as if the prince might have developed poor eyesight overnight. “You are—I—that is—what an unexpected visit.”

Oberyn tilts his head in confusion at your exclamation. “I had arranged for a private bath for us before the wedding.” He reminds you. “There is nothing that I have not seen before on either of you.” He hums, reaching over and helping Ellaria out of the thin, gossamer gown that concealed nothing.

“Forgive me. It must have…slipped my mind.” It is rude to stare, you know that it is, and yet the pair of them are so beautiful that it is difficult to tear your eyes away. And that certainly is not helping you remember whatever he might have said to you the night before about bathing together.

“Don’t tease, lover.” Ellaria pouts and turns to press her breasts against his chest. “She is not yet used to the way that you view nudity.” She turns towards you and Raeden with a sultry smile.

Caught in your own mix of utter confusion, the impulse to flee is incredibly strong and has you turning away from them to hide your face and body all at once. Even from Raeden. A naked body is a thing of shame, or so you were taught. Always to be covered and hidden away. Even sharing it with a lover or husband is a brazen act of licentiousness. It is unladylike. “Forgive me,” you manage to eek out again, not knowing what to do in this situation at all.

“Do not fret.” Oberyn has no shame as he drops his breeches, revealing every inch of his bare cock as it swings between his thighs. Flaccid, yet still impressive, he turns towards his new guard who is still in his own breeches. “Soon we will be comfortable with one another.”

“Is this…the accepted way…in Dorne?” If it is then you will have to make very large adjustments very quickly, and a knot of dread forms in the pit of your stomach.

“You will not be walking around Dorne for all to see.” He steps into the bath and turns around so he can help his lover into it, holding out his hand. “None but the servants and the people in this room will see you unless you take other lovers.” That might sting; if you were to reject being in his bed and take other men and women into yours.

“I cannot see that being a possibility.” Although Raeden is at your side, holding firmly onto your hand to be an anchor of comfort, the moment is nerve wracking only for you. The prince and Ellaria clearly are more interested than concerned, and Raeden’s years as a soldier have made him far less concerned with nudity in general. He may not examine the pair of lovers who have no intention of leaving, but he certainly is not offended by them. You squeeze his hand gently, hating to be the naive, sheltered child out of the four of you. At five-and-twenty, you have not been a child for many years.

“Do you not believe that love should be shared?” Oberyn asks curiously. “Pleasure is one of life’s greatest gifts, beyond children. Especially if the pleasure is creating them.” He chuckles, kissing his lover’s shoulder and glance at you from it. “Why limit yourself?”

“Your Grace, I was raised by a woman who deemed me a shameful harlot for sharing myself with the man that the gods themselves chose for me. And my father is a man who I do not believe ever touched her more than out of necessity or for her own manipulative ends.” Still clutching your own self, you swallow the moment of fear and turn halfway around in the bath. Enough to be able to see his face, at least. “Pleasure was not precisely a topic of conversation in my household. Even my brothers’ wives considered it unladylike to discuss.”

“Then allow yourself to ask any questions you may have.” He hums, picking up one of the cloths and dipping it into the water so he can slide it over Ellaria’s tits.

“It is not so much that I have questions.” Although you do. Desperately burning ones that you have felt too ashamed even to ask of Raeden. “But more that I wonder at how easily you can share yourself.” Realizing that that might not have sounded how you intend, you end up fostering immediately. “I—I mean it as an admiration,” you clarify, stumbling to explain. “You are very comfortable and free with yourselves. Both of you.”

Oberyn looks at you thoughtfully, sliding his hands up to cup Ellaria’s tits. “It does not take away from my appreciation of these tits to admire yours. Or her love of my cock when she is perched on another.” He explains. “We have our pleasures, separate at times, but most often together. And we find that it makes our own passions for each other that much sweeter.”

“Perhaps I am not enough of the world to understand.” An anxious glance to Raeden beside you does nothing to calm the riot in your mind, and you shake your head, ready to give up on it altogether. Attraction and love seem inexorably linked to you. Or they did, before you met the prince and his paramour.

“You will not be forced to join in on anything you do not wish to.” He squeezes his lover’s tits once more before he looks to Raeden. “Although I am curious as to your views on sex. Is your soulmate your only lover or have you had more?”

“There is not the judgement for bastards that there is for ladies, your Grace.” Though Raeden might not usually hide himself from the view of others, it is a different matter entirely when the others present are enticing to him, and try as he might there is no informing his cock that this is an inappropriate time to stand at attention. “There were others before her, but none since.”

“Good.” Oberyn approves of the idea that you had at least a moderately skilled lover. It is good that you might not be dealing with a man who does not satisfy you. “And do you make sure your soulmate is satisfied?”

“You would have to ask her for the most accurate answer.” It may be the most unconventional line of questioning he’s ever had from a noble, but somehow the part of him that is affronted that the prince would even ask is almost also glad of it? He gets the impression that if he were not satisfying you, Prince Oberyn would be disapproving. “But I believe I can rightfully boast that I am never satisfied until she is.”

“Very good.” Oberyn hums, nodding in agreement of his answer. “That is always the best when your lover is limp with pleasure and unable to cry out your name anymore.” He keeps his hands moving over Ellaria’s skin as he converses.

“With all respect to your meaning…crying out is not a luxury all of us have had.” Certainly before last night, you never had been safe enough with Raeden to do any such thing. He would have been punished severely for even touching you, and even in the beauty of spending last night with him, you never would have been as vocal as the men and women in the next room. You would not have known how. “That is…i—it is not the only way to show pleasure.”

“Even the softest moan of a name is a cry when a cock is filling you or a tongue fluttering against your clit.” Oberyn counters with a small smirk. “Your small whimpers are just as erotic, maybe more so, than the most skilled whore faking pleasure.”

“Your paramour agrees,” Ellaria smiles in her amused way, the one where mischief dances behind her eyes. “Or else he is very much enjoying something that he sees.”

“Yes, he does seem to be stimulated by the atmosphere.” Oberyn is also interested in the exceptional collection of bodies that are in the bathing room. His own reaction hidden by Ellaria’s body as he caresses and washes it. “I must wonder on what is causing it.”

Raeden’s complexion grays, embarrassed to have a condition he cannot control pointed out for all to witness. “It is only natural,” he insists, though the defense is quiet and he turns his back to the pair to retrieve the largest washing cloth he can find – as if that would be any help in hiding his condition.

“It is, there is no shame in it.” Oberyn insists as he sidesteps his paramour to reveal his own erection. “In fact, if you need to take care of it, we do not care if you fuck in the bath.”

The speed at which you avert your eyes is telling, but what it is that you’ve just revealed about yourself, you do not know. Instead it is Raeden who flusters and busies himself with becoming a human shield for you so that you can wash yourself. “She is innocent of such things.” He tells the prince with an edge of soft protection in his voice. As though your innocence is something very precious to him. “Such a thing would never have even crossed her mind.”

The hand that comes up to lay against his chest is soft, the only thing keeping him from sighing in disappointment. He had hoped that after the night, there would have been some thought on your part to the doors opened to you. “As you say.” He turns around so that you don’t have to see him and starts to wash himself.

"I—" Even hidden from view, your voice is just loud enough to be heard. Unsure, faltering more than slightly, you look up at Raeden and around his shoulder to find Ellaria still carefully watching. "It might..." Swallowing the fear that it might upset your soulmate, you have to admit that there are few things that you like more than being spoken for. Your mother would do it constantly – speak on your behalf – and to be out from under her thumb now should have meant you were free from it in private. "If it had not ever occurred to me before – to make love in full view of others – it certainly would have after hearing it." The fact that you also dreamt of it? That is more telling than anything.

Raeden’s eyes widen when he hears your words, a frown furrowing his brow and he reaches out to hold your shoulders. “My love, do not feel pressured to do anything.” He urges you softly.

"I feel no pressure," you promise him, laying your hand over his and squeezing it gently. As reassuring a gesture as such a small thing can be. "It is not something I may ever wish to engage in. But..." It takes more than a moment to gather your thoughts, and you end up sighing. "I want to understand," you say finally. "That is all."

"We are all a part of each other's lives now." Ellaria agrees, looking past Oberyn to offer you a smile. "Understanding is a noble goal."

For his part, Oberyn is impatient and thinks that it might be best to just send you away. But the yearning in your voice mixed with Ellaria’s immediate offer of comfort makes him hesitate. He turns around and stares at you. “Then we will seek to guide you to the answers.”

"I..." Raeden is looking at you as if you have grown a second head, but you look between the three other people in this room – in this one bath – and swallow fear once more. "I am sorry if having to guide me is a disappointment. But I doubt there is a book I could read on the subject."

“If there were such a book, my lover would possess it.” Ellaria assures you, making Oberyn chuckle.

“Forgive me, Princess.” He murmurs after a moment. “I am getting ahead of myself. I forget that you northerners are not raised with the freedoms that I have been afforded.”

"I may never be used to being called princess, and that is the simple end of things." His laugh is relieving, and you end up smiling in your own right. "I do not wish for any of us to be strangers. And if we are to be friends, then understanding is most necessary."

The problem is that he has already realized he does not just want to be your friend, he wants to fuck you. Oberyn wants to bring both you and your paramour into his bed to see how the dynamic would work. “Are you nervous for your entrance to the wedding?”

"Yes." That is not worth lying about, or being too proud to admit, since he will be right beside you and see your fear for himself. "Social grace has never been my greatest skill."

“If you prefer, you can just stay silent.” He hums, smirking slightly since that seems to be a skill you have not mastered despite your mother’s best efforts. “It will be shocking enough to have the Prince of Dorne escorting his wife and his paramour to a wedding.”

"I am afraid silence is not my forte, either." You shake your head, almost laughing at yourself. "Too curious for my own good, my eldest brother likes to say. And besides which, the future queen has...been very friendly to me. I fear keeping silent on such a day would offend her greatly."

“Then you will say what you say and damn whoever takes offense.” He shrugs one shoulder casually and leans back to wet his hair to wash. “You are a princess. Only two inside the seven kingdoms can truly tell you to be quiet.” He doesn’t add that it all depends on the day to determine if he would listen.

"I will endeavor to remember that." Raeden looks doubtful, though, and you urge him down with a hand on his shoulder so that you can kiss him. "It will do none of us any good to be rude, today, my love. I may not say much of anything of interest or importance, but you and the prince will both be there to make sure I do not stumble." Looking past him, you offer your unexpected ally a smile as well. "And Ellaria will be my guide for confidence. I am sure of that."

“You will be perfect.” She muses with a smile of her own. “Your dress will match my own and look splendid against Oberyn’s robes.”

You nod, glad to have Ellaria to bolster you, and set back to washing yourself as modestly and earnestly as possible. "It will be a day not soon to be forgotten."

******

“Do not fret and worry with it too much.” Ellaria murmurs to you as the carriage pulls up. “The more you do, the better chance you have at showing off your unmentionables.” You are very modest and have played with the low hem of the dress several times, drawing Oberyn’s and her own eyes to your breasts.

"I don't think I have ever worn anything as elegant. Or as revealing." You bite your lip when you look back up at her, holding back a self-conscious expression of concern. The gown itself is beautiful and not terribly immodest. While it certainly does show off your figure from the waist up, the thin skirts still envelope your legs and create a sort of flowing golden sea around them that would make even the clumsiest wearer appear elegant. The jewelry that was laid on your neck and hung from your ears gleams in the late morning sun, making you feel simultaneously extravagant and like a doll that has been dressed up by its owner. And perhaps you are exactly that, but the prince's gifts should be on full display today of all days. "I will try not to fuss too much."

"Your Raeden cannot keep his eyes off of you." She confides with a proud smirk, as if that had been her plan all along rather than making sure that everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew that you are Oberyn Martell's bride. "We will have to remind him not to draw his impressive sword on those that stare at you wantonly." He is not inside the carriage for the ride from Flea Bottom, but Oberyn has decided that he will be the guard brought for the wedding, making sure that your own soulmate is nearby.

“He has more propriety than anyone I have ever met. You need not fear his ability to hold his tongue.” What he might say or do afterward – in private – is another matter entirely. It would not be the first time that Raeden ravaged you after a particularly long day of standing by while you were wearing something he liked very much. Unfortunately, the blue gown that he always claimed was his favorite to see you in had been torn apart by your mother’s rage. Not everything in your trunks had been intact.

"Oh, I am not afraid of what he might say." Ellaria corrects with a smile as she glances over at her own lover. "It is unusual to have a man who does hold his tongue, for our prince has never learned that particular trait."

"I have no need to hold my tongue." Oberyn counters, his dark eyes fixed on you as he answers. "Whatever my position does not afford me, my spear does."

It is not your fault for taking his double meaning. Not truly. Not when he displayed himself to you so fully in the bath this morning and let his fingers graze your neck so enticingly while giving you the necklace you are wearing as a gift not half an hour ago. It is not reprehensible to be flustered slightly by the direct attention of such a worldly man. Not even when that man is your husband of less than one day.

He notices you fidget; he notices everything about you. The knowing light in Ellaria's eyes telling him that she is aware of his attentions. and it does not matter to her. She approves of his interest in his wife, as fruitless as it may prove to be. The fact that you have not fallen at his feet providing him with a curiosity that he has not had for a long time.

“We should not be late.” It would be most impolite, if nothing else, and you do not know how long you can stand between the two of them with their attention on you. Raeden’s gaze is comfortable and warming – when the prince and Ellaria look at you with such interest it makes you feel as if you might combust fully on the spot. “That would not do well for our first appearance as a party.”

Her hand is careful not to ruin the maid's work with your hair as her hands cup your cheeks. The carriage is at a stop and any moment the door will be opened. Your lips are plush and painted with the loveliest shade of lip color, making Ellaria lean in and kiss you.

The moment lingers, just the sweet pressure of her mouth on yours as your mind races to catch up with what is happening and realize that it is as sweet and gentle a kiss as any you have had before. By the time you remember yourself and reluctantly sit back in the carriage, you have more questions about what has just happened than anything else. "I—" Your eyes flicker between Ellaria and the prince, wondering if the amusement you see in their eyes is imagined or not. "I am not...entirely sure...what I did to earn such a response."

"Beautiful things deserve to be appreciated." Ellaria hums, smirking slightly as she pulls back and scooches towards the carriage door just as she raps on it to signify it is permissible to open it. "And you might be the loveliest of all Oberyn's possessions."

The driver helps Ellaria out of the carriage while you fluster measurably, avoiding the prince's eyes and knowing smirk by following directly after his paramour. The line of carriages extends in either direction as guests disembark, and empty carriages pull away to wait for their owners to be done with the day's festivities. Raeden stands resplendent in his regalia that marks him a guardian of House Martell and offers you a small but proud smile. The prince steps out behind you, making your party of four complete, and you raise your chin slightly to match Ellaria's easy confidence. It may be unconventional to look to her as an example, but your mind is still reeling from the feeling of her lips against yours and you could use the guidance.

Oberyn saunters, he doesn’t walk up to the pair of gorgeous women. Both of them belonging to him. His sun, his world and his…wife. “Ladies.” He hums. "Are we ready to shock the Seven Kingdoms and make every man here fume in jealousy?"

"A few of the ladies as well, I hope." Ellaria adds, a satisfied smile gracing her beautiful mouth as both of you take Oberyn's arms. Raeden is merely one step behind, ready and at attention.

"With our guard here, of course the women will be jealous." Oberyn knows the weight of his own appeal and wears it easily as your fingers twitch against the crook of his elbow. His own robes are exquisite and in total coordination with yours and Ellaria's gowns and Ser Raeden's uniform.

You had told your soulmate before leaving Flea Bottom that you thought he looked very handsome in his uniform, and the light in his eyes had shone a little bit brighter at your praise. Now he looks proud as a peacock as he walks behind you, and you glance back to offer him a broad grin. "It will certainly be a very interesting day."

There is an easy air of confidence as Oberyn starts his walk towards the large sept. His eyes watchful for the bitter harpy that is your mother even though no one would think that he has a care in the world.

There are eyes on you in such a way that you have never experienced before. People whispering, wondering who you are and why you are on the prince's arm. Everyone knows he brought a lover to King's Landing, but two? Two seems outrageous even for Oberyn Martell. Guided inside, the pews and aisles of the sept are separated by an ocean of guests extending greetings to each other and inspecting each other's wardrobes for the grand event. The voice of Olenna Tyrell seems to be boisterous and cheery in the center of things, and in this moment she is nodding along with the words of a woman whose voice you would recognize across whole continents. Olenna Tyrell is being talked at, at length, by your own mother.

He is aware the moment your mother catches sight of you. Her voice dies mid word, and the sharp inhale of disapproval nearly echoes in the inner chamber of the sept despite the din of conversation behind her. Never one to shy away from a fight, Oberyn guides you towards the two women with a charming and mischievous smile on his face. "Lady Tyrell." He nods his head towards the elder woman while subtly snubbing your mother. "It seems as if the gardens around the seven kingdoms have been emptied of their blooms to provide such lavish arrangements." He compliments. "No doubt your keen eye had a hand in it."

"You've been a flatterer since you were eighteen years old." Olenna Tyrell observes in amusement, the suppressed smile on her face peaked up at the edges in delight. "I'll bow my head, Prince Oberyn, to save my knees from the curtsy. But who are your exquisite guests? Rumours have swirled over who you might bring today."

“On my right, my lovely paramour, Ellaria Sand.” He introduces her to the head of the Tyrell household as if she were a lady in her own right. He says your name as he turns towards you with equal pride. “My own bride, newly gotten.” He looks at you as if you are a precious gemstone, irreplaceable to him.

"Bride?" The Tyrell matriarch's expression morphs into one of wolfish amusement. "My darling I did not even recognize you. Marriage has given you an absolutely radiant glow." She knew of your betrothal, of course, having been the one to encourage her granddaughter to befriend you as a suitable ally. But a swift marriage between a reluctant pair almost always yields an interesting story. "My most heartfelt congratulations."

“Many thanks.” His head finally turns towards your mother. “The Princess Martell, lady.” He keeps his voice steady but there is a clear warning. “Respects are to be extended.”

The fire in your mother's eyes is unmistakable. Of the hundreds of times you have seen it, though, nothing could compare to this. Not only did you and Raeden escape the grasp of her punishments, but you had run so far that you had become untouchable in the process. Drawn up to your full height on the prince's arm, you actually feel every bit as proud as you look in this moment. As proud as you look – your mother's anger and frustration may be more so.

The moment for courtesy passes silently, your mother’s eyes fixed on you and Oberyn feels the tiniest pressure of Ellaria’s hand on the crook of his elbow. A silent plea for him to not cause a scene that will attract the attention of every lord already in the Sept. The charming smile turns pointed, his eyes hardening as he watches her stubbornly refuse to extend his wife the respect her station now demands. It is an insult to you, but also to Dorne. The delicate necklace around your neck is not just a gorgeous gift, it serves a purpose. It is a smaller, lighter copy of the heavy gold chain around his own neck. The signet of House Martell crafted into the costly metal and indicating your place among royalty. His voice drops, tone cold enough to freeze any man currently sitting his ass on the giant ice block that is the Northern Wall. “You will bend your knee or I will bend it for you.” He threatens, eyes glittering with promise.

Your eyes widen, looking to the man beside you with immediate surprise. Demanding not just a modicum of manners from your mother but a complete bending of the knee is not at all what you expected from him, and you must wonder if this is not some play for power or else a rather public admonishment to your mother. There is no need to play for power for a prince, of course, but your hand unconsciously tightens on his arm anyway, as if you are trying to warn him of her rage without words.

Her smile turns so brittle it would crack underneath the smallest breeze and he can hear the fury in her words, sweet as she might have intended them, the venom pulses underneath. “My lord, this my daughter.” Her tittering laugh is meant to disarm him, but it does nothing.

“Your Grace.” He corrects, one eyebrow arching as he stares her down. “And your daughter is now my princess, the vows recorded in the Citadel.”

Olenna Tyrell watches with fascination, aware that Oberyn had waved away her own need to bend her knee, making a special point to not accept any other form of niceties. It is intriguing and she wonders what Margery had managed to learn during your walk through the gardens. You and your prince will be allies in coming days.

Your mother – the woman who has threatened your life more than any other creature in the world – is nervously realizing that she is being watched as eyes begin to turn toward your small group on the sept floor. Olenna Tyrell looks positively tickled but your own mother could spit fire until a voice from a few yards away breaks through the crowd.

“My darling girl!” Your father turns from his conversation with Lord Tyrion and in no less than a moment is at your side to embrace you. “We did not know where you’d gone,” he murmurs in your ear, the relief in his voice obvious. “Your mother said you ran away to spite us but I knew you would never do that.”

“No, Papa.” With your voice barely above a whisper, you hug your father back with one arm and wonder just how many armies of lies your mother has told him throughout the years. More than you can fathom, probably. “I will explain it all to you later, but the prince and I said our vows yesterday at the Citadel.”

“Truly?” He looks so proud that it almost breaks your heart, and there is a small rippling gasp from the crowd as your own Lord Father bends the knee without any prompting whatsoever. “Then you are truly now my princess,” he tells you with a watery smile. “Although you have long been that in my heart.”

Oberyn watches the fury etched on your mother’s face contort as she realizes that she has no choice to follow suit or call attention to her rebellion. When your mother finally dips down, it’s the barest inch as she nearly growls. Your father, jovial imbecile that he is, doesn’t even notice. His focus is on his daughter and the prince cannot help but wonder how such a pairing exists together without bloodshed. They seem to be such polar opposites. “Forgive the haste.” Oberyn takes your hand and kisses it sensuously. “After our meeting, there was no need to wait until we returned to Dorne to make this gorgeous creature my princess.”

“It is a relief to see such happiness in the match,” your father is beaming, nearly on the verge of joyful tears, and he looks past you only for the briefest moment to nod to Raeden behind you. “Ser Stone will serve your family well, your Grace. As he has served ours. We wish you every happiness and many children in the years to come.”

Your lover’s safety is assured. Oberyn realizes your mother had never taken her accusations to the lord, making it an ill-timed bluff on her part. He nods, his dark eyes fixed on your mother. “The safety of those under my protection is something that I take very seriously.” He replies, sending her a clear warning.

Your mother swallows heavily, looking between you and your new husband as she realizes she has made a calculated error. The tales of the prince’s promiscuity and prowess as a warrior had led her to believe that he would treat you as breeding stock. Like the way a northern man would – disregarding your opinions and teaching you submissions. The Prince of Dorne, against everything she had hoped before meeting him yesterday – seems actually to like you.

“Oberyn has been most attentive and kind.” It is the first time you have ever called him by his given name and it warms through you expectedly.

“It is easy when your kindness and grace is a trait that is a credit to your house.” Obviously not from your mother but the compliment from the prince makes your father beam with pride. “She will be most welcomed in Dorne.”

Your father finds his feet again and embraces you, and for a moment it seems as though everyone present has entirely forgotten your mother, who must push to her feet in her own. Lady Olenna Tyrell and Lord Tyrion are nearby observing everything, and your father regards you fondly, with a raised eyebrow. “Finding married life not so disagreeable now, your Grace?”

The fact that your father believes that you are happily wed makes Oberyn believe that while he might love you as a daughter, he does not know you. Ellaria stands off to the side and he turns to exchange a meaningfully amused look since he is well aware of his own daughters’ desires, even the younger ones.

“I could hardly think of anything as comforting as the care I have received since marrying.” As careful as your wording is, it is also very true. The prince has been nothing but kind and understanding, even sweet, since you came to him for help. Ellaria’s own attention to you has been only welcoming. And Raeden? Raeden has been the magnificent man that you have always known him to be. If you could not wed your soulmate, this is hardly a worst-case substitute.

“Good.” Your father is extremely pleased, especially since that means good relations with Dorne. It will prove very profitable to your former house.

“We should sit.” People are beginning to rustle around you, finding seats and turning their attention to the wedding at hand instead of the one no one was invited to. “We will have time to speak more later.”

“That we will, pumpkin.” Your father nods respectfully to you and Oberyn, frowning slightly when he sees the man’s paramour but he doesn’t speak on it since you seem undisturbed by her presence.

“Yes, I think we will indeed,” you mother murmurs unhappily, and you can’t quite tell if she’s going to have opinions for your father or for you. One thing is certain either way, Prince Oberyn won’t be hearing a single word of it.

“Come, my loves.” Oberyn offers both of his arms to you and Ellaria. “The Sept and the wedding of the king awaits us.”

It is for show. You must remember that. And yet the moment the word passes his lips it pierces something in you that you had not expected. It might be hope, or affection, or simply gratitude, but when you take his arm to walk together there is a moment where you could almost swear he means it. And that is not something you had ever even considered possible until this very moment.

Oberyn does not enter anywhere without causing a stir. Especially when he comes with not one, but two beautiful women on his arms. He smirks as he nods towards another noble that he has seen at the brothel over the past few days. Now sitting next to his wife.

People gawk when the prince is near. That is something you will have to adjust to in time. For now you are simply grateful when he situates you and Ellaria between himself and Raeden in the vast pews of the Citadel to bear witness to the Union of King Joffrey and Lady Margaery.

Oberyn allows you to sit beside your lover, his own body pressed against Ellaria’s, although he drapes his arm over the back of the bench so he can trail his fingers over the skin of your shoulder. Making sure people see him touch you. As if you are his wife in every sense of the word.

The painfully tedious ceremony holds no joy or wonderment for you. The couple at the altar do not seem happy to be standing with each other – more that they are playacting at it. The words seem insincere and the vows rehearsed, and it throws into sharp relief how different a turn yesterday had taken in your own marriage. That would have been you, three or four weeks from now standing beside the prince with dread in your mouth. Instead he had saved you without hesitation. Your marriage of necessity already holds far more affection than this match in front of you. Even if he is only touching you for show, the simple fact that you do not shrink from the prince’s touch speaks volumes.

Oberyn is well aware of the affect that touching can have on a person. He feels the slight shiver and goosebumps pop up on your skin. While no one should be paying attention, any that are would think that you are anticipating a more intimate touch later. He leans over to kiss his paramour’s shoulder when Joffrey speaks.

The king may as well be speaking gibberish for all the attention you are paying, too distracted by the ghost of a touch across your shoulder to register the words echoing over the assembled spectators. If you were in private you might have closed your eyes against the feeling but as it is you are left to wonder how something so simple is able to make you feel so much. It would be downright embarrassing if anyone could see the way your body is responding – and the thin sheen of shame at being aroused to the point of dampness between your legs from anyone other than Raeden is very real.

Raeden knows the prince is touching you, he can feel your body stiffen beside his. Confusion swirling in his gut because he’s jealous. Not only because he can touch you whenever he wants, but because the guard wants Oberyn to touch him.

Ellaria, for her part, seems amused by being in the middle of you and Oberyn's lightly flirtatious touch. Having been on the receiving end of so many of his touches before she does not feel jealous to know he is touching someone else that way, but is very much interested to know how you will feel in response. From the way you are watching the altar very deliberately with faraway eyes, she would have to say you are enjoying it – perhaps very much.

Finally the vows are exchanged and Oberyn grimaces when the kiss happens. Leaning in and whispering loud enough that you and his lover can both hear. “I think that there will be some wine hastily swallowed after that kiss.”

You know you should not react, but the way your cheeks tighten barely smothers a smirk. The fact that you did not have to suffer through a ceremony as painful as this one seems a mercy now.

“Lover.” Ellaria chides, although her tone is vastly amused. “They are young still.”

Oberyn snorts and shakes his head. “I had already sired Obara by that age. Killled a man in my first duel.”

The whole of the sept are rising to their feet to applaud the happy couple, and when you stand you throw an amused smile at Ellaria with the soft memory of her kiss in the carriage on your lips. "At their age I had not even been kissed," you admit under your breath.

“That is a shame.” She pouts, shaking her head. “You should be kissed often. Everywhere.”

If the gentleman in front of you heard her he does not show it, but you look away briefly as the sept goes up in applause and cheers as the people of Westeros celebrate their new queen and her marriage to the king. "Perhaps," you murmur under your breath, not knowing what else to say.

“Come.” Oberyn slides out of the bench and reaches for both of you. “There will be wine and food. Perhaps we shall find some entertainment as well.”

"Dancing, lover?" Ellaria hums as she casts a look back at Raeden. "I believe your bride and I should both like to dance."

“Then we will dance.” He smirks and leans into you. “Ellaria is a very seductive dancer, my love.” He confides playfully.

It is only for show, you remind yourself again when that word warms through you like fire. "Raeden is a wonderful dancer as well." Is what you say instead, offering up the morsel of information to be shared within your small group. The times you had danced together in secret were wonderful, romantic moments.

“Then you and my paramour must take turns with Ser Raeden.” Oberyn knows that it will be far less suspicious if he dances with both women, as if the prince had ordered it. It would allow you to have a moment with your soulmate, being open without it being common knowledge.

"We will all enjoy the festivities to their utmost, your Grace." Raeden's voice is low but warm, full of gratitude at being able to be a part of the moment instead of simply standing by and observing. It is not easy to forever feel like an ornament.

“Make sure you eat too.” Oberyn glances over at him with a grin. “Ellaria will wear a man out if he does not eat before tangling with her.”

"I will, your Grace." The invitation could even be considered an order, but Ellaria winks over her shoulder at him and Raeden actually smiles. To be treated well – as though he is wanted by people other than you – is a welcome feeling.

As the four of you make your way to the gardens, Oberyn swaggers, aware that many have their eyes on the unusual pairing, and he hums happily. “I think the queen mother will not be happy that the attention is taken off her bastard son.”

"I only hope Queen Margaery is not upset." She had been so kind to you, after all. You would hate to sour her wedding day.

“I doubt she will be.” Oberyn doesn’t believe the girl is stupid enough to believe that the day is supposed to be truly happy. Not with Olenna Tyrell as her grandmother. He looks around and spots her brother Loras. Smirking when the third son of Mace Tyrell catches his eye.

"Do you know that gentleman?" The curly-haired blonde looks familiar but you cannot place him, thinking only that you must have seen him in the halls of the Keep during the few days that you were there. The fact that he is looking rather lustfully at the man you are recently married to does not truly factor into anything. In fact, you understand it fully.

“Hmmmm.” Oberyn guides you to a table to sit down, plopping into a seat beside you as Ellaria sits on his other side. “Loras Tyrell.” He informs you. “Our queen’s brother and the Knight of Flowers.” He hums in amusement. He sends the man a small, sly wink.

"I do not think I am familiar with that title." There are pitchers of wine and goblets on every table even before the feast has begun, and bowls of fruit and nuts scattered around the gardens for guests to indulge in with their first glasses of wine. Even after only knowing the prince for a day, you know for certain that he will focus on those bowls of treats over any other food.

Ellaria leans over Oberyn and pops a berry into her lover’s mouth as he continues to make eyes at the other man. “He is also known as the knight of pansies.” She tells you with a smirk. “It is said that half the women in the seven kingdoms want to bed him, but….” She moans quietly when Oberyn sucks on her finger. “His interest lay elsewhere, preferring a cock over a cunt.”

"Oh." Your eyes widen for a moment before you can school your expression into something much more neutral, and you almost imagine feeling Raeden stiffen on your other side. "I see." So many other people in world seem so comfortable with that attraction – the pull between two men or two women – but you were raised differently. Making your own moments of attraction to other women all the more confusing and never to be spoken of.

“Do not tell me you disapprove?” Ellaria asks, hearing the censure in your voice. If you cannot accept Oberyn’s tastes, then your marriage will be a cold one.

"No." It is out of your mouth so fast that the word is almost too loud, which surely would have gotten your group even more attention. "N—no. It is only..." It is that you are jealous, you realize with a moment of regret, and you look down at your hands in your lap instead of at any of them. "It is only that we are not so free with such things in the Vale," you explain quietly. "It is an adjustment."

“It is not free in the majority of the seven kingdoms.” Oberyn reaches for a wine goblet and takes a swallow. “I just do not care what people think of me.”

"Perhaps that is a virtue, your Grace." If you could simply disappear in order to escape, you would do it happily. This moment has made you far too aware of things that you had been trying to tamp down and your discomfort is rising measurably.

“Lover, you are embarrassing your bride.” Ellaria tilts her head slightly as she looks over at you.

"Upsetting." Raeden corrects softly, knowing the look on your face as intimately as any lover possibly could. He cannot comfort you in public, but he can certainly alert those who can to how you are truly feeling. What he does not know is why you are upset. Unless the idea of two men indulging in each other is that dismaying for you after all.

That makes Oberyn look away from his potential conquest to look over at you. “Why is my princess upset?” He demands softly, reaching out and caressing your cheek.

"Please..." If they ask then you will be bound to say, and that could be more embarrassing for you than upsetting. Or perhaps it would be damaging altogether, you cannot tell. All you know is that someone is bound to be hurt by it and you do not wish to hurt anyone at all. "Please, do not fuss. I am simply not feeling myself."

Oberyn is not a man who listens, especially not when he can see now there is something bothering you. You might not be his lover, but you are his wife, under his care. And like everyone under his care, he listens. Turning to Ellaria, a silent conversation passes with a look and flirtations with Loras are put on hold as he stands and draws you to your feet. “Come with me.”

There is nothing you can do but obey, and not only because he is your husband. There are eyes on you from every direction and you refuse to cause a scene. So you are left to simply nod, letting him take your hand and lead you from the table as guests continue to arrive and mill about, greeting each other before the king and his new queen arrive to their own banquet.

He knows that some will think that he is stealing his wife away for an intimate moment, and he might have if circumstances had been different. As it is, he guides you towards a deserted part of the gardens before he stops. “Princess?”

"I am still not used to being called that." And you cannot bring yourself to meet his eyes, either, looking down at your hands and skirts to avoid it entirely. "And I apologize if I have upset you at all."

“I am not upset.” He captures your chin and tilts it up, watching you with serious eyes. “However, you are.”

"I am..." His eyes are warm despite their seriousness, and you are reminded that he has been a father almost as long as you have been alive. It makes you wonder if he is treating you like he might treat one of his daughters – which is a terrible thought for entirely separate reasons. “I am.” You admit softly, and your eyes close to avoid looking at him again. "But only with myself."

“Why are you upset with yourself?” He frowns slightly and looks back towards the garden where the clapping had started. Obviously the king and queen had shown up. “Does the idea of those things disgust you?” He had not gotten that feeling before, but maybe he had been wrong.

"Those things?" It takes a moment for your mind to catch up again, but you shake your head. It feels like you are swimming when you do, a very disorienting feeling to begin with and now it makes you feel like you are drowning. "You mean...no. No, it does not...love is not disgusting. That is not..." You sigh out a long, deep breath and wish to all seven gods that you had been able to simply keep your composure at that table. Or that Raeden had not ratted you out to your new husband. "My first experiences with intimacy were with a woman. It is not that I am disgusted at all."

He is stunned into silence for a moment before he slowly starts to smirk. “Princess.” He picks up your hand and kisses the back of your hand and squeezes it gently. “There is no judgement here.” He promises. “If you wish to resume those experiences, you are most welcome to. As long as your Raeden does not object.” He longs to ask what kind of intimacies you have experienced but you look like you are about to expire. “If Ellaria is not your choice, there are dozens of clean, gorgeous whores to choose room when we return tonight.”

"Ellaria is remarkable. Anyone she even looks at twice should be honored." The last thing you would ever want is for either of them to believe that you were not grateful for their help and appreciative of their attention. Having the prince and his paramour turn their attention on you for even a moment is like being bathed in summer sun. "I simply..." Although there is nothing simple about it. "Never met anyone before who ever seemed to be able to make the difficulties of caring for more than one person seem possible. And it is...more difficult to understand than I would like to admit." It breaks the very foundation of what you thought was true about love and attraction, and so it is causing you more discomfort to think about than you are willing to admit. "Forgive me if that is a disappointment."

“The only disappointment will be if you do not live how you wish to.” Oberyn assures you, starting to understand your dilemma a bit better. “Men can have their wives, their lovers, and whores while no one would think it odd. A woman is held to a different standard because men want things their way. They wish to never believe they might not satisfy the wife or there is no need for another lover beyond his visits to her bed.” He shakes his head and scoffs. “They are fools.”

"Before very recently, I thought I knew well what life I wanted." It was one you never thought that you would be able to live, but you were convinced that it would have been what made you happy. To be Raeden's wife in a small village somewhere in the unknown world would have been wonderful. To birth and raise his children, to work for his happiness would have made your own. That unattainable dream is now even further away and you find yourself wondering now if happiness might actually be attainable with the life you have been handed. Or if Raeden would despise you for being glad to have Prince Oberyn and his paramour in your life.

“If you wish, I will send you to a small estate.” Oberyn frowns, not liking the idea much. “You and your Raeden. A place without servants or pretense.” He really doesn’t care for the idea, but you don’t seem to know what you want.

"But then I would not see you." Your response is immediate, shaken slightly, and your eyes dart up to his with surprising speed.

He relaxes slightly and nods. “Then you will figure out what makes you happy and enjoy it to the fullest.” He predicts with a soft smile.

"I can only hope that it does not take too long to understand myself." Although, you have an immense fear that it will. Apparently you have been lying to yourself just as you have lied to others. Just about different things.

“It takes however long it takes.” He pats your hand. “Did you enjoy your night with your soulmate?”

"It was a relief to not be afraid," you tell him quietly. Being patted makes you feel like a child, and once again you wonder if he thinks of you with the same regard as any other young girl his daughters' age. "I hope you enjoyed your night as well?"

“There is much pleasure to be had within the walls of that brothel.” He hums happily. “Cal very eagerly bounced on my cock while Ellaria sat on my tongue and licked her pretty little redhead’s cunt.” He chuckles, “I am hoping tonight to find out how talented the Tyrell boy’s ass milks a cock.”

"And that much physical pleasure does nothing to diminish your love for Ellaria?" It is the bare minimum that you can do for him, in the way he has done so much for you, to try to understand him. The way he indulges his lust seems to be a fundamental need for him, so as much as it is new for you, you will do what you can to become more comfortable with it.

“Never.” Oberyn shakes his head. “Everyone would have to stand in line behind her.” He smiles and gives a very dreamy look. “It actually makes our own love sweeter. Her pleasure is my pleasure and she feels the same.”

"The way you love her is admirable." On your best days, you hope that you love Raeden half as well. It is only that the wish in the back of your mind for love and happiness is beginning to include him, and that is startling to you.

“Despite the fact that we share scars, I choose her.” He explains. “Every day we choose each other.”

"That makes you both very lucky. To be able to choose each other without fear." Your hands are still in his and they flex gently in his grip. Despite being married to this man under the eyes on the gods, you feel irrevocably shy in his presence.

“You can choose your soulmate, Princess.” He reminds you quietly. “Now, we must return and pretend that we were fucking.”

"I do choose him." A wave of boldness rises up from your toes that you do not understand or truly even want to comprehend, but it is there anyway. "I did not know before now that I could choose more than one person." His hands are firm in yours and before you can stop yourself, you are pulling him back to you and pressing your lips to his in earnest, only hoping that he does not consider you foolish for acting impulsively.

Oberyn had promised you that he would never take what you did not offer and he had meant it. However, you have initiated this kiss and as much as it shocks him, he reacts. One hand cups the back of your head and the other wraps around your back so he can guide you towards the nearest tree as his tongue pushes past your lips and he kisses you with a hunger that surprises even him.

The fire of the moment leaves you breathless, shaken to your core just the same way you were the first time you kissed Raeden. There is passion and need there, to such a degree that you cling to him as he cages you between his body and the nearest tree, letting him map every inch of your mouth as you eagerly do the same with him.

It is a change of heart from yesterday but he won’t question it. Not when you are pressing yourself against him and gripping his robes as if you are afraid that he would pull away. Making him groan quietly as his tongue strokes yours eagerly.

It is only the need to breathe that makes you pull away from him, and even then you feel your head spin. “I—” You do not need to apologize for kissing your husband, but still it feels like an intrusion. Like you ought to have asked, or spoken to Ellaria first. Spoken to Raeden first. But it was done in the heat of the moment. “I do not yet know exactly what I want,” you admit, your heart racing. “But I wish for you to be included in it. Somehow.”

“Then I will fit into whatever slot you determine.” He is panting slightly and he cannot deny that his cock has hardened under his robes. You are disheveled and that will play into the rumor that he fucked you in the gardens nicely.

“We should return.” Your body is on fire the way only one other person has ever managed in your life, and you have to consciously make the decision to let go of his robes and step back so you don’t do anything inappropriate.

“We should.” Oberyn wants to kiss you again, but the moment has passed. Offering you his arm again as Cersei comes into view. He huffs quietly and stares.

The flustered expression on your face coupled with the Dornish prince looking like the cat who got the cream makes Cersei rankle, but she says nothing as the pair of you glide past her. Another slut for Oberyn's harem, she thinks with a roll of her eyes.

“That will be a burr in her cunt for days.” He predicts quietly with a smirk.

"Surely she knows your reputation." You murmur, looking back at him. "It should not surprise her."

“One would think.” Oberyn hums, knowing it is only a matter of time before Cersei lowers herself to actually approach him with her real problem, her daughter. She has never been happy that Myrcella had been sent to Dorne, betrothed to his nephew. “She is not to be trusted.” He advises you quietly. “The Lannisters lie.”

“I do not believe a Lannister has ever spoken me to before our meeting yesterday.” You breathe as he ushers you quickly through the gardens.

“Count yourself fortunate.” Oberyn sneers. “Even more so if you do not have to converse with another until the day their house lays in ruin.”

“Do not let her presence sour your mood, my lord.” Until catching sight of the Dowager, he had seemed to be in a relatively good humor, and you are still very much buzzing from kissing him. The last thing you want is for that good feeling to be overshadowed.

He relaxes slightly, aware he was letting his personal animosity for the Lannisters get to him. “You are right.” He looks over at you with amusement. “Is it all women, or those that I am around?”

“I am not sure I understand?” Perhaps you might know what he is asking you if your mind were not so hazy, but with your hand wrapped around his arm as you walk, there is no escaping it.

“The women around me seem to always be right.” He jokes, sending you a small wink when your frown of confusion seems to make him want to kiss you again. While you might have kissed him a moment ago, he doesn’t believe that you have given him permission to reciprocate whenever he wished.

“Ellaria is very clever.” Something which you do not know if you can claim for yourself, but you certainly can praise her from sunrise to sunset.

“As is the woman who is my princess.” He hums, patting your hand. “Clever and brave.” He praises. “You decided that your lover’s life was worth everything when another would have never been brave enough to venture through the city or come to a man you had no interest in marrying.”

“You were my only hope.” There is no shame in admitting that, especially because he had proven to be so much more than just understanding. He has so much kindness to share. “And I am very grateful to you for your mercy. Not everyone would have opened their arms to their betrothed’s soulmate the way you did.”

“It would have been a shame to have such a man put to death for a lie.” He does not think he did much. “Nor would you have been happy if he had.”

“Yes,” you agree with a nod. “But do you realize how few would have taken either my happiness or the lie into account?”

“All but those few are fools.” He tells you with a shrug. “Liars will continue to lie and happiness in your home is the greatest treasure a man can possess.”

“And you are a good man, which I am grateful for.” When Raeden and Ellaria are in sight again, you can see plainly that they have been having their own intimate discussion and though you expect to feel nerves or jealousy, it is relief that washes over you.

“There are some who would not agree with you.” Oberyn sees that Raeden has shifted closer to Ellaria, his protective nature apparently extending towards your husband’s paramour. It is warming to see.

“Then perhaps it is that you are a good husband?” When he pauses in his step you offer him a shy smile. “And for that I am grateful as well.”

Retuning to the feast, Oberyn sets you down and nods towards your lover, assuring him that you are not upset any longer. Another, longer conversation would be needed, but it could wait for another time.

Ellaria tucks herself into Oberyn’s side easily when he sits again, and there is mischief in her eyes but the first thing she does is lean into him. “All is well?”

“Of course.” Oberyn leans in and brushes his nose against hers. “My wife feels guilty that your kiss is not the first she has ever shared with a woman.”

“No?” This seems to delight Ellaria, or at least it is unexpected enough that her eyes light up. “But that is not a reason for guilt. I do not desire to claim her innocence.”

“I think she does believe that to want another means that she does not love her Raeden enough.” Oberyn ventures quietly.

“Or is she afraid that he will think so?” Ellaria frowns, tutting softly. “I hope neither does. For their sake. Love should not include fear.”

“We know that.” His hand links with hers and he brings them up to kiss hers softly. “But we have been free to love for longer than they have.”

“I am fine,” you assure Raeden quickly after sitting down again, touching your hand to his leg ever so briefly under the table where it cannot be seen. “I was overwhelmed, but I am better. Did you…have a conversation with Ellaria? While we were gone?” The urgency of the question in your mind makes you wonder if you hope they did more than speak, but that is too vast of a thought to conquer right now.

“I did.” Raeden nods, sure that he hears hope in your voice and wonders about it. Something has shifted slightly, as if the bath this morning changed things and he is not sure how to align himself.

"And...all is well?" There is no reason it should not be, but the sudden guilt you feel at having enjoyed kissing the prince so thoroughly floods you and makes you reach for your wine.

"It...is." Raeden does not tell you what Ellaria said, you are aware of her interest in him, you have spoken on it. However, he wonders if you are really aware of her interest in you.

"You are upset." The weight on your shoulders presses down on you, chastising you for daring to enjoy the prince's attention while leaving your soulmate to be upset by someone else. " I—I should not have...have left you. Forgive me."

"I am not upset." Confused, confounded and wholly unsure of himself – but he is not upset. Especially considering that you are wearing a slightly dreamy expression on your face. One that reminds him of the look that you carried when the two of you were early in the days of your secret romance.

"If that is what you say then I believe you." After all, he has never lied to you. Or made you believe that he was hiding something. It is only you who are hiding things from him. At this very moment. The fear of what he would think if he knew you were feeling attraction for the man you married is deep and terrifying.

He is very aware of the fact that you do not sound completely convinced. And yet he finds himself nodding as he looks towards you again and then around the feast to make sure that no one is watching. "All is well." He promises, reaching down and stroking your thigh gently under the table.

"You are smiling, lover." Ellaria leans into Oberyn's side, her voice quiet and a berry between her fingers already destined for his lips. She has a feeling that whatever passed between you and the prince, it was more lighthearted than what was spoken between her and Raeden.

"She kissed me." Oberyn reveals quietly, accepting the berry eagerly and turning to watch his lover's reaction to that little bit of news.

Her eyebrow raises in interest, and Ellaria tucks her smirk into the corner of her mouth. "More than a polite peck? Otherwise you would not look so pleased with yourself."

"Much different from the shallow kiss we exchanged at the Citadel." He hums, finding it to be a small victory. The woman he had married yesterday had no intentions of ever kissing him again, by all accounts.

"So your idea to invade their bath this morning turned out the way you wished?" It had not been a malicious act, or even a manipulative one, but it had been Oberyn's intention to attempt to knock down the walls between the four of them this morning. Or at least to begin to fracture the strength of those walls.

"Perhaps." He won't say that you are willing to jump into bed with him, but the idea of more is certainly there. "How was your conversation with our Ser Raeden?"

"He is, I think, a harder nut to crack." Which is disappointing, but not exactly surprising. She reaches for his wine to put the goblet in Oberyn's hand. "As you say, we have been free to love for longer than they have. It is harder to admit one's wants when you have not been allowed to even think of those things in your own mind."

"They are both very repressed creatures." Oberyn sighs softly.

"It is not their fault." She tuts softly, feeling sympathy rather than pity. "Your princess is already making strides."

"Yes she is." He looks over at you and watches as you Raeden talk quietly between yourselves. "Perhaps Ser Loras would enjoy our company this evening?" He asks, shifting his gaze back across the garden towards the other man.

Taking that to mean that you have not made much progress, Ellaria simply nods and leans in to brush a kiss or two along her soulmate’s jaw. “A delectable choice. You will fit perfectly between us, or else I will enjoy my evening quite thoroughly with Cal and Leyth.”

The music starts quietly as the minstrels begin to play. Filling the courtyard with the sweet strands of joy and light. Oberyn looks over at his lover and leans in, pressing a firm kiss to her lips. "Whatever we do, it will be together, my sun."

The crowd applauds dutifully to see the newly married couple dance together, the steps long practiced and rehearsed. The queen is resplendent and joyful, laughing as she moves with elegance, and soon enough others are standing to join the festivities.

Oberyn leans over again, making sure that he keeps his voice loud enough for any nearby to hear. "Ser Raeden, would you take my wife to dance?" He asks, standing and holding out his hand for Ellaria to take. "I would wish for her to enjoy all the festivities this wedding has to offer."

“It would be my honor.” Standing to offer you his hand for the very first time under the public eye as though you had not danced dozens of times in the woods or your chambers, Raeden bows his head respectfully and keeps his smile soft when you take his hand. Most people here have no idea who you are – who Raeden is – but can follow the pattern of two guests in House Martell’s colors getting up to dance together. For the other Dornish nobles that surround you? They simply could not care less who you dance with. There have been polite nods and smiles but nothing more quite yet. For now, your only focus is not stepping on Raeden’s toes in the dance.

Oberyn and Ellaria move fluidly with one another. Years together has allowed them to move with a grace that compliments one another both in bed and when dancing. Sweeping out onto the area that is designated as the dance floor, Oberyn pulls his paramour into his arms and holds her close as he looks towards you and Raeden. If he weren't attracted to both you and the other man, some would say that his bemused smile might seem fatherly as he watches you dance with approval on his face.

“No one can stop us, love,” you whisper quietly, trying to soothe Raeden into relaxing a little in the hold he has on you. Not that you don’t appreciate his strength, but you can tell it comes from nerves. “We could dance until sunup if we liked.”

It's surreal that your mother could not interfere with your dance. Almost as if he is in a dream that is not quite perfection but close enough. His eyes slide over to your husband and he hums. "Unless the prince would not like it." He reminds you.

“He specifically asked you to dance with me.” The music is familiar and wistful, and you turn easily in Raeden’s arms. “There is no reason for him to object.”

"True." He murmurs quietly, pulling you closer and swallowing. "I wish I could kiss you now." He admits, just loud enough for you to hear. "That this was our wedding dance."

“We can pretend,” you murmur back, wishing the same in the depths of your heart. The voice in your mind that reminds you that you are wed – spoken for by a good and clever man – gives you only the smallest measure of guilt. It occurs to you in a wave of confusion that you wish you could have married them both. But that is truly impossible.

"It should be your wedding dance with the prince." He reminds you, not quite as bitter as the comment might have been if he had not experienced how generous the man could be.

“Why can I not dance with both of you?” Well aware of the question that you are not brave enough to ask, this is the best and closest you will probably ever come. And perhaps that is for the best.

"You can." Raeden's hand on your back flexes slightly, the thin material giving him a tantalizing closeness to your flesh that your normal gowns would never permit. "I would never deny you anything you wished, my love."

“You would not feel slighted? Or that I wanted to dance with you any less?” It feels unbelievable that he might actually understand your true meaning, but you have to ask. It feels as if you might burst if you do not.

Raeden pulls back, his dark eyes boring into yours for a long moment, interpreting the question with the same fears and desires that have been plaguing him since meeting both Ellaria and the prince. "Do you want to dance with them?" He is not misspeaking, he is including Ellaria into the question as well on purpose. "I— I would not feel slighted. It does not change my love of dancing with you."

“Do you want to dance with them?” A gasp catches in your throat, shock and that sheen of hope fluttering over you once more.

"Do not ask me that." Raeden begs you, biting his lip and looking across the dance floor. Unable to meet your eyes with the shame of his desires. You would not understand, not really. The things he wants are...unreachable. "You might not accept the answer."

“Do you really think so little of me?” You are not angry, only hurt that you are asking him if he wants the very same thing you want and he thinks that you would deny him. That you would think less of him. The man you love with your deepest heart, and he doubts you. “I would give you anything.”

"I think..." Raeden inhales roughly and meets your eyes. "That we know very little about lust and love." He confesses quietly as the dance comes to an end.

It is not the honesty of his answer that stings, but that he is so correct. That in your excitement and anticipation you had forgotten that there could be a difference at all. It does not matter much now, as you bow to each other in the changing of the music. He is already stepping away from you.

Oberyn appears next to Raeden, his hand on the guard’s back. "Ser Raeden, will you dance with Ellaria while I take the next dance with my wife?" He asks quietly, not sure why you both suddenly look so unhappy.

“As your Grace commands.” Raeden steps away from you fully and bows his head to the prince before moving to Ellaria’s side, leaving you and your husband alone on the vast dance floor.

"I had believed that you would be happy with a dance with your lover." Oberyn reaches for you as the music starts again. Pulling you into his arms and looking over to find Raeden doing the same with Ellaria. "Yet unhappiness clouds your pretty eyes."

“He is keeping something from me and I do not understand why.” Despite the matter of a day being all you have known the prince for, you have found yourself being fully honest with him this afternoon. Something which is more comforting than you might have guessed. “I fear I may have pressed him too far.”

"It is hard for a man to admit weakness to anyone, especially the woman he loves." Oberyn hums quietly, wanting to reassure you. "Especially if it is something that he is afraid of how it would be received."

“There is nothing he could tell me that would make me think less of him.” The prince’s presence is steadying, keeping you upright and grounded even when you feel near tears. “I do not understand what could be so terrible. Unless he intended to step back from me entirely, but even that…it would break my heart but it would not cause me to hate him. He would surely have a reason.”

"Your soulmate's bond with you is not one that is going to suffer." Of that, he can be certain. He moves around the floor with you effortlessly and bends you down when the dance calls for it before he pulls you back up. "I acknowledged unusualness when I was very young, my family did not rebuke me." He murmurs quietly. "No one dares to speak ill of it to my face because of my family name. Your Raeden has not had that luxury."

“There is nothing so unusual that it would make me love him less.” Not fully understanding what is being said, you do still know that for sure.

Oberyn hums, deciding that he will not push the issue, looking over at Ellaria draped over your soulmate and he smiles. She is very attracted to Raeden and the poor man is having a hard time hiding his own attraction to Oberyn's paramour.

“I have said too much and made you uncomfortable as well.” Your eyes drop from his face and you nod solemnly. “Forgive me.”

"You have not made me uncomfortable." He promises, his arms tightening around you. "I am aware you are not fully aware of what I am speaking of, and I hesitate to discuss it with you when it should be your lover."

“My brother says I apologize too much.” You offer, hoping it gives him some insight into who it is he had married. “Though if he knows the reason why, he has never said.”

"Because of your bitch of a mother?" Oberyn hazards a guess, his eyes finding the harpy watching unhappily from her seat in a relatively obscure area.

"Most likely." You blow out a sigh in that unladylike way that would normally get you reprimanded. "She is kinder to my brothers, though. It seems only to be me that she despises."

"Obara's mother was jealous of her." Oberyn hums. "Hated that I wanted her. Wanted to take her away from the hovel that she kept her in. Tried to prevent me from taking my blood, tried to convince me that she wasn't mine."

Grimacing slightly, you shut your eyes briefly and try not to look terribly upset, since there are eyes on you. "My mother has told me more than once that she wishes she had drowned or dashed me at birth. It is not easy to be told such a thing."

"Bitch." He hisses, eyes narrowing in anger at the abuse you had been dealt. "I am glad that she did not get her way." He promises you quietly. "The skies would be a much darker place without stars such as you."

"You are kind." At least, he is to you. And you are more certain than ever that you would never want the prince to be upset with you. You suspect it would hurt your heart if he was.

"No I am not." He shakes his head and chuckles. "I am arrogant, quick tempered and selfish." He knows that he is not the paragon of virtue that you are making him out to be. "I will kill a man if he angers me on the wrong day and think nothing of it."

"And yet?" Your eyes find his ever so tentatively. "It was you who I went to when I needed safety. And you who has comforted me when I was upset. So perhaps you are more than either of us says."

"I am safe." It amuses him to find that to be the case because most would believe that Oberyn Martell is not safe. "I do not hold your heart, so I cannot hurt you."

"You hold my life," you remind him gently. "It is in your power to hurt me in extraordinary ways if you wish. But I do not think you will."

"No, I will not." Oberyn assures you. "You are like the moon in the sky, lovely and unobtainable. Shimmering like a diamond that makes me wish to bask in the soft glow you give off."

It no longer surprises you to know that he occasionally writes poetry, although the new feeling is the wish that he would write some for you. "That sounds very lonely, even as beautiful as you make it out to be."

"The moon hangs closest when the waves lap against the rocky shores near Sunspear." Oberyn reaches up and caresses your cheek. "Making me believe that I could reach up and capture it in my palm, holding it with all the wonder it possesses." Your strength and resolve calls to him. Makes his heart stir like he has not felt in a very long time. Like he had imagined was not possible since he had met his paramour. Yet your eyes on his has his heart quickening.

"Oberyn..." His name is barely a breath when it floats from your lips, wide eyes looking at him with that same sense of wonder that he has described. The claim that does not hold your heart at all might be the most ludicrous thing you have ever heard, but that thought is something you have not tangled with enough to articulate.

"My moon and stars." He hums quietly, watching you with a softness that seems to make everything around the two of you fade to the background. He knows that it might be too much too soon, but he feels it. A connection between you that is impossible to describe beyond meant to be.

"I—" Wishing desperately for another surge of bravery like the one you felt in the garden, the presence of so many eyes on you is the only thing stopping you from kissing him again. Being acutely aware of being thought of as the prince's young or eager bride is not as horrible a thought as it might have been to you once, but you still have no wish to embarrass him.

"It is alright." He promises, seeing the conflicting emotions in your eyes and his fingers trail down your neck until they fall away from your skin. "Nothing needs to be said."

The moment of hesitation has lost you the feeling of his closeness – the feeling of deep intimacy between you – and in that moment you could weep for your own foolishness. But the song is ended and the other couples around you exchange their bows, forcing you to do the same. "It is only that I do not know the words," you insist softly.

"When you decide what they should be, they will come to you." He leans over and kisses your hand gently before straightening as Raeden moves back to your side. "Dance with your lover, star." He urges you gently and reaches for Ellaria when she stands within reach. "The day is still young."

******

A day so young and beautiful that no one present could ever fathom that it would end in blood, tears, and screaming fury as King Joffrey lay dead on the dais and Queen Margaery clung desperately to you in her grief and confusion. The terror of watching Lord Tyrion be carried away in irons, the chaos of the despondent on-lookers, the utter uncertainty of the entire situation have cast a pall over King's Landing by nightfall.

______

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[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 6

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst​

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit Word Count: 11.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* Anger, arguments, hurt/comfort, Oberyn and Ellaria having some group sex as they do, a whole lot of tears, an intense lack of sexual education, homophobia, reference to past killings, angst. Summary: Misunderstandings and high tension after King Joffrey’s murder, leading to volatile moods for nearly everyone.  Notes: Internalized homophobia and a lack of sex education is such an intensely important set of topics to me, and being able to address them with such sex and sexuality positive characters like Oberyn and Ellaria is a beautiful personal catharsis. 🧡💛✨

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5

As soon as possible, Oberyn ushered you, Ellaria and Raeden back to the brothel. The panic on the streets is settling in as word spreads. The fear of war or change always affects the lower rungs of society in a more base way than the nobles’ petty squabbling. Once in the safety of the rooms, his eyes cut over to Raeden. “You will stay with our lovers at all times outside these walls.” He orders. “I do not know now when we will be able to leave King’s Landing, but we should be cautious.”

“They will never be beyond my reach.” He promises, his hands twitching to reach out and offer comfort but unsure of himself in this situation. Dancing with Ellaria and offering her comfort are two different things, and you had spent your entire day at the prince’s side with such seeming happiness. Until the moment of tragedy, of course.

The death of the king has unnerved Oberyn far greater than he has led on. Not because the pompous little shit is dead, no he found that to be most satisfying. The way he died was what concerned the prince. Poison. The manner of demise that the Prince of Dorne has implemented many times and is well known for. The fact that he had not been accused of anything was merely because Cersei’s grief had left her unable to hatch her schemes quick enough to implicate him along with Tyrion. When the king started to choke and turn purple, both you and Ellaria had been on the cusp of taking a sip of your own goblets, causing Oberyn to knock them out of your hands most violently. Striding over to Raeden, he cups the back of the taller man’s head, dragging him closer. “Accept nothing from any noble.” He hisses.

"Nothing, your Grace." This side of the man is the face of a warrior, and it is a face that Raeden recognizes. There is worry there, concern, and while that does give the younger man pause it is good see that his concern is for the two women and not just for himself like other nobles. "There will be invitations, though," he needs to make the prince aware of that, if nothing else.

“They come through me.” Oberyn insists before he pauses. It would be suspicious if he were to change the way he normally acts so he shakes his head. “Inform me.” He decides. “And you will be with them at every moment. Not a drop of wine passes their lips unless it is checked.”

"We are not under suspicion, are we?" As shaken as you are, you have been sitting in a tangle with Ellaria to ground yourself and seek comfort. The last thing you had expected was to be pulled into Queen Margaery's arms and be on full display in front of the entire court as she trembled in grief.

“The king was just murdered.” Oberyn scoffs. “Everyone is under suspicion, though Cersei will use this to hang her brother. But we cannot be too cautious.” He warns. “Others may use it as an opportunity to take advantage.” While he is a second son, he is still important to Dorne.

"Oberyn's knowledge of poisons is well known," Ellaria explains to you quietly, patience in her voice as she hugs you to her side. "As is his hatred of the Lannisters. Even if they do not suspect he poisoned the boy's wine himself, it is not a stretch to believe that he may have had a hand in things. We must all be cautious."

Oberyn nods as he watches Raeden’s eyes narrow with understanding. “Yes. We have to be cautious.”

"What a hellish day." You sigh quietly, curling in on yourself and deflating away from Ellaria's side as everything begins to catch up with you. To begin the day worrying about something as trivial as a bath, to go through arguments and confusion and guilt, and to come out on the other end having witnessed a murder is making your head spin. "I think...I will retire?" Looking up at the prince for permission, you feel like a child all over again. "If you do not require me, that is. Sleep is sometimes the best remedy for an unhappy day."

He lets go of the man who bears your marks and he nods. “Of course.” He murmurs quietly. “Take your Raeden with you and rest, unless you wish to have the comfort of multiple bodies.” He offers. “Then you are welcome to the bed here.”

"There will be no pleasure for me tonight." Standing two feet from a dying man has erased that need from your body and mind for the foreseeable future, and you shake your head. "I may read, but sleep is preferable to feeling sick."

“Comfort does not always mean pleasure.” Oberyn reminds you, frowning slightly as he takes your comment as an insult towards him. “Goodnight, Princess.” He moves towards Ellaria and pulls the other woman into his arms.

The light in his eyes extinguishes when he is displeased, you have already noticed, and in the moment before he turns away from you he is supremely displeased. Without the presence of mind to understand exactly what you have said wrong, you all but flee to the adjoining bedroom. The man is mercurial and fascinating, but until you learn his ways and his meanings you fear you may misstep more often than not.

“She did not mean it that way, lover.” Ellaria hums, reaching up to wrap her arms around Oberyn’s neck to comfort him. Scoffing, he shakes his head. “It was meant.” He grunts, his own sigh far heavier than perhaps he understands himself. Your judgement of him is something that he finds far harder to cast off than most. “So I dare not disappoint her expectations.”

“Two days is not long enough to know a person’s mind,” she tuts softly. “And she watched a man die today. For the first time. That can be difficult to process.”

There is a rational side of Oberyn that understands that, but right now he doesn’t care. He grips his lover’s chin and stares into her eyes. “Call the whores in.” He orders. “Plus the ones you wished to try.”

“The one I wish to try has retreated.” Ellaria pouts at the closed door to the other room, where Raeden had dutifully followed you. “No matter. Is Ser Loras joining us tonight?”

Oberyn shakes his head. “Another time. The man has decided to comfort his sister.”

“Ah.” She nods, understanding that Oberyn feels rejected on two fronts and not simply one. “I will see who is available for us.”

“I don’t care if they are available.” Oberyn grunts, pulling away and striding quickly over to the table to pour a glass of wine before he stares into the cup and sniffs it. “Get them here.” He orders before he takes a sip. “And tell Littlefinger they will be in my bed for the rest of the night.”

Ellaria nods, saying nothing and certainly not pointing out that Oberyn twists his face in exactly the same way that their oldest daughter does when she throws a tantrum for not getting her way. Instead she simply glides from the room, knowing she will have to come back with a bevy of willing bodies in order to calm him tonight.

His jaw is clenched, hand gripping the goblet as he stares at the door that has shut off his view of you and your soulmate. There is a divide between you and for the first time since you had busted into his room and demanded his protection, he regrets marrying you.

****** Undressing from Dornish gowns is easier than the ones you grew up with, and it takes half the time you would normally need to be in a nightdress and under the covers. Raeden has not joined you, not yet, but you barely notice from how distant he has felt since you spoke this morning. Perhaps no one wishes for your company tonight. That would be disappointing but not a surprise.

It is only ten minutes from the dismissal of your company from his presence that the noises start to come from Prince Oberyn’s chambers. Making Raeden quickly step back from the door and hastily start removing his sword and armor to distract himself.

Any attempt to read will now be in vain, and you put down your book on the table beside the bed. This is precisely what you could not stomach for yourself tonight – physical pleasure would only make your roiling stomach feel much worse and you sigh into the night air.

"I have never known you to judge how people behave." Raeden comments, slightly disappointed in your sigh. It reinforces his fear that you will reject him if he were to confide his secrets to you. "Yet you judged your husband."

“I judged nothing,” you insist, surprised to hear him think so. “It is simply that I do not crave to be touched tonight. Is that so terribly wrong after seeing a man murdered?”

Raeden turns to you, his robes discarded and just the soft shirt underneath cladding his chest. "My love...you husband did not offer to fuck you." He hums. "He was offering you the safety of his bed for comfort, just comfort. And you rejected him most curtly."

Frowning when you turn to look at him, the air of having done wrong hangs over you and makes shame twist inside you alongside the guilt you have felt for hours. “You sound as though you want me to go to him.”

"I doubt you would care for what you would see if you entered his chamber now." He shakes his head and frowns. "I will not have any opinion of your actions, my princess." He offers stiffly.

“Gods above, will everyone stop calling me that?” Despite it being your husband’s title, you feel no connection to it, and you end up sitting straight up in bed. “I welcome your opinion, Raeden. I treasure it. But when no one around me will speak plainly is it my fault for misunderstanding?”

Raeden's jaw clenches and he doesn't move, doesn't soften to comfort you like he would have only days before. He cannot. Not when things have shifted so drastically, and he is feeling as if is being tossed about in a storm on the Narrow Sea. "Then I shall remain silent so there is no chance of misinterpretation."

In a flurry of frustration, you nearly throw yourself out of the luxurious bed and stamp across the room, flinging yourself onto the chaise under the windows instead. If he is going to be rude and dismissive then you want nothing to do with him, either. “Good night, ser.” You grit out before extinguishing the final candle and plunging the room into darkness.

Raeden stands in the darkness, anger and shame twisting in his gut. Along with the arousal that every moan and cry of pleasure from next door fosters in his loins. Instead of begging for your forgiveness or relighting the candles, he gathers his armor and his sword in the darkness before leaving your chambers. "Good night, princess." He murmurs before shutting it behind him.

******

“Raeden?” From her position between Leyth’s legs, Ellaria spies him the second he appears dressed only in his undershirt and a frown while carrying his armor. “Has something happened?”

"Forgive me." His eyes shift uncomfortably away from the scene of absolute debauchery in front of him. Trying not to hear the sounds of skin slapping as your husband doesn't pause in his thrusts into the buxom whore under him. "I— I just need to—" He gestures towards the door that leads out into the hallway of the brothel. He will redress and stand guard outside the chambers where his soulmate and her husband are sleeping. Instead of going out of the door from your chambers to the hallway, he had fucked up and entered Oberyn's chamber.

“You are welcome to join us if you wish.” She reminds him, doubting but hopeful that he might be enticed.

The shake of his head is quick, almost violent. "I—I cannot." He grunts, eyes falling on a male whore who is laying on his stomach, obviously resting or preparing to rejoin the group. "My apologies for disturbing you."

As quickly as he appeared, he is gone again. Out through the door that leads to the hallway where no one but passersby will encounter the weary knight.

In the dim light from the torches, Raeden redresses, leaning against the wall as he stands between the two doors that lead to the chambers. One he is unwelcomed in right now, one he desperately wants to enter but cannot. Not if he wishes to keep his soulmate.

******

The next morning when Leyth's familiar face delivers fresh wine and a tray of delicacies to break your fast with, you barely stir on the chaise. You had not moved back to the bed after Raeden stormed out last night and you had cried yourself in and out of rest through most of the night. The pillow you finally fell asleep on is stained from tears and it is surely the worst night you have spent in weeks – since finding out you would be destined to marry a man who was not your soulmate. At least then you had had Raeden to comfort you for a time.

Raeden's eyes are heavy, staring between the doors as he stands watch. He had not slept. Keeping guard over your rooms as was his station and duty. Unable to rest, his spine stiffens slightly when he hears your soft groans as you start to wake. He missed holding you, being close to you. But you had wished to be alone so he had granted your wish. The door to Oberyn's suite slips open again and another two naked women file sleepily out of the room, besides Leyth, the man and another woman had left earlier.

The day holds no appeal for you whatsoever, with the people closest to you seemingly all upset with you, and you send Leyth away as politely as you can without dressing. No one wishes to see you and you do not wish to see them if they feel that way, so you will stay here and read. Even food holds no appeal for you, which is a change from your normal self indeed. Since Raeden had not returned at any point you have to assume - with regret and something else that you cannot or will not name – that he spent the night in another bed. A whore's maybe, or even Ellaria's, and that thought brings a whole new wave of tears.

******

“Good morning, lover.” Oberyn frowns, his eyes still closed, although his arms open to allow Ellaria to snuggle into his chest. “How was your sleep?” He asks groggily, still tired and sated from the activities of the previous night.

"Someone was snoring," she chuckles softly, crawling a few inches to deposit herself in Oberyn's arms. "How did you sleep, my love?"

“Better than I imagined.” Oberyn hums, rubbing her back gently. “Better than the cold bed next door.”

"What do you think happened?" Doubtful that you would have dismissed Raeden or that he would have left without some kind of deep disagreement, Ellaria frowns even as she places a kiss on Oberyn's shoulder.

Oberyn rolls his eyes and sighs. The hurt he had been dealt last night for offering you solace was not quite healed. “No doubt her lover tried to comfort her and was tossed out on his ass.” He snorts. “I dare not ask so I am not accused of suggesting an orgy.”

Ellaria almost groans, leveling her soulmate with a dubious glare. “Have we not learned that she is sheltered?” She reminds him, sitting up against the pillows at the head of the bed. "You offered her the comfort of multiple bodies and she took your meaning to be literal. That is not a sin, Oberyn. Only foolish."

“As you say.” He grumbles, the stubbornness of most Martells is enhanced in the second son. “Despite my repeated reassurances that I would not force her.”

"And you have not. She thought she was declining an offer." The fact that his mind and his reason seem to be clouded by you is worth noting, but Ellaria knows her soulmate well enough to know that he is still wounded, so she will not press his pride. "As for Raeden, I do not know what might have happened. But certainly your bride had a very lonely night."

“Where do you think he spent his night?” Oberyn wonders. “He would not even look at the brunette as I was plowing her field, so I doubt he spent the night between the thighs of a whore.”

"You ordered him to protect the princess," Ellaria reminds him, having seen which door Raeden went out when he retreated last night. "So I expect he stood guard all night as he was told."

He huffs, sitting up and rolling his eyes. “Gods old and new save me from these two literal creatures.” He groans, shifting so he can move to the edge of the bed and stand up. You and your soulmate are going to be the death of him.

Raeden's back straightens like a plank when the door to his right opens to reveal the prince draped in his untied robe looking bleary eyed as though he has just awoken. "Your Grace." He manages to stifle a yawn, swallowing it down and looking straight ahead to mask his tired features.

"Gods’ fool." Oberyn hisses, knowing immediately that the man has not slept for a moment. "I did not mean for you to stay awake all night." He motions Raeden over towards him. "Come. You will sleep before you fall down where you stand."

If he had his mind, he would argue that he could not protect you while asleep in a different room, but Raeden is altogether too weary for such a debate and nods dutifully before following the prince into the large chamber with its oversized and overstuffed bed. Just the night before it had been swarming with writhing bodies, but now it is simply disheveled as it stands empty in the center of the room.

“Strip your clothes and sleep.” Oberyn grunts as he moves over towards the table to grab a cup of wine. Needing to wash his mouth clean of sleep before he takes his lover to the bathing chamber to wipe her skin clean of cum.

“It is not the longest watch I have stood, my lord,” Raeden insists, though he is unbearably tired. Ill thoughts are a taxing burden and make a man weary all on their own.

“I do not make my men stand watch until they are too tired to fuck or fight.” Oberyn scoffs. “You will sleep, your princess is still safely pouting in her chambers.”

Having felt the sting of your rejection himself, Raeden says nothing to defend or condemn you. He says nothing at all, but weakly strips down and crawls under the plush blankets strewn across the prince’s bed. You will come looking for company when you are ready. You always do.

It is telling that the man almost immediately falls asleep. Making Oberyn smirk as he watches him for a moment before turning his attention back to his paramour. "Come." He urges her quietly. "We will spend a lazy morning in the bath while the lovers recover from their trying night apart."

“Poor dears,” Ellaria clicks her tongue and shakes her head, but leaves it at that as she follows Oberyn out of the room. You will both be fine, as long as you stop being stubborn and reach out. Although, the same could often be said of Oberyn.

Sleep comes easy for a soldier. He is used to falling asleep quickly and waking just as fast. Now, with the emotional turmoil of the night, he is exhausted and seems to be asleep right before his head hits the incredibly soft pillow. Dreaming of you, Oberyn and Ellaria twisted together in passion and laughing together as he stands off to the side. Rejected like he always has been.

******

It is well past midday when you finally emerge from your chamber, sheepishly intending to offer apologies to those you upset last night. It evaporates in the face of Raeden’s still-sleeping form laid out bare in your husband’s bed. The sharp intake of your own breath barely comes before a sob, and all at once you are fleeing behind your chamber door again with a violent slam.

The slamming of the door rouses Raeden, making him groan as he lifts his head and looks around sleepily. "My love?" He croaks softly, confused about where he is since he had been sleeping so soundly. He blinks and rolls over, the memory of Oberyn ordering him to sleep coming back to him and he realizes he fell asleep in the prince's bed. He wonders where the prince and his lover are, remembering that they had been there when he had climbed into the bed.

Unable to distinguish exactly why you feel so betrayed to see Raeden in the bed the prince and his soulmate normally occupy, you fling yourself onto your own bed instead and bury your face in a new pillow to soak it through with fresh tears. It feels as if a dagger has been shoved through your heart and twisted, leaving you ragged and breathless for reasons you can neither articulate nor separate. All you know, in that moment, is that the other half of your soul saw you in pain and instead of reaching out a hand to help you, he became as unyielding as his name and sought pleasure from others while you were raw and wretched.

Groaning, Raeden sits up and he rubs his hand over his face. Wondering if you are still in your room, he shuffles to his feet and walks over to the door. “My love?” He croaks out, knocking softly.

If you had a prayer of hearing the weak motion normally, it certainly would never have been heard over the muffled sound of your own tears blocking your ears. There may as well be no one else in the world for the kind of alone you feel in this moment.

He opens the door when he doesn’t hear you call out. Still sleepy enough that your muffled sobs don’t register as he calls your name. “Are you awake?” For all he knows, you have decided to sleep the day away. He steps into the bedroom and closes the door behind him, still nude.

His voice is a surprise, finally near and loud enough to hear, and you shove yourself up to sitting only for the dignity of not being seen sprawled out like a sobbing child. "Of course I am awake. It is past mid-day." You cut out, desperately trying to wipe your eyes. "I take it you enjoyed your night very thoroughly without me."

Raeden blearily rubs his eyes and frowns in confusion. “What?” He asks, instantly annoyed at your tone. “What are you talking about?” After so little sleep, he is not functioning at peak condition.

"I recognize that I was not pleasant company last night and I had intended to apologize for that, but I stepped out from my room to find you sleeping very soundly in my husband's bed. Naked. As you are now." Halfway between hurt and anger lies jealousy, and the ugliness of it twists inside you like a serpent. It makes you mean when you do not want to be, needy for the same frustration in others that you feel in yourself. "I hope that it was worthwhile."

The sleepiness is instantly gone and all that Raeden sees is the anger, the disgust on your face, hurt it in your voice. You think that he slept with your husband, or maybe his paramour and he knows he was right now not to share himself with you. “Exceedingly, Princess.” He stiffens, jaw clenched and his heart shatters, knowing that the love he thought he had does not exist. “No apologies are necessary. I am but a servant.” Bare assed, Raeden bows mockingly and moves to the door.

If he heard the wretched sob that came from your mouth after the door closed behind him, he gave no indication. Raeden only returned to the bedside where he had awoken to retrieve his clothing, dressing again with an unmoving continence and automatic movements.

******

Unaware that turmoil and angst are afoot, Oberyn sighs, completely rejuvenated after his bath with Ellaria. “I should let the girl come to me.” He argues as they walk hand in hand, dressed in nothing more than silk robes and their hair wet from scrubbing.

"I wonder that you think so, being the father of eight daughters." She tells him flatly, but squeezes his hand to show she is not upset with him. "She does not know how to trust you yet and the last words spoken between you were in anger. At least show her that you are no longer upset."

Oberyn bites his lip and frowns, feeling that his lover is making a good argument. While he had felt his innocent gesture had been taken as an insult, you did not know him well enough to understand that he does know that not everything can be fixed by a romp in a bed. “I will speak with her before waking Raeden to dress.” He decides, looking at the woman who has stood by his side for nearly twenty years. The woman who wears his makes and is half of his soul.

"Take her for a walk." Ellaria suggests, leaning over to place a kiss on his shoulder as they walk together. "Or share a meal with her. Something that she would consider...normal." There is always the chance that you will not want to see or speak with him, but she does not think you are a cross enough person to have that anger in you. Stubborn, perhaps. But your soul seems to be a bright one most of the time.

"I will show her the markets along the waterfront." He remembers how much you seemed to enjoy the sounds and smells of the waterfront. "I will drop in to speak with her and then come back to dress."

"She will be safe with you, and you will be seen being unafraid in the chaos of the day." Ellaria nods, clearly approving of his decision. "It will be good for both of you."

He kisses her hand and stops in front of the door that leads to the room you are occupying. “If she is unwilling to talk, I will leave her to sulk. And we will venture out.”

"I will go and check on our slumbering knight in the meantime." She tells him with a grin.

“My sun, my world.” He promises her with a tender kiss to her lips. Far more intimate than most exchanges of lips in this establishment.

"My beloved." Unable to let him go without one more kiss, Ellaria hums in satisfaction and flits away, pushing through the door to his left to go in search of their Ser Raeden.

Oberyn had thought to knock for a brief moment, but he did not wish for you to ignore him. Instead, he opens the door and slides inside the room to speak with you.

The crying has stopped, thank the gods in their heavens, or at least it has paused. When you hear the door scrape open you feel heavy and exhausted from so many tears and barely move from your place in the bed. "If you have come to be angry with me again, Raeden, I cannot stomach it," you manage despite your scratchy throat.

“What would have your Ser Raeden upset with you?” Oberyn frowns, unhappy to see that you have been obviously crying. “The man was sleeping yet an hour ago.”

This was not at all the voice you were expecting, and it wrenches a dry, cracked sob from you by way of surprise. "Aye. He was. Exhausted from a night that I had no part in, I take it."

He pauses, confused by your meaning and then it clicks. The man had stripped down, taking Oberyn’s order literally. You must have seen him sleeping while he and Ellaria were in the baths. “Gods help me.” He groans, striding over to the table and pouring you a cup of wine to soothe your throat. He shakes his head as he walks towards you. “Your lover stood guard outside the chambers all night after your spat. Guarding his princess.” He explains. “While I take no issue with having him in my bed, the man was only there to rest. After I had awoken for the day.”

Pulling the robe over your nightdress back onto your shoulders from where it has become disheveled, you look up at the prince with genuine confusion clouding your eyes. "He would have said so. Surely?" At least...you hope that he would have. But he has not been himself lately. "He has acted so strangely the last few days it is like I hardly know him anymore."

“Did you ask, or did you accuse?” Oberyn asks you bluntly. “I offered last eve to send the whores away for the night and let my wife be comforted by a bed filled with her lover, her husband and her friend only to be told that the thought pleasure was revolting. As if I was crass for offering.”

You tilt your head at him, sniffling back more tears, and hold the wine he has handed you in trembling hands. "I did not—" A wave of shame washes over you and makes your stomach turn to boot, and your head drops to match it. "I did not understand that you meant to send them away," you admit quietly. "You offered me bodies for comfort and I...I misunderstood. But I had thought to turn down the offer kindly. My only fear was in disappointing you."

“Ellaria surmised as much.” Oberyn sighs and steps closer. While you are not as young as he had feared when learning of you, you are still very sheltered. His hand reaches out to caress your shoulder and offer the warmth of his arms if you would like it. “I would not lie to you. Your lover has not received any pleasure in my bed beyond the hour of sleep he had stolen.”

Shifting over slightly on the bed makes enough space for him to sit, and you nearly hold your breath until he takes it, afraid of misreading a gesture again. More than anything, what you have craved since last night is safety as much as comfort. What happened to the king was unimaginably cruel and violent and what little sleep you had was marked with nightmares from it. "I had intended to apologize to you when I left my room some time ago. But being so unpleasant last night. But I—I saw him in your bed and I...I assumed..."

“Star, I admit that I had my fill of lovers last night.” He will not lie to you. “It would have shocked you to see what was happening in that room. Your Raeden would not even look at the whore I was fucking when he burst in. He had stood sentinel during the night so you would be safe.” Oberyn reaches over and covers your hand with his own. “It has been a taxing few days for you. I will not stay angry at small miscommunications like this.”

"It is not the lovers that I mind." It never has been. Although the realization of exactly how prolific his sex drive is was a certain amount of shocking, it does not offend or upset you. "Take as many as you like, continue on as you have been, that does not upset me." You remind yourself to breathe, and to drink the wine that was brought to you to soothe your throat. "What upsets me is feeling as if I am not wanted or needed. Or, worse, feeling as though I am in the way."

“You feel as if you are not wanted?” He is confused by that because he has mentioned several times that he would like to have you in his bed. “I am afraid I do not understand.” He confesses. “My lover and I would like you in our bed, not just to make you writhe with pleasure. And your Raeden is your soulmate. He wants nothing more than to be with you.”

"He did." But you are convinced that something has changed in him. "Last night he refused to speak to me when I wanted nothing more than to be understood." Taking the chance on leaning closer to him, the warmth of the prince beside you is more comforting than you would have expected. "Yesterday at the wedding he said we did not know the difference between lust and love. He has been a very different man since arriving in King's Landing."

“I am afraid that my paramour and I have caused friction between the two of you.” Oberyn sighs. “I must apologize to you for that. I never wanted to come between you as soulmates.” He frowns and tries to decide what might be best for you and your lover. “Would you like to talk to him?” Oberyn shifts and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"I would not know what to say." You were both so angry when he came in just a little while ago. So filled with venom and unhappiness. "Perhaps he was correct, and I do not know my feelings at all. I cannot say anymore."

“Speak from your heart.” He urges you, reaching over and touching your chest where it beats. “You love him. Sometimes you must fight for what you love.”

He means well, you are certain that he does. But when he reaches to touch your chest gently over your nightdress there is a moment where you are certain you will ignite from a simple touch. "You make it sound as though I ought to have a suit of armor."

“Perhaps you should.” He smiles at that, happy that the unhappiness in your eyes turns to mirth for a moment. “Passion outside the bed is just as important as in it.”

"Passion outside of the bed has never lacked before," you tell him honestly, feeling again that the pull of truth runs deeply between you. "I have only shared my bed with two people, and they have both been guarded secrets."

“Two?” His brow raises in surprise. “I had thought your Raeden was your only lover.”

"It has been pointed out to me that sharing a bed with someone can mean things other than lovemaking." If it can be an offer of comfort, surely it can be other things as well. "My father employs a maester to look after his library, and that maester had had a child before taking his vows. She was employed as a kitchen maid in our home. And...she was very special to me."

From your tone, he knows that this woman was far more than a ‘friend’. “She was your lover.” He is delighted that you are not as prudish as you might have seemed, exploring pleasure with another girl before your soulmate.

“Not…precisely.” As close into his side as you are, you look down into the wine in the goblet in your hands instead of over at him. “Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that we were as close to lovers as two women can be.”

“Did you touch her?” He asks, tilting his head. “Taste her skin and learn what makes her keen in pleasure?” With your literal interpretation of things, perhaps you are unaware of what being a lover means.

“Well…I…yes, but—” This need to be honest with him has let you flustered and honestly wondering how you had gotten so off course in your conversation. “But…” With his reputation surely he understands this already? “Two women cannot…there is not a way for them to make love…”

He chuckles, sliding his hand up from your chest to cup your cheek. “My dear,” he murmurs softly. “Love comes in many forms. Sex is the same. She was your lover. You touched her as a lover does.” He explains softly. “If your Raeden just uses his mouth to make your cunt spasm, do you not consider yourself to have found pleasure?”

“But that is not…it is not sex.” As crudely as you are capable of speaking about it to the person you are sharing the act with, this moment is far from that. The prince is far more experienced, worldly, and knowledgeable than you are, yet the basic fact of what you were taught remains. “For a man and a woman to come together…to find pleasure…that is different.”

"Does that mean that any man I have in my bed does not have sex because his cock is not in a cunt?" Oberyn asks, genuinely curious about your reasoning.

“I—no…you have…” You sigh, dropping your face into one upturned hand and despising yourself for turning meek in front of the man you promised yourself that you would not be a fool to. “I have no trouble speaking of desire while receiving it, but discussing it like this appears to leave me dumbfounded.”

"There is nothing to be ashamed of." He hums, shaking his head. "The septa will not quiz you and beat your hand with a stick if you feel different that I do." He chuckles quietly and sighs softly. "You most likely felt shame at wanting your friend, touching her and wishing to touch her, no?" He asks.

"It was not to be spoken of." There was too much fear there, even at the age when other girls were beginning to be married. "She would have been sent away. Or...knowing my mother as you do now, you can imagine that it might have been worse."

"I imagine she would have had you dragged through the streets and beaten." He grunts, unhappy with the idea and cursing your mother. "And how did you act when asked about your lover? Even innocently?"

"We always said that we were reading together," you explain, huffing out a soft laugh. "She was annoyed at the idea of educated girls in her home, but lost interest after that."

"But you were fearful of someone discovering your secret." He pushes. He wants you to make the connection that he believes is why your lover is so changed since his arrival in King's Landing. He has seen the desires in the man's eyes, along with the shame.

"Of course." Her fate would have been sealed if you had been discovered. She would have been sent away at the very least. You cannot even imagine what your own punishment would have been.

"So you were guarded. Closed off." He hums. "It is smart when you do not wish to be judged."

"You are trying to make a point, but I fear I am not myself enough to understand."

"Your Ser Raeden seems to be hiding a secret." He points out gently.

"And...he fears I would judge him." It takes having the puzzle pieces laid out before you to be able to see the image they complete, but you nod solemnly. "I would not. No matter how terrible. But I thought surely that he knew how much I love him."

"Fear has a way of making you disbelieve what you know to be true." He murmurs. "You know your Raeden is loyal to you, and yet just this morning you were sure that he had shared my bed without any thought to you."

He is correct, though the feeling of discontentedness in the pit of your stomach is very uncomfortable. "I fear the situation may be more complicated than it seems."

"I will send your lover to you." Oberyn offers, patting your knee gently. "If your talk does not go how you wish, I will take you to the waterfront markets. How does that sound, star?"

"None of this is why you came to me; I do not think." While he has listened and given you admirable support, you have been exceedingly selfish with his time. "Will you tell me why you came, first?"

He hums and tilts his head. "I had come to apologize for my cross behavior." He admits. "I do not wish you to believe that I was angry at you. I was hurt, but I wanted to make amends. To offer to visit the marketplace on an outing."

"Then we should go to the marketplace." Feeling that everyone you care about was upset with you last night was not a pleasant sensation and you want nothing more than to erase it from your heart completely. "And perhaps..." A nervous swallow comes with a flustered face, but you are feeling more yourself now and braver. "Perhaps tonight we might spend time together? Not as two pairs of soulmates but...all together?"

He watches you for a moment before he nods. "That can be done." He knows that means that his usual entertainment will be placed on hold, but the ease of your relationship is more important than fucking that blonde he had seen in the baths. "After your talk with your Raeden? I must dress anyway."

"Thank you." Gratitude is not something you expected to feel today, but you certainly do.

"You are my princess." Oberyn reminds you, giving you a soft smile and leaning in to kiss your cheek. "I will send him in shortly."

"I have grown up with a view of marriage that is quite uncomfortable and certainly not encouraging," you remind him. "So I am grateful, and thankful, to find it is possible to be honest with you and be myself with you. Even if it is not always perfect."

"Perfection is boring." Oberyn smirks as he stands, caressing your cheek before he turns and walks to the doors that connect your rooms.

The waiting seems to take forever, but you dress yourself in something simple while - you assume - the prince is speaking to Raeden. By the time your chamber door reopens you are sitting at the long table with food and wine, barely picking at what was brought to you but knowing that you need something to keep your strength up.

This time when he enters your chambers, Raeden is fully dressed. Making sure that he looks as presentable as any other day had been a chore while Ellaria had chastised him as if he were a small boy. It had shamed him and now when he closes the door behind him, he stands unsure as to what to say or how to make amends.

“Raeden…” Taking a deep breath and smoothing your dress despite it being already pristine, you stand from the table and come around it. “Please allow me to apologize. I was upset last night and acted out, and I did not mean to aim those frustrations at you. Even worse, today when I had made up my mind to find you and make this apology then, I instead lashed out. You deserved none of this behavior.”

Instead of dismissing your apology with a frosty demeanor, Raeden bows his head. "I should not have left." He murmurs. "Nor should I have accepted your husband's offer of sleep." It had been an order, but the fault is still his. "It will not happen again." You are his soulmate, who the gods have determined he is supposed to be with and love. Only you. So he will do his best to honor that.

“You were exhausted. Sleep was needed.” Taking the chance to move closer to him, you step out and find that he does not shrink away from you. “My love, I know that these few days have been trying for both of us.”

"There have been many changes." He agrees diplomatically. "I do not fault you for being wary and cross." He covers your hands on his chest with his own. "I will not let you down again." Reminding himself of his duty to you, his station is necessary. He was forgetting that he was born without a name. Without a future.

“It is I who have let you down.” But the feeling of his warmth so near has you nearly sighing it is so comforting. “So many changes and I have not once asked if you are still happy. Or what could be done to make you even happier.”

"You are my soulmate." He insists. "It is more than I deserve just to touch you." He has long known that you deserve more than him, though you do not think so.

“That is not the same as being happy.” Both of your arms encompass him, Drawing him close to you in the middle of that room. “You deserve happiness.”

"Happiness is not always possible for some of us." He reminds you, even as he allows you to pull him close. "You do not need to worry about me, my love."

“Is there not a chance that it could be?” Risking pressing too hard and upsetting him, you cannot find it in you to back down from this idea. It seems to have burrowed inside of you most ardently. “I know that you wish for more than you have, love. But perhaps it is both of our fortunes that might change in Dorne, and not only mine.”

"I cannot wish for more than you." Raeden insists, clenching his jaw slightly and clutching at your hands almost desperately. "I am not discontent with you." He swallows harshly and bites his lip. "I do not understand what you are meaning."

Swallowing pride and fear, you cling to Raeden’s hands and remember the prince’s words. “May I tell you something, my love? Something that…I have been afraid to share? That I taught myself to think of with such importance?”

"You can share anything with me." There is a certain sense of irony in his statement. That he would protect you from anything, protect any secrets you might have. Even if he did not trust you with his own shameful secrets.

Managing to get him to sit with you, you pour wine into a second goblet for him and pick at the excellent fresh berries that had been sent up much earlier. “Do you remember Brynna?” You ask him after a pause, telling yourself to be brave. “The kitchen maid that I was close friends with? She married a little more than a year ago.”

Frowning slightly, he takes a sip of the wine, grateful to have something cool on his throat. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink either. "Yes, although you stopped visiting with her after you—we discovered that we were soulmates." He murmurs, feeling guilty that you had to push your friend away so that your secret bond with him was not discovered.

“Yes, I did.” It was soon after that that the maester’s daughter met her own soulmate, so your guilt had been quickly assuaged. “But I did not quit her company for the reason you might think.” Telling yourself to trust and to take the leap, you still have trouble finding his eyes. “I feared that you would reject me or be angry if you discovered her in my bed.”

He frowns even more, staring down into his cup and then up at your face, even though you will not look at him. "You—" He starts to question you and then stops, clearing his throat. "I...I see." He doesn't know if he is more confused or relieved that you have some kind of history with someone you shouldn't.

“I did not know that two women could be lovers,” you explain, feeling utterly childish about your ignorance. “To hear my septa or my brothers speak of it…a man is utterly necessary for an encounter to truly be considered lovemaking. But I—I have learned that is not so.”

Raeden takes a large gulp of his drink, his dark eyes finding yours and he pauses for a moment before he asks, "Do you— uh, prefer that?" He asks, reaching for your hand. "Does a man repulse you?"

“No!” Your hand fits into his immediately, grasping his fingers tightly as they lace through your own. “No, of course not, my love. It is only…it is different. Not better or worse, but rather…I enjoyed both. And I was very ashamed to enjoy it as much as I did, because I did not know how very natural it was. And I believe I am starting to understand that finally.” Leaning forward, you press earnest kisses to his knuckles, hoping to have cracked some kind of barrier between you. You had thought it existed so that he would not be disgusted with you, but here he is reaching for your hand. “I do not wish to keep secrets from you any longer, my love.”

"There is something I must confess to you." He croaks out, fingers squeezing yours as his heart pounds in his chest. Sweat starts to create a find sheen on his skin as his nerves starts to get the best of him. "I—I have never spoken of this to—to anyone."

“You can speak to me of anything.” You promise him, your other hand abandoning your wine to hold his tightly.

"You know that I have had lovers." He ventures softly, waiting for you to nod before he continues. It had not been a secret from you, and more acceptable since he was a man. "When I— when I was in training, my father send me to be trained by an old friend. Since he could not publicly claim me."

“That is how you came to the Vale.” You nod, having remembered the stories he had told you of his past. “Yes. I remember.”

He takes a deep breath and downs the rest of his wine. "While I was training, I had a – a friend." He confesses. "Much like your Brynna."

“Would you tell me about her?” It is no matter to you that he had other lovers. You know he has. Perhaps he feels shame or guilt for having loved her? But that does not matter to you in the least.

"His name was Alren." He chokes out. "He was the fourth son of Lord Royce." He explains, unable to look you in the face for fear of your reaction. He has never spoken of this, never dreamed of speaking of this with you.

“Oh.” Tightening your hold on his hand, you see those impregnable puzzle pieces slide into place. “And it was Alren who was your lover?”

"He was." Raeden confesses. "I—it was secret, it had to be. Until—"

“Oh, my love…” When his eyes drop and his shoulders draw in on themselves, you lean down to kiss his knuckles again. “Something happened to him?”

"He— someone discovered his...tastes and Lord Royce was not a man who accepted such things out of his son, fourth or no." His hands curl into fists and he lets out a ragged breath. "His lord father beat him to death in front of every boy there. Demanding the name of his lover. While I watched, helpless to save him." Alren had screamed out, begging him not to come forward. To save himself as he was brutalized by his father. Raeden had been frozen in fear, terrified of suffering the same fate as him. If the legitimate son of a lord could be treated so, what would they do to him?

“Gods in all their heavens…” The story nearly chokes you, wrapping around your throat and pushing a gasp from it and furious tears that anyone should be treated so for who they loved. “What a barbaric display, to have so much hatred for his son. I—” And yet, you can imagine it, having grown up with a mother who wished you dead. “I am sorry that you were afraid to share this part of yourself with me, but please…please know that I love you all the more.”

“I—know it is wrong.” He insists. “Unnatural to have those desires. Especially when I have my soulmate.” He swallows. “I am sorry for hiding it from you, but I will not betray you.” He vows.

“I thought it wrong as well. Unnatural as well.” You shake your head, more at your own self than anything else. “But I think perhaps it is not as sinful as any other love. And that we were misled by people who shared our fears.”

Thinking about that, he brings your hand up to his lips. “You are my love.” He promises you. ���That will never change.”

“Never.” That is a promise you can make to him just as easily, but you find his eyes and hold them. “I was upset to see you in the prince’s bed today because I thought you were still angry with me, and might turn me away. It was only fear, my love. Not that I would be angry with you for desiring another.” Perhaps a touch of jealousy had joined the feeling, but you cannot be entirely sure who you were actually jealous of.

"I would never turn you away." He frowns at you, wondering how you could possibly believe something like that. He had been upset that you had been so stubborn last night to think the worst of your husband who had been nothing but generous towards you.

"Fear has a way of making you disbelieve what you know to be true." The words come naturally although they are not your own, and you hang your head. “The prince told me that. And I believe he was entirely correct.”

"He is a surprising man." He cannot help but chuckle in relief. "You have married a good man, my love. You are lucky."

“If you…” Even the idea of breaching this subject with him makes you nervous, but anxiety is far less important than Raeden’s happiness and security. “If it is something that you are interested in exploring again, that is…I know that the prince has expressed interest in bedding you.”

"I—I wouldn't— no, you—" he stammers, eyes widening slightly as you offer him something that he had never expected. He shakes his head. "I could not hurt you like that." He doesn't think that you would want your soulmate to be with someone else.

“It would only hurt me if you turned me away in favour of him.” You shake your head and clasp his hands all the more tightly. “I would never ask you to do something that made you unhappy. But my love, if you wished to take someone else to your bed, all I would ask is that you tell me first?” A soft, almost sheepish smile overtakes your face. “You should be happy, and if I can give you happiness by sharing you…that is something that I have only recently learned is possible.”

"I think that you are more interested in a place in the prince's bed that you wish to admit." He murmurs, looking over at you. "I—say that if you wish it, I want you to also have that opportunity." He sighs. "I know that I am drawn to both your husband and his lover." He confesses, embarrassed by saying those words out loud.

“If you wish for that chance, my love, I cannot see them denying you.” In fact, given some of the glances you have seen Ellaria giving Raeden since you met, and both of their blunt honesty, you are certain they would be thrilled to welcome him into their bed. “For myself…” your shoulders round a little and you cannot help but be a little embarrassed by how well you remember the moment. “I…kissed him. Yesterday. In the garden at the Red Keep. It was impulsive and I was afraid you would be upset with me for…finding myself attracted to him.”

“I would rather you desire your husband than fear the bedding we both know must come.” Despite what has been said, an heir is expected of you and people would spread rumors of you did not provide him with one.

“It does not make me love you less,” you promise him, knowing that that was the fear the foremost of your mind. “Just as I know your own desire does not affect your love for me.”

“Never.” He assures you, leaning down and kissing your hands one at a time. “Are you sure you do not feel any different?” He asks softly, wanting you to make sure. That is his biggest fear.

"Only in that I now wish to spend my time with three people instead of only you." It is a different feeling, to be sure, but not an unpleasant one. "The earliest feelings of attraction are rarely unpleasant, even if they might be different."

"No, I – I meant your feelings about me." He sighs, knowing that while you have your husband, your new title, basically the world at your fingertips – he has nothing. Nothing beyond his place with you.

"I love you. That will never change. No matter our circumstances, the world around us, or even if we were both to marry other people." That inevitability, once terrifying, now only seems as a minor hill to climb. A surmountable barrier. "You are my soulmate, and nothing can ever change that."

He cannot help but pull you on his lap. Needing to have you close as he nudges his nose against yours. "You are mine and I am yours." He promises you softly. "I love you, and I will always love you."

"Always." You promise him, the gentle whisper all it needs to be in the quiet room as you wrap your arms around him.

"So we agree?" He murmurs softly. "We are each perfectly fine with exploring intimacies with your husband and his lover?"

"As odd as it might sound to an outside ear?" And it would, there is no doubt or pretense about that. "I believe – yes. We agree." Pressing a firm, earnest kiss to his lips, you hold him a little tighter with that affirmation. "He asked me to walk with him today, and I asked if we might all spend some amount of time together. Perhaps...the topic can be broached then?"

"If you wish." He murmurs, sliding his hand up your back and holding you close. He closes his eyes and breathes you in, sighing softly. "I love you; I am sorry for our fight."

"I am sorry for it as well, my love." Your forehead against his is grounding, anchoring you to the moment and to the strength of him.

"If you are with your husband, I will try to sleep again." He decides. "Unless his lover needs to have me nearby. I am exhausted." He admits, knowing that he can admit that to you.

"He said that you stood watch all night." A thing which of course would make him exhausted, and you press a kiss to his forehead as well. "Rest well, love. May I wake you when we return from the markets?"

"I would go with you if you wished." He promises you. "You can wake me whenever you need me."

"Rest, my warrior. There are no more battles to fight today." There should not have been any, but the past cannot be changed. "And if you decide to spend time with Ellaria while we are out walking, I hope it is everything you could wish for."

"I am too tired for my cock to stir." He groans, shaking his head and giving a small smile.

Affecting a playful expression of shock and concern, you point to the bed immediately and barely manage to suppress a grin. "Then you must sleep immediately! For as long as you need, ser!"

He chuckles sleepily and nods. "I will." He promises. "I am surprised I woke." He had been sleeping hard when the sound of the door woke him.

"I will let you sleep." With one more kiss, you reluctantly extract yourself from his lap and stand up. He will be able to sprawl out on the bed and enjoy his rest, and you will walk with your husband with a much lighter heart.

******

"I hope her lover has patience since he is sleep deprived." Ellaria hums as her eyes flit towards the door connecting the rooms.

Oberyn nods as he knots the belt around his waist, securing his robes and hanging his dagger from his waist. "You will knock their heads together as if they were naughty children if they argue." He teases, well aware she might do the same to him if pushed hard enough. Now that he has more insight into your nature, he finds himself more patient.

"If I must." Ellaria chuckles, laying back on the bed as she watches him dress. "We had been thrilled to see she was not a child when we met her, but in many ways she has been treated as one. It is a shame."

"Her mother is a bitch who should be beaten." Oberyn grunts, looking into one of the mirrors and examining his beard before pulling out his dagger to scrap a patch of skin smooth. "Jealous of her own daughter."

"Lover, you are preening," she teases with delight. "Huffing and puffing like a great defender while you make yourself handsome for her. It is rather charming."

"Hold your tongue." He narrows his eyes in the mirror playfully before he looks back at his task and carefully drags the extremely sharp blade over his skin. "I am merely making sure that I look confident and collected as I walk the streets of King's Landing."

"With your bride." Ellaria's amusement is obvious, and she all but giggles when the door that connects your chamber to theirs opens to allow you through. "And here is the princess herself." There is no malice in her voice, no jealousy or resentment, only teasing and a good nature. "Our beautiful prince is making himself presentable for you, dear."

Oberyn blows out a raspberry towards his lover and drops his dagger after he finishes the last pass. "My love, you tease me." He grumbles quietly, eyes sliding over to where you are standing. "I gather your talk was successful?" He asks you.

"It went a good deal differently than I had anticipated, but...yes. All is well again." Feeling confident enough to step into the room and over to the pair of them, you are still more than a little nervous about going out and being seen with him. He has, after all, an immense presence and there are always eyes on whomever he is with.

"That is fantastic." He hums, cleaning the blade with a cloth and sliding it back into it is sheath. "As much as I enjoyed the sight of your lover in my bed, it is not a sight I wish friction over." He picks up a bottle of the oil that he uses to sooth is skin and splashes some into his palms to coat the freshly shaved areas.

"It will not be, in future." You can assure him of that, which makes anticipation tingle through you.

His brow arches as he finishes applying the spicy, sweet-smelling oil and reaches for the same cloth the wipe his hands. "That is a curious way with words, princess." He murmurs, his eyes sliding over to his soulmates before back to you.

"It was a curious talk." The coy little smile that curls up in the corner of your mouth is not intentional, but rather naturally playful. You feel so much lighter and freer than you had even an hour ago. "Raeden's story is his own to tell, but...it is safe to assure both of you that your honesty with us about your interest has helped us to be more honest with each other."

"Then it is was a very fruitful conversation, indeed." He hums as Ellaria looks very pleased with the turn of events. "Honesty is what is needed in lasting love and passion."

"I could not agree more." It is a fact, indeed, which you are grateful for in this moment. "Which is why I told him about Brynna."

"Brynna?" Ellaria's head tilts curiously as she looks between you and your husband. Oberyn had not told her so she surmises that it must have been something personal. "What a lovely name."

As the prince already knows the tale, you step closer to the bed where Ellaria is reclining and sit down on the edge of the mattress beside her. "She was...it has been explained to me that she was my first lover. I did not, at the time, understand what it truly meant."

Ellaria's smile blooms slowly, taking over her face until pure delight is etched in her features. "So you do know what a woman's touch is like." She hums, very pleased with your newly told tale.

When you nod it is a sheepish thing, and you fluster under how pleased she seems to be. "And I know now that the shame I felt at my time with her is not necessary." Although it may take time to shake the spiderwebs of guilt from your heart, you have certainly taken a large first step today.

Straightening, Ellaria leans into you and cups your cheeks with both of her hands. "Good." She smiles at you softly. "There should never be any shame in love. No matter the form it takes."

"I will do my best to remember it." She is intoxicatingly close, and you know that shyness reads easily across your features, but it is not for embarrassment or nerves. It is only the promise of things to come.

"See that you do." She urges you with a smile. She leans in and softly presses another feather light kiss to your lips for a brief moment before she pulls back.

The prince has been watching you, you realize when you open your eyes again, and you fluster completely, all over again. "I will do my best to return him to you is as good spirits as he is now," you promise Ellaria, finding yourself reluctant to slip away from her but at the same time eager to spend time with your husband. It is an odd feeling, but not an unwelcome one.

Oberyn rolls his eyes but he strides over to the two of you so he can kiss his lover and collect you. “I am always in good spirits around a beautiful woman.” He protests before kissing his lover soundly. “Where is your paramour, princess?”

"Sleeping, my lord." Raeden had been asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and you hope he rests well after a whole night standing guard. "I thought to wake him when we return."

“Good.” He nods his head and looks over to his lover. “Ellaria will be happy to lounge here and rest as well.” He smirks. “She was up late doing other things.”

"Enjoy yourselves." Ellaria lays back in the luxurious blankets and yawns dramatically, flashing you both a smile even as she waves you off. "And make him buy you something beautiful, darling. He gives wonderful gifts."

“I owe you something as well.” He smirks at his lover and offers you his arm. “Shall the Prince and Princess of Dorne be seen visiting the merchants and looking wildly happy?”

"I think they shall." It gives you such a giddy feeling to take his arm this time, smiling more than you have in a month and feeling like quite the gem although there is nothing at all different about you this afternoon than there has been any other day. The only difference is this man, and the fact that you are allowing yourself to enjoy the affect he has on you.

______

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My Masterlist!

[wardenparker]

The Viper's Bride - ch 11

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* Discussions of pregnancy, abuse (parent to child), murder/conspiracy to murder. Plenty of judgmental moments and classicism. Summary: A trip to the Citadel with Cal proves most successful, but dinner with your parents is worst than you could ever fear. Notes: Thank you to everyone for bearing with me through even more Tumblr technical difficulties. We made it! I hope everyone finds this chapter worth waiting for.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10

The streets of King's Landing are filled with merchants, servants and peasants alike. All hustling and moving through the streets with the purpose of completing tasks for their masters, for coin, for survival. A group of urchins play with sticks, pretending they are swords as they race through the crowds. Even with the day-to-day bustle of the people, there is a tension that fills the streets. Whispers in the shadows as people converse. Everyone knows that the trial has begun and they are wanting any little piece of gossip they can muster, true or not.

Cal is barely two steps behind you as you walk, conscious of the difference in your statures but also of the fact that you came to him for protection. It had stuck in your head that both of the men you love – who love you as well – had mentioned keeping him close by and so you doubled back to your chambers to find him and ask him to accompany you. The walk to the Citadel does not take long, but when you arrive you brush the dust from your dress and ring for entrance with a jitter running all the way down your spine. The most you can hope is that Maester Rhodestone will be at hand and that he will remember the woman he married to his former pupil. If not, you may have to be rather grand about asking entrance and access to the books that lie within.

"Your highness, if I may ask, where are we?" You had asked him to accompany you on an errand and had not elaborated. Of course, it was nothing short of an honor to be asked and he had dropped what he was doing to aid you. His dagger is close and he glances around carefully, knowing that both Lord Stone and the Prince would be very displeased if he allowed any harm to come to you.

"This is the Citadel, Cal." Pulling the rope outside had wrung a bell in the building, you are sure that you heard it. All you can hope is that it will be answered in a timely fashion. "The Prince studied here when he thought to become a maester, but that was many years ago." His eyes widen slightly and he stands a few steps behind you and tries to reason the Prince that he knows, that he has been in bed with, with a maester. "Obviously the lifestyle did not quite suit him," you murmur, glancing back at Cal over your shoulder and shooting him an amused smile. The man has spent as much time in your husband's bed as you have over the weeks that Oberyn has been in King's Landing and you are sure he cannot imagine the prince as a maester any more than you can.

There is a long pause between your pull of the bell and the large wooden doors being unbarred and the creak of one twenty-foot door being slowly wrenched opened. Blinking owlishly at the bright midday sun, Rhodestone peers out and then opens the door wider as his brow pulls together in confusion. "Princess?" He asks, looking over at your servant and then back at you.

"You remember me? How kind." And how utterly relieving. You feel you can actually take a breath again. "It is good to see you again, Maester Rhodestone. I was wondering if I might beg your help this afternoon? The prince has sent me to seek certain volumes on his behalf."

"The prince?" His face lights up and he nods, opening his arms in welcome. "It is not every day that I marry a prince to his princess. Are you wishing to know if you are carrying?" He asks with a small smirk. "Knowing Oberyn, he has undoubtedly planted his seed well. An heir for him! How exciting. Although I know he is well versed in the symptoms of carrying a babe."

"Is that something you could check for so soon?" After all, it has only been a few weeks. Suddenly there is more than one piece of information you hope the maester can assist you with today.

"There are ways to determine if you are already carrying." He promises with a smile, reaching out and taking your hand. "Books, you say?" He asks. "What kind of volumes are you seeking, princess? It will be my pleasure to assist you."

"We are interested in any information you may have on soulmates." Beckoning Cal into the hall behind you, the scent of bound volumes drifts from somewhere deep inside and relaxes you further. "This is my husband's man, Cal. He can be trusted with any information or materials you might entrust to myself or the prince."

"Soulmates?" His eyes flash and he hums as he reassesses you. "Yes, we have several volumes on soulmates. What a curious subject to be interested in." He guides you further into the building and pats your hand that is still between his. "As I recall, Prince Oberyn was interested in many subjects, but soulmates was not one of them."

"It is a topic which has recently piqued his interest," you tell the old man honestly, although you bend the reason with a coy, indulgent smile. "I think he thinks of the future happiness of his children, now that he is happily anticipating another baby."

"I know you are properly wed." He chuckles. "Your mother was quite insistent to see the record of your marriage when she came to the Citadel." He had found the woman to be quite belligerent and cross, although he had assumed it was because she feared for your reputation.

"My mother is a rather forward sort of person." A fact which makes you nearly cringe in distress of how she might have acted to the maesters. "I do apologize if she caused any commotion."

"Nothing that could not be handled." He promises with a small wink. There have been several women that could compare to your lady mother over the years. Maesters have seen a lot and know how to handle them. "It is a testament to your maester that you have turned out so...well rounded."

"The septa and the maester that had the duty of raising me were patient and attentive." You shrug in amusement and lend the old man a smile. "They had to be. I have three older brothers."

He chuckles knowingly and nods. "I was the youngest of five." He admits with a grin.

"Then you know precisely the patience that would be necessary." As the three of you walk into the Citadel together, you smile. "Your family must be very proud of you."

"My family is long dead." He hums, a little melancholy about it, but that is life. "Not to worry, they were proud to have a maester in the family when I forged my links."

"My youngest brother contemplated the study before he met the girl who was to become his wife." In fact, it was a source of great conflict for him before he decided that his heart wished for marriage more than great study and service. "We are very proud of him regardless, but to have a maester in the family would have been a wonderful accomplishment."

"Technically, Oberyn would qualify." He hums in amusement. "He had not taken his vows, obviously. He was bored easily and could not keep out of people's beds." He glances towards you and wonders if you know of Oberyn's other proclivities.

“My husband’s desire to have a bed full of all sorts of women and men alike does not keep him from assisting his brother in running the country, thankfully.” A fact which might not be true in other parts of the continent, and at that you merely shake your head. “He values the time he spent studying with you, Ser.”

His pat of your hand turns slightly fonder and he basks in the compliment with delight. "He was always a curious mind. Intrigued by the most unusual things. Poisons were a specialty of his. He sent me a raven once." He guides you towards the large library of the Citadel, maesters in training hunched over books as they copy them carefully, the script neat and precise. "Sent me a formula for a tonic that helps a mother with her birthing pains. Marvelous thing. Unlike other tinctures, the lady kept her full faculties without the torturous pains."

"I am told he developed it for his paramour," you explain with obvious pride. "Ellaria has born him four daughters and he takes every chance to see to her comfort. Most especially during the pains of delivery."

"Yes, I thought it was something like that." He muses, smiling at you as he guides you towards a large section of books that are roped off. "If there ever was a man who needed a tonic for a woman birthing him a child, it would be Oberyn. I have no doubt you will give him many more."

"That is the hope, ser." For the first time, your hand instinctively floats over your midsection at the idea of perhaps already being with child. It would seem a miracle if the maester could tell so soon, but you would not think the knowledge impossible to achieve. After all, you have nothing like their vast knowledge, no matter how many books you have read.

Noticing the gesture, he smiles, sitting you down at a table and motioning Cal to another chair. "I will gather the volumes you seek." He promises.

"My thanks, Maester Rhodestone." The chairs and tables are nothing of luxury but large and ready for use, and you breathe deeply as you sit back amongst the innumerable volumes. "I do not know how long we will be, Cal. I hope this will not be terribly tedious for you."

“I do not think so.” He looks around the room in interest and bites his lip as he looks towards the books that are on display.

“Would you like to read, as well?” From conversations with Leyth you know that both she and Cal have a basic ability to read and write, but were not given the opportunity to learn anything beyond a child’s level while working for Petyr Baelish. The fact that you used to call him Lord of anything is disdainful to you now. “I am sure not every volume here is complicated.”

“That—” his eyes spring back towards you and widen in surprise. “You would allow that?” He asks in awe. He has not had much experience with being allowed to read.

“I encourage it.” Suddenly all the more grateful that you had heeded the wishes of your lovers and brought him with you, you nod to Cal emphatically. “There is a wondrous wide world of books to explore, Cal. Reading can be as pleasurable as it is educating.”

“I should like that.” He nods eagerly. “I wish that I could explain it, I feel like I am elsewhere when I have been able to read.”

“I know that feeling very well.” In fact, it has been your constant companion these many years. “My brother calls it my ’great escape’.”

He smiles and nods, happy that you understand him. For a long time, life was dreary and yet even now, he wishes to read. To learn. “Yes Princess, it is very much like that.”

To see him light up with it makes your heart glad, and you nod as well. “Then we will ask the maester when he returns, if there is not something for you to read as well.”

“Thank you, your highness.” He gushes gratefully. “Leyth and I have been considering buying some books we can read. If there is room to take them back to Dorne, that is.”

“I will make sure of it,” you promise him without hesitation. “No one in our household will ever lack reading materials or books of their own if they wish them. If you wish your own collection in your own room, then you shall have them.”

“Thank you, your highness.” He knows he is incredibly lucky. Most lords and ladies would not encourage learning amongst the servants.

“I am very glad you came with me today, Cal,” you hum as you see the maester approaching again. “Very glad indeed.”

“It is my greatest honor serving you and the prince.” He bows his head respectfully. “And your lovers.”

“What is an honor is not always a pleasure, and so the opposite is true as well. But thankfully we all seem to get on together quite well.” Or at least the growing pains have not begun yet, with the entire situation being still so new to you all.

“Leyth and I are very happy, possibly for the first time in our lives.” There is a sense of security that they have never had before and the fact that their bodies aren’t being demanded for any and all uses has sweetened their days. Cal wishes to be brought back to the Prince’s bed, but that is because he knows there is pleasure to be had there.

“I hope that continues.” You promise him sincerely. “I truly do.”

He smiles, knowing that you mean that just as Maester Rhodestone brings two heavy tomes over to the table. “These are to start you.” He grunts, setting them down with a thud.

"A very big start." The small joke makes the older man huff and half-chuckle, and you turn to him as you run your fingers down the binding of one large volume. "I wonder, maester, if you might have any volumes of children's stories or for beginning readers in your collection? The prince's man is eager to become a better reader and I would like to afford him every opportunity to practice."

Surprised by the request, the maester hums thoughtfully. “I believe we do.” He nods. “Let me go get them.”

"We appreciate every moment of your help, ser." The volumes that he has brought for you bear long and elaborate titles that speak to centuries of scholarship, and the heavy metal clasps on the edges click satisfyingly under your hands. Long bookmarks of lavish material have been left behind by nobles or royals past, but you are less concerned with what people of the past may have read and more concerned with the things that have remained secret. To have two soulmates at once is considered impossible - and until yesterday you had believed that. And yet here you are, with two sets of marks besides your own. Now you need to know if others before you have had the same.

“Is there anything I can help you with, your highness?” Cal asks quietly. While his reading skills are nowhere near yours, he would like to assist you in any way he can.

"I desire only your company, Cal." You had agreed with Oberyn this morning that you should keep the exact topic of your research a secret for now, lest word get out amongst the maesters and people start asking questions. There is no telling what might set the people of King's Landing on their prejudice against the Dornish or any of your party, and it is best not to arouse any suspicions during the trial.

“As you wish.” Cal wishes to ask another question, but then decides that it must not be important. If you or the prince wanted him to know, you would tell him.

It is abundantly clear, as you start to read, that returning to the trial this afternoon is going to be difficult. There are so many theories from various people throughout history on the origins of soulmates, how they are achieved, and how they are chosen, that you feel you may drown in the ink of these pages. Page after page of reading is all-consuming, and yet nothing so far has spoken about a person having more than one set of marks.

The maester returns with books for Cal and he settles down to read them eagerly. “Is there something you are looking for, Princess?” The maester asks curiously. “I’m sure I can assist.”

“Unusual cases.” Affecting an air of academic curiosity rather than betraying how much the research affects you personally, you offer the maester a smile. “The prince and I are rather intrigued by the unusual in every aspect of life.”

“Unusual cases?” His brow lifts and he hums. “Then there is a different book you wish to see.” The links of his chain clank as he stands.

“Is there some sort of record?” A listing of unusual soulmate cases would be remarkable, and ultra-rare. Exactly the sort of thing you would want to tell Oberyn about.

“Stories.” He tells you. “From the time of the dragons. Back when magic seemed to be everywhere and the old gods ruled the world.”

“The old tales often have a kernel of truth to them.” Rising from the table to go with him, you place a hand on Cal’s shoulder. “Guard our belongings, Cal. I will return in a few moments.”

“I must admit that I have not been back here in some time.” Rhodestone admits as he takes you back behind the ropes.

"Is it not a topic that interests most maesters?" You can understand if it does not. Abstaining from that part of life must mean that many do not think about their soulmates.

“Most that we council do not have the joy of knowing their soulmates.” He murmurs. “Rarely do political alliances match scars.”

"That is true enough." And what a miracle it is that your own life has suddenly broken free of that mold. What an unlooked for blessing.

“Here we are.” Rhodestone stops in front of a section of books and looks back at you. “Stories of soulmates.” He offers, plucking a volume from the shelf. “This should be what you are looking for.”

Anomalies of the Soul pronounces the unexpectedly poetic title, and the deep green velvet fabric bookmark lying between the pages sticks out near your hand eagerly. Its clasps are tarnished and neglected, speaking to untold years on the shelf, but it smells as welcoming and comforting as any other book in the realm. "Thank you, maester," you murmur, running your fingers over the delicately embossed leather cover.

“Would you like to take it with you?” He asks, eyes alight with mischief. “Technically it is not allowed, but I know Oberyn will not molest a book in his care.”

"The prince's love for books rivals my own, I assure you." Cradling the volume close to your chest, you have to wonder at its size. How utterly small it is compared to the enormous tomes that were first brought to your table to be poured over. Compared to the one in your hands now, those seem encyclopedic. "It will be returned to you in the exact condition that it is lent, ser. I promise you that."

“Then it will be our secret.” He smiles at you fondly, happy to aid the wife of the man he had secretly admired for blazing his own path. His intellectual abilities had also impressed him. Whatever he is researching, he must have good reason for.

******

Managing to take your place beside Raeden just before trial began again for the afternoon was a feat in and of itself, and you still have the small volume from the Citadel wrapped in cloth in your reticule when you join him. Cal had returned upstairs with your recommendation that he search the keep’s library for something to read, and the safety of knowing he has his mistress’s permission for the errand.

“Did you clear your mind?” Raeden leans over and whispers quietly as Tywin starts to speak again.

“I did. And gave myself more pleasant things to think on,” you murmur back, at the same time slipping your hand into his to lace your fingers together. Even a brief moment of courageous intimacy speaks volumes between the two of you, and you will take them all when they can be found.

His eyes flash with surprise and it takes extreme self-control to not glance around, to make sure no one had seen the intimate gesture. Instead he squeezes your hand and curls your arm around his further. “That is good, my love.”

“I brought Cal. To stay safe.” He should know that you needed his words and concerns even after seemingly being so confident, and you squeeze his arm gently under your fingertips. “Let us be attentive, love.”

Despite the fact that you are safe, curling close to him, Raeden is proud that you heeded his concerns. His eyes sliding towards your husband and he catches the dark, watchful eyes of the prince. Making him squirm slightly and lick his lips as he nods ever so gently towards him. Assuring him that all is well with you.

To say the trial is an unromantic place would be a gross understatement, but you sit arm in arm with Raeden for the duration. It is not intimacy you crave with the gesture but safety, and Raeden will always keep you safe. The sun has nearly fallen from the sky by the time poor Tyrion Lannister is drug back to his cell and court dismissed, and you stretch perhaps more than is ladylike. Even more unladylike is how you shrug at Raeden when he stands with you. “A grim business indeed.”

“Indeed.” He agrees as he steers you towards the doors. “Are you going back to the chambers? Spend time with Ellaria?” Oberyn catches his eye and motions him towards the front of the room where the small council is huddling together, obviously eager to convene.

“Only to change.” By the sun outside, you judge it to be very near supper time and frown. “I am to dine in my parents’ chamber tonight.”

He winces and immediately frowns. “My love…”

"We have nothing to fear from them any longer," you remind him softly. "You are a lord of Dorne and I am one of its princesses. They may talk until their faces turn blue, but they no longer hold power over our lives."

“Your mother is evil.” He reminds you quietly, knowing that he cannot stay long, but he needs you to be careful.

"She is exceptionally unkind." Is the way you rephrase it, but your lips curl into an amused smile. "Neither you nor the prince, nor even Ellaria is required to attend with me. I will weather the storm alone and return tonight to the arms of those who mean the most to me."

“I like that even less than the enduring her presence.” He frowns even more, nodding when he sees Oberyn impatiently motioning him over to his side again. “I must go, but you leave if she mistreats you.”

“I will do what I must,” you nod to him as he hurries away and you make your way for the staircase after nodding to your husband across the crowd. Leyth will be waiting for you in your rooms and then you are off to battle with dragons of your own.

******

“My lady?” As soon as the door opens, Leyth hustles forward. “Are you hungry? The kitchens have some partridge pies or some fresh roasted boar.”

“Unfortunately, I will have to abstain.” A shame, considering partridge pie is one of your favorites. “Will you help me to change, Leyth? I am expected to sup with my parents and do not wish to start a war over wearing a day dress to their table.”

“Of course.” The frown on her face accompanies a nod as she rushes towards the wardrobe where your dresses are hanging. “The blue or the yellow?” She asks you, wondering if you prefer to wear your husband’s colors.

“The yellow.” It will do well to remind them that you belong to a different House now. That you have your freedom.

“It will look beautiful on you. I have been working with Ellaria on her hair and there is a style that would complement it beautifully.” She tells you.

“I put myself entirely at your mercy and trust you implicitly.” While she is rummaging in your wardrobe you slip the book into the bedside table next to where you sleep, knowing it will be safe there until later.

Leyth preens at the chance to style you how she wishes, hustling over to you and helping you out of your day dress quickly. “There is a cup of wine here too.” She offers, having heard stories of your mother from the other servants in the keep.

"You are a blessing, Leyth." The wine is most welcome, once you are in your gown, and you sit down at the slim vanity to let her do her work. Leyth's own hair has always been beautiful, as is Ellaria's, and you trust her ability to style your own locks. "Have you had a pleasant day?"

“It has been rather serene.” She admits with a small smile. “The other servants were gossiping so I spent time with them, Ellaria was resting and did not require anything.”

"What was the gossip about today? I relish any news that has nothing to do with the trial." In fact, you would probably pay good coin to think of anything else right now.

“Apparently, there is a rumor that the Queen – Cersei, my lady, will be wed to Ser Loras.” Leyth shakes her head and scoffs slightly as she works on your hair.

"That seems..." The shock on your face is surely enough and you manage not to startle and interrupt Leyth's work. "An unlikely pairing, I admit..."

“Tis only a rumor, but it might be due to some other gossip.” Her voice drops into a whisper.

"Oh?" Your eyebrow ticks up at her in the mirror and you put your glass down right away. "And what would that be?"

“That the queen has been said to share a bed with…her cousin.” Leyth confides.

"I see..." That is a bit more than you expected, and yet it is not altogether outside of the realm of other rumours. You fold your hands in your lap and chew your lip for a moment before looking back up at Leyth as she does your hair. "You know well not to repeat such things to anyone outside myself, the prince, Lord Stone, Ellaria, and Cal. We keep each other’s council here in the Keep."

“I will not breath a word of that gossip.” She assures you. “Or any other. They are too quick to talk here. While I find it useful, it is also very dangerous.” She is used to hearing whispers in the brothel, but she knows the value of keeping her lips sealed.

"You have seen quite a lot in your time working elsewhere, I am sure." The brothel could not possibly be less talkative than the Red Keep. "The lives of nobles and royals are fetter for every conversation everywhere."

“Yes, especially now.” She hums. “They have asked questions about you. About the prince, but Cal and I have not said a word.”

“I am sure there is much curiosity about the prince who never intended to marry.” She works steadily as you watch her in the mirror, both knowing that you have to ask even though you trust her. “What is being asked?”

“Everyone is aware of the Prince’s…preferences.” She tells you quietly. “They have been asking about who has been coming and going from the Prince’s bed and if you share those same proclivities.”

“I know that you know enough not to answer.” While you had been the most frequent occupant of Oberyn’s bed since your wedding, you were certainly not the only visitor. Raeden’s reputation in the north could be damaged severely and his House undermined in its infancy if others decided that he had been given the title as a sexual favor. “You have my trust and the prince’s. We know you would not contribute to gossip.”

“I would not see fit to give them anything on anyone in your party.” She promises softly. “Lord Raeden and Lady Ellaria as well.” She might argue that she is not a lady, but in Leyth’s mind, she is.

The title does not miss your attention, and you smile softly at Leyth in the mirror. Ellaria might dispute it, but she is the only one. All the rest of you truly believe she deserves to be a lady. “You are very loyal and very clever, Leyth. I know you are more than capable of redirecting someone’s mind when they seek to be invasive, or distracting them when they get too close to something they should not know.”

“Of course, your highness.” She looks positively bemused by the idea that someone could get information from her that she did not wish to share. “While all the other servants are eager to share their lord’s and lady’s misdoings, I wish to protect you.”

"I know I speak for all of us when I say that we are grateful for that." It does not escape your notice, the kind of relationship that most nobles tend to have with those who serve them, and it has never made any sense to you. The people who help to take care of you day in and day out should be appreciated and valued, not stepped upon.

“Would you like me to accompany you to your dinner?” Leyth asks quietly. She has heard of your mother and knows that there might be trouble. “She will not notice a servant slipping away if you should require some assistance.”

"She would probably not even notice you entering the room beside me." You admit honestly, even if it is mortifying. "You would not mind it, Leyth? The whole ordeal sounds entirely more manageable with a friendly face nearby."

“I would be more than happy to help, your highness.” She promises, her hands falling away from your hair and she squeezes your shoulders gently. “You are a very kind woman and do not deserve any ill treatment.”

"I—" The earnestness of it brings warmth to your cheeks, and you lower your eyes shyly from the mirror, unused to hearing such a direct compliment. "...Thank you."

Leyth doesn’t respond, just nods and gets back to work. Making sure her lady looks like the princess that she is. There has been much change for her and she is determined to prove that Oberyn had not chosen wrong in wanting the couple to be bought from the brothel.

****** The walk to your parents’ chambers should not feel like such a funeral trudge, but each step feels horribly heavy as you approach. It will only be a single meal, something so relatively simple, yet you still find yourself offering Leyth only the meekest of smiles as she reaches to open the door for you. Inside you sweat nothing has changed from the day that you fled with Raeden at your side, and you cannot help but feel slightly bolstered to see that they have received absolutely no special favor for being the parents of a princess. “Good evening, Father.” He is sitting at the fireplace and catches your eye first, so he gets the first greeting.

“Pumpkin!” Your father groans as he stands from his chair, a delighted expression on his face as he rushes towards you. “I feel like it has been years since I have seen you. Given you a hug.” As oblivious to his wife’s machinations as he might be, he has missed his daughter from his table and has looked forward to tonight with eagerness.

“Affection makes you say so, I think.” But still you sweep forward to give him a hug, glad to hear the door gently click shut behind Leyth, you give the only parent who holds an ounce of your affection a warm embrace. “I am only in the suite just below you, you know. You could always come and visit any time.” The invitation would never be extended to your mother, but him? Certainly.

“I am sure that your husband would not wish for me to intrude upon your time.” He squeezes you tight and wishes he was brave enough to ask if the man was treating you right. “His elevation of Stone was a surprise.” He offers instead.

“Not entirely.” When he offers you the other seat before the fire you take it, motioning for Leyth to come into the room with you as well. There are plenty of places for her to sit politely nearby that are not right beside you. “Raeden has been deserving of a title his whole life. Noble blood runs in his veins, Father.”

“Yes.” Your father fluffs himself out and leans back with a sigh. “But he was born on the wrong side of the bedsheets.” He reminds you. “Bastards cannot be acknowledged in regards to title. The boy’s father could not give him his name.”

“And so Oberyn has given him reason to be proud of his own name.” You will not point out that it is something he could have done himself years ago, but you will not start a disagreement so early in the night. “They do not feel the same way about bastards in Dorne that the North does.”

“Yes…well, we know why your husband has a fondness for bastards.” He taps his finger on the edge of his chair and stares into the fire, wishing to ask a question but not knowing how. “Is he treating you well, daughter?”

“Yes,” you reply simply, unsurprised that your father has opened his mouth and your mother’s words have fallen out. “It is the entire nation of Dorne that feels differently than the North, Father. Not only my husband. His daughters are not a topic to be quarreled over.”

“I am not speaking of his daughters.” He murmurs quietly. “That woman is still here. Roaming the halls.”

“Ellaria.” Tonight is not destined to go well, you can feel it and it disappoints you more than you can say. “Her name is Ellaria, and she is a remarkable woman. More than that, she is my friend. So please keep any ill opinions you might have to private company.”

He frowns for a moment, unable to see why you would befriend your husband’s lover. It is not the way things are done. “Are you happy?” He asks finally, more concerned with that than your mother’s endless nagging complaints about the unusual issues with your marriage.

That, at least, softens you. And you end up with a dreamier smile on your face than you intended. “Extraordinarily,” you promise him. It is not for your parents to know what you discussed with the maester before you are able to talk about it with Oberyn, but you are feeling happier in this moment of thinking about it than you have in hours.

He smiles, watching you and he doesn’t miss the way that your hand slowly slips down to your stomach. Making his breath catch slightly and he nearly tears up. He’s seen woman do this enough to know what it means, even if you aren’t saying the words. “That— that is good.” He manages.

“How have you been spending your days in the keep?” Wanting to turn the conversation to something pleasant, you cannot imagine that your parents have been engaging in anything particularly high-profile so the topic should be safe enough.

“I have made some good trades.” Your father offers. “Met with other lords and discussed issues.” He shrugs. “I am missing home, but your mother wishes to see the trial.”

“With any luck the trial will resolve itself quickly and justly, and you will be able to return home again without incident.” Your own pang of jealousy for his ability to return to the Vale is tempered. There is nothing in the world now that would keep you from journeying on to Dorne, even if you may be a bit homesick in the beginning.

“Yes.” He can heartily agree and nods. “I miss the Vale. The crisp morning air.” He hums and slides his eyes over to you. “I do not suppose there are many of those in Dorne, but I know you will find a breeze.”

“I am looking forward to a warmer ocean. One I can swim in and not only view from my windows.” The frigid waters of the Vale are not for the faint of heart, and you never went to the shores with your brothers. Freezing yourself to death for a few moments of entertainment never sounded like fun.

“I enjoyed the waters when I visited when I was a boy.” Your father smiles fondly.

That makes you tilt your head, and you sit up a little in your chair. “I did not know you had ever visited Dorne.”

“When I was young.” He acknowledges, not sure why he had not told you this. “My mother went back to her father’s funeral. I was allowed to go, since I was not in training yet.”

“It must have seemed very exotic to you there, as a young man from the Vale.” The two climates and cultures, you are starting to understand, are entirely different. To the point where you cannot understand why anyone would willingly leave the warmth and freedoms of Dorne to live in the strict and cold North. But perhaps – you think with chagrin – none of them did come willingly after all.

“It was. Mother was happy to see her sisters again. The food and the dancing was such that I had never seen before.” He sighs softly. “Dorne is a beautiful place and you will love it as much as you loved the Vale.”

There is something sad in him at that confession, and you reach over to touch his arm gently. “I may settle into my new home admirably, but that does not mean I will not miss you.”

“Perhaps one day I will visit you.” It is unlikely, especially with the unrest of the kingdom, but he could wish for it. “I had always hoped to go back, perhaps find – well, never mind.” He had told his father that he wished for a Dornish bride, but he had made a deal with your mother’s father instead.

“You will always be welcome.” While you know Oberyn would have no tolerance for a visit from your mother, the difference between that and a visit from your father or brothers would be monumental. “Perhaps you would enjoy Dorne again with the same wonder you felt when you were young.”

“Perhaps.” He knows that he will never set foot in Dorne, although he would love to meet the child you carry one day. His grandchildren are the light of his life now that his children are grown. “I am glad you are well married, settled.”

“I think the prince is very different from what you and mother expected.” The sadness closing his face unsettles you, and you glance back at Leyth for a moment, glad to have the security of a supportive face nearby. “But he is a good man, and as upset as I was to have this marriage arranged for me, it has turned out to be a happy situation.”

“Your mother—” your father starts to explain how your mother had convinced him that strengthening the strong ties with Dorne was an advantage.

“Decided it was time you marry.” Your mother announces as she sweeps into the room. “You had been far too spoiled for too long.”

The warmth being sucked out of the room on her arrival is not a new or unexpected sensation, but it does make you sigh heavily in disappointment. The moment with your father had been very nearly sweet. “Good evening, Mother.”

Her eyes narrow on you, deciding if your tone was insolent or not and then remembers the way that bastard you are married to made her bend the knee to you. Her face brightens and she comes over gracefully, expecting you to stand. “I am delighted you could join us for dinner. Your father and I have missed seeing you at our table.”

“Have you?” Though you truly doubt it, you offer her a thin smile from your seat. “I would have thought you should be glad to have your spoiled youngest child taken care of by someone else for a time.”

“Your husband sees you to care, but we can enjoy your company.” Her gaze slides around the room and she tuts. “Although I see that your faithful hound is no longer at your side.”

“Lord Raeden is attending to small council business with the prince.” The fact that she immediately attacks your soulmate – one of your soulmates – should not be a surprise but it still makes you frown. “As the Prince’s Hand, he has many more responsibilities than he once did.”

“Prince’s Hand?” Her brows shoot up and she looks as if this is news to her. “I cannot imagine why a prince would need a Hand.” She looks to your father to see what he knows.

“Why does a king need a hand? Or a queen?” Your father postulates from his seat, when it is clear that the question is directed at him. “From what is said, Prince Oberyn seems to do as much ruling of his country as his brother does.” A fact which was new to him entirely when he heard it, and not necessarily a welcome surprise. He dotes on you, yes, but he has no idea how you will fare on the arm of an active ruler.

That was not the answer that your mother was looking for and she huffs in annoyance. “From what I hear, the prince has little time from his own interests to do anything.” She snorts.

“And what is it that you hear, Mother?” Expecting another jibe about Ellaria, your head tilts in her pointedly in her direction. “Please. I find myself most interested to know.”

Her eyes narrow at your challenge and her lips twist in anger. “Nothing, Princess.” She coos in a mocking tone. “If you can stand the servant’s whispers about who is coming and going from his bed, it is not my place to say anything.”

“Whispers are nothing when they are false.” It is easy to be serene about this particular topic, considering the only bodies that have been in or out of Oberyn’s bed since coming to the Red Keep are yours, Ellaria’s, and Raeden’s. And even then it has mostly been you. “You knew the man’s reputation when you betrothed me to him, did you not? So you could not have been too concerned.” The look you give her suggests that you know very well her true motivation was to make you miserable. It is only too fortunate that she has failed.

“I did not think he would bring his whore to King’s Landing!” She hisses. “Do you know what that does to our family’s name?”

Your father snorts and shakes his head. “Nothing.” He tells his wife. “She does not affect you at all.”

"Did you think that Oberyn would simply banish the woman who has born him four children after decades together, simply because I am a new and shiny toy to play with?" You scoff in a nearly identical sound to your father's and the shake of your head is the very same. "If he would be willing to give her up so easily then what would stop him from throwing me over when he found someone new again?"

“Men take their pleasure where they will.” She tells you dismissively. “But they do not flaunt it.”

"And you are upset that my husband remains loyal to his paramour because you consider that flaunting his pleasure?" For some reason, rather than making you angry, this turn of events does nothing but amuse you. A fact which you communicate to Leyth with a silent half-smile. "I suppose it makes no difference to you if I remind you that my marriage is not any of your concern."

Her spine stiffens and if looks could kill, you would be dead. “Someday you will have need of a place to land when he bores of you.”

"I have no doubt that you believe that." After all, how could she have any idea that you would gain his marks? That you would come to mean so much to each other so quickly? She was surely counting on the opposite.

Clearly dissatisfied with the way the conversation has gone and this air of confidence you have, she sniffs and snaps her head around. “Where are those no good servants?” She hisses.

"Savoring their free air, no doubt." You murmur aloud without thinking that the sentiment probably deserves filtering.

“What did you say?” Nearly breathing fire like a dragon herself, your mother spins around.

“You there!” Your father springs to his feet and points at Leyth. “Find where our dinner is.” He demands, hoping to dispel the tantrum about to come.

“Please, Leyth.” It was definitely not wise to say out loud, and you look to your maid with an apologetic expression. It will be best if she does not witness your verbal whipping so she can’t relate it back to Oberyn late, should he ask. “If you would.”

“Daughter, what does your husband say about the trial?” It’s a desperate tactic, but your father is interested to know.

“Nothing.” The question itself surprises you, but at least speaking to your father does not make you wish to throw things. “He is a judge and cannot express his opinion either way until it is time to pass the verdict.” Privately, of course, you know Oberyn believes Lord Tyrion to be innocent. But that is his private opinion.

“I admire a man who does not spread his thoughts to any and all who would hear.” He admits, smiling and nodding in approval.

It is a commendation, or at least an attempt at one, and you nod. Conversation is the only thing that keeps the room from falling into the quiet fury of your mother’s breathing. “There are times to make oneself heard, and times to keep things close to the vest, as they say.”

“Yes.” He agrees, ignoring your mother and focusing on you. “I am sure that he has dealt with things he would rather not since he’s been here. His animosity towards the Lannisters, for example. Yet from what I hear, he treats the little Baratheon girl like one of his own.”

“The child should not be punished for the sins of the parent,” you find yourself echoing your husband’s sentiment easily. “It is not Myrcella’s fault that the two families do not get along, and he would not treat her as though it is. That would be most unworthy of him.”

“And he gives Stone a lordship.” You father hums, considering it carefully. “Your husband is an oddly thoughtful man for one of such a fierce reputation.”

“Thankfully his thoughtfulness is not odd at all.” A fact which you did not count on but are grateful for. You might have even pushed the subject further but Leyth returns a moment later with another maid who bears a silver tray with wine and cups.

“It is about time.” Your mother snaps, glaring at the poor girl who had been sent to serve your parents.

The dear thing looks beaten down and tired, and you want to tell her that you know exactly how she feels but that will only cause another outburst. Instead you thank the girl when she offers you a goblet and ask her, her name.

“Shasu, your highness.” She mumbles quietly, her head bent down and her eyes on the floor.

“Thank you, Shasu.” The small act of kindness is the least you can do for the girl that your mother has obviously treated poorly.

“Welcome mum.” She skitters over to your mother to give her another goblet of wine, not wishing to hear another lecture on how lazy she is.

For a few blessed moments there is silence. Only the popping if the fire and the sound of people drinking punctuates — after you have the audacity to ask for a cup wine for Leyth as well.

“Why is your servant here?” Your mother turns towards Leyth with an air of disdain.

“My ladies’ maid is entitled to come with me wherever I go.” Admitting that you brought her for comfort would help nothing, so you do not even think of saying so. “Leyth is invaluable to me.”

“Then she can help that useless girl fetch our meal.” She insists, waving her hand towards Leyth. “Go on girl.”

“No.” Something inside you ripples to life, overtaking anxiety and fear and the inevitable shutdown that comes from being in your mother’s presence. “My ladies’ maid is not in the business of serving dinner to rude, ungrateful creatures.” Never able to defend yourself, or even Raeden, before this — suddenly something inside you has switched to life to defend Leyth. “And if you cannot be civil for the remainder of the night, to us as well as to poor Shasu, we will simply leave.”

For a brief moment, your mother looks like a fish that has been brought to the surface of one of the deep lakes in the Vale, mouth agape and lacking air. Even your father freezes at the words that come out of your mouth. “Gods old and new,” your mother slaps her goblet down and sends you a withering glare. “Is this how you speak to the woman who bore you?”

“The woman who bore me and has threatened to take my life so many times that I have since lost count.” You remind her, fully displeased with how tonight has gone. You had meant to rebuild bridges with your parents, not burn them. “Honestly, Father, I cannot fathom how you have stayed married to her so long when her disdain for you and for me is so clear.”

Your father sighs softly and seems to weigh your words heavily through the space of a few tense moments. He had known that his wife had never really cared for a daughter, she had made that clear, but he had never known of actual threats against your life. He would have never tolerated that. “I had remained with your mother because my children were not yet all settled.” He admits, ignoring the way your mother’s eyes widen in shock.

“Then surely now that I am married you can be free somehow?” A marriage is binding. Everyone knows that. But there are certainly ways of avoiding or separating from one’s spouse. “Mother you cannot be so shocked by this. Perhaps only that Father is standing up for himself, but not that he is unhappy.”

“He is not unhappy.” Your mother manages to find her voice and hisses quietly, her eyes shooting towards the door to make sure servants are not looking.

“Or perhaps you believe you must give him permission to feel anything at all.” Turning your head from her, you focus solely on your father for a moment. “Is there any way that I can help you, Papa?”

“I had planned on leaving your mother with her brother.” Your father admits. “On the way home.”

The room turns deadly silent, but you can feel something akin to disbelief and even joy bubbling out of your throat and you cannot stop the laugh. "I see you do not need my help at all." There is a kind of wonder in the feeling and you put your hand over your mouth to stifle the outpour of hiccupped giggles. "In fact, I think I might be quite proud to hear it."

“You cannot leave me with Fraham.” Your mother screeches as soon as she draws in a breath. “He is an imbecile and I am your wife!” Her face is one of stone cold rage and she picks up her goblet to throw it against the wall.

"You have haunted my life." Steady but growing, your father's voice can be heard above the crash. "I only regret that I was too blind to see it earlier."

“I made you who you are.” Her voice climbs octaves and she picks up the pitcher and hurls it at him. “My dowry kept your pathetic excuse for a house from crumbling and I gave you the sons you craved!”

Barely managing to dodge the projectile before it shatters against the wall and flies in every direction, he can only shake his head and motion for you to move behind him – the instinct of a father to protect his daughter still caught deep in his chest even if he had not always followed it. "It does not matter now," he insists. He had had dreams once. Lasting ones that stayed with him well after waking. And he had tried to follow them – but ended up with her instead. "But knowing you have threatened our daughter's life makes me all the more resolved. You will not hurt our grandchildren as you hurt our children."

"Gods curse you." She spits. "I lay under you as you rutted out your pleasure, filling my womb with your pitiful seed. Bearing your brats and saying nothing." She berates him. "Knowing you were wanting that Dornish whore you had been pining for." She cackles and shakes her head. "You don't think I knew? I knew. Stupid man, thinking with your cock."

As if that one thing is what lights fire beneath him, your father raises his eyes to his wife and seethes. "Marlee was my soulmate." He informs her with a rumble. "I loved her. Something I truly think you will never understand."

"Soulmate." She scoffs, the nasty, pinched expression one as if she had smelled a particularly foul odor. "She was a grasping, greedy bitch who just wanted to cause scandal, to shame me in front of the other houses in the Vale." She smirks slightly. "So when she came to me, begging me to release you from the arrangement, telling me about the bastard you had planted in her whore belly...." She shrugs. "I took care of the problem."

"Mother." It is your turn, this time, to take a step in front of your father as the air is knocked clean from his body. "What did you do?" Not four feet behind her, Leyth is standing frozen looking like she might flee the spot, but you motion ever so subtly for her to stay. You need her in the room just a little while longer.

"I did what any woman of the North who knows her worth would do." She tells you, not even slightly ashamed of her actions. "I paid one of the soldiers to take that Dornish whore out to the canyon and push her into it." She admits, a haughty expression on her face. "That way my betrothed would focus on the importance of his impending wedding."

"Leyth." Turning your eyes to your maid, her name comes out in stony resolve. "You have heard the confession and will make sure to tell the prince that it was given of the lady's own free will?"

"Yes, my lady." Clearly terrified but understanding the importance of what is about to happen, Leyth nods once.

"Go and find him, and bring him here with Lord Raeden to arrest my mother," you direct her without hesitation. "No doubt the prince will want to settle the confessed murder of one of his own subjects himself, and I will inform Queen Margaery that we will require a cell to keep her in."

In her rage, your mother had not even considered that you might try to have her arrested and she scoffs. “Do not be foolish.” She hisses. “The prince will not care about single whore who died before your brothers were even born.”

"I think we will let him decide that for himself." As quickly as you can, the effort to crowd your mother backward toward a door that is either a room or a closet is the best thing that you can do for now. Simply contain her until Oberyn and Raeden can get here. "Father, I need you to help me now. Leyth, go!"

“You killed her.” Your father chokes out. “My Marlee? She was expecting?” The news of his soulmate’s demise and her carrying his child is a shock and his jaw clenched in fury as the reality settles over him. “You bitch!” Rushing forward, your father grabs your mother and draws his hand back, bringing the palm of it down against your mother’s cheek with a sharp crack. “You cursed bitch!”

"Father!" There is no point in claiming that the slap is not deserved, but it does not help the situation any. For now the best thing that you can do is attempt to wrench open the door handle in the wall where your mother is being pressed and wrestle her inside of it. To know that she has actually had someone killed makes the threats she made against you all the more terrifying, but there is no time to dwell on it now.

For a moment, a dark, satisfying moment, he considers wrapping his hands around her throat. Choking the life from her evil body until the light leaves it. Instead, he holds steady as she tries to collapse onto the ground and as soon as you open the door, he shoves her inside the small, windowless room that served as a chamber pot room.

"That was not on the list of things that I was prepared to do to deal with Mother this evening." You admit, holding the door shut very tightly while the maid – Shasu – scurries across the room to provide you with the key that will fit in the lock and keep her inside. With your heart beating out of your chest and lightheadedness threatening to take over, you reach for your crumbling father and hold on tight. "I am...so horribly sorry, Papa..."

In a sight that you have never witnessed, his lower lip trembles and his eyes squeeze shut. “It is why I wanted to give you time.” He chokes out. “To find your soulmate.” He staggers back a step and drops to his knees, mourning the lost love he had thought abandoned him for so long. “I— I thought she had returned to Dorne.” He tells you as he sways where he is kneeling. “That she couldn’t stay when I was marrying another.”

"Papa." Down on your knees on the rug beside him, there is nothing to do for the moment but offer the little comfort you can. "I—" But what can you say besides how sorry you are? How your mother evidently ruined his life and then attempted to ruin yours as well? How she stonewalled your brothers into arranged marriages and how you might finally understand why he never stood up to her. It was grief that made him small compared to the endless evil of the woman he married. "I cannot imagine how terribly you feel. I am truly sorry."

“I—I never knew. I never knew.” He moans softly, shaking his head and stares down at his hands for a long moment before he looks up at you, devastated. “How could I not know?”

"What marks did you have from her?" Even as you ask it, you can feel the two sets of marks carved into your own body like stone. He must have something. Otherwise how would he have known they were soulmates?

“She— she did not have any scars.” He gives a rough chuckle, remembering finding it so odd at the time. Eyes closing as he recalls examining her body. “She bore mine.”

"Then..." You sigh softly, reaching to hold your father's hands in yours. "You could not have known. If..." Drawing a deep breath, you look up at him and offer the most supportive expression you can muster, even with tears in your eyes. "If you never wore marks from her then you could not lose them. It is not your fault." The person whose fault it is, is screeching in a cupboard some six feet away. "To hear what she has done in the past, I am shocked that Raeden or I still breathe air."

“Raeden?” Your father frowns and looks up at you in confusion. “What does Stone have to do with you? Did she attack you and the boy defended you? He should have told me.”

"Papa..." Shaking your head gently, you squeeze his hands in yours and sigh. "It was...it was years ago that we found out but...Raeden..." A sigh escapes you, as if your mouth has trouble even forming the words to him. "We discovered that Raeden is my soulmate soon after he saved my life," you murmur quietly. "Somehow Mother found out. That is...that is why she was so insistent about marrying me off. Or one of the reasons, I suppose..."

If it is possible, your father seems to wilt even more right before your eyes. His tears leaking out of his eyes and flowing down his cheeks to disappear into his facial hair. “I failed you, pumpkin.” He chokes out. “I—I didn’t know.” He promises you. “Your— she said you had no marks.” He would have never married you off if that was the case. “If I had known…” He squeezes your hands tight. “I would have let you marry him.” He promises you. “Despite what others might have said, I know what it is like to want your soulmate. I would have blessed the marriage.”

Somehow, you know he would have. You have always known it deep in your heart. But now - on the rug as you wait for the other two most important men in your life to arrive - all you can do is wrap your arms around his shoulders and hold your father close to you. "It is not for wishing on now," you promise him, producing the handkerchief from your pocket to wipe his tears. "I am happy in my marriage, although it is not what I expected. And I cannot say how deeply sorry I am that you have not been the same."

“I had to endure.” He tells you sadly. “For you. And somewhere along the way, I lost sight of why I was staying.” He turns his eyes towards you, pleading with you to tell him the truth. “Tell me you are not saying what an old, foolish man wishes to hear. Tell me Oberyn pleases you and cares for you? Even if it is just by leaving you alone?”

"Oberyn loves me." To say it out loud is something divinely light that you had not expected, and some of the heaviness leaves your chest immediately. "And I love him. We neither of us looked for it, or expected it. But we have found ourselves in it quite naturally." There is a stray tear that he has missed wiping away and you catch it with your thumb. "And he does not deny me the chance to love Raeden, either. Mother's cruelly intended plan for my misery has backfired entirely."

Your father frowns slightly and shakes his head. “Your husband does not— he lets you be with your soulmate? Take him as a— a lover?” He whispers it quietly and even though he should chastise you for such a thing, he cannot. Not when he knows the love of a soulmate. Even now he yearns for Marlee.

"Papa, I think what Oberyn allows and encourages might turn your mind on end." It is not meant to be teasing, but still you cannot help smiling even slightly. "His Ellaria is his soulmate, and I have Raeden. We do not keep each other away from their love. Only add to it." You could try, if you dared, to explain the extraordinary extra set of marks that you carry, but you have no idea how to prove it to him without your husband and paramour by your side so he can see the marks for himself. Besides, you do not intend to tell him before even Raeden knows.

Barking out a laugh surprises him and he pulls you into his arms. “Then perhaps I did not fail you.” He sobs, holding you close and thanking the gods old and new that your mother’s evilness did not affect you any more than it did.

“No life is perfect, Papa.” To claim otherwise would be foolish and untrue, but you hug him fiercely there on that rug. “And the life I lead now would not make everyone happy. But it makes me happy.”

That is the scene that Oberyn finds when he bursts into the chambers, Raeden on his heels and both of them carrying weapons. Leyth had found them coming back from the small council meeting before they had ever reached their rooms and your husband curses himself for allowing you to come alone to visit your witch of a mother.

“Gods be praised.” From the space you occupied on the floor, you gladly let Raeden help you up and embrace both men at once. “Did Leyth tell you all?” With your mother still shouting and screeching herself hoarse in the closet, you can only hope that she is tiring herself out in her anger.

“She said your mother killed a Dornish woman?” The prince frowns, looking between you, shaken but obviously okay and the crumbled and broken man at your feet. Raeden’s arms around you tighten, knowing the danger you have faced from your mother.

“To put it simply? Yes.” The support of having both men here now makes it feel significantly easier to breathe. “My father’s soulmate was Dornish. And with child. My mother ordered her murder so that it would not impede their marriage. I—” You look between them helplessly. “I did not know what else to do. She is locked in the closet under the threat that she will be arrested for what she has done.”

“You all witnessed her confession?” Oberyn’s eyes widen slightly and he looks from you to Leyth to your father.

“We did.” Your own eyes move between the three men surrounding you to Leyth and back again. “Admitted of her own free will. Which is when I sent Leyth to find you.”

“You did the right thing.” He promises, looking towards your father. “Your wife is going to be put to death, for the murder of your soulmate. If you wish to plead for her life, now is the time.”

Put to death? It is your eyes that widen and not your father’s, though the shake of his head does increase as Raeden helps him to his feet. “I am told now that she has threatened my daughter on many occasions and even you, ser.” Knowing what he knows about Raeden Stone now, his heart is heavy with regret in many more ways. “How should I defend her? How could I?”

Raeden looks shocked and his eyes dart over to you, wondering if you had told the man why she had threatened him. Despite your mother being cruel and callous, he doesn’t think that you would want her to die. “Perhaps death is too easy a fate for her, your highness.” He tells Oberyn.

Of anyone, you might have expected that you would plead for the life of the woman who birthed and helped to raise you, but it is Raeden. Loyal and good and noble Raeden. “What are you suggesting?” It is true that you do not relish the idea of more death, but you cannot exactly send a woman to the Wall.

“Being isolated would be a worse than death for a woman who relishes control over others.” He explains to you and Oberyn. “Perhaps a life of service to others would be a more fitting.”

“I would not even let her be near to a family,” you admit, surprised by how sick the thought makes you. Your own mother’s treatment of children is something you know only too well. “The life of a septa toiling with her hands in a holy house might be the closest chance for learning humility.” Your eyes turn to Oberyn, the fire in his eyes surprisingly less fearsome to you tonight though more ferocious than you have ever seen. “But would my father still be tied to her?”

“If she is taken to the holy house to serve the seven, it would be as if she had been sent to a nunnery.” Oberyn muses, seeing that you don’t want your mother to die, despite the horrid treatment she had dealt you. “Your father’s vows would be voided because she would be vowed to serve the new gods.”

The path seems clear to you, but it is not your choice. As much harm and hate as has been dealt upon you in your life, the decision is not yours. Nor is it Raeden’s, nor anyone else’s. “Papa,” you place your hands firmly on your father’s shoulders and will your eyes to stay steady. “It is your decision to make. Marlee was your soulmate, and it was your child.”

Your father sighs and he bites his lip, looking away for a moment and then meeting your eyes again. “For all her faults, she is your mother. That alone is the only reason I would say that she is not to die.”

The only sound in the room for a long moment is your mother’s screams of protest from the closet. If she could hear the extent of your conversation she might not be so violent in her screeching, but who knows. She might consider the life of a septa to be tantamount to death. “There you have it.” Looking back to Oberyn, you nod ever so subtly.

“Then I will talk with Tywin and we will have your mother shipped off.” He knows that there does not need to be a public trial, not for her, and the less is said, the better. Oberyn reaches for you and cups your cheek. “Do you wish to see her one last time?”

“I will not be surprised if she tries to lay a hand on me, but…” The locked door rattles and you sigh softly but eventually nod against his hand. “My brothers may hate me for this, but they have not seen the sides of her that I have. I will at least say goodbye.”

“She will not touch you.” He promises and Raeden nods, stepping forward. “I now can protect you from her and I will.” He vows softly.

Half of Oberyn's body blocks you from harm when Raeden steps forward to turn the key in the lock, and the wall-like strength of the man you love now seems even more appropriate. Forever your soulmate though no longer your bodyguard, Raeden steps forward to brace himself so that even if the women charges when he opens the door – unlikely but not impossible – he will be able to catch and restrain her.

“How dare you all!” Your mother is breathing fire, although she steps through the door as the picture of outraged decorum. “I have never been so mistreated in all my life.”

"Perhaps." You stand safely behind Oberyn and look her straight in the eyes. "But we have been mistreated for all of our lives."

“You got nothing but what you deserved.” She counters, sending you a withering glare.

"And now so will you." Whatever she may think of you, it does not matter now. Your crime was falling in love with a man below your status. Hers is a very real murder. There are consequences for that. "By ruling of the Crown of Dorne, you have been sentenced to life in the sept for your crimes. Your fortunes, titles, status, and family name are forfeit. It will be, for all the world, as if you never existed at all; and you will devote the years remaining in your life to serving the gods." Actually passing the sentence is a heavy, uncomfortable sensation, but it seems more right coming from you than from Oberyn. More deserved. "Do you have anything to say for yourself before you are sent to take your vows?"

For a single heartbeat, astonishment flashes over her face. As if she never expected to be punished for her actions. “I am your mother.” She insists before she looks to your father. “Your wife. I have stood by your side and bore your children for the past thirty years.”

"Which is why I asked the prince to spare you from death," your father tells her honestly. The darkness in his eyes – their murky melancholy through all of this sadness – has deepened again and he looks so much older now that he ever has before.

She frowns and shakes her head. “You would have never been satisfied. You would have never built a life with me if she had been in the picture.”

"We can never know." He admits sadly, and he looks to Prince Oberyn with resignation written in the creases of his face. "Thank you for showing mercy, my son. You are as good a man as my daughter says."

“I am much worse than she knows.” Oberyn promises him, shooting your mother a cold glare. “And I can promise you that if you ever threaten my wife again,” he vows to her. “It will be the last breath you take.”

******

Ellaria is lounging in front of the fire with Cal when the four of you return to your chambers, and she frowns immediately. “What has kept all of you?” She asks, turning her head to survey your group. “You look utterly exhausted.”

Raeden sighs and moves over to the table with the wine and cups. “Her mother.” He tells her shortly, as if that would be the entire answer.

“What has the horrible crone done this time?” She asks, face immediately morphing into something more sympathetic.

“Confessed to murder. Been arrested. Sent to the sept.” Each sentence is short but they seem to drag forever as you speak them and shuffle your feet toward the nearest place to sit. “For as many times as she threatened me, I did not truly think she was capable of it…”

Her eyes widen and her gaze shoots to Oberyn, seeking conformation of your comments. He nods once and Ellaria is scrambling to her knees and opening her arms. “My dear, sweet princess, I am so sorry you have to deal with this news.” She pulls you into her embrace protectively.

Ellaria’s arms are warm and safe, and you burrow into her immediately. Too emotionally exhausted for tears, the most you can manage is to hold tightly to Ellaria and stare blankly. “And now Papa is wifeless, soulmate-less, and will have to tell my brothers that I had her punished…”

“She had herself punished.” She corrects you. “You showed her mercy that she never bestowed upon you.”

“My father is the merciful one,” you admit with shame. “I…I think I might have let her die, if the decision was mine alone. Purely from a lifetime of anger.”

“I would not blame you.” She pets your face lovingly. “No one here would. No one at all. Not if they knew what you had endured at her hands. The fear you lived with.”

“I wish I knew more than just her first name.” Not moving from Ellaria’s arms, you turn to find Oberyn and Raeden pouring four goblets of wine as Leyth and Cal disappear silently through a doorway. “All I know is that my father had a Dornish soulmate called Marlee who was expecting his child, and that mother had her killed so that she would not interfere with the wedding plans.”

Ellaria’s lips purse together and she sighs. “That is horrible love. Simply horrible.” Her hand rubs your arm gently and she continues to hold you. “Come. You are exhausted.” She glances up at her own soulmate and seemingly makes a decision. “We will all sleep together tonight. Comfort each other with our proximity.”

Your eyebrows are knit together when you look back at her, but this time you move quickly instead of your previous tortoise-like pace. Your head turns to look each of them in turn, naked hope shining in your eyes. “Would you all?” It is awful to realize that you feel like a child asking for a cuddle before bed, but the fact is that you feel safer and more cared for with these three people than anyone else in the world. “Please?”

“Of course, star.” Oberyn had planned on spending the night with Ellaria since you craved Raeden’s affection, but this had changed things. He knows the other man is also off kilter and he reaches out to caress your cheek and his lover’s. “We do not need to fuck. I want you to have the comfort and security of our bed tonight. All four of us will be in it.”

______

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My Masterlist!

[wardenparker]

The Viper's Bride - ch 15

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: Mature, but as always this blog is 18+ Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid. This is a MMFFF polycule, folx. Get on board or don't click to keep reading. Pregnancy!* Talk of previous grievances, incest reference (Lannisters gonna Lannister), blink and you'll miss it mention of homelessness. As always, there is sexy talk. It is Oberyn, after all. Summary: The day before Oberyn is to represent Tyrion in the Trial by Combat, your extended and elaborate family comes together to celebrate in anticipation of the fight. Notes: First up, I'm working extra shifts and even though it's my dream job I'm tired y'all 😂 so sorry for any errors I missed. But also! We're almost at the end here, folx! We'll have one more chapter after this and then the epilogue. Thank you all so much for sticking around to watch this polycule grow!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14

It is three days before the Mountain arrives in King’s Landing. The Trial by Combat had been announced throughout the capital on the day it was agreed and the days since had been dedicated to the building of a great arena for the event. Every noble in the keep thought of it as no more than sport — every noble except the members of your party and Tyrion Lannister himself, who all had far more at stake. For the group of you, the days of anticipation have been agony.

“They are simply playing a game.” Oberyn hisses, standing in nothing but his breeches as he sharpens the spear he wishes to take into the ring. He’s already discarded several, broken in training, though he is now resting until the time where he faces Gregor. “Wishing to gain the upper hand by delaying, thinking I will become impatient.” He scoffs. “As if I have not waited years for this.”

“They have no idea of your true determination, lover.” Ellaria has seen so many shades and versions of this need for revenge that no part of it could surprise her anymore. She knows it could have been the singular focus that drive him mad, and that it is oddly fortunate that he escaped that fate.

“They do not know me or the Dornish need for justice.” He muses grimly. “They will discover it, publicly.”

“And then we will be rid of this place.” You have Margaery’s hand in yours as the two of you sit on the nearby chaise together, and you squeeze it gently in your fingers. It has only been a few days but the news of her marriage to the new Dornish lord had caused an outpouring of sentiment against her family and her specifically. Thankfully, Olenna Tyrell seemed more amused by it than anything and promised her granddaughter that they would all forget when the next scandal broke.

“I am looking forward to seeing Dorne.” She admits as she glances over to where Raeden is sprawled with Ellaria on another chaise. “I have heard about it and wish to marvel at its bright beauty myself. Especially the Water Gardens.”

“You could have your honeymoon there,” Ellaria suggests, leaning over to kiss Raeden and glad to talk about something other than tomorrow’s fight. “Locked up in your rooms fucking to your heart’s content until you are full of your lord’s babe, and then you can rest in the Gardens for all your pregnancy.”

“Perhaps I can also sample the prince’s cock once I am carrying Raeden’s heir.” She wears a small smirk as she greedily watches the lean lines of the older man. She’s sucked his cock, several times, but like Raeden with you, he would not risk her husband’s true heir being called into question.

“I would very much like to watch that,” you hum, turning your head to nip at her neck and pulling the younger woman into your lap. The two of you have become much closer in just a few days, much to the delight of your husbands.

“I will be very eager to sample your cunt.” Oberyn chuckles, looking up from his spear. “Although tonight.” He grunts, his eyes dark and lusty when he looks at Raeden. “I want to have your husband tonight.”

The statement hangs in the air between all of you, and Raeden is the first to nod. “You will. You will have me.”

It has been a long time coming, Margaery knows this, even with as short a time as she has been tangled in this group. Not once has she felt slighted because she does not bear any marks on her skin from the four of you. “It will be a night to celebrate.” She decides. “In anticipation of your victory.”

“You will witness true victory tomorrow.” Ellaria agrees, fire in her eyes as she gazes up at Oberyn. “They all will.”

He’s sure of himself, almost to the point of brashness, but he has also commanded his own company with the Second Sons. Survived the fighting pits and his reputation was well earned. Still, he is grateful for the support of his soulmates and his lovers. “Yes they will.”

“We should feast tonight.” The idea had formed in your mind yesterday and lingered, something that you have learned to pay attention to. The idea that it could – however unlikely he seems to think the possibility – be your last night with your husband makes you want to sob like you have just heard the news that he would be champion all over again.

Oberyn turns towards you, watching you for a moment before he nods. “Get dressed, Princess.” He decides. “You and I will go to the market and order our feast.”

There is no reason to point out that Cal or Leyth could easily see the Dornishman in the market. Everyone here knows that. But he wants to spend time with you, and you want more than anything to hold his arm while you walk and pretend it is simply a normal day. “I will only take a few minutes,” you promise him, pulling yourself up off the chaise and away from a reluctant-to-let-go Margaery.

“Take your time.” He smirks. “Wear something beautiful.” He wants you to be seen, wants to be seen with you. Firmly believing appearances can affect the memory of the day.

“I have just the thing.” Enough weeks had passed in the Capitol that you had been able to order gowns from a dressmaker with knowledge of Dornish fashion, and you had intended to save it for your arrival in your new home, but this seems far more important. You disappear into the next room to extract it from your trunk with a smile. Oberyn will be quite surprised.

Oberyn sets the spear down and walks over to the table that has a bowl of clean water with soap and cloths next to it. As much sex as everyone has been indulging in, it had seemed prudent to keep the water on hand. He starts to bathe his chest, sweaty from the day and wishing to freshen up while he waits.

The group of you have all packed. Determined to leave King’s Landing in just two days’ time, most things have been put away for the journey. What is left to amuse yourselves with is sex, books from the keep’s library — and usually more sex. The difference is only when Oberyn and Raeden are in the practice ring, but when they return they are usually ravenous for company.

It takes little more than ten minutes for you to emerge from the chamber in the gown that you had carefully selected the colors and fabrics of weeks earlier — gold trim making the colors of fire seem to dance with every step you take. The sheer outer layer sparkles and shines, and the layer underneath flows while still showing off your figure. It preserves that feeling of modesty that you are accustomed to with significantly less fabric and a form unmistakably Dornish flare. Even your slippers are more like the ones Ellaria wears each day, leather platforms tying halfway up your calves with amber lacing. “Are you ready, my prince?”

“Star.” Oberyn’s eyes widen and he groans as he takes in your appearance. “I will have to wear my sword so no one could try to steal you from me.” He hums, cock twitching in his breeches. “The seamstress who made this for you deserves every coin you paid her and then a hefty sum.”

"There are others," you promise him, glad to see the light in his eyes even over something as simple as a dress. "I gave her double her fee when I saw how fine the work was. Do you...do you truly like it? I know you have said many times that you wished I wore more Dornish style gowns."

“If I could show you now how much I like it, we would not feast tonight.” He growls, fingers tracing over your bare shoulder and sighing softly at your softness.

"You will show me later." Later, when he has all of you at his beck and call for whatever it is he might desire. But for now you take his hand and kiss his palm tenderly. "Let us go and walk. We will show the capitol that Dorne is not afraid."

“That’s my girl.” He curls his arm up and wraps your hand around it, looking at Margaery, Raeden and Ellaria. “We will be back. And I will want all of us in bed. So make sure you do not tire yourselves out.” He chuckles.

"I swear it," Ellaria chuckles, with one hand over her heart. "I will teach our newlyweds about edging if they need attention."

Margaery tilts her head curiously and smirks at Ellaria. “What is that?” She asks innocently.

The chuckle turns to a throaty, pleased laugh, and Ellaria sits up to kiss Oberyn before bringing Margaery into her arms. "Go and enjoy yourself, lover," she tells him with a lascivious grin. "We will be well occupied here."

“Come, Star.” Oberyn smiles as he guides you out of the chambers and immediately runs into one of Cersei’s servants. “Splendid.” He hums, leaning into the girl. “More water is needed.” He tells her. “There will be an orgy in these rooms tonight.”

She looks positively affronted by the notion but nods nervously, scurrying away as fast as her feet will carry her. "I suppose it does not matter that Cal could easily have fetched our water?" You ask, raising one eyebrow at him as you continue down the hallway. "You would far rather that it get back to Cersei's ears."

“Absolutely.” He chuckles and starts the slow, unconcerned stroll with you towards the front doors of the Keep. “She will either stay far away or have to come interrupt. Either way, I will now that she is wondering who is in the chambers moaning.”

"Whomever we want to be." A few months into your arrangement - and your marriage - it is safe to say that you are far more comfortable with yourself and with sex than ever before. "And that bothers her, too."

“I would like Cal and Leyth with us tonight, my love.” He ventures, patting your hand. “Do you have any objections? Only if they wish to join.” He won’t force them to, of course. He wouldn’t do that, but he wants to touch them again and tonight seems to be a fine night to do so.

"No objections at all." He could ask you for the moon and you would only tell him that you need to find a ladder tall enough. "They have missed being invited to your bed."

“As long as you are comfortable with it.” There has been plenty to keep him occupied and satisfied throughout the last weeks, especially discovering the relationship with you, so he had not ventured to invite anyone else.

“My love,” you squeeze his arm gently under your hand as you walk together. “There is very little you could ask for tonight that I would hesitate to grant you. I hope you understand that.”

Exiting the keep, Oberyn is quiet for a little while, thinking of what he wishes to say. It is only when the crowds begin to gather, farther away from the castle does he begin. “My love,” he sighs softly. “I have sent word to my brother.” He tells you. “Informing him of our valid marriage and my expectant heir.”

“That is good.” Once, he had thought to breeze into Sunspear and amuse himself with informing Doran of what was technically your elopement. The fact that he has done otherwise is sobering, but somehow comforting in its realism. “I am sure he will be very glad of the news when it arrives, considering how upset you were when you left Dorne.”

“Word would have already reached him.” He tells you quietly. “I sent a raven the day I took on being Tyrion’s champion.” He admits, looking past the merchants stalls as they come into view towards the harbor. “I also made sure that Raeden’s house is secure. My brother would do right by him.”

“Thank you, my love. I know it means the world to him.” It sounds as though Oberyn has been getting his affairs in order, and the implications of that make your shoulders tighten and your limbs feel heavy as you walk together. Tomorrow he will fight to the death to honor and revenge this sister, and the terrifying truth is that he could be the one to lose. As cocky - and as talented a fighter - as he is, Oberyn is not a stupid man. “Should the need come, I will make sure your Sand Snakes are as well cared for as you could ever wish. Ellaria and I will not let them want for anything.”

“I will be there to see them.” Oberyn promises. “However.” He slides his arm down to take your hand in his and bring it up to his lips. “Every Dornish lord here, all their men, will see you safely from the city.” He promises. After he had accepted the role, he had gone to see them, without Raeden so he could speak frankly to them. He wanted to make sure the other lords would wholly accept your lover as Lord Sunstone. They were happy to have a new lord amongst the ranks, especially one who chose Dorne. “You need not fear any abuse.”

“I do not.” And that, thankfully, you can count on the truth. The lords of Dorne had been surprised by your sudden appearance in Oberyn’s life but accepted you fully. “And I know that you will do everything in your power to come home with us. I do not doubt that even for a moment.” You do not doubt it, but you have learned a healthy fear of the unknown.

“I will.” He agrees, squeezing your hand and smirking at you. “Let is plan this feast. I wish to make sure that we have a night to remember.”

“It would be impossible to forget a night with you.” As sentimental a thing as it is to say, you truly do mean it. Oberyn has changed so much about your life and all of it has been for the better — how could you forget even a moment of that?

“I wanted to tell you this privately.” He admits quietly. “I know that you are scared and I will win, but I thought it would making you feel better. In case the worst happens.”

“I am scared.” There is no use denying that and you would not be cruel enough to disrespect him like that. “But only because I know that life is unpredictable. And I am grateful that you are open with me. That you understand it is not that I do not believe in you. Because that is the furthest from the truth.”

“All men must have some fear.” Oberyn admits quietly. “Do not have fear is to not wish to live. And then you have already died.” He watches the people that move past the two of you and hums. “The true test of a man is conquering that fear and not letting it turn him into a coward. Using the fear for his own purposes.”

“I will have to remember that.” In the meantime, because the fear you have is for him, you lace your fingers together tightly as you walk. “May I ask you something, love?”

“Anything.” He insists. “You know that, my love. I will hide nothing from you.”

“You may object to the request and I would understand that.” He nods when your eyes meet his and you return the gesture, biting your lip slightly. “I—it is only that…I cannot stop thinking of the baby.” So much so that your hand has been unconsciously resting on the side of your still unchanged belly as you walk. “If anything were to happen to you tomorrow…I wondered if we might be able to choose a name? You should know your ninth daughter’s name, if the worst happens.”

“I think we should also pick out a son’s name.” Oberyn grunts, even though he is smiling. “For the boy the babe might be.”

“I think if I were to bear you a son, no one would believe he was yours,” you half-joke, glad that Oberyn is humoring your anxieties and making the topic sweet instead of calling out your nerves.

“They will when he looks just like me and fights at the first insult to his mother.” He predicts with a proud grin.

“Perhaps that would be enough.” You smile at the thought, though it is a thin thing. Somehow in your heart you know that carrying another of his daughters is more likely than anything. Still, it is best to be prepared. “But you would not have him named for you.”

“I believe the boy needs to forge his own reputation, not live in the shadow of mine.” Names have meaning in this time, and he would not saddle his son with his. Giving him freedom to be whomever he chose to be. “That is why I would not name a son after me.”

“Then you would not want to name him after any family? Our only after you?” The logic does make sense to you, and you nod as you walk. The marketplace is open and though people may stare you have learned to pay them no mind.

“Only after myself.” He pauses and turns towards you. “But I forbid you naming the child after your bitch of a mother.” He warns, not wishing the revisiting the past every time you looks upon a girl with that name.

“I would rather name her after my father’s soulmate that I never even met then name her after the woman who abused me,” you agree, shaking your head sadly.

“Apologies, my love.” Oberyn leans in to kiss your lips softly. “Forget I mentioned it.”

“Mentioned what?” Willing yourself to simply forget the mention of her and move on, you offer Oberyn a bright smile and steal another kiss. “I believe we were choosing names for a son?”

“Do you have any ideas?” He asks curiously. Wondering if you had imagined the names of your children before now.

"I used to tease Antony that I would name my son for him any time he did me a small favor." The sweet, nostalgic memory of an older brother doting on his younger sister brings a bittersweet smile to your face. As much as you might have told your brothers that they drove you crazy, you miss them desperately. "Anytime he did something as little as bringing me a pencil to write with, I would dramatically declare that I would honor him with naming my son Antony. It was...just a silly thing. But I suppose I never thought of anything beyond that."

“Would you wish to use that name or a piece of it?” He asks, smiling softly at the image of a young girl promising her older brother to name her son after him.

"Antony is a good name." Strong but not harsh, you had always thought it a very nice name aside from all the of the teasing. "And...Antonia is lovely, as well?"

“Naming our daughter after your brother?” He barks out a laugh even as he seriously thinks about it. “I like it.” He admits. “Antonia Martell.” He shrugs. “Rolls off the tongue better than my thought towards a name.”

"What was yours?" He has named eight daughters already, you cannot discount any ideas he might have with so much practice behind him.

“Marella.” He shrugs slightly, unconcerned. He will name the babe whatever makes you happy and be proud of it.

"Oh, that's lovely." Rolling it over in your mind though, you frown a moment later. "Although Marella Martell would be quite the tongue twister."

“Technically, she would be Princess Marella of Dorne, when people address her.” He teases. “But Antonia is much nicer.”

"I wish she was here already." It feels like a ridiculous thing to lament, but you wish it so that he could hold her. Because the fear that Oberyn might never meet his next child is creeping up your neck as if it were high tide on the rocks.

“She will come when she is ready.” Even if he teases you about giving him a male heir, he feels like you are carrying a girl. “Squawking and screaming as she shakes her fist at the world.”

You squeeze his hand again as you swallow your fears, and turn into the marketplace with him. “She will be so adored.”

“By so many.” He agrees, sighing softly. “I cannot wait to show you Dorne.”

“I hope you will show me everything.” In the weeks and months since your marriage, you have become more and more eager to see your new home. “Every time Ellaria speaks of the Water Gardens, I ache to see them.”

“We will swim in the gardens naked.” He tells you with a grin. “After the children are asleep.”

“I see you already have plans for conceiving your tenth child,” you tease, knowing he means sooner than that.

“Perhaps.” He chuckles and reaches over to rub your stomach. “I do not think we will stop at one child.”

“I certainly will not stop sharing your bed.” You could be more vulgar, but you are in public.

“It would be a dour day when you decided to stop sleeping in my bed.” He grunts. He does not think that would ever happen, despite originally thinking you would never share his bed.

“Dour would be correct,” you hum with equal dislike for the idea. “The only way it would happen would be very sad circumstances.” Very sad as in one of your deaths, and you are reminded again what tomorrow morning will bring.

“Do not think on it.” He can tell you are worrying about tomorrow again. He cannot give you more guarantees than he already has, and he will not insult you by demanding you not worry.

"I will try." Strolling together a little further, the stall where the Dornishman you have come to know as Salin sells his prepared foods is swarming with people. Since word had gotten out that Prince Oberyn enjoyed his recipes, he had been receiving more and more business.

“Salin.” Oberyn greets the man warmly, like he would any of his countrymen. “How does your day fare?”

"Very well, my prince and princess." Salin has come to recognize the sight of all of Oberyn's household, and always welcomes all of you with open arms. Today, he reaches for a fried pastry full of chopped roasted nuts, honey, and sweet dates and offers it to you. "I have heard a rumour, your Graces," he admits, smiling broadly when you accept the pastry with glee. "That you are to be congratulated?"

The prince huffs, even as he grins proudly. “Which one of them told you?” He asks, sure that Ellaria would have mentioned it since you were craving dates lately.

"I was not sworn to secrecy, so I do not fear telling you that it was your lovely paramour." He smiles even more broadly and puts one hand over his heart. "I would like to offer, if it pleases you, to send the recipe for my date cake with you when you return to Sunspear. Your cook will have no trouble recreating it, and I was told the princess enjoyed it very much."

“I would be very grateful for it.” Oberyn nods and tilts his head towards the man. “If you ever wish to come back to Dorne, I will give you a place in the palace to cook for our house.”

"You are..." Salin swallows thickly, looking between the two of you. "Your Grace is most generous." His voice wavers and his other hand comes up to his heart. "I left my mother and siblings there when I came to King's Landing and...until your patronage...did not have the money for passage to go home again."

Oberyn frowns, hating King’s Landing as much as the next Dornishman and looks towards you. “We are leaving King’s Landing. After the tournament.” He informs the merchant who has provided so many meals for his lovers and his wife. “The ship will be crowded, but I am sure we can find room for you if you wish to sail home?” He asks.

"I do." He murmurs, expression still aghast. "I wish to return home more than anything." The man looks as though he could cry, and something inside of you cracks a little, making your reach out to gently squeeze his arm in reassurance. "We had come to ask you to prepare us one last feast, but this is far better. We are happy to have you return with us."

“I-- I will prepare you the feast that would put all feasts to shame.” He agrees quickly. If he is leaving, he will need to deplete his stores. “And if your offer is genuine, I would be honored to prepare meals on the ship for your family.”

You do not even need to look over at Oberyn to know that the offer was real, but still your eyes find your husband's profile and you nod to Salin with a smile. "We will be the ones who are honoured, Salin. And thank you for this," you hold up the pastry, which you have already tried a bite of and will have demolished the sweet treat in less than another minute. "Truly, your talent is unparalleled. You either had a remarkable teacher or your talents are a gift from the gods."

“My mother.” He informs you proudly. “She runs a small tavern in Sunspear.” He beams and nods towards your pastry. “Although that is something special. It is a treat that she had made for her soulmate.” He frowns slightly but recovers to smile at the both of you.

"He had very good taste." The shadow that falls over his face does not escape you, but you do not feel your have the right to press. Instead you simply add, "And must have been a very lucky man."

“Perhaps.” That is all he will say about the man he has never met, although he looks back at the pair of you expectantly. “Do you wish me to just send whatever I make or is there something special you wish to have?” He’s not unaware that Oberyn will be in the tournament tomorrow, that he could possibly die. So tonight is a celebration feast in preparation for his victory.

"The prince favours your spicy lamb, but everything else is up to you. Whatever you feel your finest or favourite dishes are to prepare. And there are seven of us, so be generous." Everything he makes is delicious, so you have no doubt that it will all be wonderful.

Bobbling his head eagerly, Salin immediately starts to think about what he can send to the Keep. “I will have it prepared. Is there a time you will need it?”

"No sooner than usual," you assure him, knowing that your intention to eat and spend the rest of the night indulging in pleasure is shared by everyone in your small household.

“I will deliver it myself.” He promises, shaking his head when Oberyn pulls out his coin purse. “No, please. It would be my pleasure.”

"We would be remiss in offering you a place in our household and then not paying you for that talent of yours we so appreciate." The shake of your head matches his and you reach out to touch his arm again. "Please. Allow us to show you the respect you deserve."

“You are kind and gracious.” His lip trembles slightly. “My mother will be very grateful to have her oldest son back.”

Nearer now to being a mother than you ever have been before in your life, you already cannot imagine what separating from your oldest child would be like, other than being positively devastating. '"Whatever brought you to King's Landing, I hope that it was worth the trip, and that returning home will bring you just as much joy."

“My trip was in vain but I learned a valuable lesson.” He promises. “The return trip home will be much sweeter, although your patronage has made my little stand a success.”

"Perhaps the gods have given you something just as valuable that you have not yet realized." Wishing not to leave the man feeling poorly about anything at all - if you can help it - you find yourself wishing it was as easy as offering to spend time with him. To listen to his story. To find out what had happened and see if there is some way you can help. But again, you remind yourself not to force the situation. You are already giving him a way to return to his family, and that seems to be a help in its own right.

Salin nods and smiles at the Princess of Dorne and her husband. “The gods gave surely shined down in my humble soul.” He acknowledges before handing you another pastry. “For your walk, your highness.”

“You are very generous, my friend. Thank you.” With a nod of your head, you and Oberyn continue walking, leaving Salin to his work. There is much to be done before tonight, apparently, because he disappears into the back of his stall immediately. “He seems to be very glad to go home again.”

“Is there anywhere else you wish to go?” Oberyn asks you indulgently. The dress you are wearing is fine and causing many heads to turn, making him grip your hand proudly as you continue towards the water.

“I would visit every seller here just to prolong our walk,” you admit, nibbling at the treat that Salin handed you as you walk hand in hand with Oberyn. “Perhaps we could visit our smith friend once more before we leave?” An amused smile forms on your lips when his eyes slip past your face to your chest. “Or would you like to also offer passage to my dressmaker, since you seem so fond of her work?”

He snorts, and sends you an amused smirk. “If I could cart all the talented workers away from King’s Landing as a strike against the Lannisters. I would.” He jokes. “But perhaps we should see what other baubles we can purchase for amusement.”

“I know one that would amuse both you and Raeden.” You hum, making yourself walk by the bookseller’s stall without stopping. If you do, you might simply stay there the whole day. “I wonder if the goldsmith might have another necklace of thin chains for Margaery to match with myself and Ellaria.”

Oberyn grunts, his cock twitching and he hums in agreement. “It would be a very pleasant view, three gorgeous women, completely naked except for the chains around their necks.”

“It would be lovely to see.” You and Margaery seem to be the only ones who were surprised by how close you have become and how quickly, and your may or may not be looking forward to the sight yourself.

“Perhaps there is another bauble we can find for the three of you to wear tomorrow.” Oberyn muses. “I wish to see all three of you in very revealing dress. You will be on the sidelines.”

"We will wear anything you choose, love." It is very literally the least that the three of you can do, and you know that although you will all - Raeden included - be worried, you will be a united front of pride for Dorne.

“Good.” While there will be some who do not care what the lovers of Oberyn wear, just the three- four- of you being there will be an insult to the people who matter most in the private portion of this skirmish. Until he brings all their sins to the light for the Seven Kingdoms to see.

"It will be no small statement to have Margaery beside us. For the four of us to appear united in appearance as well?" It is an incredibly simple yet effective means of making your delegation seem all the more powerful, and you know that every small tactic counts. "It will disarm some of those in the capital who foolishly think Dorne to be less civilized."

“Exactly.” He is always pleased with you when you know why he is doing something. The cleverness of your minds makes him think that you would have been named your father’s heir of you had been born a man.

"Would you have us matching?" You ask him, thinking that that would take some effort to achieve by the morning. "Or wearing an emblem somehow?"

“Perhaps we will find something. If not, then there are…dresses in my trunk you could wear.” He admits with a small chuckle.

"There are more dresses in your trunks?" By this time you would have assumed that Ellaria had wore every stitch of clothing brought from Dorne to the northern capital, but apparently that assumption would be incorrect.

“If you wish to call them dresses.” He smirks. “There is more skin showing than fabric.”

"If only my belly were already swollen," you smirk up at him as you slow in your walk and come to a stop at the jeweler's stall. "That would be quite a sight to be shown off."

“One I will love to see when it happens. Especially since the dress will show off your belly.” Oberyn’s eyes narrow as he takes in the jewels on display.

"Your Graces." The man bows deeply to see you approach, the sight of the two of you together being most welcome to him. He knows it will end in a large purchase, if nothing else, and others had taken notice of the Dornish prince's patronage of his business. It had brought him enormous good fortune in the months since your first visit. "What is it you search for today?"

“Another necklace.” Oberyn informs him with a smirk. “Just like the one for my wife and my paramour. I wish to clasp it around our other lover’s neck.”

"I confess, I wondered if you might desire another." Disappearing from view for just a few seconds, the merchant comes back again with a small wooden box. He lifts the lid, showing off another glinting necklace of delicate chains. "Your reputation, after all, precedes you."

“Do you have a smaller version of this?” Oberyn asks as he traces the necklace with his fingers. “More…masculine?”

"Smaller as in…fewer strands?" The man's head tilts to one side, making sure he understands correctly.

“Fewer strands, more…” he turns to you with a frown. “I want one for Raeden.” He tells you.

"I assumed as much, when you wanted one more masculine." The expression on his face is half frustration and half plaintive, and you cup his cheek in your hand lovingly. "Do you want it to be worn under his robes tomorrow, or do you want it to be worn in bed, my love?"

“Both.” He grunts, looking at you with dark, lust filled eyes. “But I want him to wear it tomorrow. Showing on his bare chest to match your. United and under House Martell’s protection.”

"The prince desires another necklace with fewer, thicker chains," you inform the jeweler, squeezing Oberyn's hands in yours and pressing a kiss to his lips. "And it should be made to accommodate a broader chest."

The jeweler has questions but he keeps them to himself. Although the design might be on display after the custom jewelry is sold and discreetly mentioned that the Prince of Dorne bought for a male lover. It might be of interest to the right discreet party.

“It will be needed by tonight.” Neither you nor Oberyn would be willing to wait until morning and risk not having it be ready, but you are certain that Oberyn will want Raeden to wear the chains tonight, as well.

“Of course.” He knows now that the prince will not blink at the cost so he does not even warn him about the extra price for expedited work. The prince is a man who wants what he wants when he wants it with no regard to cost.

“What other new baubles have you? Any of your clever wife’s designs?” The puzzle ring that you gave to Oberyn is a favorite, and your eyes start to search through the trays of fine pieces right away.

“There is a wide selection.” He agrees eagerly, rushing over to show them to you. “Your interest and admiration has made her designs improve and her love of it increase.”

“I am very glad to hear it.” Oberyn has begun searching a different part of the stall, and you follows the merchant’s lead to look at the designs that his wife has made. “What is the piece she is most proud of? I wish to see it.”

“There is a bracelet design that my wife is very pleased with.” The latest designed may have been with a slight Dornish flair due to the Prince’s patronage. The bracelets have several bangles wove in between each other and can be pulled apart, but when they are in a solid mass, they give the illusion of being one solid piece, the bursting sun of Dorne etched into the gold.

“Oh, she is clever!” You hum happily when the merchant presents you with the multi-strand bracelet. “And your craftsmanship is exquisite, ser. It seems that no matter you you make, you and your wife are quite the formidable team.”

Delighted that you like it, he moves to grab the other ones. "I took the liberty of making several." He informs you. "Because I know that your group likes to have matching sets."

“We certainly do.” The stone in the middle of each Dornish sun is the only difference between the bracelets - one deep green, one pink-red, one orange, one yellow, one milky white, one rich blue, and one clear purple. They are stunning together and you beckon Oberyn closer to look. “There are seven, my love.” Your face shines with delight.

"Why seven?" Oberyn asks curiously. He could see if there were eight, for his daughters or two because of his last order of necklaces.

“You, Raeden, and Cal.” You have three bracelets beside your right hand, and then beside your left you point out the other four. “Ellaria, me, Margaery, and Leyth.”

"No, my love." He grunts. "I was asking the jeweler why he crafted seven bracelets."

The jeweler in question blushes, clearing his throat at the prince’s pointed attention. He was not going to call attention to the number after you seemed so delighted with the fact that there were seven. “In truth, your Grace?” He would shove his hands in his pockets in embarrassment if he had any. “There are three or four more being finished just this day. I thought to have a wide collection of colors for your Graces to choose from, that is all.”

"I will take them all." Oberyn decides, looking back at you to find you smiling down at the bracelet with a dreamy expression on your face. "What do you think, my love? For any others we might bring into our fold?" He hums. "Or perhaps..." He slides his hand around your waist and your stomach. "Perhaps as gifts for our children."

“They seem fitting for your girls, don’t you think?” If there are so many, that is. The idea of more cannot be banished from your mind. You must remember that Oberyn has a plan. “Hopefully they all have different favourite colors.”

The mention of ‘his girls’ makes Oberyn’s head snap back to the jeweler. “These bracelets.” He tells him. “I want eight more. Except instead of bursting suns, I want snakes. Coiled snakes with the different colored jewel in the eye.”

“It…is too much to do in one night.” The jeweler tells him with obvious regret and just a touch of fear. “Perhaps it could be done in two if everyone worked through the night…but I know that you are not one to wait, your Grace.”

"We will be leaving for Dorne in two days." He tells the jeweler. "Have them done by the time the ship leaves the harbor and I will give you a bonus to make it worth the effort."

“Yes, your Grace.” The man bows rather frantically, scooping up the few things that he had already talked to the two of you about, and dashing into the back of his stall. When his apprentice appears just a few moments later, you smile with the knowledge that he is going straight to work. It is not even the man’s own son he has sent to man his stall. He will be working well into the night.

"I will give my sand snakes the bracelets he is crafting now." He tells you with a proud smirk. "They will love them." He had been searching for gifts for his girls, always bringing them something when he has to travel and the bracelets would be perfect.

“They will make a beautiful gift, my love.” For his eight - soon, nine - children, a token from the trip when their father wed will hopefully be something to celebrate and not frown upon. “They will look well with the necklaces that Ellaria is bringing to each of your daughters.”

“She loves all of them.” He hums happily, smiling softly. “You will love them too, I hope.”

“I have no doubt.” One of your hands rests gently on his arm and you smile. “I cannot wait to meet them.”

“They will be waiting for us when we arrive in Sunspear.” He informs you with complete surety. “Expect many questions.”

“I expect they will have many.” Just imagining it makes you giggle, thinking of the youngest ones especially. The older girls you will be able to be more straightforward with. “Luckily we are bringing them a new grandfather as well, who will dote on them endlessly no matter who their mother is.” Being able to acquaint your father with the situations that resulted in all of Oberyn’s daughters’ births, he has been excited to meet them ever since. Once he saw how loving your husband can be and how happy you are, nothing else mattered.

“He had been surprisingly welcoming.” He had anticipated a bit of distance from his wife’s father, but he has been to dinner several times. “He will enjoy Dorne.” He frowns slightly. “I have written my brother about Marlee as well. To see if we can find her.”

“You are entirely too good, my love.” Losing her — and discovering why he had lost her — has been a reopened wound for your father, who has clung to all news and stories of Dorne in response. As though he might hear her name in one of them unwittingly.

“There is no stone I would leave unturned if my soulmate was lost to me.” He tells you, his hand sliding along your arm to tangle his fingers with yours.

“I believe I can confidently say that neither Ellaria nor I will ever leave your side.” Still, your fingers tangling tightly in his as though trying to convince him. “There is nothing in the Seven Hells that could ever tempt me away, my love.”

“That is good.” He squeezes your hand and smirks. “I will be very satisfied with being surrounded by my soulmates and our lovers for a long time.”

“Our trip home will be an interesting one, with so many of us in such close company,” you smirk up at your husband as you walk. “I imagine we will spend much time in our quarters.”

Oberyn chuckles. “I do not think Cersei imagined her gift to her daughter would ferry so many of her people away on it.”

“I suppose I can only be grateful that my family had a long-standing connection to Dorne and not to Casterly Rock.” You shudder slightly at the idea and cringe. “Imagine my mother’s victory if she had sold me to the Lannisters instead.”

“I would not wish such a fate on you.” He growls, protective of you despite the fact you are safe in his arms. “A husband with one hand who fucks his sister.”

“I would not wish such a fate on anyone.” It would have been her triumph, to manage something like that. You know how lucky and how grateful you are to have been promised to Oberyn. “I am grateful to be madly in love with my husband instead.”

“What is not to love?” He asks arrogantly with a small wink. He looks around the market again and then turns you back towards the books. “Should you not pick another dozen books for the trip to Dorne?”

“You have been so generous with growing my library that my trunks may weigh more than Margaery’s dowry.” Still, you are not about to protest. Not for a moment. “I may spend the entire journey home with my nose in a book.”

“The captain I have hired for the trip home is strong. He will have crew to move them.” He’s unconcerned with that, more interested in your happiness than anything.

“My husband indulges me.” And the adoration on your face is very clear as he leads you back toward the bookseller. “He is soft and tender hearted and sweet.”

“If you think me soft, do not be frightened tomorrow.” He jokes. He knows that you mean he is soft when it comes to you and Ellaria and how he indulges you.

“Ellaria has told me about Mereen,” you admit, leaning close to his side as you come to stop in front of the bookseller’s stall. “How you fight. What to expect.”

“I have survived many battles.” He nods. “I expect to survive many more.” He let’s go of your hand and pats your ass affectionately. “Go find the books you wish to read to me while you are sitting on my cock later on.”

******

There is a thickness, a palpable tension in the air, when you and Oberyn return from the marketplace. The jeweler had already sent by his delivery of the things Oberyn purchased which were already made, and the note from him listed the price for the items being created, which Oberyn barely glanced at. The delivery of your books, the scarves you found for Ellaria and Margaery, and the baby blanket made by the dressmaker who had crafted your Dornish-style gowns — all of it is waiting for you when you finally return. But the truest shock is that your father has apparently been spending time with Raeden, Ellaria, and Margaery this afternoon.

He hugs you when you drift into the room on Oberyn’s arm and shakes Oberyn’s hands warmly. “I thought I would pay my respects tonight instead of distracting you with well wishes in the morning.” He tells your husband honestly.

While he had not thought much of your father when he first met the man, he had been sorely impressed with his insight since your mother’s departure. They had several frank and interesting conversations and Oberyn had refrained from engaging in his normal pleasures that he might with another lord, taking him to a whorehouse. “Many thanks.” He offers with a smile. “Join us, we are having a Dornish feast delivered by the best cook outside of her boarders.” He boasts. “In fact, I have offered him a place in the palace kitchens and he will sail with us when we depart.”

“We are bringing Salin home with us?” Ellaria sounds delighted with the idea and her fingers trace up your arm. “I think the princess had a hand in this. For the love of date cakes,” she teases.

“It was Oberyn,” you admit, laughing at how right Ellaria is about your craving. “But I am certainly not upset about it.”

“I would be delighted to stay.” Your father perks up at the mention of Dornish food. “It has been some time since I have had a good Dornish meal. The cooks would alter the recipes at home to their tastes.” He huffs, aware that his mother had written them done very specifically.

“Salin is extraordinarily talented.” Even Margaery is looking forward to the meal, having been fully converted to the cuisine of her new home with the first meal she tried. “He prepared the feast we are the night Raeden and I were wed and I have never tasted anything more magnificent.”

“Then I am eager to sample this cooking. My Marlee was a magnificent cook and I would often tease her that she would make a fortune selling her food.” Your father hums, knowing no one would fault him for speaking of his soulmate.

“I would like to hear more of her, if you are willing.” Speaking of Marlee seems to soothe your father and you must admit to being curious about the woman who could have been your mother.

“She was always smiling, always humming a little tune under her breath while she worked.” He tells you. “Making these delicious little tarts. I could eat a hundred of them.”

"How did you meet?" There is tea from the keep's kitchens while you await Salin's arrival with your dinner, and you offer a seat in front of the fire to your father.

“In Dorne.” He looks over at you fondly, smiling with the bittersweet smile of a man who is remembering a better time. “We had traveled back for my grandfather’s funeral. Mother was beside herself and my father could not leave. So I volunteered to escort her.” He had been brash and young, but already a good soldier. Handy with a sword. “I was bored by the grieving in the house, so I had snuck down to the kitchens.” He sighs. “She was baking. Flour on her cheek and singing a song as she mixed bread dough.”

“She worked for Grandmother’s family?” That is a surprise, and certainly makes you wish you had been bold enough to tell him about Raeden sooner. He would have been far more sympathetic than you knew.

“Yes.” He nods, his eyes sliding over to where Raeden is sitting with Margaery. “Although I think your path was leading you here.” He tells you, knowing what is whirling in that clever mind of yours. “She was beautiful. Raven black hair and yet…she had green eyes. The color of a watery jade.”

“So you fell in love over a secret meeting and a loaf of bread?” There is nothing sad or even melancholy in the life you have now, so you try to keep the conversation happy.

“The scar on my neck.” He pulls down the edge of his undershirt and his robe to expose the old, silvery scar. “It was new and fresh. Her dress showed it.” He shares a knowing grin with Oberyn. “She was mine from the first moment.”

“That sounds terribly romantic,” Margaery sighs, still softly envious of anyone who knows their soulmate or who has ever known them. “To have such definitive proof. To never wonder. It sounds remarkable.”

Her husband tightens his hold around her, offering her comfort. Everyone in this room knows that Margaery’s soulmate died without her ever knowing who it was. “If matching marks are ever discovered.” He murmurs softly. “They will be welcomed into our home.” It is the least he could offer considering the two sets of marks he bears, and the relationships he has with both women.

“If I ever have a set of marks appear?” Margaery nuzzles against him, glancing over at you before looking back to his eyes. “I hope that they will be yours or Star’s.”

“I would wear three sets of scars proudly.” He murmurs, bumping his nose against her cheek and then kissing her lips.

“As would I.” If the gods ever saw fit to give you three soulmates, you could not be happier to have one of them be Margaery.

“You are too generous.” Despite her inexperience, she has come to love to dynamic between the three of you especially, although she also enjoys time with Ellaria and Oberyn. Even if Oberyn had not yet fucked her.

“The gods have twice blessed you, pumpkin.” Your father chuckles. He still not quite understand the dynamic at play, but has decided that as long as you are happy, he does not need to. “To heap more upon you would be showing favoritism.”

“I would not expect anything less from gods concerning Star.” Ellaria chuckles quietly. She winks at you. “Perhaps the gods will send another wonderful person into Margaery’s life to add to our blessings.”

Glancing over at your husband, you bite back a grin and you wink at his as he so often does to you. "We will need a bed the size of you entire chamber if we continue to add members to our group."

You father clears his throat, reminding himself that he does not need to ask questions about things he does not wish to know. You are happy, and that is a rarity in life. “Dinner will be delightful, I’m sure.”

"It will." Leyth appears in the doorway, blessedly distracting from your embarrassment and ushering in Salin with his baskets upon baskets of delicious food.

“Salin, you outdo yourself every time.” Ellaria rises graceful and moves to greet the man with a charming smile and a hug. “Oberyn tells us you will be sailing back to Dorne with us?”

"The prince has most graciously offered to allow me to return home with your party." His hand is over his heart as he sets down the baskets from his other arm and Ellaria begins to unload them all over the large dining table. "I am most grateful to be able to see my family again."

“You must join us tonight.” Oberyn decides, motioning to the table. “We will be spending time together in much less spacious confines, let us drink and celebrate with delicious food tonight.”

"I could not impose--" Salin begins, but you immediately shake your head to stop him.

"Please," you insist, motioning for everyone to gather around the table. "We will not stand on ceremony tonight, but feast and celebrate as friends and family. We insist."

Looking around the table, Salin sees nothing but encouraging smiles and the murmurs of agreement, and he nods. "Your Graces are very kind. It would be my honour to join you."

There is something familiar about the young man. It tugs at your father’s thoughts but he tries to dismiss it as simply being nostalgic for his soulmate and everything to do with a culture he had much preferred to the rigid standards of the North.

Sitting down together at the table is indeed like an odd group of friends and family, but it is welcoming for that. Cal and Leyth join you instead of eating separately. Ellaria's mood is bright and boisterous. She speaks with Oberyn and Salin of home with such nostalgia that your father practically sighs with longing, and the rest of you who have never been to Dorne are hanging on every word.

Raeden leans back, watching the group with a smile as he strokes Margaery’s arm. Looking at the group that he has come to care for very much and squirms slightly in anticipation for things to come. It was not as if he had meant to wait to be with Oberyn. The moment had just never really come to be quite yet, but he want it so badly he cannot wait for the night to continue.

“I hope you will all forgive the indulgence,” Salin is saying as he begins to unpack the beautiful containers of sweet treats he prepared for dessert. “I have catered to her Grace’s cravings for our final course. Date cakes, figs with soft cheese, honey soaked fried dough, and crispy pastry with honey and nut filling. All of the princess’s favourites that I have been fortunate to discover so far.”

“Salin.” Your eyes grow as wide as saucers at the spread, practically giggling with glee. “You are far too kind and far too indulgent.”

The pastry with honey and nut filling makes your father tilt his head curiously as he finishes up his own meal. Easily enjoying the best Dornish meal he has had since he has been to the country. Watching as you pile a clean plate high with the delicacies with an indulgent chuckle.

“Try them, Papa.” You insist, moving the plate of crispy, sticky pastry toward your father. “I promise you will not be disappointed. Salin is a magician.”

Once offered, your father eagerly reaches for the pastry, likening it to one he has had many years ago and takes a bite quickly. "Mmmmmhhhhh." The moan is immediate and louder than he would have normally given over any good food. "I-- this tastes exactly like the tarts my soulmate would make."

“Are they traditional?” The question is for anyone at the table who would know - Salin, of course, but Oberyn or Ellaria, too.

“Not especially, your Grace.” Salon’s expression is apologetic. “They are a family recipe. My mother would make them for special dinners. Birthdays, usually.”

"This-- this is exactly like Marlee would make." Your father groans again after another bite. "She added a touch of anise. Not too much or it would overpower the nuts, she always said." He shoves the rest of the tart into his mouth and reaches for another.

Confused, Salin tilts his head and watches as your father seems entranced by the sweets. “You knew my mother?” He asks, not entirely sure how that could be.

The air is sucked out of the room and the tart in his hand falls to the table as your father's head whips around to gape at the man who had served the food. "Your mother?" He chokes out. "Your mother is Marlee Sand?"

“I—yes?” Confused even further as to why this fact has caused such a reaction in the older nobleman, Salin nods. “Marlee Brude, after marrying my sisters’ father. But she was born Marlee Sand.”

"She-- she's dead." The blood rushes to his ears and his head is swimming as he rolls his eyes over to you desperately. "She told me she was dead." He whispers, begging you to confirm that your mother told him that his soulmate was killed.

“I am sure it is a coincidence.” Although, which your father clutching your hand so tightly, your confidence wanes. “Sand is the most common name in Dorne. And surely Marlee is—”

“Is an unusual name.” Ellaria cuts in, glancing between the two of you and Salin. “Not unheard of, but not common.”

“And my mother is very much alive,” Salin adds, still not quite understanding what is happened. “I had a letter from her not a fortnight ago.”

"I don't understand.." He shakes his head, clinging to you and looking at Salin with a more critical eye before he gasps. "Boy." He barks, although Salin is a man grown and not a boy. "Do you have your mother's eyes or your fathers?" He demands.

Salin huffs, being well past thirty years of age and no longer a boy. “My father’s, according to my mother. Much good though that may do me.”

“Pumpkin.” He reaches for your jaw and cradles it gently as he looks from your eyes, his eyes, and then towards the man who shares those eyes. “How-- is it possible?” He whispers quietly.

"You cannot be my father, sir, no matter how much coincidence maybe at play tonight." It is all a little too much for Salin, and he pushes away from the table with a frown. "My father was some far-flung Northern lord who chose money over his soulmate. He married a shrew of a woman and never gave my mother a second thought."

That makes him frown, shaking his head and letting go of your chin to stand, swaying slightly at the revelation that this is his son sitting in front of him. “I can swear on my honor I have thought of your mother every day I have been apart from her.” He tells Salin. “I was led to believe that she had returned to Dorne when my betrothal was announced, as I was trying to convince my father to let me marry Marlee.”

"It cannot be." The color drains from Salin's face even as he stands to face your father. His father? There is something familiar reflected in the older man's face that makes him hesitate, but as he glances away to try to take a shaky breath, his eyes fall on your father's neck. Or - specifically - on the decades old scar that mars his skin. It is that scar that makes him gasp and his eyes dart up to the older man's again. "Tell me how you got that scar." He demands.

“A small skirmish on the northern boarder of our lands when I was young.” It was the first time he had killed a man, and he had barely escaped with his life. He had told Marlee about it one night after sex, her giggling as he had re-enacted it completely nude. He sees that Salin might believe him. “Have you see it before?”

"Do you know what truly happened to the Marlee Sand that you knew?" There is anger there, or at least frustration and surprise, and Salin bristles slightly when your father's story matches what his mother told him of the scar she wears from her soulmate. "Why she returned to Dorne?"

“My bitch of a wife had confessed just weeks ago that she had paid a solider to have her killed.” Your father’s anger rides across his face, a dark storm cloud of emotions that has him curling his fists. He had missed Marlee for years and then mourned her over the past weeks, now to find out she was still living? It is almost too much to bear.

"That soldier had a change of heart." Salin murmurs, feeling the impossibility of the situation slam through him with determination. "He told her to run, and she did." His shoulders hunch, disbelief clouding his features as he shakes his head. "I am Salin Sand because she was driven from your lands. It was many years before she even acknowledged a man's attention. My sisters are young, yet. Young like Lady Sunstone."

The chair in front of him is the only thing that keeps his kneels from buckling as your father learns his soulmate is really alive. Still bearing no marks from her on his body, he had never considered she was alive. “Son.” He chokes out, nearly sobbing at the fact that this man is his grown son. “Tell me she is well. That she is happy?”

Before Salin can even think, he finds himself embracing your father - his father - with tears pooling in his eyes. "I think she will be again," he admits, shaking a little as he processes everything that has happened today. He has gone from simply being able to return home to returning home with his father. "She has been a widow these last few years, but I know she has never forgotten you. In fact--" He pulls away just enough to look at the scar again, fully digesting its existence and the existence of the man who wears it. "She had sent me to learn of you. That...that is why I left Dorne."

“She-- you did?” He’s astonished because he had never seen you before tonight. “I-- did you ever come to the Vale?” He asks, immediately suspicious of his bitch of a wife. Even if she hadn’t rubbed the knowledge of his bastard son in his face, she might have sent him away and never let him know.

“I was robbed on my first night in King’s Landing.” Salin sighs. “I opened my stall in the marketplace as a way to earn the money to return home, but clearly I have been unsuccessful.” Living hand to mouth is difficult for anyone, but it had been particularly embarrassing to have to live in his stall the first few weeks. Things had improved, but not enough. Not until Prince Oberyn.

“I-- I didn’t know of you.” He tells him, hating that they had pulled apart to continue talking. Even as the rest of the table looks on with great curiosity, he only had eyes for his eldest child. “Or I would have- I would have brought her home.” He knows that marriage wouldn’t have been allowed but Marlee and Salin would have been safe, protected and loved.

“It seems I was meant always to have sisters.” The younger man laughs, finally looking over to where you are still sitting - dumbfounded - at the table before his eyes cut back to his father. “Mother will be glad to know you have not forgotten her.”

“I will-- would you allow me to see her?” His eyes are hopeful but there may be too much resentment there to let it be possible. The idea of seeing his soulmate again has him wishing he was already in Dorne.

“It will be up to her.” Even as a young boy who wished to defend her, Salin understood that his mother was strong enough to choose her life for herself. “I have already sent a raven home to tell her that I will be returning with the prince and princess. She will be waiting at the docks for my arrival. I only ask that you allow me to tell her you are there first. To not ambush her.”

It is nearly a miracle that he does not make himself lightheaded, he is nodding so quickly. “Of course.” He agrees before he looks around the table at the rest of the group. “Would you--” he clears his throat. “Would you like to come to my chambers?” He asks, knowing you are eager to celebrate with your husband and he wants to talk to Salin more. “I have wine, or stronger spirits. We can talk?” He is hopeful, biting his lip as he looks at the son that he has missed out on his entire life with. Wishing to know everything about him.

“You are not going anywhere until I am allowed to embrace my oldest brother.” The idea of all of it has overwhelmed you, but the smile on your face is soft and dreamlike. How utterly right that your father should be able to have again what had been stolen from him. That he will have the chance to know his eldest child.

Salin seems almost shocked that you would be wanting a hug, but he’s opening his arms immediately and moving towards the woman who he now knows is his sister. “Gladly. Without you and the prince, this would not be.”

“We will all have time to get to know each other much better on the voyage home.” The warmth of the embrace is genuine — two shocked individuals taking what is in front of them and fully accepting it head on. “And I hope you will find it a comfortable thing to call us by our given names now that we are family.”

“It-- it will take time, Princess.” Salin admits with a small smile as he pulls back. “Perhaps his feelings will change once we change his last name to mine.” Your fathers interjects. “If he is willing to be claimed.”

“We will have that conversation.” There are many mixed feelings that Salin has had about his father over his lifetime. Now, with an entire family being offered to him, the thing he wants first is simply to know this man. “But tonight, let us simply begin to know each other. More will come in time.”

“Come.” The older man nods and motions towards the door. “If we talk too late into the night, there is another bed you can sleep in if you have no wish to walk the roads of King’s Landing.”

It is almost surreal to watch your father and brother step away together. The tension that had filled the room seems to dissipate all at once, and you fall down again in your seat beside Raeden with a sigh. “That was…unexpected.”

“Completely astounding.” Oberyn muses thoughtfully, still reclined in his chair and shaking his head. “Fate is playing in your life, Star. The Gods have truly taken an interest.”

______

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[wardenparker]

The Viper's Bride - ch 12

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit. 18+ Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid. This is a MMFF polycule, folx. Get on board or don't click to keep reading. Pregnancy!* Mentions of sexism, abuse (parent to child), talk of even more arranged marriages (including one with a wildly inappropriate age difference), Oberyn's intense flirting gets a warning of its own. Fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pregnant sex, rough sex, foursome, group sex. Summary: Saying good-bye to your mother is the beginning of a trying day which ends on a surprisingly positive note. Notes: The blanket warnings for the story have been added to this chapter! 🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11

Leyth smiles to herself the next morning when she comes into the room as quietly as possible with a breakfast tray laid for four. Drawing back the curtains and letting sun into the room only just stirs the easily-woken princess from her dreams but the comfort of having her lovers on either side of her seems to soothe her again and even sharp-minded and highly aware Ellaria continues to sleep soundly on the prince's other side. Tangled limbs keep the lovers all tightly nestled together, and Leyth decides that another half hour of slumber cannot be a terrible way to begin today. There will be plenty more stress with the trial's continuation today just as there was interminable stress last night, and she exits the room again as gently as she came. There is a fixture to mend on one of the princess's dresses in the meantime, and she can do that in her chair outside the door.

Twenty minutes later, Oberyn stirs slightly, opening his eyes and humming when he sees that Raeden and Ellaria are still wrapped around you and him. The foot against his own is the other lord’s and the hand wrapped around his waist is his own lover’s. He and Raeden are cocooned around you and Ellaria and he watches as your soulmate’s eyes slowly start to open.

The sun always wakes Raeden, and it is something of a small miracle that he did not open his eyes immediately on the curtains being opened. Instead he drifts from pleasant dreams into the cool morning. Rather than being disoriented by waking up naturally he all but sighs and lets the bed claim his heavy body for a little while longer. Though he had thought for weeks now that the first time he woke up to find the prince's eyes on him might be strange or even awkward, it is the furthest from it – and Raeden finds himself smiling instinctively as his eyes meet Oberyn's.

Oberyn’s answering smile is softer than it would have been if he had been seeking out physical intimacy. It will come, of that he is now certain, but he can wait until the other man is ready. “They are beautiful when they sleep, no?” He murmurs quietly.

“Always.” Careful to whisper, Raeden’s hand on your waist does not move even though he wishes to reach out at this moment. He is not necessarily afraid now – but he has no wish to wake you.

“You love her, don’t you?” Oberyn asks softly, reaching up and brushing a dark lock of her hair from Ellaria’s face. She doesn’t stir, although she sighs. “Ellaria?”

He had been expecting the question but it does not make him any less eager to have that conversation. While Raeden no longer fears being barred from your life in any way and does not think the prince would take exception to the connection between himself and Ellaria, he cannot be sure. “I—” He exhales softly in the morning sunlight and shrugs almost imperceptibly as if in apology. “I do,” he admits without the shame Which he has felt originally. “I love them both.”

“Good.” Oberyn nods, relieved by that fact. He does not think that the other man would lie about something that important. If what he suspects is true, he would want nothing more than for his lover to have the heart of the other man.

“And you?” Raeden prompts, not wanting to let the chance for affirmation slip by. Having seen how you have been worth your husband – and he with you – he might presume to know the answer already. But it would be a presumption.

“I love her.” Oberyn has no problem acknowledging that. The words slip from his lips easily. “She is my moon and stars. Ellaria is my sun and world.” His eyes find Raeden’s darker ones and hold his gaze firmly. “Now we just need to see what we are to each other.”

“Something less ethereal, I think,” he hums gently, looking down at you and Ellaria between them. “Your skies are full of beauty already.”

“You are not beautiful?” Oberyn tuts quietly and sends Raeden a disappointed look. “It is a rougher beauty, masculine and strong, but beauty nonetheless.”

Raeden chuckles and the sound is almost bashful as he tries to keep it from growing too loud or shaking you awake. “Am I a bird, then? Or perhaps a dragon?”

“Raeden Dragonstone.” He hums in amusement and nods. “I like it.”

This time when he laughs he almost barks it out, stifling the sound with his hand and pressing a kiss into your hair immediately afterward in apology as you stir against him. “After already having given me so much, you would do this as well?” He asks, dark eyes wide with disbelief.

“Do what?” Oberyn frowns in confusion.

“Dorne may not care if a man is born a bastard, but the rest of Westeros does,” Raeden reminds him, expression drawn in apology. He had thought the prince was making an offer, but he can see now that it was just a fleeting thought. “Stone is a name that carries great burden and shame, even with the promise of a new beginning.”

Oberyn understands immediately and nods. “Dragonstone is a good name, but I cannot choose it for you, handsome.” He explains. “It must be a name you like. One you will be proud of carrying.” His hand slides across his lover and yours and his fingers slide up the curve of the strong jaw of the other man. “If I were to choose, you would be Lord Sunstone of Dorne.”

“What is a sunstone, then?” It sounds like it ought to be a real stone, and Oberyn’s touch warms through his skin to make his cheeks burn. “Perhaps I will consider it.”

“Copper colored stones that glitter in the sun.” Oberyn tells him with a soft curve of his lips as he talks of it. “Warm and beautiful, even more so when they are polished and the beauty is recognized and appreciated. Like you.”

“I cannot imagine being the unwitting recipient of any of your compliments,” Raeden’s smile widens and he swallows a laugh that might otherwise have shaken your body as well as his. “It is a flattering sentiment. And something to think about.”

“You go by Stone now, but when we forge your house banner and creed, you will decide a name that you see fit.” He declares, sending the other man a small wink and feels though there are secrets, this will work out for the best of everyone.

“I will never be able to thank you properly,” the younger man murmurs, noting that he understands there is still time for all of these things to fall into place. But in a moment of gratitude he reaches for Oberyn’s hand and squeezes it gently. “But I will never give you cause to regret your kindness toward me.”

“There is no need to thank me.” The prince assures him. “The Vale lost a valuable man and Dorne has no wish to squander valuable men. In my bed or out of it, soulmate to my wife or no.” He looks deep into your lover’s eyes. “You earned your place at the seat, it is your turn to play the games of nobles. I will just teach you how to win.”

“What my husband can’t teach you is how to whisper.” You mumble, stifling a yawn as you crack your eyes open to first find Oberyn smiling at you in amusement. “Luckily, I was already dreaming of you both.”

“Only the sweetest of dreams for my Princess.” Oberyn coos, his hand joined with Raeden’s sliding down to caress your cheek. “What were you dreaming of, my love?”

“Our passage to Dorne.” Their combined hands on your skin make you hum with comfort. “Or I think it was. There was a ship, at least.”

“Oh?” Oberyn’s brow ticks up curiously. “Did we spend the voyage in a tangle of limbs and drenching pleasure?”

“Let us hope my dreams are not prophetic.” You huff but keep your voice to a whisper. “I was sick. Seasickness sounds most unpleasant.”

“So we were lavishing you with attention.” He chuckles quietly.

“That is not a hard thing to do.” Ellaria’s voice is sleep filled and her eyes heavy when she opens them to smile at you.

“I shall become very spoiled if you all dote on me so much.” Still, it does not keep you from smiling at them all or distributing a kiss to each of them now that you are all awake. “Good morning, dear ones.”

Ellaria accepts her kiss from you and then in turn gives Oberyn and Raeden one. “I believe that as the woman who is carrying the Prince’s future heir, you deserve to be spoiled and doted on.” She tells you. “Correct, lover?”

Your eyes widen, mouth slacking open, and you stumble for a moment to string even two sounds together, let alone words. “How did you—?” You ask in wonder, when your mouth and mind finally work again. Maester Rhodestone had performed his rituals and examination yesterday and determined you are, indeed, with child. But only Cal knew, and you had sworn him to secrecy until you could tell Oberyn.

Her lips purse in a small smirk and she reaches out to cup your cheeks. “My lovely girl, I have carried four of his children.” She reminds you. “You mentioned your breasts being tender when you removed your corset and the laces were more lax than they have ever been, meaning your stomach is slightly swollen.” She bites her lip. “Are you angry I spoiled a surprise?”

“No.” You could not be. Not when the news is so welcome. But even as you squeeze Ellaria’s hands in yours, you look between both men with apprehension. “Maester Rhodestone confirmed it for me yesterday. Though it is early, he was certain.”

The choked cry of happiness is Oberyn’s and he laughs as he reaches for you. Pulling you over his lover and on top of him so he can lunge up and press his lips to yours. “Does that mean you are excited, love?” When he finally lets you breathe again you feel so light that you could fly, but your arms around each other keep you anchored at least for now.

“I am.” He rasps out, his voice thick with emotion as his hand slides down over your ass. “A little prince or princess to roam the halls of Sunspear with their Sand Snake siblings.” He hums and kisses you again. “Go kiss your Raeden, love. I know you want to.”

“He says prince or princess now, but it will be a girl.” Ellaria hums, watching as you move across the bed again to go to Raeden’s arms.

“I do love having girls.” He muses and winks at Raeden as he pulls Ellaria into his own embrace.

“You are not upset, my love. Are you?” It had been discussed that you and Oberyn were trying to conceive, and both Raeden and Ellaria had seemed genuinely happy for you. But now that the time has come, the lingering fear that being pregnant with any other man’s child might upset your first soulmate draws your face and wrenches your heart with concern.

Your lover frowns and shakes his head, reaching up to cup your cheeks and pull you close. “I am happy.” He promises you. “Your womb is filled with your husband’s child and I will be able to touch you again. To hold you and not fear disrupting his line.” He leans up and presses his lips to yours to seal his promise to you.

“The next will be yours,” you swear, a shuddering sigh keeping threats of worry at bay as you sink against him. “I promise you.”

He rolls you over, under him, and grins down at you. “I will hold you to it.” He hums, kissing down your neck.

“On my honor.” The words are as serious as you can manage while the feeling of his familiar lips on your skin makes you sigh and giggle alternately.

“Are you happy, my sun?” Oberyn asks Ellaria softly, smiling at the giggling coming from the other side of the bed.

“To have another babe to dote on so soon? Of course.” She nuzzles into his side, dusting kisses along his exposed skin. Oberyn slept clothed last night – something he never does – and it has raised a question in Ellaria’s mind. “If I know you, my love, you will soon have a list of names and be sighing over memories of your other daughters in their infancy.”

“All of our daughters made the sun rise in the East.” He protests, pouting slightly at her before he grins and pulls her close. “If you wish to have another child, with your lover, I would not be angry about it.” He murmurs softly. “You are my soulmate, and our bond is strong enough for others to love.”

“It has been many years since I carried a child, lover,” Ellaria sighs, thinking of how dearly she had loved pregnancy, despite it ending in the pain of childbirth. “My time may be coming soon, as it did for my mother and her sisters. If I am able to bear another child, I will be proud no matter whose seed has planted the babe inside me.”

"I know." He nudges her nose with his and pulls her close for a searing kiss. Eager to touch the woman he has shared a lifetime with and still considers the first true love he's ever had.

A knock on the door comes with the polite clearing of a throat, and Leyth steps into the room with apologies in her posture. “Forgive me, my lords and ladies,” she will forever consider Ellaria a lady. “But there is not much time to ready yourselves. The trial continues.”

Oberyn huffs and shakes his head. "Gods curse this trial." He grumbles. "I despise the theatrics and the lies."

“Hopefully it will not drag on too terribly.” Even lying underneath Raeden, you still frown slightly and reach to run your knuckles along Oberyn’s arm reassuringly. “Although I confess, I am not looking forward to today for other reasons. I promised to meet my father at the docks just before things begin. To…to see my mother’s ship set sail.”

Oberyn frowns and nods, looking towards your lover. "Go with her." He orders Raeden, protective always but even more so now that he knows you carry his child. "I would go myself, but there is no one else I trust more with her safety than you and my lover." He tells him.

“You have to be at the trial.” Raeden agrees. His hand squeezes your hip carefully and he rolls to your side to leave a kiss on your cheek. “I swear she will be safe, and delivered to the trial immediately afterward.” Another day sitting beside you and Queen Margaery during speeches and testimonies stretches out in front of him and he knows it will not be easy for any of you.

"Should I come too, lover?" Ellaria asks you, willing to put herself through the boredom if Oberyn wishes to have more support for you. "I can accompany you to the docks if you would like some more support."

“I do not wish to bore you.” The four of you are starting to sit up and get out of bed as slowly as slugs, but you reach over to kiss Ellaria before getting out of bed. “But I would welcome your company at the dock this morning. I…cannot be sure how I will react, and I would relish the support.”

"Done." She assures you and sends you a small wink. "Give me five minutes and I will be ready, Princess."

“I am afraid I will need more than that,” you laugh, stretching as you stand on two feet again. “Perhaps ten. That is all.”

“Of course.” She stands and saunters towards the other room that she and Raeden have been sharing. “Pregnant women get to take their time.” She blows you a kiss and sashays out through the door.

******

It is not long after that you are walking out into the dock directly under the Red Keep to witness your mother’s departure, and your father is already there. Standing in silence on the wooden planks, he has a soft look of melancholy on his face when you step up beside him and touch his shoulder gently. “Have you been here long, Papa?”

“Before the sun rose.” He admits, sleep eluding him throughout the night and the regrets of past mistakes weighing heavily on his mind. He had failed you, failed Marlee, and he has a hard time reconciling that with the man he thought he was. He reaches over and takes your hand, turning towards you. “I am sorry.” He chokes out. “It was my duty to protect you and I failed.”

“We were all hurt by her, Papa. You especially.” You hold his hands faithfully and give them a gentle squeeze. “She took great pains to hide her true face from you. Or at least to keep her treatment of me away from your eyes. You cannot be blamed for that.”

“You did not feel like I would protect you.” He argues. “Or believe you. Otherwise you would have come to me. Told me what your mother was doing.”

He is right, and the separate shames you both feel over that fact is something that can only heal with time. “It is over now,” you offer instead. “She may have harmed us, but she will not be able to harm any of my brothers’ children. Or mine.”

“No, she will not.” Despite his feelings, he is determined that his grandchildren and his daughter will suffer no more. “I have already written a letter to your brothers.” He tells you quietly.

"I can only hope they will not be too angry at the news." You hang your head slightly and feel your shoulders drop. "I will write to them as well, to tell them everything that has transpired between her and I since leaving the Vale. There...was much. And the worst of it was directed not only at me but at Raeden, as well."

“Tell me.” Your father begs quietly. “Tell me what made you elope with the Prince. It must have been her.” He’s realized that he was denied seeing his daughter as a bride because of his wife and it saddens him even more.

The most you can do as you swallow down the memory of that day is nod solemnly and look back at Raeden and Ellaria nearby. "She...was going to claim that Raeden had forced himself on her. Which would have been a death sentence. B–because she was angry with how I spoke to her in front of the prince the morning we met."

“Gods be damned.” Your father’s eyes widen and he realizes the depth of his wife’s rottenness. “And you ran to the prince to beg him to marry you in order to keep Raeden away from her.” He guesses quietly.

"The only solution I could think of was to make Raeden a Dornish subject." You nod again, telling him that he understands correctly. "You had sworn him to protect me specifically and not our family, so I could save my soulmate by marrying."

“You are smarter than any man.” Your father praises quietly. “You remind me of my Marlee.” He reveals. “That is why I could not force a match before now.”

"I am sorry she was taken from you." Having almost lost your soulmate, you cannot imagine the pain of making your way through the world without him. "Would it..." Looking back at Ellaria and Raeden, they seem not quite to be reading your thoughts but nod to encourage wherever it is that your mind is going. "Perhaps you would like to travel on to Dorne with us when we leave King's Landing? Spend a little time there before returning home again?" Your hand lights on his shoulder and you remind yourself to smile. "There will be an official royal wedding to celebrate, even though we have already been wed."

“I confess, I do not know how your dynamic works.” He admits. “I know the rumors of the prince and it seems as if he still does what he wishes, but I will never judge you for finding happiness.” He turns and looks you in the eyes. “If you would not be bothered by it, I would like to go to Dorne again. Feel close to Marlee.”

It would not be bothersome to you in the least, and you have no desire to discuss the sharing of your bed with your father, so you gloss over it and hug him tightly. "Perhaps you will decide to stay long enough to see the birth of your next grandchild."

“Have you told your husband you are carrying yet?” He asks. He’s aware that the other woman who is standing off to the side is Oberyn’s lover, and might not know.

"This morning." The smile that it brings to your face is bright, and if it were a less inappropriate moment you know that you would be standing between Ellaria and Raeden with your hands tightly in each of theirs. "We are all excited. It will be something joyful to think of with all the darkness around us as of late."

“It is his child?” Your father asks softly, not wanting to insult you, but curious.

“Yes. There is no doubt of that.” It actually makes you laugh a little, which you stifle and look back at Raeden with a smile. “You do not have to understand the arrangement I have with my husband, Papa. Or the freedom with which I have given my heart. But know that all of the children I bear, regardless of whether the father is Oberyn or Raeden, will be loved equally.”

“I have no doubt and I will have no ill words about it.” He frowns. “There have been too many hateful words directed towards you and I wish for you to have nothing but happiness and love.”

“Then rejoice, because I have those things in spades.” Your life is so far from what you expected and yet so rich, and you hope that he can see the honesty of it in your eyes. “Her plan to cause my misery has backfired entirely. I am happier than I have ever been, and Raeden prospers like never before.”

“Then I am a happy man.” He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses the back of it just as a carriage comes into sight. His sigh is heavy and he squeezes your fingers. “Your mother.”

The carriage is plain, nothing ornate about it or the bars built into its door where an open window might have otherwise been. You hold tight to your father’s hand as that same door swings open and a guard from the keep leads a woman in septa’s clothing from inside. She is screeching and howling, threats made in every direction although the guard ignores her entirely. “Just as we left her, I see,” you murmur to your father with a sigh.

“Take your hands off of me!” Your mother howls. “Don’t you know who I am? I will have your balls removed from your body.” She struggles, trying to get away from the guard, but he is holding her by the chains around her wrists.

“You no longer have the power to make threats, Mother,” you remind her, stepping forward as the guard leads her toward the dock where you have been standing. “You no longer have any power at all.”

“You little bitch!” She hisses, spitting at you when she gets close enough. “You did this. You could not stand leaving your father and knowing that his time and attention would be mine.”

“I am sorry to hear you think so.” Causing more of a fight by reminding her that he intended to leave her with her brother before returning to the Vale will not do good for anyone. “I did what I must, for the safety of the people I love.”

“They don’t love you, you stupid girl.” She sneers, smirking viciously. “Your husband will fuck any and everyone he sees and your soulmate–” her dark eyes turn venomously on Raeden. “–will leave you behind to find a legitimate wife. Someone who can give him more than bastards. You will be all alone.”

Raeden starts at that accusation, knowing he would never leave you regardless of any wife he might ever find, but you shake your head a little to tell him that it is not worth being angry over. In mere moments your mother will be gone from your lives forever and it will be for the best. “I hope that one day you find peace, Mother. Because I promise you, our peace will be immediate. Once you are gone to the Sept to take your vows, we will none of us, spare you another thought. Your name will never pass our lips again. You will be forgotten. And that is the way to be truly alone.”

“You cannot do this.” Her face morphs into a beseeching expression and she shuffles towards your father. “I am your wife.” She reminds him. “I have stood by your side faithfully for nearly thirty years.”

“There is more than one kind of faithful,” he tells her, his normally deep and resonant voice sounding thin from sorrow. “Beating and threatening our children is far from faithful. You betrayed my trust, if not my bed. And I think that may be far worse.”

“She deserved every one of those beatings.” Your mother insists. “Naughty, willful child. It was the only thing that could be used to manage her!”

“You ought to have tried love, Mother.” It is too late for such things now, but you take your father’s hand again and swallow a sigh. There are tears forming behind your eyes that you absolutely do not want her to see you shed. She does not deserve a victory in any way. “Papa has loved me unconditionally my entire life and I have done everything he has ever asked of me.”

“Why would I love you?” She snorts. “You are a girl. A girl is less valuable. You have to earn love.”

“I see.” It is something so much more monstrously heartbreaking than you had expected – to hear that you never even stood a chance of having your mother’s love. From the moment you were born you were doomed, and there was nothing that you could have done to cure the evil misdeed of being a daughter to a woman who only wanted sons. “Gods give you peace, then.”

“Take her away,” your father tells the guard, holding all the more tightly to your hand as he gives the command. He cannot stomach any more of her hate or lies, or her desperate pleas for clemency. The sooner she is gone and he is free of her, the better.

Ellaria moves to your side, her fingers lacing through yours and squeezing tight as she watches your mother fight the inevitable and being dragged up the gangway onto the ship. “Girls are not less valuable than boys.” She understands you know that, but she needs to make her point. “Can you imagine a man pushing a baby out of his ass? People would cease to exist.” The joke falls flat, unable to comfort you.

“I did nothing wrong.” The tears fall freely with her at your side, and now that your mother is far enough away not to be able to see them. “My crime was simply existing, wasn’t it?”

“Your mother is broken.” She tells you simply, turning towards you to command your attention and reaching up to dry your eyes. “Obara’s mother was angry that she did not wish to stay with her, sell her body and lead the same life as her. Cursed her as Oberyn carried her away from hovel she lived in and wished death upon her child.” She shakes her head, frowning at the memory. “Some women are not meant to be mothers and yours is one of them. She was broken. Never you.”

Your free hand comes up to touch your unchanged belly – feeling slightly uncomfortable these days but still unchanged by the baby inside. “I hope she’s a girl,” you murmur, hanging your head beside Ellaria’s. “With all my heart. So that there will be one more girl in this world who knows nothing but pure love from her mother.”

Her other hand covers your gently and she hums softly. “She will have nothing but love from her entire family.” She promises you, her dark eyes on yours and she would kiss you if it wasn’t for your father being near. “Whatever they might be to her.”

“Thank you, love.” The love you feel for Ellaria may be slightly different than how you love Raeden or Oberyn, but it is not lesser. It is richer in some ways, or more complicated, but certainly not less than anything.

“Do not thank me until you are embracing your child and cooing lovingly to them.” She tells you with a smile.

“In time.” Your hand moves to Ellaria’s cheek, the supportive motion lasting only a few seconds before you offer her and Raeden the best smile you can muster. “Papa…” he is just beside you, but you know he is watching the ship as it readies to sail with the tide. “The trial will be starting soon and I must be there for my husband and the queen. But…will you have supper with us tonight? I do not wish for you to be alone too much. Not so soon.”

Your father smiles wanly and shakes his head. “Perhaps another night.” He pleads. “I–I need to be alone tonight at least.” He reaches for your hand and wishes for you to understand. “I wish to grieve and leave ill thoughts behind before I have dinner with you…again.”

Grieving is certainly something you are familiar with, even if not in the same way. He is grieving his past in many ways, while you grieved an entire future. “I understand. But if you decide you would rather have company, please do not hesitate?”

“I promise.” He tells you. “Go, I will be watching the horizon long after the sails disappear.”

“I would stay with you,” you cringe, knowing that this situation never could have been foreseen. “But a promise to a queen cannot be broken.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Go and be the princess that Dorne needs.” His smile is more genuine this time. “I am proud of you, my daughter. And I love you. I have loved you since the septa placed your squawking, squirming, little body into my hands.”

“And I love you, Papa.” Both of your arms encircle him in a tight hug, and you squeeze your father against you for just a moment, careful not to let more tears fall.

“Go, Princess.” He whispers softly. “Take your lovers and see the trial well.”

“I pray it sends swiftly and fairly.” With one more hug, you reach instead for Raeden and Ellaria’s hands to return to the keep.

******

Oberyn watches the doors to the great hall, eager to see you and make sure that your eyes are not devastated. If they are, he will call for a break to comfort you. His child. You are carrying his child. It was planned, it was expected, and despite having eight other children that he loves, he is excited beyond measure because of the babe that lies in your womb.

There is no mistaking the direct gaze on the doors when you walk in. It takes no trouble to search out the judges of this business, but Oberyn is watching. He has been waiting and it shows in his eyes. You nod when your eyes meet, not quite smiling but able to communicate across a room that you are as well as can be expected.

Only when you nod, is Oberyn able to relax. Leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs, adopting the careless pose he had managed until this morning. Until you were not there. He’s surprised to see his lover by your side and wonders if that means the send off for your mother was even worse than he imagined.

“Just here.” You have spotted Queen Margaery in her seat not too far from where the judges sit and you know that the seat beside her is meant for you. “If you wish to leave Ellaria, none of us will blame you.”

“No.” She hums in amusement. “I will see what all the fuss is about.”

"Then come and sit with us." Not letting go of their hands, you lead Raeden and Ellaria toward the seats sitting open near the queen. "Margaery will be glad to see another friendly face."

She isn’t sure that her face will be especially welcomed by many, but she smiles and follows you towards the widowed queen. “Queen Margaery.” She murmurs quietly, curtseying slightly.

"Ellaria." The younger woman reaches out her hand to clasp Ellaria's quickly before moving to yours. "And my dear princess. Your attendance today is more comforting. Please, will you and Lord Stone join us?"

“If it is your wish, your highness.” Raeden assures her, puffing up proudly at being recognized by the queen.

"Yes," she smiles, and it is more sincere than you have seen from her in a week or more. "Most assuredly. The princess speaks mostly highly of you."

He knows that you would always speak highly of him because of your bond. However, he bows in front of Margaery and smiles. “Then I pray to the Seven I do not disappoint.”

"I do not believe you could." She answers magnanimously, indicating the chair to her other side for him to sit in.

Ellaria’s brow shoots up and she smirks at the way that the queen is obviously flirting with your soulmate and she can’t say that she hates the idea of the queen in bed. Her eyes find yours and she winks.

Determined not to react at all when there are surely eyes on you from all over the room, you clear your throat gently in Ellaria's direction. She has noticed something that you have not and you will be most interested to hear about it at the first break of the day.

She pats your hand and leans into your side, weaving her arm through yours to side companionably. Ready to sit out the day and see what sort of mess Tyrion Lannister has gotten himself into.

******

By the end of the day, you can feel your energy flagging and your concentration has wandered quite a lot. The midday break was spent having luncheon with the queen as she asked amiable questions about Raeden's training and his new House, as well as showing interest in the daughters Ellaria shares with the Prince. The news of what had happened with your mother had not reached her ears yet and you left it that way, not wanting to spoil the otherwise light conversation. Now that the day's proceedings are over with, though, you are more than glad to make your way back to your chambers with your soulmates and your lover and pretend that the rest of the world does not exist for a little while.

Oberyn keeps his arm around your waist and he pulls you close. "Perhaps we will have a quiet night, just the four of us." He suggests looking behind him to Raeden and Ellaria to see what they think.

"Perfect, lover." Ellaria coos, nodding in agreement. "It has been a taxing day and our expectant mother needs to rest and be pampered."

"You do not have to do anything special," you insist, though you are practically burying yourself in Oberyn's side at the same time. "It is enough to be able to spend time together. Without the difficulties of the day hanging over us."

"Some weak wine, some food, a comfortable bed and three sets of hands to massage your body doesn't sound like a good evening?" Your husband asks, sounding amused that you would turn down such a thing.

Even with your face in his shoulder, you cannot help the sheepish way you smile. "I said you did not have to, my love. That does not mean that I would turn you away if it is what you wanted."

"I will have Leyth bring us plenty of the princess's favorite foods." Raeden offers, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder softly.

"Thank you, love." One step past having accepted your feelings for your husband, it seems as though it is a title that you may use for all of your lovers without hesitation. "I am truly just glad to be able to spend tonight with the three of you. Today was more taxing than I could have expected."

"I know that it was." Ellaria tuts, clicking her tongue slightly as she remembers the horrid scene at the docks. "Now we will relax and make you think of more pleasant things."

"Raeden seems to have made friendly strides with Margaery," you report, letting yourself be led to the overly large chaise lounge that you have been favoring lately. "At least that went well."

"Yes, it seemed very friendly with the pretty widowed queen." Oberyn chuckles and he smirks at the other man. "It would be a young, ripe womb." He muses. "Attached to a very noble name."

"You cannot be seriously suggesting such a thing?" Raeden returns to the room with a dubious expression on his face and an amused shake of his head. "She is curious because you have given me a new House. That is all."

"Curious and desperate to leave this place." He shrugs slightly and opens the door to your rooms. "Something to think on, Dragon-Sun-Stone." He jokes.

"It is impossible to think on." He insists. Not because he finds the widowed queen unattractive by any means – after all, he has eyes – but because once again there is such an enormous difference in stature and he cannot imagine anyone being willing to give up such luxury as she must be used to in order to begin a brand new noble house.

“Says you.” Oberyn tells him. “Once her reputation is in shambles, she will be lucky anyone would wed her. And she knows it. She’s choosing that.”

"And for the life of me I cannot understand why." Raeden busies himself with watering down a cup of wine for you and pouring cups for everyone else.

“Because she will be forced to wed Tommen.” Oberyn answers. “And she knows that if another Baratheon dies, it will be her head as well.”

"Tommen?" His head whips up in concern. "He may be a king, but he is a child."

“That does not matter to a group where his father is his uncle.” Oberyn snorts.

"I hate to think of how far she is willing to stoop to dig her way out of that family," you accept your cup gratefully but sigh. "Not that I consider being bedded by my husband to be low, but to willingly throw her own reputation away? It is such a sacrifice and she should not have to do it."

Oberyn sends you a false pout and a huff. “Bedding me is an experience.” He corrects you, sending Raeden a wink. “Just wait until you find out.”

"One day soon." The chuckle Raeden lets out is lighthearted, something it could not have been even a few days ago. All the time that passes between the four of you makes things much more comfortable.

"So she intends to ruin her reputation and live a life free of restraint? That doesn't sound so terrible."

"Not precisely," you admit with a frown. "She intends to be caught with Oberyn so that she does not have to marry Tommen, but she will still have to marry someone one day. Her father will turn her out if she ends up a spinster."

Oberyn closes the door and smirks as he moves towards his lover and your soulmate. “A pity for one so pretty.”

"She has our hand of friendship." As Oberyn had instructed, you had offered her a place in Dorne if she needed safety. "I dearly hope that she will not end up needing it, but I have done what I can. Or at least, if there is any other help we can offer her, I cannot think of it."

“Enough about the queen.” Oberyn has bored of the conversation and is more interested in things between the foursome in the room. “Let us relax and enjoy our evening.”

"What would you rather talk about, lover?" Ellaria hums, setting herself down on the small extension beside your chaise with her own cup of wine.

“Soulmates.” He pours himself a cup now that everyone else has one and saunters over towards the group.

"Is that so?" You do your very best not to squirm or be visibly concerned, but Oberyn seems very pointed about his choice of discussion.

“Yes, it’s fascinating, isn’t it?” He drops onto the chaise beside you and curls around your body to rub your stomach.

"Possibly." Accepting the kiss that he places on your lips is easy, but you clear your throat gently afterward. "Are you thinking of the children, perhaps, husband? Of your daughters' soulmates?"

“Did you know that second soulmates are a possibility?” He asks the room, ignoring your questions.

"It...has never been documented." Ellaria's posture remains unbothered though her voice is tense.

"They speak of second soulmates in fairy stories," Raeden agrees quickly, before burying his face behind his wine. "To comfort those who have lost their soulmates too early."

“No, there are documented cases of second soulmates.” He notices how the other two are tensed up and he can read the guilt that flashes in their eyes. “Star went to the Citadel and was loaned a book on it. Interesting things.”

"How fascinating." Affecting an air of complete calm, Raeden offers you a smile now that he has gathered his own wits. "There is simply not any topic she can resist reading about."

“Yes. I read about it after everyone fell asleep.” Oberyn reveals. He had slipped from the bed easily and poured through the book. “I fear we have that in common.”

"Did a particular story intrigue you, lover?" Ellaria asks, a note of hope in her voice that this is simply some odd non-sequitur to tell you all what he had read in the maester's book.

“Several.” He admits, looking over at the woman who has shared a life with him for so long. “The ones that intrigued me most were the stories of having two soulmates at the same time. Apparently it is extremely rare, something the old gods and the new see fit to give very few people.”

"That sounds exceedingly rare," she agrees, focusing on her wine and glancing toward the door now and then, presumably to see if Leyth will appear with supper to be shared. "They must have been very interesting stories."

“They are. The thing that I have concluded is, that for a second soulmate to be possible, there must be a change of fate.” Oberyn tells you all, his eyes sharp and his mind whirling. He had admittedly been thinking more about the situation than the testimony today.

"That seems most unusual indeed." Although, you have to admit, it does make sense. For your situation, anyway. You have all had a rather extreme change of fate in the last few weeks.

“Yes.” He slides his hands up your body and cups your breast idly as he talks, as if he is not having the most serious conversation of his life with the people who mean the world to him. “There is no shame in having two soulmates. As long as everyone is comfortable with it.” His eyes turn to Ellaria and Raeden. “I am comfortable wearing Ellaria and Star’s marks, aren’t you, Stone?”

Raeden freezes momentarily, but he is not alone in that. You and Ellaria are also sitting stock still and staring at Oberyn with open mouths. "You–?" When Raeden manages to form a syllable again, he is fumbling in his seat and nearly spills his wine down his doublet. "You wear th–them both?" He gasps, needing to be absolutely sure that he has heard the prince correctly.

“As do you.” Oberyn says breezily, as if he is not only accusing Raeden of keeping secrets but revealing them at the same time. “It seems as if our little foursome is bound together in two different ways.” His shirt is easily pulled over his head and he twists around to reveal your marks on his back. “My soulmate and your soulmate are also soulmates, Star. As well as you and I.”

“When?” Ellaria asks, more demand in her voice than you would have expected. She is not angry so much as badly shaken, and trying to piece together every bit of information. “How long have you had them? How long have you known?”

“Our marks showed up just a few days ago. Right before the trial started.” He tells his lover. “I suspected yours a few days before that.”

“You suspected it even before?” That news flabbergasts you in your own right. But then – Oberyn’s intelligence should not be underestimated.

“My lover never is shy about exposing her body.” Oberyn tells you. “Fumbling for clothes, modesty, it is not in her nature.” He tuts, reaching out and stroking Ellaria’s arm. “Is it, my love?”

“And if I had claimed it was for the princess’s comfort?” There is no use in arguing the facts, but Ellaria is interested in whether or not Oberyn would have accepted that lie.

“You were worried she would be upset.” He’s already guessed as much. That the two of them feared your reaction to knowing that Raeden shared a bond as intimate as a soulmate connection with another. That you would feel like you were not good enough.

“It certainly would have been a shock,” you admit, looking down at your hands. “I may not have taken it very well at all…depending on when they had appeared. How quickly, I mean.”

“Yes.” Raeden nods, slightly sad. “Which is why we couldn’t tell you. We were afraid you would feel like I was abandoning you.”

Disappointed in yourself more than anything else, you give Oberyn a pleading look. “You cannot be cross with them for being correct.”

“I am not cross with them.” He reassures you, leaning in and brushing his nose against yours. “I understand the worry of someone you love. How we both chose to keep it quiet until we knew more.”

“So it is…” you sigh, glad to hear that the deep rumble of Oberyn’s voice is not anger. “That we each…have two soulmates…but we are not all soulmates?”

“Perhaps we could be soulmates, one day.” Ellaria hums, reaching out and taking your hand. Offering you a smile. “Just because we do not share marks does not mean our hearts do not belong to one another.”

“It is odd to think of gaining soulmates,” you admit, lacing your fingers through hers tightly. “But I know I do not love you less for not being my soulmate.”

“It is very telling that she worried about your feelings.” Oberyn adds, kissing your shoulder and sending his other soulmate a warm look.

Ellaria holds tight to your hand as she reaches over you, sinking into Oberyn’s welcoming embrace. She has despised keeping this secret from him despite thinking it was best for you, and now that the truth is out in the open she can feel her heart blossoming once more.

“Go to your lover, Star.” Oberyn whispers in your ear. “Let him know that you are not upset at him.”

Switching places with Ellaria is natural enough, and you take her place on the cushioned sofa beside Raeden to wrap your arms around him and press your forehead to his with a relieved sigh. "I could never be upset with you again, love. One fight was more than enough for us."

His own arms slide around you easily, his own sigh soft and relaxed now that you know. “I’m sorry, my love. I did not want you to think that I was moving on from you. I will never move on from you.” He vows softly, his words resolute.

"Our lives have changed in innumerable ways, my love." Raking your fingernails gently along the length of his neck and shoulders, you find yourself automatically climbing into his lap to be as close as possible. "We never could have known this would happen."

Now that the truth has been revealed, Raeden wants to touch you. To caress every inch of your body and map the new scars that adorn your skin. His lips press to yours frantically while his gentle hands start to work on the laces of your dress. He needs you, more than he needs to breathe and he hopes that you need him just as badly.

From somewhere in the back of your mind you can hear Oberyn's low chuckle and a sigh of pleasure from Ellaria, but all your focus is centered on Raeden at this moment. The solid bulk of him beneath you as he begins to pluck at the lacing of your dress is comforting and oh-so familiar, letting you sink into him all the more fully.

"Infuriating, aren't they?" Oberyn chuckles, having already pulled Ellaria's dress off her willowy frame and caressing her skin. "We will dress our princess in the most scandalous of dresses, perhaps she will roam Sunspear nude so we can just seat her on our cocks whenever we wish."

"Her favorite nightdress," Raeden mumbles, grinning as he pulls back from your lips to kiss along your neck even as he speaks to Oberyn. "Opens with just the slip of a tie. All her dresses should be like that."

“Hmmmm.” Ellaria’s lovely thigh is covered in a familiar scar, the same one that he had traced on you. “Yes. No undergarments. Ready to take us at a moment's notice.” He chuckles. “Though I wish to see what our girls will look like on both our cocks.”

"There is no need to wait to find that out," Ellaria coos, nimble fingers already loosening the ties of Oberyn's soft trousers after tossing away his boots. "That can be a sight for tonight and every night afterward that we desire."

Raeden groans and shakes his head. “If the prince would allow me, I wish to make love to his princess.”

“Does the princess herself have a say in this?” You raise one eyebrow to your husband but the smile tucked up into the corner of your mouth is for both men. Now that you have managed to conceive there is no reason to abstain for you from Raeden’s company and all of you know it.

“Of course she does.” Oberyn snorts. “As long as the maester is sure, I have no problem with my wife deciding what she wants tonight or any night.”

“Rhodestone had no hesitation.” The old man’s certainty had been near giddy, in fact, and his happiness infectious.

“He has called several pregnancies just by looking at the woman.” Oberyn tells you. “It is like a gift he has been given from the gods.”

“Then let us hope he is able to predict many more children for our extended family.” That is what you all are now – family. Tied together by love and loyalty, if not your marks.

“Hmmmm.” Oberyn hums, pleased by the idea and he captures Ellaria’s mouth with a searing kiss. Eager to touch her now that the secrets are no longer between them and he shudders when she presses a kiss to one of your scars.

Sounds of pleasure begin to fill the room in a creeping crescendo. With every taste of skin or loving caress, there is music added to the air. No moves are made to go to separate bedrooms. No flimsy gestures of modesty as the two pairs of soulmates – first soulmates, as you will now have to distinguish – strip each other bare and hold each other as close as human bodies will allow.

Ellaria’s hands tangle into Oberyn’s short hair and she moans into his mouth as she grinds down on his cock. “Are you satisfied, lover?” She breathes out. “Another child of your seed is firmly planted.” One hand leaves him to reach behind her, touching your shoulder and caresses it gently. “In such a lovely womb too.”

You hum as you pull away from Raeden even momentarily, and shiver when he starts to kiss Oberyn’s marks on your skin – ones he knows so well from Ellaria as well. “High praise from one so beautiful,” you return, turning your head to meet her lips next. She meets the kiss with a sigh and smiles against your lips. Her hand sliding around your cheek and down to your neck to anchor herself to you just as Oberyn slides inside her.

Swallowing her moan eagerly, you do not move from Ellaria’s kiss for a moment, but feel Raeden latch onto one of your nipples with eager enthusiasm and nip at the bud so that you will moan along with her. Raeden’s tendency is always to make sure you are dripping wet before he fills you to ensure you feel no discomfort, and he holds to it even now.

Raeden’s fingers are between your thighs, stroking your slit and wondering why he doesn’t feel envy. He’s not upset that Oberyn has put his child in you, he’s eager to see you round with the babe.

“Love—” Panting into Ellaria’s kiss, your hips rock into Raeden’s hand at a much less controlled pace than your hand as it pumps his cock. “You will not hurt me. Please, love.”

“What do you want, Princess?” He nips and kisses at your skin, unsure of how Oberyn has been seeing to your needs.

“As much as you are willing to give.” Breaking from Ellaria only long enough to look down at him, you still shiver at his touch even when it is light. “I have always found pleasure in some pain, my love. Please do not be afraid to take your pleasure from me. I am more than willing to give it.”

He frowns, trying to reconcile the woman that he knows with the woman in his arms now. “Are you sure, my love?”

"Entirely." He has always been careful with you. Treated you as though you might break if he were to use all his strength with you. But that strength is what you crave from him.

His grip on you tightens and he watches you carefully as he does. Wanting to make sure he doesn’t overdo it. Instead of flinching or making any kind of uncomfortable sound, you sigh out a moan and squirm against him eagerly. "More, love," you beg, waiting to see where his limit lies.

Raeden groans and squeezes your hip harshly. He has always worried about hurting you, knowing that he is strong and you have been so mistreated by your mother. To have you ask for a rougher touch has him feeling powerful as his cock twitches and he shoves his hand between your thighs and pushes two fingers into you quickly.

"Gods above." The sharpness of the feeling, the divine neediness of it, makes your body jolt and shudder in the best way. "Yes, love."

Your breathless praise makes him eager to hear more. “Yes?” His mouth trails south and when he wraps his lips around your nipple, he gives you the sharp sting of his teeth.

"Yes!" It stings divinely, making your body feel as though it is being set ablaze one sharp sensation at a time. "It is perfect, my love."

His fingers thrust ruthlessly into you as he continuously bites and sucks on your tits, pulling moans out and he can’t help but spurt pre-cum onto your hand. Turned on and confused, all he can do is give you more.

"It has been far too long," you groan out, only letting go of his length to savor the taste of him from your skin before returning to your greedy strokes. "Have missed feeling you inside of me."

“Mount me.” He is not above begging at this moment. “Take my cock as yours.”

"Gladly." Ellaria is already riding Oberyn beside you with unbridled enthusiasm, and you want nothing more in this moment than to keep the eagerness of the night rising. You shift in Raeden's lap so that you can be sure you are over his cock, then pull his hand away so you can plunge yourself onto him as if it were a personal goal to take all of him at once. And perhaps it is, if you are honest with yourself, because you keen rapturously at the overwhelming feeling of it.

Raeden nearly chokes, his grip on your body turning bruising as you quickly envelope him. Gasping out your name and his toes curl when you squeeze him.

Not having to hide your pleasure has taught you to explore volume, and you cry out happily when Raeden’s hips snap up instinctively to meet yours and end up pushing his length even deeper inside you. Riding him puts you in a position to determine your own pace, and you set one that is both energetic and sharp, making sure that every time you impale yourself on him it is a quick and decisive stroke that makes your grasping, soaking pussy squeeze him just as tightly as the first.

“Gods.” He moans, barely able to tear his eyes from your beautiful form to see Ellaria riding Oberyn with much the same enthusiasm. It’s positively sinful and he doesn’t know if he’s seen a more beautiful sight than this foursome.

“Pray to your lover,” Ellaria quips, leaning over to stroke your shoulder lovingly as she keeps her other hand buried in Oberyn’s curls. “She is goddess enough.”

He couldn’t agree more. “And your prince is a god among men.” He breathes. “One that I wish to serve.”

Leaning down to nip at Raeden’s ear, you moan into his neck and he thrusts up into you and nearly giggle at the delirious feeling of pleasure. “You will not be disappointed.” You can absolutely promise him that.

“Would you want to watch?” He asks breathlessly.

Drawing back from him slowly, with both of your hands cupping his jaw, and your eyes finding his in the candlelight, you nod seriously. “If you wish it. I would enjoy seeing your pleasure.”

Oberyn groans. “Gods, we will have our own orgy.” He vows. “Just the four of us.”

“We could have it anytime you want, husband.” With the revelation of what all of you mean to each other, your hesitations have fled. Nothing stands in the way of enjoying each other completely - at least not as far as you are concerned.

He groans and nods. His fingers tightening on his lover’s hips as he fucks up into her. “My star. My sun. My stone.”

"Right now you are both stone," you tease, grinding down in Raeden's lap and moaning loudly again when his hands push you down to take that much more of his length.

“Of course.” Raeden chuckles. “Two of the most beautiful women in the Seven Kingdoms are on our cocks.”

"You would both live like this." Ellaria muses aloud, her honeyed voice deeper and raspier with each thrust from Oberyn. "Walking around with us on your cocks for everyone to see how we writhe for you."

“You know me so well.” Oberyn grunts. “He would love it too, I know it. I have heard the sounds of your fucking.”

"Soon you will be the one to make him shout," Ellaria predicts without hesitation. She throws her head back and moans with genuine enthusiasm when Oberyn twitches inside her, obviously enjoying the thought of that immensely.

Raeden would have been embarrassed if he wasn’t so fucking turned on, unable to believe that he ever had any doubts of this union between you and the prince.

Grunts and groans take over again, a symphony of carnal pleasure as both men chase the fantasy of each other as well as the reality of the women who were bound to their souls from the very start. Every throaty cry and slap of skin is in perfect harmony and when you reach out to caress Ellaria's sweat-slicked side, she catches your fingers in her own and laces them together tightly. You will take this ride together, it seems to say, so you lean over to tangle yourselves up in a kiss as well.

The men watch, caught up in the beauty of the moment. Too far away from each other to engage in their own kiss, although Raeden’s lips ache with need. Instead, he concentrates on lavishing attention on your body. Sucking and kissing every inch of skin he can reach.

It is with Raeden’s unwavering attentions and the needy increase in his upward thrusts that you are the first to cum. It could have easily been poured into Ellaria’s kiss but you gasp for a breath — letting the sound of your shuddering moan out into the night air and calling Raeden’s name with it. So many silent encounters had marked the beginning of your relationship that it feels freeing and vulnerable in equal measure to cry his name into the nighttime the way you have been Oberyn’s.

“Beautiful.” Ellaria breathes out, watching you with dark eyes that are shining with lust and love. Free now that you know and approve, she feels as if a weight has been lifted. There was never a desire to do anything other than protect you.

"You will be next, love," Raeden rasps out, knowing that Oberyn will have her teetering on the edge of pleasure well before the prince himself lets go.

“Yes she will.” Oberyn hisses out, snapping his hips up harshly and digging his fingers into his lover’s thighs.

It is Ellaria’s cry that saturates the room this time, as her head drops back and she continues to bounce on Oberyn’s cock. Her throaty laugh of pleasure and delight is triumphant. Her unbridled joy at being in Oberyn’s arms again is obvious, but it does not keep her from reaching for you again the way you did for her – tangling your fingers together and squeezing your hands tight as her cries become higher and more breathless.

Oberyn groans her name, watching as your fingers knot together and hold tight. His worry that you and Ellaria would be at odds for the marks you bear is now non-existent. He closes his eyes and increases his own pace, eager to fill his lover again. He's enjoyed the sex with you, he's loved it, but he needs this connection with her.

The beauty of the moment is what causes you to slow your pace in Raeden's lap. Watching the two of them together is like watching art be created, with their passion and their love for each other shining through every moment of togetherness. There is no shame in watching, no discomfort or uneasiness, and you devour the sight in front of you with awe as Ellaria cums with a languid moan only for Oberyn to follow immediately after.

Oberyn's head tilts back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows after a loud moan. Throbbing as he spills deep within his lover's womb and he knows that it won't take. Not with her drinking her tea. "My sun, fuck, I love you."

Ellaria shudders, shaking above him, letting her entire body concentrate on the feeling of bearing down on his length and being flooded with his seed once more before she curls over and buries her face in his neck. "How I love you," she whispers, sighing happily against his hot skin.

Humming, his dark eyes slide over to Raeden. "Fill my princess up, lover." He commands the other man. While he might not have been intimate with him yet, it was only a matter of time.

Raeden takes the order for all he is worth, overlarge hands digging into the flesh of your hips as he pulls you down on to his length once more and sets a quick, needy pace. Watching the three of you come apart in front of him had his cock twitching and pulsing inside of you even when your movements were subtle.

"Turn her over." Oberyn grunts, watching while his cock softens inside Ellaria. "Take charge and fuck her like she needs to be fucked." He knows you enjoy a firmer touch and now that you are being honest, it's time for you to get what you need.

He never has before, and you look down at Raeden with your bottom lip between your teeth. "Would you, love?"

"I–I won't hurt the child?" He asks you and then looks towards your husband. The last thing he wants is to put Oberyn's heir in jeopardy. He's always heard ladies are delicate when they are expecting.

"Do not worry," Ellaria promises, now lying languidly in Oberyn's arms like a contented cat. "No cock in the world is long enough or sharp enough to harm the babe where she lies. And your love will have many more days of wanting all of us before she grows uncomfortable or too sensitive for physical pleasure."

He knows Ellaria would not mince words if she felt it was the wrong thing to do. Oberyn either. His own need to belong and do the right thing to make up for his bastardy still is an obstacle to overcome. He nods and his gaze darkens when he looks back at you, his jaw flexing and he gives himself a moment before he is flipping you onto your back and driving his cock back into you like a battering ram against a gate.

"GODS!" It happens almost too fast to realize what he is doing before you are on your back, sprawled out on the chaise with your head practically in Oberyn and Ellaria's laps. It is the kind of force you expect from your husband -- not from your paramour -- and to find them both capable of it makes you wish that Oberyn could be hard again immediately so you could be shared between them.

"Good, lover." Ellaria coos. "Make her scream for all the keep to hear. Show the kingdom how a good man fucks his girl."

His pace is near brutal, working you up again so quickly and mercilessly that you are crying out to the heavens in no time with a chant of his name over and over again. Even with Ellaria’s nimble fingers plucking at your aching hard nipples and Oberyn’s hand hovering tantalizingly close to your throat, it is praise for Raeden that has your mind blurry and your senses muddled. The only thing that matters is that you get to feel him fill you again, and this time when he does you will be exhausted and cock drunk in bliss.

“Cum in your lover, my stone, and I will lick it out of her.” Oberyn vows, watching the man’s ass flex and his muscles ripple as he fucks you. Enjoying the lewd and titillating sight.

With a promise like that, Raeden cannot help himself. His thrusts turn frantic after fewer than a dozen more, his pace faltering and your strangled praises becoming breathless keens of pleasure until the single bare thread of control he has left snaps and he buries his cock deep inside you one more time. A flood of his seed fills every crevice in your body - and every inch of you sings for him as he slumps against you a moment later.

Oberyn and Ellaria on top of him, shuffle closer as he caresses Raeden’s back. Enjoying the fucked out look on both of your faces and he hums in pleasure at what will be later. Raeden turns his head and the prince grips his chin to urge him to lift up. Pressing his lips to the other man’s in a sensual exchange. Many fraught days have brought the four of you here, but now that all has been revealed it will be a smoother course for your intertwined souls.

______

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[wardenparker]

The Viper's Bride - ch 14

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid. This is a MMFF polycule, folx. Get on board or don't click to keep reading. Pregnancy!* Threats, anger, threats of violence (specifically), classism, degrading language. FFM threesome, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pregnant sex, rough sex, cum eating. Summary: An announcement, a decision, a reaction, and a development. After the events of this day, none of your lives will be the same. Notes: This is, of course, an au. So we have adapted the events of season four to be as true to the plot as possible while also working for the story we want to tell. I hope you enjoy!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13

Each step forward this morning feels heavy to Raeden, who is amused at his own surprise over how much he wishes he was still in bed with his bride. He and Margaery had almost fallen into bed upon the group's return to the keep last night, taken aback by the shock of the charge in their first kiss as man and wife. This morning Leyth had woken them last and left the room with an expression made of pure amusement, finding the couple wrapped in each other instead of the blankets had been a boon of practicality. Any question of the marriage's consummation could be answered by the first-hand witness account of your maid.

"Mace Tyrell will be angry, shouting." Oberyn reminds him, smirking slightly at the expression on the other man's face. Margaery Tyrell – Sunstone's – cunt must be magical to make the man forego his duty with such a woeful expression on his face. Although the idea of having everyone together had been sweet, it was necessary to establish the legality of the marriage without any dispute first. A night with all five of their group in bed would come soon enough. "However, in his heart, he is a coward." He snorts. "Grasping at favors like a rat and scampering away when heavy boots thud around the table."

“It is not Mace Tyrell I worry about,” Raeden admits. Though he is not precisely keen to inform his unwitting father-in-law of the elopement, Raeden has enough wits to understand that Olenna Tyrell is the true head of his wife’s family. “Tywin will not be pleased to lose out on the Tyrell fortune.”

"Tywin thinks that you are my little pet," Oberyn grunts in amusement. "Perhaps a lover I have taken out of boredom and bestow favors upon." He shakes his head. "It is why you have been allowed in the Small Council sessions, he believes that you are soon gone and will no longer be of consequence." Oberyn knows his reputation and what the elder Lannister would think, using it and him for his own ends. Now there is no question of Raeden's position and it is another stab at the Lannisters. This time in their pockets.

“Yet, I am the only one you have not fucked yet.” Chuckling ruefully at that fact, Raeden walks steadily beside Oberyn and shakes his head as he goes. It is only a matter of time for them, and Oberyn has been respectful of Raeden’s past troubles with male lovers.

"I have not fucked your pretty wife." He points out, smirking slightly as they walk shoulder to shoulder. "Tell me, how was her cunt last night? Was it tight and wet for you?"

“All the stable boys and knights and soldiers all moaning for their queen at night would not have been disappointed.” Despite chuckling, though, Raeden puts one hand into his pocket as they walk and fiddles with his wife’s favourite handkerchief. She had given it to him this morning as a token of proof if her father did not believe what they had done. He has a wife. That truth still sits foreign on Raeden’s tongue.

"Then I do not feel guilty for having both of your soulmates on my face and cock last night." Oberyn teases, knowing full well both men wear the marks and in a strange way are also bound to each other. He catches the tender expression that flashes across Raeden's face and understands it. How that he has made his own vows and discovers that he does not dread it as much as he thought he would. "It will be a good union, perhaps a loving one in time." He predicts, wrapping his arm around the new husband's broad shoulders. "I have a good feeling about this."

Down the hall and around a corner, the other two judges, such as they are, are already waiting in the throne room when Oberyn and Raeden stroll in with broad smiles and good humor. “Oberyn.” Tywin Lannister raises one eyebrow in surprise. “You are early.”

“Early because there is a matter that needs to be discussed before the meeting and trial.” He announces before he looks to Raeden. “Lord Sunstone has taken a wife.”

“How…fortunate.” Tywin cannot see immediately why this matter is of any concern to him, but he forces his expression into a thin-lipped smile and nods to the elevated bastard. “You are to be congratulated, then?”

“Many thanks.” Raeden knows that sentiment will be soured when they find out who he married. He turns towards Mace and reaches into his pocket. “I hope there will be no harsh feelings for the quickness of the marriage, but your daughter is safe and content in my chambers.” He tells the man as he pulls out the handkerchief.

“My daughter?” Mace huffs out a condescending laugh of ridicule without so much as glancing at the fabric in the bastard noble’s hand. “You must be a greater dullard than I thought, boy.” Bolstered by Tywin standing just over his shoulder, Mace Tyrell knows no fear. “Margaery is a queen, not a bed-warming whore. Some girl has tricked you into a fool’s vow claiming to be a Tyrell.”

“It is true.” Oberyn bristles at the insult, far more than even Raeden does, since he was the one to appoint him as a lord. “I witnessed their vows myself and the former queen eagerly spoke her vows before the maester and the Seven.”

“It is not possible.” The man’s round eyes widen before instantly squinting, and he bolts forward to snatch at the token that Raeden keeps just out of his reach. Margaery’s monogram is unmistakable in the corner, done up in green thread by her own mother’s hand. “It is not possible!” Mace howls, his face turning deep pink and then red as confusion turns to fury. If his daughter has actually eloped, he is ruined. “This is a trick!”

“Miracles abound.” The prince snorts, amused by the older man’s tantrum. “If it is a trick, then it was a vivid one, considering my servant saw your daughter using Lord Raeden as her personal pillow this morning, still perched on his cock in sleep.” He smirks as he looks towards Lord Tywin. “Tired herself out on her husband’s cock it seems.”

Lannister, who has pursed his lips once so far but said nothing, watches with careful eyes as Mace storms around the room in circles for a moment before doubling back to him with drawn terror on his greasy little face. “It cannot have been allowed.” He insists, staring up at the much taller Tywin in horror. “I did not allow it! I would never allow it! She will be brought to heel and returned to you, Tywin. As promised.”

“And break the laws of the kingdom?” Instead of Oberyn speaking up, it is Raeden. “Once a marriage is blessed by the maesters and consummated, it negates any contracts or agreements made prior.” He reminds the Small Council members. “You no longer have the power to do so, Lord Tyrell.”

“You are a flea.” Mace Tyrell may be half of Raeden Sunstone’s height, but he points a finger up at him like he’s scolding a street urchin. “You are a boil on my ass and I will see you in a cell right next to Tyrion’s for this!” With a face redder than a ripe cherry, Mace Tyrell storms from the chamber headed for the gods-only-know-where, muttering and flailing his hands all the way.

“That went very well.” Oberyn chuckles. “Don’t you think?” He asks Raeden, knowing the man is slightly flustered at the ire of his new father-in-law.

“It certainly went differently than expected,” admits Raeden, who had prepared himself to be attacked bodily if Mace reacted poorly.

“It was unwise, Oberyn.” Tywin warns him in a grave voice. “Most unwise.”

“What? Only the Lannisters can make deals that benefit them?” Oberyn asks, lifting a brow haughtily. “I think that you are upset your golden goose has been plucked.”

Tywin’s thin lips become a nearly flat line and he narrows his eyes at Oberyn. “It goes without saying that your place on the Small Council has been rescinded for this stunt.”

The response is not what Tywin must have expected. With a causal shrug, Oberyn smirks. “That is agreeable with me.” He hums and narrows his eyes slightly. “You meet too early for me.”

“You have stuck your nose and your pet mongrel in where they do not belong.” Heat rises in Lannister’s voice, a low rumble that would have most others trembling instantly. “What good do you think the throne will ever do for Dorne now?”

“Why do you think Dorne needs the throne?” His amused demeanor drops and his eyes darken dangerously. “We have not bent the knee. Do not forget, Lannister, that you need us to be the Seven Kingdoms.” He growls, the threat clear in his voice.

“What invasion could be withstood? What negotiations will end in your favour? What mercy will your people find when they are left without the resources they rely on from the North?” The steady rolling rumble of Tywin Lannister’s voice echoes through the room, bouncing off each wall and making it sound as though he were everywhere. “Whatever you promised Margaery, rescind it now. Your bastard’s bride-napping may yet go unnoticed.”

“You wouldn’t.” Oberyn counters. “Because it would be admitting that your Lords are not capable of being managed.” He tells him. “That your hold on the throne is not as iron fisted as you would have it believed.” His own blood is starting to boil now, the insults to Dorne, the threats, pissing him off. “We will simply turn our trade to Bravos,” he counters. “Our spices and silks will be sent across the Narrow Sea. Dorne is not threatened by you, or your armies.”

******

The rising voices, the tension, the anxieties in the air, the building anger means more things than just another spat between the Martells and Lannisters. It means tensions rising for the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. It could go as far as war, if things turn violent. But more immediately, for the man awaiting yet another day of his trial in a cell several yards down the hallway, it means a heighten possibility of certain death very soon. If his father is angry and the opinion of his trial’s only reasonable judge is moot? Then Tyrion Lannister is headed for the executioner’s block. Tyrion stretches as close as his chains will allow, trying to hear as much of the conversation as possible.

“That don’t sound good for you.” The portly, slovenly jailer had been another insult for Tyrion. Someone who could barely see his dick over his fat belly couldn’t possibly chase down a healthy, whole man. But Tyrion wasn’t a normal sized man. And the guard set to escort him to and from the trail reminded him of that.

Tyrion’s eyes roll so far back in his head that they almost disappear, and he huffs. No, it does not sound good for him at all. “Hardly anything involving my father is ever good for me,” he says instead.

“Fighting with that Dornish pig.” He grunts. “Nothing good comes out of Dorne but the whores.”

“I would advise you not to say that within earshot of the Red Viper,” Tyrion advises rather drolly.

“What’s he gonna do? Fuck me to death?” The jailer snorts, his amusement making him cough until he hacks up a thick wad of phlegm that he spits at Tyrion’s feet. “I ain’t a goat.”

Grimacing animatedly only to end up rolling his eyes at himself this time, Tyrion gains a half-inch more toward the bars of his cell and leans over. His father’s threats are clear and the prince’s replies are steadily hushed, although his tone is clear enough. “It is time,” he lies, turning to the guard and gesturing. “Bring me in.”

“I didn’t hear nothing.” The guard protests but Tyrion snorts.

“My father will have your head removed if you fail to do your duty.” He reminds him, making the man grimace. He has no love for Tywin Lannister, but he doesn’t want to die because of him.

“On your feet!” He barks, grinning as Tyrion struggles to his feet in the heavy chains.

The usual ruckus and chaos of onlookers is absent when the guard lumbers past the end of the hallway and into the throne room and he grunts as he shoves Tyrion forward. “What is this?” Tywin barks out, barely even glancing down at his youngest child.

Oberyn hums in amusement, settling back in his chair. While Tywin may have kicked him off the Small Council, he cannot kick him off the trial now, and he knows it. “It is your son.” He muses. “You do not recognize him? Perhaps because he is covered in filth and shit from where you threw him in the dungeon.”

"And a good morning to you, too, your Grace." As much of a farce as this entire trial may be, Tyrion is still glad of Prince Oberyn's presence in the proceedings. The trouble will be if his father decides to bring a swift end to things and ignore the prince's opinions in the verdict.

"What is this?" Tywin repeats, annoyance building on top of anger in his tone. "What is it you want, Tyrion? Unless you have come to confess, I will not hear anything from you."

"Yes, Father. I'm guilty." Tyrion's tone is not one of dismissal or of anger, but one of a measured response, and that catches Oberyn's attention. "Guilty. Is that what you want to hear?"

Startled, Tywin's eyebrows knit together. "You admit you poisoned the king?"

"No, of that I'm innocent." Tyrion may be many things, but the least of them all is a fool. "I'm guilty of a far more monstrous crime. I am guilty of being a dwarf."

Wholly annoyed with his son's dramatics, Tywin huffs so deeply that he nearly implodes. "You are not on trial for being a dwarf."

"Oh, yes, I am. I've been on trial for that my entire life." Tyrion contends seriously.

Tywin pinches the bridge of his nose. "If you have nothing to say in your defense, you will go back to your cell until it is time for the trial to begin."

"I did not kill Joffrey." Tyrion holds up both hands in a sort of show of innocence, but also defense. He is headed toward a point, and he will make it sooner rather than later. "I wish I was the monster you think I am. I wish I had the stark fortitude of will to do away so decisively with my enemies. I would gladly give my life to see that justice done. But I will not give my life for Joffrey's murder, and I know I'll get no justice here." Studying his father's face intently and seeing the intrigue there, Tyrion is sure there is a chance this may work. "So I will let the Gods decide my fate." A sure, steady breath enters his body and he squares his shoulders. "I demand a trial by combat."

Oberyn leans forward, intrigued by the notion and it is obvious from the ridged disapproval on his face, that another of Tywin’s schemes that has not gone his way, his careful plotting unraveled by the son he had always secretly despised.

"You know who Cersei will appoint her Champion." Tywin nearly twitches as the idea settles into his bones, disliking every moment of his cursed imp son's clever mind. Why could that cleverness not have gone to Jamie where it could be useful?

“And I will have my own champion.” Tyrion answers dismissively, even though his list of allies dwindles as the days pass and his lack of gold backing him is made obvious.

"Who?" Tywin chortles with unfettered glee. "That useless squire of yours? I thought you finally set him free."

“There is someone who will fight for me.” Tyrion insists, though he knows that Bron would not. He does not have enough coin to pay him.

"How much time will you give him to find someone?" Raeden asks, aghast at everything that has happened in a mere five minute span.

Tywin seems to consider this, frowning down at his son for a long moment before speaking again. "Whatever the length of time is that it will take Clegane to arrive in King's Landing."

“Gregor Clegane?” Oberyn’s voice is soft, piercing through the tension like a whip.

"Who else would my sister appoint to be her Champion?" Tyrion asks, mostly rhetorically. "She cannot appoint our brother, can she?" After all, Jamie's missing hand is a damper on his swordplay. Otherwise Tyrion would have appointed his brother himself. Still, Tyrion looks to Jamie standing silently in the corner with sympathy. He knows what it is to be unwanted and wishes that Jamie never had to learn.

Oberyn hums, a vicious little growl in the back of his throat. Thrilled that the opportunity has finally presented itself. “I will be your champion.” He tells Tyrion, his voice clear and firm.

"You— what?" Both Lannisters ask together, heads snapping up toward the Dornish prince. Even Raeden is staring, although he is imagining the terror on your and Ellaria's faces rather than expressing surprise at Oberyn's choice. He understands perfectly why the choice is being made.

"I will fight for Tyrion Lannister." He repeats, settling back into his chair with an air of supreme victory. "And kill your Mountain." He warns Tywin. "It is fortunate that you have been so accommodating in arranging our conversation. I was starting to think that you had deceived me." He offers with a small pout.

A man does not get a nickname like the Red Viper of Dorne without earning it, and although Tyrion has never seen Oberyn Martell fight, he knows his reputation. The man is as likely to win a fight as he is to be successful in a seduction – and he has fucked half of Westeros.

For his part, Tywin is seething, but the only way to tell is his eyes. If looks could kill there would be no need for champions at all — Tywin would simply strike his son down here and now. “Take him away,” he growls to the jailer, striking out one bony finger to indicate that he wants Tyrion as far away from him as possible.

Jamie Lannister is perhaps the only person in the entire room that seems genuinely upset, his eyes filled with genuine worry for the brother he has always tried to protect from the wrath of his sister and father. His deal with his father now useless, he turns and strides out of the room with a swish of his white cloak.

******

“You are sure you can win?” Raeden is at Oberyn’s side with worry painted over his every feature in the swift walk to your chambers. If anything happens to Oberyn, he cannot think of how profoundly it will devastate you and Ellaria.

"Extremely." Oberyn boasts confidently. "I have been in the fighting pits in Mereen, against much better opponents than Gregor Clegane." He spits the name out like a curse. "His size is what wins him his battles but I have the agility he does not."

“Size can often be enough.” Raeden himself is not a small man, but nowhere near the size of the legendary Mountain. “They say he can crush a man’s skull in with his bare hands, Oberyn. That is not to be taken lightly.”

"I do not intend to make light of it." He reassures him. "I intend to make him confess his crimes in front of all of King's Landing before I kill him."

“Revenge for your sister and a swift trip back to Sunspear.” Even when Raeden nods, it is with a heavy heart.

"Tywin Lannister ordered the murder of my sister, a crowned Princess of Dorne." He reminds Raeden. "Would you not do the same if it had been Star's fate?" He asks quietly.

Raeden’s eyes darken, the gruffness in his voice obvious. “I would burn the world down if it took her from us.”

“Then you understand.” Oberyn grunts. “I must do this. But I will not fail.” He smirks. “My bite is much worse than his.”

When Raeden pushes open the door to the chambers now shared by seven people, they are considerably fuller than they were even last night. Trunks piled in the corner that he has never seen before say that you and Ellaria must have taken Margaery to retrieve her things from her grandmother while he was speaking to Mace Tyrell with Oberyn. A very clever decision on your part – you will only have dealt with Olenna Tyrell this way.

"How did my father take the news?" Her grandmother had been surprised, but she had smirked and patted her hand in a way that let Margaery know that she approved of her granddaughter's rash decision.

"Apparently..." Raeden sighs, but happily puts his arms around his wife when she steps closer to him. "I am a flea for stealing you away from him." He shrugs, his mind having moved on to other things since being shouted at by the red-faced little man. "How did your grandmother take it?"

"She did not say much, but—" her smile is bright and conspiratorial. "She is pleased. I am out of my father's and the Lannister's clutches." Her hands brace on his chest and while she would sink into his arms, she pushes him back slightly so she can take his hand and drag him over to one of the larger chest. "She has sent this with me, promising that the rest will be ready for when we sail to Dorne."

Curiosity is a powerful thing, and Raeden raises one eyebrow at Margaery before lifting the heavy lid of the trunk she has indicated. Jewelry, coin, silver and gold trinkets, luxurious fabrics, and assorted pieces of armor fill the large wooden vessel and he sucks in a sharp breath. “She—she gave you your dowry?” In truth, he had not expected to see it. Having eloped with Margaery, he had assumed that her family would deny him the fortune that had been offered to the Lannisters along with her hand. But it appears he was wrong.

"A portion of it." She clarifies. "There are six other trunks that are bigger than this one." She snorts. "Seven trunks of gold for the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms." She had scoffed at the irony. "Along with another seven trunks of silks, seven of weapons, and seven of silver."

"So this is...a sampling?" His eyes widen at the implications of that – of all the riches that she has brought to the infancy of their House. He knew it would be a great deal, but clearly he had underestimated the wealth of House Tyrell.

"My grandmother has a gift for keeping our wealth quiet, especially when my father wishes to flaunt it." She purses her lips. "But over the course of the years, House Tyrell has accumulated more wealth than the Lannisters have in their coffers." She admits. "Robert Baratheon was a wasteful man."

"Kings have that habit." You murmur from behind them, surprising even yourself with how much you enjoy the sight of them side by side. "Forgive me for interrupting, but would someone like to tell me why my husband breezed through the room and shut himself away without a word to any of us?" Oberyn's face had held determination and an utter expression of being pleased with himself, but he had walked straight through your quarters and shut himself out on the balcony and is now pacing the length of it with determination.

Guilt at forgetting the most important part of today floods Raeden and he drops Margaery's hand to rush towards you and gasps your shoulders. "My love, I—" He starts and chokes up for a moment before he clears his throat. "The trial is over." He tells you quietly. "Tyrion invoked trial by combat when it became clear that he would not get a fair judgement."

"And trial by combat will be more fair?" The deep concern etched into his face brings your heartbeat to a near panic almost immediately. "But why should that upset Oberyn so? It means we can go home."

"The Lannister's champion is Gregor Clegane." He murmurs softly. "The Mountain." His hands drop to yours and he squeezes gently, bracing for you to understand. "We are not going home."

"Oh no." Turning away from him immediately, you push through to the other chamber of your quarters and practically shout Ellaria's name to get her attention before moving through to the door of the balcony. The wooden doors have glass panels where you can see Oberyn moving with grace and determination – as though he were prowling out there instead of walking back and forth. "Oberyn, unlock the doors," you insist, knocking on them loudly after you find that they will not pull open. The latch on the outside of the doors never made sense to you until this moment, and now you curse it.

Ellaria's graceful pose on the settee abandoned when she hears the distress in your voice, she rises and quickly crosses the room to where you are rattling the costly glass as you bang on it. "What is wrong?" She demands, her breath catching when she sees the stiffness in her lover's back, the determination in his gain. "What did he do?" She gasps.

"He's going to get himself killed," you gasp, feeling a little like you cannot fill your lungs properly. "Oberyn, open the door!"

Oberyn pauses, looking towards the door and his eyes flash, conveying that he knows that you are aware of his plan. He turns and continues his pacing as he plots, thinks about his next moves. About the confrontation to come.

"Tyrion demanded a trial by combat," you tell Ellaria, already feeling the tears fill your eyes as true terror and worry set in one wave at a time. "And the Lannisters have The Mountain."

"Gods be damned." Ellaria whispers, her own dread crashing through her like a wave and for a moment, she sways on her feet. She's aware of Raeden and Margaery out of the corner of her eye, but she cannot muster any thought but of what will come. "He is fighting for Tyrion."

"He is fighting for Elia." There is no need to state the obvious, but you cannot help yourself. The tears are flowing freely even if they are silent, and you can feel yourself shaking with nerves.

Ellaria sighs softly, her own fears pushed aside as she wraps her arms around your shoulders. You need to be calm, for the baby. “Come my love.” She murmurs softly. “He will not talk until he is ready.” She knows his habits and of this, she is certain. “Let me get you some tea and we can sit.”

"Oberyn!" They will have to forcibly remove you from the other side of this door and there is hardly any chance of calm finding you soon. Of course you understand the need to avenge his sister's murder, but if attempting it will leave nine children fatherless then is that worthwhile?

Margaery moves to your other side. “Come.” She urges softly. “It cannot be good for the baby.” Her hand wraps around your arm and she tugs you gently.

It is a broken half-sob that cracks through you, making you fold in half at the door. Everything has come to such a measure of happiness and now it stands on the brink of ruin. It is only because of Ellaria and Margaery that you do not collapse into a heap on the floor. The older woman bearing most of your weight as she carries you away from the glass, Raeden rushing over to take you from her and cradle you in his arms.

Raeden all but carries you to the bed, laying you down to cry on the pillow instead. Fear – pure, unadulterated fear – courses through every inch of your body as you lay there, unable to think of anything but the possibility of losing him. Your husband. The father of your unborn child. Your soulmate. What will become of all of you and the promises that have been made if Oberyn dies reaping his revenge from his sister's killer?

Margaery is the first to lay down. Knowing how upset you are and wishing to offer you some small comfort. “He must have a plan.” She coos, stroking her hand over your hair while you cry.

"What can one plan against a Mountain?" Overwhelmed with fear, you barely shake your head. For someone who has grown up with great violence in your life, the idea of it now is terrifying. When the people in your life have been in danger – your brothers, or Brynna, Raeden, or even Margaery? You have done everything in your power to help them. You cannot be of help to Oberyn in a fight to the death.

“Our lover, our soulmate would not champion this fight if he didn’t not know he could win.” Ellaria is angry at Oberyn as well, but she knows he will not yield in this. The best thing she can do is support him and encourage you to do the same. “He is clever and quick, fierce. He would not fight if he thought he would leave our children without a father.”

"I cannot control the tears." Begging her to understand, desperately hoping that the one other woman in the room to have experienced pregnancy will know this feeling, you cling to Ellaria's hand. "Or the fear in my heart."

“I have fear too.” She confesses quietly, wrapping her lithe body around your back. “Do not doubt it, but I know he will do this, even if we do not approve.”

It is not for you to approve or disapprove of. You know that. This is something that he must do, for himself and for Elia. In his shoes you know you would do the same. But that does not keep you from weeping at the possibility of losing him.

Raeden watches, feeling helpless as you cry so he turns to the doors out onto the ledge, hoping Oberyn might talk to him. It is not likely the prince will entertain any argument whatsoever against his choice, but it is not Raeden’s intent to talk him out of his vow. Just to simply get him to talk.

The knock on the door makes Oberyn pause again, seeing Raeden on the other side, and his eyes slide past him to the bed where Ellaria and Margaery are laying with you. Clenching his jaw as he strides to the door, he wonders if you have sent your other soulmate to talk him out of his duty to his family. Talk to me. Raeden mouths through the window, not wanting to shout and startle you more. He has seen how screaming can panic you after incidents with your mother.

For a moment, he considers ignoring the man, to continue to plot by himself, but the concern in his eyes makes him flip the bar to allow the doors to be pushed open. “You will not change my mind.” He warns the younger lord.

“It is not my intent to try.” Raeden steps out onto the balcony and lets the door shut again behind him. “But tell me you have a plan.”

“I do.” Oberyn nods as he looks out over the city below the keep. “They will make it very public, an event.” He muses, a trace of a chuckle in his tone. “They will wish to make an example of him, and me.”

“And you will make them wish they had not?” He guesses, seeing the fire in Oberyn’s eyes.

“I will get my confession if it must force it from him one slice at a time.” He growls with satisfaction. “For all of King’s Landing to hear. Tywin Lannister’s sins will be laid bare.”

“I know you are determined. With good reason.” Raeden’s hand twitches but he does not reach out. Oberyn is pacing like a caged animal and may bite. “And we are not of a mind to change that.” He swallows a plaintive sound. “But you have two soulmates afraid of losing you,” he tells Oberyn plainly. “Your wife is inconsolable at the idea.”

Your words burn into his brain and he sighs after a moment, looking back towards the door. “I—” he pauses and he knows that you are different from Ellaria, you have not seen him fight before. “I will talk to her.” He tells Raeden, stepping closer and reaching out to cup the man’s neck to drag him closer for a kiss.

It is fierce, and a little surprising, but Raeden does not fight the moment of intimacy. Instead he presses into it and nips at Oberyn’s bottom lip before letting him go. Oberyn growls, the urge to strip Raeden down right here and burn off the extra energy fucking him nearly makes him reach for his belt, but he has a soulmate, two soulmates to reassure. He doesn’t hesitate to reach down and cup the other man’s cock, feeling it twitch in his hands. “Soon.” He promises.

Ellaria is the only one of the three of you facing the door, and she sighs in relief to see Oberyn striding back into the room even as your tears have started to calm. They seem to come in waves and right now the flow is ebbing.

He doesn’t urge Margaery to move, but he reaches over her for you. Pulling you up and into his arms. Upset at himself now that he’s not solely focused on his revenge at how distressed you are. “My moon and stars.” He coos softly, cupping your chin. “Why are you crying like you are mourning me?”

"Practice." You sniff, curling against his chest and clutching his robe.

“You will be practicing for a long time.” He warns you, a chuckle at your pouting tone threatening to bubble out of him. His lips press into your hair and he cradles you close. “Why do you insult me by believing it is my time to die?”

"I do not—" Sucking in a breath makes you shudder, and you shake your head against his chest. "Mean to insult you, love. It is—I—I am afraid for you."

“I am not going to die at the hands of Gregor Clegane.” He promises you. “I will die old and decrepit in our bed, after many more children and years together.” He hums. “I will hold our child in my arms as she slips from your womb.”

"They say he cannot be beaten." You have heard the tales of The Mountain as well as everyone else in Westeros, and despite having also heard tales of Oberyn's prowess as a fighter, you cannot help the way you have reacted. "And they say you cannot be beaten. Surely one of those is wrong."

“He is large and lumbering. I have the advantage of speed and skill because I do not rely on brute strength alone.” He tells you, rubbing your back gently. He is trying to reassure all of you.

“I—I am— forgive me.” Logic and reason dictate that he is correct. That speed and agility may be enough to work against an enormous foe in one-to-one battle. And even though logic and reason are not your ruling bodies right now, you can see the merit in that argument. “I do not mean to doubt you. I only— I cannot bear the thought of being without you.”

“It is okay to be worried.” He will not make light of your fears, but he will remind you that he has no intention of dying. He nuzzles against your jaw and presses a soft kiss to your skin. “I have every intention of poisoning the bastard as well.” He admits quietly.

That makes your head snap up, eyebrows furrowed, and lips parted in surprise, though you are not sure why. It is a good plan. A very clever plan, in fact. To be as qualified with and knowledgeable of poisons as he is, it would almost be folly not to use them. “You—you will?”

“They do not call me the Red Viper for naught, my love.” He reminds you quietly. “From the first strike, Gregor Clegane will die. Every time he will swing his sword or axe, he will work the poison closer to his heart.” He smirks. “That is where being quick and agile works in my favor.”

Foggy from tears and fear, your mind is slow to grasp the concept but once you arrive at it, you gasp. “All you have to do is wear him out. The poison will do the rest?”

“Exactly, my love.” He hums, happy that you have worked it out. “While I trick him into confessing his part in my sister’s murder and who gave the order.”

Though the realization does not instantly dry your tears, it does have you sniffling and burying your face against his chest all over again. “When, my love? When is all this meant to happen?”

“It will be within the next week.” He doesn’t know exactly when, but he can’t imagine Tywin delaying it longer than necessary. “As soon as the Mountain arrives to King’s Landing.”

Both of your arms creep around him, holding tight to the man who has changed your life irrevocably and so much for the better. “Once it is over, I hope we never have to return to King’s Landing again.”

“That would be my fondest wish.” Oberyn chuckles, allowing you to hold tight to him as he looks over at his other soulmate and reaches for her. “Come.”

Ellaria is better at hiding her fear. She has more practice and has seen him through many more battles than you – both big and small. But even she sighs with relief to sit up from the bed and press a kiss to his palm. “If you do not return with us I will find a way to make sure your baby is a boy and convince your princess to name him Oberyn,” she threatens half-heartedly, knowing from conversations many years past that he hates the idea of naming a child after himself.

“You would not dare.” He groans, sending her a narrowed eyed gaze, playful in nature.

“I will.” She promises, wrapping her arms around both of you in turn. “As sure as the sun rises each morning.”

“Then it is settled.” He huffs, leaning in to press his lips to hers. “I will not die; I will make sure that my newest child is not be named after me.”

“Is that all it takes?” You huff, playfulness edging your still-worried voice as you kiss both of them easily. “A threat?”

“I am simple man.” He teases, winking at you before he squeezes you gently. “Do not worry yourself sick, my love.”

“I promise I will not show my fear out there.” Glancing to the windows and at King’s Landing below, you bite back a sigh. It will be imperative to present yourselves as united, strong, and confident when the time comes.

“A little fear is not unrealistic.” He reminds you. “I just do not want you to make yourself ill. You have the baby to think of.”

“And so do you.” The tears, thankfully, are beginning to dry. And as with all other times in this pregnancy, it seems, you have become rather exhausted from the efforts of shedding them.

“I know, Star.” He rocks you slightly against his body and despite the earliness of the day, you are already starting to wilt from the exertion of your tears. “Do you wish to nap, my love?”

Pursing your lips at him, you wrinkle your nose for good measure and sigh in defeat. “Only if you promise not to make any more life or death decisions while I am tucked in.”

“I promise that I will run any other decisions by you before they are made.” He promises. “Do you want to lay down by yourself, or would you like one of us to stay with you?”

“It would be selfish to ask someone to stay.” And with the display you just made, the last thing you want is to show more selfishness. “I am sure you all have more entertaining things to do than lay with me in the dark.”

“I am feeling exhausted.” Margaery is not tired, but you have been such a rock for her, that if she can lay down with you to be some small comfort, she will. “Would you mind if I shared your nap with you? I know that we are not intimate yet, but maybe you would not mind?”

“Fifteen minutes ago you were practically giddy for Raeden to return.” Skepticism aside, you do offer her a half smile when Oberyn puts you back in bed beside your other soulmate’s wife. “But all the same…I would dearly appreciate the company.”

“Good.” She sends you a small smile and settles against the cushions. “We will have a nice rest and then we can settle on what we will do for the rest of the day.”

“Nothing too public, I should think.” As word gets out that Margaery has married again – and that it was not to Tommen Baratheon – you expect there will be a few days at least where she ought to lay low.

“No, nothing public. But perhaps we can go through my clothes to see what I will need to discard before we get to Dorne?” She asks, look at you as you both lie down.

“That would be a good idea,” Ellaria agrees with an encouraging nod. “Both of you can surely donate your heavier gowns to some less fortunate ladies and it will be less to travel with.”

“Yes, will we have the noon meal delivered to the rooms.” Oberyn promises. “Now, both of you rest and when you are ready, come out to the main area.” He leans down and kisses your lips and hesitates but then does kiss Margaery’s forehead. She has not indicated wanted to touch him yet, but it seemed rude to kiss his wife and leave her out.

“We will, my love.” You promise him, watching as your three lovers file from the room and close the door gently behind them. Though you truly are tired, you turn back to face Margaery and offer her a smile. “You are very kind to offer to stay with me.”

“If it was me in your place, you would offer the same.” She murmurs quietly. “I meant what I said, I consider you my dearest friend and now? Perhaps more.”

“Have you been hiding affection for me, Margaery?” Waving away the joke teasingly, you nevertheless curl up on the pillow beside her and offer her a place in your arms if she wants it. “That would quite set tongues to wagging.”

“You are beautiful.” She huffs and slides closer to you until her own arms wrap around you. “You know that. You and Ellaria are breathtaking. More stunning at my wedding than I was.”

“Impossible.” The wedding may have been a tense, overdramatic thing, but Margaery was mesmerizing. “You looked like a goddess that day.” Cheeks warming slightly at how easily she comes to you, you let one of your hands settle on her back. “You are one of the most stunning women I have ever seen, no matter what the day is.”

“You must not have looked in a mirror too often, my Princess.” She hums, smiling at you and leaning in. “It is high praise if you feel that way.”

“Margaery…” Before you can let the moment progress, you take a breath and put your other hand to her cheek. “If you change your mind, simply say the word and we will go on as if nothing ever happened.”

“I understand.” She hums softly, aware that she is in a unique situation, and this is something she could have never foreseen, but she is not upset by it.

First Brynna, then Ellaria, and now Margaery. There seems no rhyme or reason to it beside them all being beautiful women who treat you with singular kindness, but when you lean forward to press your lips to Margaery’s for the first time and let your eyes flutter shut, there is that same feeling of rightness that there had been with both women who came before. Unforeseen and unplanned, it is not unwelcome at all.

Margaery’s hum is almost surprised, mixed with delight as she melts into the kiss, and pulls you closer. It will be the first kiss she has had with another woman since she was a young girl, since before she had bled, but instead of giggling and teasing, she wants more.

Somehow, she tastes the way fresh air and sunshine feel in spring. Like promise and good things to come. Like the crisp cleanness of spring rain. It’s intoxicating in a way you have never experienced before, making you linger and try to claim more of the taste with small kisses from her lips.

“Does everyone in your party know how to kiss?” She asks breathlessly, grinning as she indulges in the quick kisses and her fingers reach up to undo your hairstyle.

“They all have far more experience than me,” you admit, warm cheeks disguised in the semi-darkness of the room. “But they are wonderful teachers, if there is a pleasure you wish to learn.”

“I am certain I will learn it all.” She admits, almost shyly. “Unless you think it strange that I join your obviously close foursome?”

“If it were strange to us, we would not have offered.” After a few months of knowing Oberyn and Ellaria, you are now very certain that they choose their lovers in different ways. And the ones that entered into this arrangement — this family you have created — were chosen for more than just looks or sport. “We would never have even mentioned it.”

“I am worried.” She confesses quietly. “You are Ellaria are his soulmates, Oberyn is his lover, and I— I am just his wife.” It sounds ridiculous, but she is used to many wives not being of any use or consequence once an heir was secured. “I was slightly worried my father would have offered him coin to return me to him.”

“Just his wife?” Your fingers graze through her hair and tuck the strands behind her ear. “Raeden is not in the habit of dismissing the people he cares for, my darling. And he would not have proposed – the marriage or indeed any sort of solution – if he did not care for you.”

“I guess that I just need to believe that.” She chuckles quietly. “With my luck though, you can see why that is hard.”

“Just because you have not been lucky yet, does not mean you are never going to be lucky at all.” It is a small offer of comfort, but an honest one. Your thumb strokes her cheek and you smile, feeling a bit more awake with the sensation of arousal coursing through your veins. “Perhaps it is time to balance the scales.”

“What do you suggest?” She asks, arching a brow and humming quietly. Her head tilts, leaning into your touch and her bright blue eyes are fixed on yours.

“How much are you keen to experience?” She is looking to you for guidance and you want very dearly to provide it.

“What do you have in mind?” She asks curiously. Last night with Raeden was wonderful and satisfying, but she craves more, wishing to learn everything she can and experience it all.

“Have you ever had a woman give you pleasure before?” It is a careful question, one that could go wrong if Margaery decides she does not want to explore this with you, but you find yourself craving to know if her slit tastes as divine as her lips do.

“No.” She confesses quietly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. For all her worldliness, she had never ventured into pleasure with another woman. “Is it— what is it like?” She asks breathlessly.

“Much the same as when a man has his head between your legs.” It makes you laugh softly to admit it, but it is the truth. “But slender fingers can sometimes wring sensations from you that thicker ones could not. And while these men know of that hidden nub above your folds, not all men do.”

“Raeden was the first.” She tells you quietly. “No man had ever used his mouth on me before.”

“Then your lovers have been neglecting you.” This time when you offer her a smile, it is smaller, warmer, and more confident. “If you would like to experience it from a woman, I can show you. Or Ellaria, if you would rather.”

“Do you…want to?” She asks, unsure if you are interested in her or if you are just being kind. Both you and Ellaria make her cunt clench and bottom out when you both look at her as if she is a tasty morsel.

“I would not offer if I did not want to.” Once more, your fingers smooth the stray hairs from her face. “But if you are not ready yet, or if you would prefer Ellaria, it is entirely your choice.”

“I confess I find both of you extremely intoxicating.” She tells you, slightly flustered. “I would like to touch and be touched by both of you.”

“Then that can easily be managed.” With five of you, there would never be a moment that one of you could not have someone between your legs if you wished it. “Very easily indeed.”

“Is it— similar to touching a man?” She asks, biting her lip.

“It can be.” After all, some men are soft and some women are muscled. “But women are shaped so beautifully. And the scent and taste? Worth drowning in.”

“You do not find men pleasing?” She tilts her head in surprise, sure that you had true affection for Oberyn. And to have two soulmate who were men? She cannot believe that you prefer women to men.

“Of course I do.” You shrug, though. “Some men. Not most. But women are—they are otherworldly, are they not? Inspirations. Walking goddesses.” In the half-light, you laugh softly at yourself. “I did not mean to surprise you. But surely you must know how stunning you are?”

“I have been told I am beautiful for my entire life. Flattered and had my hand kissed.” She shrugs one dainty shoulder. “Men who wished to align with my family, to access my dowry. Never me that they wanted, they wanted my name.”

“Their motives may have been wrong, but they were telling the truth about your beauty.” Your own experience as a noble daughter was nothing like hers but you still frown. “I am sorry if you learned not to believe it because of them.”

“My faults are nothing you need to apologize for.” She promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek.

“They were wrong,” you repeat again, more steadily this time. “Not you. You are not at fault.” Softly, slowly, you rise up on one elbow and nudge Margaery over onto her back. “Will you let me show you how wonderful you truly are?”

There is a soft grin on her face as she looks up at you. “I thought you were tired?”

"I was." There is no lie in that, but you cannot help the way your smile turns sly. "But then the beauty in bed with me confessed she wanted to know what it would feel like for me to touch her."

“Then touch me.” Margaery begs. “Make me cry out so loud our husbands come to see what is happening.”

"They will only be upset that they did not get to witness the first moments." Grinning, you bowl Margaery over entirely and let the next press of your lips to hers be eager. Wanting. This time your hands have permission to wander, and you work at the ties on the front of her dress methodically. Suddenly you understand every complaint Oberyn has ever had about Northern dresses.

Margaery moans when your fingers brush her skin, eager to feel your touch and her legs restlessly spread underneath you. Unable to control herself and for the first time, she doesn’t have to. She is allowed to have what she wants with no shame.

"Oberyn is right," you huff, a small laugh escaping you as your fingers ghost over her skin and spread apart the two sides of her dress. "No more of these heavy dresses in Dorne. Far too much fabric."

She giggles quietly and reaches out to pull at your own laces. “Your husband grumbles about your clothing?” She asks coyly.

"If Oberyn had his way, none of his lovers would wear anything but cock-drunk smiles." It is only half a joke, but the two of you are far more focused with pulling off your dresses. "But now that my goal lies under all of these layers, I am bound to agree with him."

“Perhaps the world would be simpler if everyone where nude.” She bites her lip and crows in triumph when your stays loosen. Your enthusiastic anticipation is catching and she swears she has soaked her undergarments.

"Oberyn will celebrate to hear you say such a thing." Laces, layers, stays, and petticoats are tossed off the bed from every angle until Margaery is finally bare under you. "Gods above..." Not so long ago, you would have been embarrassed the way the sight of her breasts makes your mouth water. But now? There is no shame in your attraction. "You are...stunning, my darling."

Your own body is still covered in a chemise and she whimpers, squirming slightly. “I— I wish to see you.” She pants slightly. “All of you.”

On your knees above her, you pick up the hem of your final layer and toy with it for a second just to see if she rolls her hips again with need. When Margaery squirms again almost instantly, you bite back a smirk. "There is no need to beg," you assure her, pulling the fabric over your head at last.

She has seen nude women before, but none that take her breath away like this. Drinking in the sight of your tits, the thatch of curls between your thighs, she reaches out to caress your hip. “Beautiful.” She whispers. “I want to see this every day.”

"I was promised an extremely large bed as a wedding present," you tell her with a grin, reaching down to caress her cheek and letting your hand wander to the peak of one breast lightly. "It will have to be large enough for five, I think."

“And if I wanted to fuck your husband?” She asks softly, wanting to make sure that she doesn’t cross any boundaries that would hurt or offend you.

"Then I might ask to watch." Your other hand grazes her thigh as your eyes roam back and forth over every inch of his body. The reddish tone of her hair is darker in the curls at the apex of her thighs, and somehow knowing that is more alluring than you ever could have believed. "Or I might fuck your husband in turn."

“You must look gorgeous on his cock.” She whimpers when your fingers brush through her curls and she spreads her legs wider. Her cunt is throbbing and unlike a man, you don’t just jump into things. Heightening the sensations. “Have you – have you fucked them together before?”

"I did not know my pussy could stretch to take both of them like that." The memory of that particular day will be burned into your mind's eye forever, and you shiver as you lay yourself down between Margaery's legs. "You can have them both too, if you want."

“And you and Ellaria?” You look breathtaking between her thighs and a shiver rubs through her body when your breath washes over her sensitive folds.

Lifting your head, the plains and dips of her body are even more dramatic from the place you are now occupying and your smile tugs into a smirk. "You can have us, too. If that is your desire."

“I have done what I have been expected to my entire life.” Margaery pants, her chest heaving as she looks down at you. “I wish to be greedy.” The sentiment earns an approving nod of your head, and a flash of your own greed has you lunging upward to wrap your lips around one pert nipple while your thumb easily finds her swollen clit. Margaery’s cry is strained, gasping when she realizes that you are just as talented as her husband, maybe even more so. Overwhelmed by the fact that you are touching her, her eyes close and then pop open again so she can watch.

Your free hand kneads her other breast, rolling the nipple between your fingers experimentally to find the amount of tension she likes even as your fingers dance at her entrance. If you had been worried about the transition from friends to lovers, the ease of this moment is proof that you need not have given it a second thought at all. After all — when you had told Oberyn that you would likely only go to bed with people you cared for, you had been telling the truth.

“Oh, oh gods.” She moans out, panting your name when you give her the exact amount of pressure on her nipples that she likes. It is like being with a man, but the touch is more gentle, localized, and she can tell that you have touched a woman before.

The pleased hun from your throat vibrates through her skin when you find just the right tension, continuing your ministrations at her gorgeous tits but slipping the tips of two fingers through her slick folds. A little deeper with each pass, it will take no time for your digits to disappear inside her body, but you want to give her time to adjust to the sensation.

“I— I did— I never—” Her cunt is pleasantly sore, thoroughly used by your soulmate last night and her hips still chase the feeling of your fingers. “Please, Princess.” She begs, the knowledge that you are higher than her socially making her clench again.

“Never what, Margaery?” Removing your mouth from her temporarily, you find her eyes already glazed over with lust and cannot help but feel a little proud. You felt the way her cunt clenched your fingers when she used your title and you wonder if she might find it alluring to be ‘under your power’ like some others have you heard about.

“Never felt so good.” She whines and shakes her head. “Please.” She needs you to keep touching her. She’s orgasmed before but this sensation is sweeter, sharper.

"Raeden will take that as a challenge," you inform her with a smirk, but her pleading is too dear. You wrap your lips around her other breast, switching your hand to its twin and sinking your fingers into her dripping wet heat just a touch faster. The way she is pulling you in, you could not go slower if you tried. It is as though her body itself is begging for you.

It is too much and not enough all at the same time. Margaery knows her voice it pitching up every time she makes a sound but she can’t even try to muffle herself, not when she knows that no one will judge her. The sharp cries of pleasure tighten when you move down her body, laying kisses along her skin and inhaling her scent with your own blissed out groan before you open your mouth entirely and envelope her cunt entirely. Languid open mouth kisses come with kitten licks from your probing tongue, and Margaery lets loose a moan so loud that it breaks past the walls and the door opens abruptly.

“Star?” At the sight in front of him, Raeden’s eyes widen. Letting loose a moan of his own at the sight of his soulmate’s face between his new wife’s thighs, licking and sucking like you have always pleasured her. “Gods be praised.” His cock jolts and immediately starts to harden as he steps fully into the room and closes the door behind him.

Your hum vibrates through Margaery's lips and you barely turn your head before you get a glimpse of Raeden crowding into the room. "I had a sudden burst of energy," you hum, smirking in a very self-satisfied way.

“I see.” He grunts, his hand moving to his belt to start untying it as he moves closer. “I had some thought to take my new wife to bed, but it seems as if you have beaten me to it.” He tells you, his eyes darkening with lust as he watches her body writhe under your attention.

"And yet I think you are not upset about it." Not at all, if his instantly hard cock is anything to judge by.

Margaery waits for her husband to answer but he doesn’t. Instead he strides over to the bed and leans in, his tongue plunging into her mouth with a hot moan as he caresses your head between her thighs.

That is all the encouragement you need, turning again to give your devoted attention to Margaery's weeping pussy. Every lick is divine, but you push your fingers deep inside her and suck her clit into your mouth all at once, wanting her to moan into Raeden's kiss so he can swallow the sound.

Margaery reaches up, desperately grasping Raeden’s head as she kisses him back, feeling like her entire world is spinning and she doesn’t want it to stop. Her husband is turned on by this, and if he and Oberyn together is anything near this intoxicating, she would want to witness it every day.

Your own moan follows, loud but muffled by Margaery’s folds, as you feel Raeden’s fingers sliding along your own throbbing cunt. He loves to explore your body while you use your mouth on someone else – something you discovered quickly the first time you gave Ellaria pleasure – and this morning with his wife is no exception.

“I want to see you with her.” Margaery moans. “Would you fuck your soulmate in front of your wife?”

The question makes both you and Raeden pause, but with him naked beside you there is no question of the affect her request has on him. A spurt of precum drips from his cock into your shoulder and you grin wickedly. “I think he would enjoy that.”

She bites her lip and looks from you to her husband. The weight of the ring on her finger feels right and she spreads her legs wider. “Make me shake while my husband fills you with his cock.” She begs. “I want to see his seed drip from your cunt and taste it to see if it is sweet inside you.”

If any of you were ever unsure as to whether or not Margaery would fit into the dynamic you have established amongst yourselves – all of those concerns are dispelled in this moment. Raeden groans deeply and surges down again, plunging his tongue deep as his kisses her and sliding his fingers as far into your cunt as they will go to make you buck against his hand at the same time you moan into his wife’s pussy. It is a symphony of sin but it is so earnestly wanted by all of you. It could only be more perfect if Oberyn and Ellaria were here, the two of them disappearing into the other bedroom, and while they had invited him, he had wanted to stay in the main area in case you or Margaery needed him.

Your hips rock against his hand, impaling you on his thick fingers even as your own slide in and out of his wife. The squelching sounds are like music to your ears, and the hand that was previous at Margaery’s tits now plays with your own as Raeden lavishes hers with attention.

“Oh fuck.” She moans, enjoying the difference between the two sets of hands on her body. “Do you— is this what you do every day?”

“As often as we like,” Raeden rumbles, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “And you are welcome whenever you choose.”

“Ohhhhh oh gods.” The moans come out louder now, both the idea of having this anytime she wishes and the pure pleasure of your mouth on her sensitive cunt. “Yes.”

He seems as blissed out as she is even without having more than his hands involved, and you reluctantly pull away from Margaery’s glistening cunt to look up at him. “My love, your wife wishes to watch you fuck me,” you remind him, chest heaving at even the formation of the words on your tongue.

“Yes.” Raeden nods, aware that this is something special. The first time that the three of you are together like this. Hopefully not the last. He kisses her once more before he is shuffling behind you and wrapping his fingers around his cock. “Watch wife.” He orders Margaery.

His fingers are slick from being inside you and you moan from deep in your chest when he notches the head of his cock at your entrance and starts to push inside. Raeden’s tendency to be overly gentle with you has eased over the last few weeks, and especially in moments like this when you are so pliant and wet that you are literally dripping on the sheets.

“Fuuuuuuck.” Raeden grunts, rocking his hips until he is buried to be hilt inside you, his dark eyes fixed on his wife as she watches.

“Gods above.” Your groan echoes through Margaery’s body and vibrates deliciously through her wetness, but you have to tear your mouth away temporarily to catch your breath. “How will you take me for your wife, love? Will you be soft and sweet, or will you show her how I like to be made breathless?”

“I think I will show her how the princess likes to take her cocks.” Raeden decides with a grin and a wink to his wife before he leans over and kisses your spine.

That promise is immediately followed by the pulling back of his hips and having them slam forward again, emptying and filling your quivering cunt all in an instant and making you cry out into Margaery’s folds. Your fingers pick up speed with the determination of having Raeden fuck you, and you suck her clit into your mouth again with such enthusiasm that her cry echoes your own.

“Oh gods.” Margaery can feel the strength behind the thrust when your face pushes into her cunt harder than the normal pressure. Rocked forwards by his cock. “That cock is so good. I will need it harsh too, husband.”

“Whatever happened to ladies being delicate?” Raeden huffs, groaning as his hips connect with your ass again.

“None of us really are.” Margaery giggles and then moans when your tongue flutters around her clit. Making her grind down on your tongue.

“Men have been fed a lie,” he grouses good-naturedly, and he reaches out with one hand to grip your braid that Margaery has unpinned.

“Do you like to have your hair pulled?” Margaery asks you breathlessly.

Nodding makes the grip that Raeden has on your hair that much tighter, and your eyes flutter shut at the sensation before you open them again to look up at Margaery. "I cannot explain it, but I always enjoy pain with my pleasure."

“I want to try that.” Margaery moans and reaches up to twist her hand around her own braid.

The amused smile on your lips is mirrored by Raeden, and you shake your head at her. "You cannot do it yourself, lover," you tell her, reaching up and tangling your fingers tightly as high up in her braid as you can manage. "If you do not like it, tell me 'no' and I will stop."

“Yes.” She nods and moans as she moves her head and makes her scalp tug.

Seeing the way her eyes roll back at the slight pressure of the tug, you pull harder and more sharply, elated when the sounded you are gifted with is an ecstatic moan. "Yes?" You ask, letting her braid go slack so you can tug again, just as sharply.

“Yes!” She cries out and her cunt clenches around your fingers. She can’t believe that it feels so good and makes her entire body shake with pleasure.

"My wife and my soulmate may be more alike than they know." Raeden rasps out, grunting out another thrust and tugging at your braid as you pull on Margaery's. "Make her cum, my love. I want to see the moment she falls apart for you."

“Ohhhhh fuck.” The curse falls from Margaery’s lips easily as she shamelessly grinds down on your fingers. “Would— would that be so bad?” She manages.

"Not at all." As Raeden pounds you deeper and harder into Margaery's pussy he bends over to bite your shoulder and groans at the sight in front of him. "You will both be fucked into the mattress at every opportunity."

“That sounds perfect.” She moans, one hand drifting to her own breast. She wonders if she could have whomever she wanted at any time, or if there was some unspoken rule. She doesn’t doubt that she would need to give Raeden his heir before she sleeps with another man, but she is eager to experience the legendary Red Viper between her thighs.

Any kind of conversation dissolves again when Raeden pulls your hair sharply and you pull Margaery's in response, and the room becomes a renewed symphony of moans. There is nothing you want more in this moment that to hear the ecstasy that will come from your friend's lips when she cums for you, so you curl your fingers against the place inside her that will make her scream and redouble your efforts.

Now her breath comes out in ragged gasps, watching as her breathtaking husband slams into you eagerly, his own groans making her cunt clench around your fingers. The scene is enough to make her keen and the quick, cleverness of your fingers quickly pushes Margaery over the edge with a very unladylike yell.

There is something truly intoxicating in being the middle of this encounter. Knowing that it was not only your skill but Raeden’s passion which sends Margaery over the edge and has her clenching down in your fingers with such eagerness that her body might try to envelop your entire hand. It leaves you wishing under Raeden’s Powerful thrusts, moaning and grinding back against him as you lap up every drop of cum from her slit.

It is hard for Margaery to keep her eyes open, but she is determined to watch him cum. Seeing if he makes you squeal like she had last night with his gentler touch. His fingertips dig into your hips, sure to leave marks that last days, and it is the powerful need behind them along with one more well-timed thrust that has you tearing away from Margaery’s body to cry his name for all to hear. The insistent throbbing of your body between his and hers is unending, rolling through you so you can neither seem to stop the continuous feeling of peak pleasure or even catch your breath. It is magnificently exhausting, and Raeden is still fucking into you with erratic force.

He gets to have you. It is still a wonder to him, made even more precious by the fact that his wife is watching him fuck you, her hands still cupping and massaging her tits while she catches her breath. He gets to have it all, and it’s making his thrusts slap even harder than he’s ever fucked you.

A half dozen more pumps of his hips against your ass and Raeden is choking on his own groans, trying to call both of your names at once and ending up alternating between them as he pulls you tight against him and nearly collapses onto your back.

Margaery hums. A little chuckle in her throat as Raeden rolls you onto your side, protective of the babe in your belly. She had been told about the child and is very happy for you, actually eager for her own time. Now, she pushes to her knees and leans over to kiss you both.

“You do not mind your own taste?” Your thumb swipes under her bottom lip, wiping away a smudge of her own slick that came from your mouth. Some do and some do not. It would be another delightful development if Margaery did not, as you find it quite indulgent.

“No, I want to drink it from your lips.” She coos, kissing you again and then Raeden before she smirks. Slowly sliding down to drag her tongue over your nipple and biting down on it gently. “Right now, I want to taste my husband’s cock still inside your cunt. Lick you both up.”

There is a voice in the back of your head that knows Oberyn is going to be thrilled with Margaery’s curiosity and desire to explore her own sexuality, and that Ellaria’s approval will be near instant as well. “Enjoy yourself, my darling,” you hum, snuggles up in Raeden’s arms and spread for her to enjoy.

Raeden’s eyes widen when his wife, the wicked smirk pleasantly plastered on her face, starts to move down your body. Fixed on the sight, his spent cock twitches inside you. “Wife, you fit this group more than you know.” He rasps out.

“Better than I did, at the beginning,” you admit with a soft sigh when one of Margaery’s long fingers strokes your folds.

“I cannot imagine that to be true.” She scoffs. “I am lucky you are so accommodating.” She looks back up at you as she scoops some of the thick, creamy cum up from the base of her husband’s cock.

“You are a wonder,” you correct, relaxing even more under her touch.

She hums, accepting the compliment, although she knows she is receiving much more from this arrangement than you are. Her fingers slide into her mouth and she moans at the musky, salty taste. “Delightful.”

“He is even better when you taste him from the source.” The encouragement is met with a groan from your soulmate, and he kisses along your shoulder as Margaery lowers her mouth to the place you are still connected. It is her first time being with another woman, tasting another woman and it seems like she is diving into it. Luxuriating in the freedom and encouragement she is getting, her tongue flutters around your clit like she had felt you do to her and then down to her husband’s cock.

“Fuck.” The appreciative groan from Raeden makes you grin in his arms when you turn to kiss him. “Your wife is a fast learner,” you hum, breath hitching when her tongue flicks over your clit again.

“She is.” Raeden hums with pride, “Very good. The gods blessed us when they brought us together.”

"Such praise, my darling." Looking down your body to where Margaery is indulging her seemingly endless curiosities in your bodies, you grip her hair in your fingers again and tug just sharply enough to make her moan. "You deserve every word of it."

She hums and preens under the praise. Feeling her cheeks heat up at the words when she should be shocked at what she is doing. There is no embarrassment. Nothing but pleasure and curiosity.

"How does your husband taste from my cunt?" As filthy as the words are, they're languid. Relaxed and indulgent. You are as curious for the answer as she is for the taste, if you are honest with yourself.

“Like ambrosia.” Margaery moans, flicking up another taste of the two of you so she can come to let you taste for yourself.

When she unfurls her tongue into your kiss it is an extension of that gorgeous indulgence, and you hum deeply as you wrap her up in your arms. "I think you might be far more eager for this arrangement than you first thought," you grin knowingly.

“I think I am.” She grins as she slides her finger down your cheek. “I am very proud to be Lady Sunstone.”

______

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