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theetherealbloom · 14 days

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AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 4 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Four: I Will Be Your Executioner

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack,

Word Count: 9k

A/N: OMFGGGGGG I’m actually writing non-stop. Wtf. Guys this part is heavily inspired by many quotes from the Glory. It’s so goooooddd! Go watch it. ALSO LMAO sorry for the chonky chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: No Choir by Florence + The Machine

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THE WEDDING RECEPTION

KING'S LANDING GARDEN, RED KEEP — AFTERNOON

The once-vibrant garden has turned into a scene from a nightmare. Joffrey’s lifeless body lies in his mother’s lap, the blood trickling from his nose and mingling with the vomit caking his lips. Cersei’s scream cuts through the chaos like a blade, her finger trembling as it points directly at Tyrion.

"You did this! You did this!" she shrieks, her voice cracking with grief and rage.

Tyrion barely has time to react before three guards seize him from behind, their grip firm, dragging him back. The entire court is thrown into disarray, nobles scrambling, unsure where to look or what to say. The shock hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Your eyes flick to Sansa as she watches, wide-eyed and frozen in place. Ser Dontos Hollard, the fool, sidles up to her, his face pale with urgency.

“We have to leave,” he whispers frantically, his hand tugging at her sleeve.

Sansa looks to you, her expression a mix of confusion and terror, searching for an answer. You meet her gaze and give the smallest, subtlest nod, speaking in the quietest voice that only she can hear.

"Run."

You keep your posture relaxed, every movement calculated, as though the chaos around you is nothing but a passing storm. Let it swirl, let them scream, none of it touches you.

Cersei’s piercing voice shatters the air again. “Take him! Take him!”

The guards drag Tyrion away through the crowd, his face a mask of resignation. You shift, sliding further to the edge of the gathering, your eyes tracking Sansa as she and Ser Dontos disappear, swallowed by the throng of horrified nobles. As Cersei’s head whips around, searching for a new target for her grief, her shrill voice rises again.

"Where is his wife? Where's Sansa?!"

Tywin's voice booms over the garden, commanding attention with the force of authority, “Find her. Bar the gates of the city. Seize every ship in the harbor.”

The tension mounts as Cersei, distraught and frenzied, clings to Tywin. “Where is she?!”

“No one leaves the capital!" Tywin's voice echoes like a decree from the gods themselves. "No one!”

The wheels are turning, but you remain steady, unmoved, watching everything unfold like a distant observer.

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — DUSK

The bells toll ominously across the city, signaling not just the king's death but the beginning of a lockdown. What had begun as a celebration of young love and power had spiraled into a suffocating horror—a wedding turned funeral. The streets were locked down, the gates barred, and whispers spread like wildfire among the servants. Every corner of the Red Keep hummed with dread.

You sat in the dim light of your chambers, fingers tracing over the pages of your journal. On the list of names you had scrawled, Joffrey’s stood out, now crossed out in thick ink. The weight of his demise did not lift your heart, but there was a cold satisfaction in seeing that line through his name.

A knock on your door broke the silence. You didn’t even look up, your voice calm, measured. “Enter.”

Serena stepped in, her movements quiet and careful as she shut the door behind her, turning the lock with a soft click before coming to sit beside you. Her eyes fell to your journal, to the page you’d been reading, and her gaze lingered on the crossed-out name.

Her voice was soft when she asked, “Did you…”

You didn’t hesitate. “It wasn’t me who slipped the poison.” Your tone was blunt, matter-of-fact. Serena was smart—she could piece together the rest on her own. She nodded slowly, absorbing the truth behind your words.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said softly. “I’d still like to thank you. For doing this.”

Her gratitude was real, but it didn’t touch you. Nothing did anymore. You turned to her, your expression as unreadable as stone.

"I didn’t do it for thanks," you said, your voice as cold as the air before a storm. “I did it because people like him—people like them—will only understand one thing from now on.” You paused, holding Serena’s gaze, unblinking. “They will suffer, just as we have.”

Serena nodded, her lips tightening into a thin line. She knew. She understood.

And so, your revenge continued. Joffrey’s name may have been crossed out, but there were others. And as you sat there, cold and detached, you knew this was only the beginning of a longer reckoning. The suffering had only just begun.

THE NEXT DAY

STREETS OF SILK, CHATAYA’S BROTHEL — DAY

The city pulsed with a nervous energy, the fallout of Joffrey’s death rippling through every alleyway, every corner of King’s Landing. It was rare for you to have a day free from the palace, but amidst the chaos, no one had cared when a few servants slipped away. The Red Keep had become a den of paranoia, each person trying to avoid the eye of suspicion. A perfect time to disappear—even if just for a while.

As you walked through the streets, your steps silent, deliberate, you overheard a conversation between two guards. Their voices were low, yet their words unmistakable. Tywin plans to confront Oberyn. The Hand of the King knew of Oberyn's frequent visits to Chataya’s brothel—it was no secret that the Dornish prince indulged himself openly. Tywin’s suspicions were spreading like wildfire, and you needed to be there to hear what he might uncover.

Pulling your cloak tight around you, you kept to the shadows, slipping between the narrow alleys that twisted like veins through the streets of silk. The map of the city was etched into your mind as clearly as the secrets you kept—memorized over years of service, of watching and waiting.

You reached the brothel just as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Slipping through the back door, you moved with the practiced silence of someone who knew how to remain unseen. A shadow among shadows. The moans and laughter of the brothel’s patrons created a cover of noise, perfect for hiding in plain sight.

The scent of incense and sweat filled the air, thick and cloying, but you barely noticed. Your eyes were fixed ahead, scanning for any sign of Tywin or his men. You crept further into the brothel, slipping behind a large stone pillar that stood near one of the darker corners of the room. Hidden in the gloom, you were just another part of the architecture, unseen, unnoticed.

The dagger strapped to your thigh pressed reassuringly against your skin, a small comfort in the uncertainty of the moment. You had long since learned that in King’s Landing, secrets and steel were your best companions. One cut as deep as the other, and both had their uses. If anyone saw you, anyone grew suspicious—you would be ready.

You crouched lower behind the pillar, listening as Oberyn’s voice carried faintly from one of the rooms. His tone was as smooth and dangerous as ever, a man who never feared consequences, not even from Tywin Lannister. You stayed still, your heart steady but your mind sharp, waiting for the moment when Tywin would confront him.

You could feel it—the unraveling was only just beginning. The tension in the city would soon give way to something far darker, and you were determined to be ahead of it, to see everything before it was hidden away in shadows again.

As footsteps echoed down the hall, heavier, more deliberate, you pressed further into the shadows. Tywin. You could not afford to be seen, but you could not afford to miss this either. Information was your weapon. And today, you would sharpen it.

Just in time, you watched as three naked whores and Ellaria Sand stepped out of one of the rooms. Her dark, wavy hair cascaded down her bare shoulders as she laughed softly, her gaze briefly scanning the room before she and the others disappeared down the hall. The guards trailed after them, though one remained standing by the entrance. Close, but not too close.

The door to Oberyn’s room was slightly ajar.

You slipped inside with practiced precision, the heavy scent of incense clinging to the air. The room was bathed in the warm, golden light of the midday sun, filtering through the heavy curtains. Oberyn Martell was seated on the bed, shirtless and glistening with sweat, his bronzed skin catching the light as he stretched with the grace of a panther. The gods must have shown you some favor—he was still clothed from the waist down.

His gaze shifted lazily toward you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as if your presence amused him. He knew you were there long before you entered.

“Would you like to sit?” he asked, his voice low, teasing. He gestured casually toward a chair in the corner, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Tywin Lannister stood at the other end of the room, his expression as hard as stone, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of irritation. “No, thank you,” Tywin replied curtly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Oberyn’s movements were slow, deliberate, as he rose from the bed, his lean body practically dripping with confidence. He stepped toward a small cart by the window, where a tray of wine and goblets waited. “Some wine?” he offered again, pouring himself a generous amount, the dark liquid swirling in the cup.

Tywin, still standing near the door, remained unmoved. “No, thank you,” he repeated.

Oberyn, with a patterned towel draped over his shoulder, took a slow sip of the wine, his eyes never leaving Tywin’s. “I'm sorry about your grandson,” he said smoothly, though the sincerity in his tone was questionable.

Tywin’s lips twitched, barely containing his disdain. “Are you?” he asked, the question laced with accusation.

Oberyn shrugged, moving across the room like a predator sizing up his prey. “I don't believe a child is responsible for the sins of his father. Or his grandfather. An awful way to die.” His voice was casual, but his eyes—those dark, piercing eyes—were watching Tywin’s every move.

The tension in the room was recognizable, thick enough to choke on. You remained hidden in the shadows, every word falling like stones in a still pond, sending ripples of suspicion through the air.

“Which way is that?” Tywin asked, his voice sharp.

Oberyn tilted his head, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Are you interrogating me, Lord Tywin?” he purred, settling onto a plush bed of pillows, lounging with the practiced grace of a man who feared nothing.

“Some believe the king choked,” Tywin mused, watching Oberyn closely.

“Some believe the sky is blue because we live inside the eye of a blue-eyed giant,” Oberyn replied, his tone mocking. He took another sip of wine before adding, “The king was poisoned.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed, the faintest hint of suspicion creeping into his expression. “I hear you studied poisons at the Citadel.”

Oberyn’s smile widened, like a cat who had caught the scent of a mouse. “I did. This is why I know.”

Tywin’s voice dropped, edged with danger. “Your hatred for my family is rather well known. You arrive at the capital, an expert in poisoning, and days later my grandson dies of poisoning.”

Oberyn didn’t miss a beat. “Rather suspicious,” he agreed with a chuckle. “Why haven’t you thrown me in a dungeon?”

Tywin's gaze hardened. “You spoke with Tyrion in this very brothel on the day that you arrived. What did you discuss?”

“You think we conspired together?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow, amused.

“What did you discuss?”

Oberyn’s playful demeanor faltered, as he moved to stand, approaching Tywin, his voice dropping into something darker, colder. “The death of my sister.”

Tywin did not flinch, though his eyes gave away nothing. “For which you blame me.”

Oberyn leaned forward slightly, his voice like steel wrapped in silk. “She was raped and murdered by the Mountain. The Mountain follows your orders. Of course I blame you.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken threats. You remained perfectly still, your heart a steady drumbeat in your chest as you watched the two men circle each other, both poised for an attack that would never come.

Tywin, calm as ever, gave the faintest shrug. “Here I stand unarmed, unguarded. Should I be concerned?”

Oberyn smiled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You are unarmed and unguarded because you know me better than that. I am a man of reason. If I cut your throat today, I will be drawn and quartered tomorrow.”

“Men at war commit all kinds of crimes without their superiors' knowledge,” Tywin said, almost conversationally.

“So you deny involvement in Elia's murder?”

Tywin’s voice remained steady. “Categorically.”

Oberyn’s gaze sharpened, his smile fading into something colder. “I would like to speak with the Mountain.”

“I’m sure he would enjoy speaking with you,” Tywin said evenly.

Oberyn’s lips curled into a grim smile. “He might not enjoy it as much as he thinks he would.”

Tywin’s eyes flickered with a dangerous glint. “I could arrange for this meeting.”

Oberyn’s brow arched, intrigued. “But you want something in return.”

Tywin’s voice was calm, measured. “There will be a trial for my son. As custom dictates, three judges will render a verdict. I will preside. Mace Tyrell will serve as the second judge. I would like you to be the third.”

Oberyn’s amusement returned, but his tone remained cautious. “Why?”

“Not long ago, the Tyrells sided with Renly Baratheon. Declared themselves enemies of the throne. Now they are our strongest allies.”

Oberyn shrugged, taking another sip of his wine. “Well, you made the Tyrell girl a queen. Asking me to judge at your son's trial isn't quite as tempting.”

Tywin stepped forward, his voice dropping low. “I will also invite you to sit on the small council to serve as one of the new king's principal advisors.”

Oberyn studied Tywin, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I never realized you had such respect for Dorne, Lord Tywin.”

“We are not the Seven Kingdoms until Dorne returns to the fold,” Tywin replied, his voice cold, calculated. “The king is dead. The Greyjoys are in open rebellion. A wildling army marches on the Wall. And in the East, a Targaryen girl has three dragons. Before long, she will turn her eyes to Westeros. Only the Dornish managed to resist Aegon Targaryen and his dragons.”

Oberyn’s smile returned, slow and sharp. “You're saying you need us? That must be hard for you to admit.”

Tywin’s expression didn’t change. “We need each other. You help me serve justice to the king's assassins, and I will help you serve justice to Elia's.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as Oberyn fell silent, his gaze turning inward, distant, as if he were calculating a hundred possibilities all at once. The tension lingered, thick and unspoken, between him and the absent Tywin. The delicate balance of power that had just played out was clear—two predators circling one another, masking threats with diplomacy.

You pressed yourself deeper into the shadows, watching Oberyn with a sharp, practiced gaze. His expression remained contemplative, still lost in the aftermath of his exchange with Tywin. Outside the room, the echo of Tywin’s footsteps faded into the distance, and the door clicked shut with finality, leaving behind an uneasy stillness that hung thick in the air.

But you had lingered too long. In a silent breath, you pulled back into the shadows, slipping toward the door like a shadow yourself. You moved swiftly, soundless, as you had been trained—disappearing without a trace. The world outside was teeming with noise and life, but none of it noticed your departure. You melted into the alleyways, your cloak drawn close, your steps swift and measured as you darted through the maze of streets that threaded King’s Landing.

The market was alive with its usual chaos, the scent of spices mingling with the salt of the sea, merchants shouting over one another, selling everything from silks to stale bread. You wove through the crowds, your face hidden beneath the hood of your cloak, eyes scanning your surroundings. You had always known how to vanish in plain sight.

But then, the sound hit you.

A sharp sizzle, the searing of meat against hot metal. Your steps faltered as the scent of charred pork filled the air, thick and overwhelming, clinging to your skin like smoke. For a moment, the world around you seemed to blur—the market, the people, the shouts—it all dimmed. Your breath caught in your throat, your chest tightening as the memories surged, unbidden, unstoppable.

Flames licking at your skin, the scent of burning flesh, the sound of your own screams echoing in the back of your mind. The fire that had marked you, that had seared itself into your memory, now clawed its way to the surface.

Your hands trembled as you stumbled into a corner of the street, your back pressed hard against the cool stone of a wall. The sounds of the market seemed distant now, drowned out by the roar of the fire in your mind. The panic clawed at your chest, squeezing tighter and tighter until it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

You gasped, desperate for air, the weight of your cloak suddenly too heavy, the noise of the market too loud. The edges of your vision blurred, and the ground beneath you felt like it was spinning. The world seemed to close in on you, suffocating, the past and present melding into one.

Burning.

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms in an attempt to ground yourself, to remind yourself that you were no longer there. But the searing sound, the scent—it was too much. The memories flooded you, pulling you under. You pressed your back harder into the wall, trying to fight your way out of the suffocating panic, trying to escape the fire that only existed in your mind.

But it felt so real.

Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps, and your vision swam. You had to get out. Away from the market, away from the noise, away from the memory that gripped you like a vice. You pushed yourself off the wall, your legs shaky but determined, and forced yourself back into the crowd, pulling your cloak tighter around you.

With every step, you fought to steady your breathing, to clear the haze from your mind. The streets blurred around you as you moved, each footfall feeling heavier than the last, but you pressed on. Away from the market. Away from the sound.

Away from the fire.

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — AFTERNOON

By the time you returned to the castle, fatigue weighed heavily on your limbs. The maze of tunnels under the Red Keep stretched out before you like a winding serpent, familiar yet suffocating. Each step felt heavier than the last, your breath shallow, as the cool stone walls seemed to press closer.

As you rounded a corner, your thoughts interrupted by hurried footsteps, you almost collided with someone—Podrick Payne. His wide-eyed expression immediately softened when he realized it was you.

“Oh, my apologies,” Podrick stammered, stepping back in his usual bashful manner.

You shook your head, waving off the apology. "No, it was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going."

He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Oh well…"

There was something about his awkwardness, a sincerity in the way he held himself. Podrick was kind, genuine—a rarity in King's Landing. You had a peculiar way of prying information from him without much effort. It wasn’t something you set out to do, but it was almost as though the right questions spilled from your lips, and he couldn’t help but answer.

You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing as you noticed the tension in his shoulders. "Are you heading somewhere urgent?"

Podrick blinked in surprise, glancing at the wineskin he carried. “Yes, I’m on my way to see Lord Tyrion in the cells.”

Your gaze dropped to the wineskin, lips curving into a faint smirk. "You’re bringing him wine?"

He nodded, looking somewhat guilty, as though he’d been caught red-handed.

"The guards will take it from you, you know that, right?"

Podrick’s expression flickered with brief defeat, but he nodded again. The innocence in his eyes spoke volumes, but you weren’t fooled. Deep down, you knew he was smuggling more than just wine. You sighed, rubbing your temples as the exhaustion from the day wore at your patience.

"They've chosen the judges for his trial," you added, your voice soft but deliberate.

Podrick glanced around as if someone might overhear, then leaned in slightly. “I heard. Lord Tywin, Mace Tyrell, and Prince Oberyn of Dorne."

"Word travels fast," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. Your eyes drifted over his face, reading the tension etched into his features. His frown deepened, and you couldn’t help but ask, “What’s wrong? You’re frowning.”

Podrick’s sigh was almost inaudible, but in the quiet of the dimly lit tunnel, it seemed to echo. He lowered his voice as if confessing a secret. "There’s something else. A man—someone I didn’t know—came to me. He asked if I’d testify against Lord Tyrion. Said I’d be named Ser Podrick Payne if I told the judges Tyrion bought a poison called the Strangler.”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of the poison, but your expression remained impassive. You frowned, though, as the weight of his words sank in. Podrick, in his innocence, stood at the crossroads of something much darker than he fully understood.

"You…" You took a slow, deep breath, steadying your tone. "Lord Tyrion has been kind to you."

He met your gaze, his eyes filled with uncertainty. "He has."

There was a heavy silence between you, the kind that lingered just long enough to feel uncomfortable. The weight of your secrets hung in the air, unspoken, but Podrick wasn’t foolish. He knew you were holding back, but he never pressed.

"Do you know what happened?" he asked softly, as though afraid of the answer. His voice was tentative, laced with the hope that you might offer him clarity. "Who did it?"

You blinked, your gaze distant, the apathy you had so carefully cultivated slipping back into place. His question lingered, but you gave him no answer—just a soft pat on his shoulder, a rare gesture of kindness in a world that had none to spare.

"You better be careful, Podrick," you said, your voice low, carrying a quiet weight. "You’re one of the rare ones out there who are truly good. Take care of yourself."

His lips parted as if to say something more, but you had already turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the castle, leaving him standing there beneath the flickering torchlight.

KING’S LANDING, QUAY OF THE PORT BY THE SEA OF THE RED KEEP — AFTERNOON

The salty breeze whipped across the sea, crashing waves against jagged rocks below as you crouched beneath the cliffsides. Hidden from sight, you watched with keen eyes as Jaime Lannister and Bronn sparred near the water's edge, the sound of clashing steel ringing in the air.

Jaime’s face was flushed, his breath labored, but his movements were sharper than before. He spun his sword with renewed vigor, pressing the attack against Bronn. But the sellsword was as sharp as ever, his parries quick, his footwork steady. They deadlocked, Jaime’s golden hand clashing with Bronn’s grip. With a wicked grin, Bronn swatted Jaime across the face, sending him sprawling onto the ground with an unceremonious thud.

Jaime let out a grunt, pushing himself up from the dirt. “What the hell was that?” he spat, wiping the dust from his tunic.

Bronn tossed Jaime’s golden hand back to him with a smirk. “That was me knocking your ass to the dirt with your own hand."

Jaime caught it, shaking his head. “You’re a rare talent. When you’re fighting cripples, anyway.”

“You learned to fight like a good little boy," Bronn quipped, his grin widening. "I’ll bet that thrust through the Mad King’s back was pretty as a picture. You want to fight pretty, or you want to win?”

Jaime’s jaw clenched. “You talk to my brother this way?”

“All the time. He got used to it.”

They sat together on a low stone wall, the tension easing between them. Jaime took a swig from a wineskin before handing it to Bronn.

“Do you think he did it?” Jaime asked, his voice low, hesitant.

Bronn shook his head. “No. Oh, he hated the little twat, sure. But who didn’t? Poison’s not his style. Or murder, for that matter. You want to know for sure, why don’t you ask him?”

Jaime remained silent, his gaze distant.

“You haven’t been to see him yet, have you?” Bronn probed, his tone carrying an edge of judgment.

Jaime stood abruptly, tossing the wineskin back to Bronn. “We’re done for today.”

As Jaime walked away, Bronn called out, “Your brother ever tell you how I came into his service?”

Jaime paused, his back still turned. “You stood for him in his trial by combat at the Eyrie.”

“Aye,” Bronn replied, his voice steady. “But only when Lady Arryn demanded the trial take place that day. You were his first choice. He named you for his champion because he knew you’d ride day and night to fight for him. You gonna fight for him now?”

Jaime’s silence lingered, the weight of Bronn’s words hanging in the air as he disappeared into the distance.

Once Jaime was gone, Bronn stood alone, shaking his head. That’s when you emerged from your hiding spot, the faint sound of your boots scraping against the stone catching his attention. He turned, spotting you walking towards him, your loose long-sleeve tunic billowing slightly in the wind, trousers and boots practical for the sparring you had in mind. The sword sheathed at your side glinted in the afternoon light, a far cry from the ladylike appearance most would expect.

You let out a low whistle, drawing a chuckle from Bronn as you approached. “You really handed it to him, huh?” you remarked, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Who knew today would be the day you make a joke?” Bronn quipped, his smirk never far from his lips.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Might as well get a laugh in once in a while.”

Bronn gave you a quick once-over, his eyes sharp as always. “You here to practice?”

In response, you tossed a small pouch of gold coins at him, which he caught with a practiced ease. “It’s been a while. Was wondering if you were simply busy or if you’d run off.”

You shrugged, the weight of the past few days pressing on your shoulders. “Well, it hasn’t been quiet at the Red Keep.”

“Aye,” Bronn said with a knowing look, his expression softening for just a moment. Then, with his usual swagger, he added, “Well, let’s see if that sword of yours still works.”

The two of you squared off, the tension of the moment melting into the familiar rhythm of training. Bronn was a formidable opponent—quick, sharp, and never one to play by the rules. He tested you immediately, launching a fast strike aimed at your side. You parried it easily, the weight of your sword light in your hands.

"You've gotten faster," Bronn noted, his tone almost begrudging as he stepped back to assess you, his sharp eyes taking in every movement, every subtle shift of your stance.

You shrugged, gripping your sword a little tighter, the weight of his words sinking in deeper than he realized. Faster—it wasn’t just speed you needed. Strength. Precision. Ruthlessness. All of it would be necessary if you were going to do what needed to be done. Your thoughts flickered briefly to him, to the Mountain, and the moment you had been turning over in your mind, rehearsing endlessly in the quiet of your own head.

One well-placed strike—that’s all it would take. You’d studied his movements, watched how he fought. Brutal. Unforgiving. He crushed his opponents like insects beneath his feet, but there was always a weakness. There had to be. You just had to find it, and when you did, the Mountain would fall.

But you didn’t say that out loud.

Instead, you offered Bronn a casual shrug, masking the storm of thoughts beneath your calm expression. “Learned a few tricks while I was busy,” you replied with a half-smile, keeping your voice light.

Bronn smirked, though his eyes still lingered on you as if trying to peel back the layers of your thoughts. "Busy, huh? Hope those tricks keep you alive long enough to show me more."

He didn’t press, and you were grateful for it. There was no need to tell him, not yet. The time would come soon enough, and when it did, you'd be ready.

A FEW DAYS LATER

KING'S LANDING, THE THRONE ROOM — DAY

You stand off to the side, shrouded in the shadows of the grand pillars, your eyes flickering over the scene before you like a predator studying its prey. The High Septon stands at the heart of it all, his voice booming as he leads the coronation of Tommen Baratheon. The crowd has gathered, a sea of nobles dressed in their finest silks, feigning respect and devotion. Your gaze drifts, settling momentarily on Ser Jaime Lannister, who patrols near the back, his golden hand gleaming in the soft light.

"May the Warrior grant him courage and protect him in these perilous times," the High Septon intoned, his voice heavy with ceremony. "May the Smith grant him strength that he might bear this heavy burden. And may the Crone, she that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead."

Tommen’s face, still soft with boyish innocence, betrays the weight of the moment. You can see it in his eyes—the bewilderment, the fear hidden behind a facade of calm. He’s a puppet, and the strings are woven through the hands of those more powerful. But he’s not the one you’re watching.

The High Septon finishes, his hands raised toward the heavens. "In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name. King of the Andals and the First Men and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Long may he reign!"

"Long may he reign!" the crowd echoes in unison, their voices a rehearsed chorus.

Your eyes narrow as Tommen bows, exchanging a fleeting glance with Margaery Tyrell. The hint of a smile plays on her lips, barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for. It’s the look of a woman who knows exactly what she wants—and how to get it. Cersei sees it too, her expression tightening, though she maintains her grace.

You smirk to yourself. The plot never stops, not for a moment.

The grand hall is quieter now, though the air still buzzes with soft chatter. Tommen sits awkwardly on the Iron Throne, his small frame swallowed by its looming presence. Tywin Lannister stands beside him, commanding the room with nothing but his cold, stern silence. The line of courtiers shuffles forward, each taking their turn to bow and offer hollow pleasantries.

"Your Grace," Grand Maester Pycelle rasps, his aged voice grating against your ears.

"Your Grace," Varys follows, his tone smooth, unreadable.

Tommen exchanges nods and small smiles, barely keeping up the appearance of a ruler. Margaery lingers nearby, her gaze soft but calculating. It’s Cersei’s eyes that catch yours, though, burning with possessiveness and suspicion as they land on Margaery.

Your fingers twitch at your side, the weight of your dagger pressing against your thigh through the fabric of your cloak. There’s no need for it now, but the comfort of steel is a constant reminder of why you’re here—watching, waiting, collecting secrets like coins.

The crowd parts as Cersei approaches Margaery, offering smiles to the onlookers as she moves through the room with the grace of a lioness on the hunt. You observe it all, taking in the flickers of power, the undercurrents that ripple beneath the surface of every interaction.

You sigh, stepping away from the scene and slipping back into the shadows. There’s nothing more to see here. The coronation is just another piece in the larger puzzle, and the trial—the real battle—is yet to come. Your secrets can wait, for now.

KING'S LANDING, THE GARDEN — DAY

The day was warm, the sun casting a golden glow over the lush greenery of the royal gardens. The scent of blooming flowers mingled with the salty air from the sea, but none of that registered as you went about your tasks. Servant duties, tedious and endless, consumed most of your time. Today, it was carrying supplies from the kitchen to the gardens—bundles of herbs, fresh fruits, a few linens. You balanced them carefully in your arms, eyes scanning for a spot to drop them off before you moved to the next errand.

As you passed through the garden's winding paths, the soft murmur of voices caught your attention. You stilled, instinctively pressing yourself into the shade of a tall shrub, out of sight. The voices were familiar—Cersei Lannister and Oberyn Martell. The temptation to eavesdrop, to gather just a bit more information for yourself, was too great to resist.

You shifted slightly, your heart thudding in your chest, trying not to rustle the bushes as you angled your body closer. From where you stood, you had a clear view of Oberyn sitting on a stone bench, writing on a scroll. He paused as Cersei approached, her guards flanking her.

"Your Grace," Oberyn greeted her, his voice low and polite as he stood.

Cersei’s cold smile barely reached her eyes. "Prince Oberyn. Writing letters?"

"A poem, actually," Oberyn replied, his tone light, yet unreadable.

Cersei’s eyebrow raised slightly, more curious than amused. "May I show you the gardens?"

Oberyn glanced down at the scroll he had been working on before standing fully to his feet. "I couldn’t very well refuse a royal escort."

"No, you couldn’t," Cersei said, a slight edge in her voice. You could almost see the power shift between them as they started walking side by side through the winding paths of the garden, their steps measured, calculated.

You trailed discreetly behind them, clutching your bundle tightly, ears straining to catch every word.

"I didn’t realize you were a poet," Cersei remarked, her voice laced with feigned curiosity.

Oberyn chuckled. "Not a very good one."

"For your paramour?"

"For one of my daughters," Oberyn corrected, his voice softening at the mention of his children.

Cersei’s eyes flicked toward him. "You have several, don’t you?"

"Eight," he said, a touch of pride in his voice.

"Eight? Eight daughters?" Cersei repeated, incredulous.

Oberyn nodded. "The fifth is difficult. I named her after my sister, Elia."

At the mention of Elia’s name, your heart clenched. You had always known the depth of his loss, but hearing it aloud, even in passing, reminded you of the storm that brewed constantly beneath Oberyn’s surface.

"Beautiful name," Cersei mused.

"Yes," Oberyn agreed, though his tone darkened. "But I can’t say it without turning sad. And after I turn sad, I grow angry."

"Perhaps that’s why she’s difficult," Cersei remarked, her tone dripping with cynical wisdom. "The gods love their stupid jokes, don’t they?"

Oberyn's gaze narrowed slightly, intrigued. "Which joke is that?"

Cersei’s smile was sharp, almost mocking. "You’re a prince of Dorne. A legendary fighter. A brilliant man feared throughout Westeros. But you could not save your sister. I’m a Lannister. Queen for nineteen years. Daughter of the most powerful man alive. But I could not save my son. What good is power if you cannot protect the ones you love?"

Her words struck like venom, her bitterness palpable. You watched Oberyn’s face shift, his jaw tightening as the memories of his sister undoubtedly flashed behind his eyes.

"We can avenge them," he said after a pause, his voice resolute, cutting through the air like a blade.

Cersei met his gaze, her lips curling slightly. "Yes, we can avenge them."

Oberyn tilted his head, watching her intently. "You really believe Tyrion murdered your son?"

Without hesitation, Cersei replied, "I know he did."

Oberyn’s expression remained calm, though you could sense his skepticism. "We will have a trial, and we will learn the truth."

"We’ll have a trial, anyway," Cersei muttered, her voice tight with impatience. "I haven’t seen my daughter in over a year."

Oberyn’s face softened slightly. "The last time I saw her, she was swimming with two of my girls in the Water Gardens. Laughing in the sun."

Cersei’s eyes briefly glistened with unshed tears. "I want to believe that. I want to believe she’s happy."

Oberyn’s tone was gentle now, sincere. "You have my word. We don’t hurt little girls in Dorne."

Cersei’s voice was a mere whisper, filled with more sadness than she would ever admit aloud. "Everywhere in the world, they hurt little girls. Would you bring her a gift for me? I wasn’t there for her name day. I don’t know when I’ll see her again."

Oberyn’s gaze softened as he nodded. "Anything at all."

Cersei pointed toward the bay, her eyes lingering on a ship. "The best shipwrights in King’s Landing have been working on it for months. Myrcella loves the open water."

Oberyn’s lips curled into a small, understanding smile. "I will have it sailed down to Sunspear for her."

Cersei turned to face him fully, her expression momentarily vulnerable. "Please tell her... her mother misses her very much."

She left then, her guards following behind as her regal figure disappeared from the garden. Oberyn stood still, watching her go with an unreadable expression.

In the silence that followed, Oberyn’s voice cut through the air, calm and composed. "You can show yourself now."

Your breath hitched, but you stepped out from behind the pillar, clutching the supplies you had been carrying, your heartbeat still racing from all you had overheard.

Oberyn's dark eyes, gleaming with that unspoken intensity, never left yours. The weight of his gaze made the space between you feel smaller, heavier, as though every unspoken word lingered in the air. He took a slow step toward you, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and curiosity.

"I still don’t know your name," he said, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, though his tone remained casual, as if this was just another conversation, nothing more than passing the time.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you swallowed, straightening slightly. "It’s..." You hesitated for a second, then finally offered, your name.

Oberyn hummed in acknowledgment, his smirk widening just a little, as though your name now held a secret weight between the two of you. He moved closer, studying your face carefully. He repeated your name, tasting the name on his tongue like it was something to be savored.

A silence hung between you for a moment, but Oberyn had a way of piercing through it with his words. His eyes narrowed slightly, his head tilting just enough to catch your gaze again. "Tell me," he began, his voice soft but laced with a quiet danger, "did you poison the king?"

Your chest tightened at the question, though you knew it was coming. You didn't flinch, your heart steady despite the accusation hanging in the air. Meeting his gaze, you shook your head firmly, your voice calm but resolute. "No. I didn’t."

Oberyn’s intense gaze lingered on you, as if he was peeling away the layers of who you were, searching for the truth hidden beneath your calm exterior. His dark eyes burned with quiet judgment, tempered by curiosity. The corner of his mouth tugged upward, barely perceptible, when he let out a soft hum, the tension in his posture easing. "Good," he murmured, the single word carrying weight, as though it was meant to confirm something greater. Yet, behind his eyes, the storm never ceased, always swirling, always waiting.

You inhaled deeply, the air between you thick with unspoken things. For a long moment, you said nothing, your mind racing through the years, the faces, and the memories long buried under the weight of time and pain. The ocean waves crashed in the distance, steady and unyielding, much like the man before you. The ships bobbed on the horizon, their sails catching the wind as if they were fleeing toward freedom, away from all that was this city—this place of blood and betrayal.

You turned your gaze toward the sea, your voice low as you spoke, almost as if the memory itself had pulled the words from your lips. "You were right, your grace. I knew her… your sister, Princess Elia."

Oberyn’s expression flickered, a subtle shift from curiosity to something more personal, more vulnerable, as he stepped closer to you. His presence was quiet but commanding, the warmth of him beside you drawing your attention. You didn’t look at him; instead, you watched the ships, the waves crashing against the cliffs in the distance.

"It was a long time ago," you continued, your voice soft, filled with a kind of sorrow that time couldn’t quite erase. "I wasn’t a good person then… I don’t know if I am now." Your words hung in the air, fragile but true.

The wind whipped through your hair as the memory surged forth, pulling you back to that day—the day you first met her. You had been standing on the cliffs near Sunspear, staring down at the waters below. The waves had seemed so inviting, so final. You’d been ready to let go, ready to fall and end the pain that had gripped you for far too long.

But then, you heard a cry.

Princess Elia had been in the water, struggling against the currents, her graceful arms failing to keep her afloat. It was instinct, something primal within you that made you dive into the water, though you had been moments away from letting it take you. You swam with a strength you didn’t know you possessed, reaching her, pulling her to the shore. You’d saved her, though you had been prepared to die.

When you reached the sand, both of you gasping for breath, Elia had looked at you, her deep brown eyes searching yours, knowing, seeing far too much. "You were going to jump, weren’t you?" she had asked, her voice soft but piercing.

You had only nodded, the pressure of your decision still clinging to you like the seaweed wrapped around your legs.

Elia had smiled then, a gentle, sorrowful thing. "Thank you for saving me… even when you couldn’t save yourself." Her words had haunted you ever since.

The memory faded, and you were back in the present, the ocean still stretching before you, endless and indifferent. Oberyn stood beside you, silent for a long moment, absorbing your words. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes flickered with understanding, with a shared pain.

"You were the one," he said quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. "The servant girl… the one who survived." His voice was careful, probing, seeking confirmation of a story long buried under the rubble of war and tragedy.

Your face remained void of emotion as you turned to meet his gaze, your eyes hollowed by the weight of the years and the scars you carried. "I haven't forgotten even a day," you replied, your voice eerily calm, devoid of the turmoil you felt. "Some hatred resembles longing. It's impossible to get rid of."

Oberyn's gaze lingered on you, his expression softening, though the tempest within him still raged. His eyes, dark and intense, mirrored the turmoil that churned beneath your own surface. “I’ve also hit rock bottom before,” he said, his voice carrying a rare gentleness. “So, I understand the weight of your anger.”

His words hung in the salt-tinged air, a bridge between the two of you—both bound by memories of a woman long gone, and a shared desire for something that felt like justice but tasted more like vengeance. The sea continued its relentless assault on the cliffs, indifferent to your pain, your histories, and the scars neither of you could erase. The world moved on, as uncaring as ever, while you stood still in the face of it.

Oberyn turned slightly toward you, his expression more searching now. "Is that why you came to King's Landing?" His question was quiet, but the weight of it settled between you like a stone dropped into a deep well.

Without turning to face him, you let out a bitter laugh, the sound lost in the crash of waves. "Isn’t that why you’re here too?"

The words hit him with a force that made him pause, a flash of something unreadable passing across his face. Oberyn was silent for a moment, studying you as if trying to gauge the depth of your resolve. He shifted, his usual confidence tempered by something more cautious now. "You know what revenge does to people," he said softly, his tone laced with concern. "I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. It devours you, bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but the anger. It’s… not something someone like you should carry."

You scoffed, the words cutting through you, sharper than any blade. "Someone like me?" you echoed, turning to face him fully for the first time since the conversation began. Your eyes locked onto his, challenging, as if daring him to explain what he meant.

Oberyn’s brow furrowed, a rare crease in the otherwise unshakeable mask he wore. "You carry enough," he said, voice low but firm. "You shouldn’t be the one to deal with this. It will change you."

His worry was unexpected, disarming even, and for a moment, you saw the weight of his own guilt reflected in his gaze—the burdens he carried, the losses he had never fully avenged. But there was also a flicker of something protective, something he wasn’t ready to admit to.

You turned back toward the sea, your heart heavy with a mix of rage and sorrow. The waves below crashed louder now, their rhythm matching the pounding in your chest. "I’ve already been changed," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the roar of the ocean. "There’s nothing left to take."

Oberyn stepped closer, his presence warm beside you, though the space between you felt vast. “There’s always something left,” he murmured, his voice softer now, the edge of worry still lacing his words. “You just don’t see it yet.”

The silence between you stretched long, as the sea kept its pace, unbothered by the weight of two broken souls standing on the cliffs above it. Neither of you spoke again for some time, each lost in your own thoughts, but bound by an understanding neither of you had expected.

Both here for vengeance. Both already paying its price.

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — EVENING

The evening air clung heavily to the Red Keep, filled with the scent of the sea and the distant hum of King’s Landing. After leaving Oberyn by the cliffs, the weight of exhaustion settled into your bones, dragging you through the motions of the day. Each task completed, each conversation had, felt like a necessary distraction—an anchor to keep you from drowning in your thoughts. Yet, none of it could quiet the storm within.

Once your duties were done, you retreated to your small chambers, the flickering light of a lone candle casting shadows against the stone walls. You sat at the edge of your bed, a leather journal resting on your lap. The worn pages were a map of your thoughts, your plans, your vengeance. You traced a finger over the spine, staring down at the leather-bound book that held all the pieces of your story. It was here, in the quiet of the night, that you could feel the weight of everything you’d worked for, everything you had planned.

Your revenge.

You glanced at the drawer where your dagger rested, a constant companion in this journey, but tonight you would leave it behind. Tonight was not for the blade, but for something else entirely. Whispered words from the servants confirmed that Ellaria was out in the brothels, and that knowledge settled something within you.

You changed swiftly into a nightgown, the soft fabric brushing against your skin, and draped a dark cloak over your shoulders. It shrouded your form as you slipped through the halls of the Red Keep, every step measured, your path taking you toward the guest quarters. Toward Oberyn.

MAIDENVAULT, GUEST CHAMBERS

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP - EVENING

The corridors were dimly lit, and you moved like a shadow, slipping unnoticed through the Keep. The cold stone beneath your feet did little to deter you as you made your way to the door of Oberyn’s chambers.

You hesitated for only a moment, then pushed the door open, slipping inside before the guards could take notice. The room was dim, lit only by the pale silver of the moonlight filtering in through the window. Oberyn stood near the bed, surprised by your sudden presence, his dark eyes meeting yours as you stepped into the moonlight, the cloak falling away from your shoulders.

He closed the door behind him, his gaze flickering over you, curiosity and something else stirring in his eyes. "I didn’t expect company tonight," he said, his voice low, a touch playful as he stepped closer. "Is this what I think it is?"

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, your fingers moved to the ties of your nightgown, pulling them loose until the fabric slipped down from your shoulders, falling in a whispering heap at your feet. Oberyn’s smirk faltered as the moonlight revealed the truth—scarred, burned, and marred flesh stretching across your body like a grotesque map of past pain.

"It felt like a white night, and sometimes it felt like a polar night, too."

His amusement vanished, replaced by horror, by understanding. "Gods…" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he took in the damage that covered every inch of you.

“Ugly, right?” Your voice was toneless, cold. “My scars.”

Oberyn’s eyes darkened, but not with revulsion—only fury, a quiet, simmering rage that burned behind his otherwise calm exterior. He didn’t need to ask who had done this to you. The answer was written in the jagged lines that crisscrossed your skin. He knew. He had always known the darkness that resided in this city, but seeing it on you, it seemed to strike deeper.

“They’re not ugly,” he said softly, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “They’re injuries.” His voice was a mixture of defiance and sympathy, the edges rough with something dangerous.

You shook your head, meeting his gaze with a stark intensity. "I’m not looking for a prince," you said, your voice steady and without emotion. “What I need is not a prince, but a headsman who will join me in the sword dance.”

Oberyn’s jaw tightened, the weight of your words sinking into the space between you. For a moment, you could see the conflict in his eyes—the warrior who knew the toll of vengeance, and the lover who wished to shield you from it. But as he looked at the scars on your body, the decision seemed to solidify within him.

"Once your revenge is over, your world will also be in ruins," he said, his voice still holding the trace of concern, but it was quickly fading.

"I’m already in complete ruins with no dignity left," you replied, your voice like iron. "So, go back. I’d like to stay faithful to my rage and vice"

Oberyn exhaled slowly, the storm within him finally breaking. His fingers flexed at his side, as if already reaching for the hilt of his sword. “I’ll do it,” he said, stepping even closer until his presence was all-encompassing. “I’ll be your headsman. I’ll join the sword dance.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sunk in, the finality of them sending a thrill through you. “I’ll do whatever you say,” he continued, his voice like a vow. “As if it’s a royal command. Anything at all.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the violence in his words. “I’ll show you a wild sword dance,” he promised, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a deadly sort of resolve.

In that moment, you both knew there was no turning back. The sword dance would begin, and neither of you would emerge the same.

TAGLIST:

@christinamadsen @greenwitchfromthewoods

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avnkin · 2 years

Text

burn for you.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

when your family is summoned to court you find yourself caught in the middle of your brother's and uncles conflicts

note: didn't think I'd ever be writing on here again then I discovered aemond and here we are lmao, also I just noticed that I reached 4k followers I don't deserve y'all tysm <;3 this fic has enemies to lovers type beat cuz I can't help myself. Also, I'm a sucker for Daemon speaking valyrian to Rhaenyra so there's plenty of that type of dialogue between the reader and Aemond not to worry though the translations are all written behind the text, enjoy

wc: 3.8k

warnings: foul language, asshole!aemond, incest, family drama, Aegon being a creep y'know the usual

You fiddled with the hems of your sleeves, the inky fabric wrapping itself firmly around your arms, the dress you wore cascading down your figure all the way down to your boots, the ridiculously tight corset beneath causing you to exhale a much-needed breath, you were nervous, that much was apparent.

You just moments earlier, along with everyone else in the throne room had been left permanently scarred after having witnessed Daemon cut your great uncle's head clean in half. You didn’t disagree with Daemon’s actions quite on the contrary you just weren’t privy to witnessing such violence firsthand, it was something you hated about attending court, everyone here seemed to be in a dick-measuring competition.

You let out a huff, you had no interest whatsoever in attending the family dinner Viserys had planned for tonight, you wanted nothing more than to mount your dragon and fly back to Dragonstone this instant. Your thoughts of escape were interrupted by a light knock on your door, you glanced over your shoulder immediately feeling your shoulders tense because you knew it was time to go.

"Are you ready my love?" your mother's voice could be heard from behind you as she peered her head into your room, pushing the door fully open once she saw you were decent. "Ready as can be, mother" you turned towards her walking into her outstretched arms as she engulfed you in her embrace. “You look wonderful” her soft fingers ran down your arms straightening the fabric as she fussed over you for a bit only stopping when you swatted her hands away, sighing she stepped aside allowing you to exit your chambers.

You’d only been walking for a short moment when you felt the need to ask, “when do we return home?” her eyes met yours as she raised an eyebrow at you “we’ve only just arrived” you rolled your eyes at her reply, she knew you hated it here.

You’d never been particularly close to the other side of your family, mostly because of the treatment your mother had to endure from them specially the queen herself.

You knew of their friendship in the past and had even suspected it might have been more than that though never daring to bring it up to your mother since the mere mention of her name seemed to put her on edge. You'd been privy to the many times Alicent had unfairly treated your mother and you cared not to pretend her cruelness was justified, never mind what had happened in the past.

"I know, I know just… play nice, okay? I don't want any trouble tonight, not in the state your grandsire is in" you looked down at your feet, frowning as you pondered the stress this might all be causing him, he was barely hanging on by a thread surely all this drama wasn’t helping.

"I'll play nice if they do" you muttered, glancing up at your mother who gave you a stern look "I jest" you finally caved coming to a halt before the large double doors that led into the dining hall. "It'll be fine" you heard your mother mutter, more to herself rather than to you. You smiled at the two guards posted outside the doors as they each grabbed a handle and pulled them open allowing you to enter.

The greens were already there, sitting patiently awaiting your arrival. You immediately felt yourself shrinking underneath their harsh glances, having to remind yourself you were no longer a mere girl of six like the last time you’d dined with them. You raised your chin as your mother reluctantly let her hand fall from yours taking her usual seat next to Daemon at the dinner table.

You looked around the room frowning once you made eye contact with Aegon, he was leering at you the same way he had been ever since you’d arrived at court, his eyes roamed your figure from top to bottom coming to a dead stop at your bust. You felt sick under his gaze, he had no shame whatsoever in looking at you however he pleased, eyes following you the entire way to your seat which much to your dismay and discomfort, was the one opposite his.

"Ah my dear niece" he slurred slamming his golden wine goblet onto the table, the liquid sloshing around the rims of it, he'd clearly not been shy on the alcohol. "You look absolutely ravishing" the compliment made you squirm in your seat your eyes darting around the room before landing on Daemon who was glaring daggers at the boy in front of you.

"Thank you, uncle" you forced out through gritted teeth trying your hardest to maintain a smile on your face, your mother’s words from earlier refraining you from calling him a creep and splashing that wine in his face.

You looked around the table then for the first time properly since you sat down, smiling at Helaena as she offered an apologetic look clearly ashamed of the man she had been forced to marry. You felt for the girl she didn't deserve someone like Aegon, although it could easily be argued that no one deserved someone like him.

It was Aemond who captured your attention next, he had certainly changed since the last time you’d met him, grown. You made eye contact with him for the first time since you’d arrived stopping yourself from cringing at the eyepatch he wore, the foul memory of the event now in the forefront of your mind and you immediately looked away feeling ashamed as soon as you did, it was him who had to suffer the horrendous aftermath of that night, not you.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when the doors opened revealing the king in his dire state. He was being carried by four guards, barely being able to keep his own head up let alone walk.

Everyone round the table stood including you, brushing down the skirts of your dress finding something to distract yourself with as you could barely bare to look at him in this state. Once the king had been placed at the center of the table all of you finally sat.

“How good it is, to see you all tonight, together” he was breathing heavily already out of breath from the few words he uttered.

“Prayer before we begin” you heard Alicent declare, your brows furrowing as your eyes met your mothers who seemed to be just as bewildered at these new customs as you. You couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face it was almost comedic the flummoxed expressions on both Daemon’s and Rhaenyra’s faces

“May the mother smile down on this gathering of love…” you drowned out her words as you snuck a glance over at Aemond who had his eye closed and hands pressed together diligently listening to his mother’s prayer. He'd grown quite handsome over the years that had passed, you shook your head pushing those thoughts into the back of your mind as you looked back down at your hands, before closing your eyes once more.

“And to Vaemond Velaryon may the Gods give him rest”

Your eyes shot open at that, immediately darting over towards Daemon who couldn’t seem to help his amused expression, he looked over at you and you both gave each other sly smiles before you closed your eyes again resuming your praying stance.

Once Alicent had finally finished Viserys peeped up from next to her “this is certainly an occasion of celebration. My grandsons Jace and Luke are to marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young princes and their betrothed's” you grinned at Jace as you raised your own goblet, Daemons ‘hear, hear’ causing both your brothers to smile at their future wives proudly.

The moment didn’t last for long with Aegon feeling the need to lean over towards your brother muttering “well done Jace you’ll finally get to lie with a woman” you rolled your eyes, your uncle’s horrid personality never ceasing to amaze you. “You do know how the act is done, I presume” he continued “at least in principle, where to put your cock and all that”.

“Let it be cousin” Baela warned shooting Aegon a menacing glance as she placed her hand over Jace’s in an attempt to quell his rising anger.

“You can play the jester if you wish but hold your tongue before my betrothed” Jace cautioned seeming satisfied as Aegon backed down leaning back into his seat, raising his hands up in mock surrender.

You painfully sat through the remainder of the dinner having completely lost your appetite when Viserys had removed his golden mask revealing the decay hidden underneath. You listened to your family make their toasts, smiling at your mother in support when she tried to make common ground with Alicent who in turn surprisingly seemed to appreciate Rhaenyra’s declarations.

You were toying with the vegetables on your plate bored out of your mind when you noticed trouble seeming to brew on Aegons face as he downed the remainder of his cup in a split second, pushing his chair back and making his way towards the wine jug that sat between Baela and Jace.

You looked over at Aemond who was already starring at Aegon knowing his brother well enough to predict the upcoming wrangle.

“I…” Aegon started as he poured a decent amount of wine into his goblet. “I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask” your eyes widened at your uncle's audacity, but before you could say anything Jace had slammed his hands down onto the table his chair almost falling back at the speed in which he got up.

You shook your head at Jace and he seemed to bite his tongue his knuckles turning white as he forcibly held his hands at his sides. Your head turned at the sound of another chair being pushed back, Aemond had now also stood more than ready to come to his brother's defense if need be. His violet eye held a warning as if daring Jace to try something.

The aroma in the room felt suffocating the only person who seemed to be oblivious to the boys’ conflict was the king himself.

Goosebumps crawled up your skin as you felt Aemond’s eye on you. You squeezed your eyes shut taking in a breath before returning his gaze. He seemed to be intrigued by you, you figured it was because you didn’t look like your brothers, instead bearing the Targaryen features, silky white hair to match his own, violet eyes mirroring his as they bore into yours.

You raised your eyebrow in question wondering what he could possibly be thinking about, his lip upturned slightly at your expression, eye scanning you as he took in your new form, he seemed impressed and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

“To prince Aegon and Prince Aemond” Jace’s words snapped you out of your trance as you turned back towards your brother, his goblet raised in his hand as he continued. “We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health dear uncles”

You smiled proudly at your brother who gave you a knowing wink before taking a sip out of his goblet, giving Aegon a ‘friendly’ punch on the shoulder as he did. Aegon put on a tight-lipped smile at your brothers’ words not even looking at him as he muttered “to you as well”.

Aemond reluctantly sat back down as the building tension finally seemed to dissipate until Helaena stood a slight wobble in her step as she steadied herself against the table clearly feeling the effects of the wine she had drunk, placing one hand atop the wooden structure she raised the other squeezing the cup she held tightly between her fingers.

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad, mostly he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk”.

Your eyes widened at her words and you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips, quickly covering it up with a cough when you made eye contact with your mother who held a warning look.

“Good” you heard Otto tell her and for the first time in your life, you agreed with him.

You looked over at Jace and you could immediately tell that he was considering something, silent debate written all over his face until he eventually seemed to come to a conclusion standing up and excusing himself to Baela before he made his way around the table over to Helaena who seemed genuinely shocked as Jace reached out it his hand for her to take, an offer to dance.

You smiled lovingly at the scene before you, your niece who seemed for the first time since you got here to be enjoying herself. Jace had always had a talent for making people smile, it was truly a gift it was like he radiated happiness and it infected everyone around him.

Servants soon began to fill the room, each carrying silver platters of delicious cuisines as they made room on the already stuffed table for the added refreshments.

You heard your younger brother giggle from across the table and as you followed his gaze you soon realized why. A pig had just been placed in front of Aemond and you immediately recalled the time your brothers and Aegon had gifted him a pig claiming they had finally found him a dragon. 'The pink dread' they had called it, a cruel childish prank, you shook your head at Luke and it seemed to quell his giggles, you hoped that would have been the end of it.

You jumped when Aemond was suddenly slamming his fist into the table causing the entire thing to shake at his sheer strength. “Final tribute” he declared a mischievous glint in his eye as he smirked at his uncles gods you thought, here we go.

Aemond raised his goblet into the air his eye meeting yours as he spoke “to the health of my niece” he gave you a smile before turning to your brother “and to my nephews... Jace, Luke, and Joffrey” he trailed off “each of them handsome, wise…” there was a long pause as he turned to face Luke seemingly taking in his appearance his head vaguely tilting to one side as he smirked he wouldn’t you thought “Strong” he did.

Your eyes immediately widened in alarm as did your mother's. Alicent's warning tone as she muttered Aemond's name didn't seem to face him in the slightest.

“Let us drain our cups to these three, Strong boys” he continued clearly trying to get a rise out of your brothers. He succeeded but before Jace could say anything Alicent had called for the guards to remove the king clearly not wanting him to bear witness to the upcoming conflict.

“I dare you to say that again” Jace warned as soon as the doors had closed signaling Viserys’ exit from the room, Aemond feigned surprise at his words. “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment” Aemond put his cup down as he made his way over to Jace and you immediately stood up, coming to your brother’s defense.

“Do you not think yourself Strong?” Aemond kept pushing and before you could reach them Jace had punched Aemond square in the face earning a gasp from you as you stopped dead in your tracks.

Aemond let out a low laugh not having been affected in the least by your brother's assault and in retaliation easily pushed him to the ground. You finally unfroze at the thud that echoed around the room as Jace landed on the floor and hurried to stand between them stopping Aemond's stride as he attempted to get at your brother again.

“Dīnagon” move he warned, a glint of challenge in his eye.

“Kesan daor rual ao naejot ilagon iā ondos va ñuha lēkia” I will not allow you to lay a hand on my brother.

A low laugh rumbled in his throat, and though he seemed to be impressed as you stood your ground he easily pushed you aside but before you could come to your own defense Jace had sprung up from the floor immediately stepping in front of you and pushing you behind him.

“Don’t you dare touch my sister” he was seething you could feel the way his chest was heaving as you stood behind him.

“Mm… I don’t know, I think she wants me to touch her, don’t you gevie” beautiful your brother lunged at him, but Aemond easily moved out of the way shaking his head in amusement as he did.

“Jace!” your mother yelped as both she and Alicent finally intervened.

“That is enough!” Alicent could be heard from the other side of the room as she made her way around the table reaching for Aemond and instantly grabbing his arm as she scolded him, “why would you say such a thing before these people?” Aemond easily ripped his arm out of her grasp turning back towards Jace who was now being held back by one of the guards.

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family mother. Mm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.” Jace finally managed to wriggle himself out of the guards hold just as Aemond finished his sentence but before he could lunge at him once more Daemon stepped in front of him finger raised in the air "wait" and Jace listened planting like a tree behind Daemon.

You walked to stand next to your brother, Aemond and Daemon's face-off had turned the entire room quiet. Your mother didn't seem to want you or your siblings bearing witness to this debacle any longer as she ordered all of you to return to your quarters.

You reluctantly obeyed knowing that putting up a fight would get you nowhere. You followed your siblings out of the room but before you left you snuck a quick glance over your shoulder turning your head back immediately once you saw Aemond's eye was already trained on you.

You got no sleep the following night, the previous events playing over and over again in your head, you raised yourself up pushing the covers off of you as you got out of bed.

Fresh air that's all I needed you thought, hastily getting up as you grabbed the cloak that lay on the chair in front of your vanity, pulling on your boots as you quietly exited your chambers.

The castle walls were only lit by a few flames littered along the walls, you let your fingertips brush along the cold stone surface as you planned to make your way down to the god's wood.

The moonlight shining through the windows was now the only thing brightening up your path as you neared your destination taking careful steps down the seemingly endless castle stairs.

"Can't sleep?" you stopped dead in your tracks at the familiar voice behind you, slowly turning around your eyes meeting Aemond's. He pushed himself off the stone pillar he was currently leaning against how did you not see him? slowly making his way toward you only coming to a halt when you were nearly chest to chest.

The blue moonlight lit up his features which were carefully hidden underneath the hood of his cloak.

"Issi ao pikagon nyke?" are you following me? he chuckled at your words, intertwining his hands behind his back as he slowly began to circle you.

He came to a halt when he stood behind you leaning close to your ear as he whispered "you think too highly of yourself dear niece" you shuttered as his breath fanned over your ear, turning your head to face him as he slowly made his way back in front of you.

"You think you're the only one troubled by sleep?" he tuts reaching his arm up to pull down his hood, he looked absolutely breathtaking. "No, I suppose not" you admitted eyes narrowing at him as he tilted his head giving you a one-over.

"That was quite the scene you made earlier" you commented crossing your arms over your chest as you looked up at him. "Tell me uncle, does that make you feel powerful? Bringing down your cousins in front of the entire family, in front of the king" his lip twitched at your words and you could immediately tell you struck a nerve so against your better judgment you kept pushing.

"Are you so desperate for daddy's approval that you-" he cut you off, fury in his eye as he grabbed you by the throat pushing you up against the stone pillar behind you, it wasn't enough force to hurt you, but it still took you by surprise, the wind knocked out of you momentarily as you clawed at his arm in an attempt to free yourself, with no avail.

He towered over you outmatching you in both height and strength "you've no business speaking to me that way dear niece" he leaned in closer, lips hovering above your ear as he whispered "don't think I won't gut you right here in this corridor and gift your heart to your bastard brothers"

He pulled back slightly to take you in, he seemed to be content with the state of you, chest heaving as you glared up at him hatred boiling in your tummy as you pushed with all your might against his chest, he didn't move instead he dropped his hand from your throat at his own accord before taking a step back, your shove having not affected his retrieval in the least.

You let out a long breath as oxygen now circled normally in your lungs once more. It took you a second to gather yourself but when you finally did you straightened your posture closing the distance between the two of you, once more

"Iksan daor zūgagon hen ao, kepos" i'm not scared of you, uncle.

"Ao yenka sagon" you should be.

You didn't dare be the one to back down first so you held his stare, his lip upturning slightly as he raised his hand up to clasp your cheek gently running his fingers down your throat, his feather-like touch a complete 180 from the way he had manhandled you only moments prior.

He finally stepped back out of your personal space a low 'mm' vibrating in his chest as he turned to leave. "You should get some sleep gevie" there was that word again beautiful "I'll see you in the morning".

let me know if you guys would like a part 2!

#house of the dragon #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #house of the dragon imagine #hotd #hotdedit #hotd spoilers

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mxtxfanatic · 7 months

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Book of the Week: Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage

Author: Qian Shan Cha Ke (千山茶客)

Genre: ancient setting, josei

Rating: M (very mature, dark themes but not too graphic of depictions)

My Synopsis: What happens when a girl gets tired of being nice and decides to go apeshit? You get Shen Miao, our adorable 30+ year-old protagonist recently stuffed back into her 14-year-old self and ready to eat the flesh and drink the blood of her enemies! Using this new lease on life, she’ll methodically and maliciously ruin every antagonist’s life using the tools in her versatile skillset, including: knowledge of the future, a psychological understanding of assholes, weaponized gender stereotypes, and men. And lest we forget our love interest, Xie Jing Xing: the boy/man (cause god forbid the author know how old anyone BUT Shen Miao is…) who thought he had it all figured out until he discovered that Shen Miao is a horny drunk. See just how far they’ll go to bathe in the blood of their enemies while keeping their loved ones safe in this very long but extremely satisfying novel.

My Actual Review: It’s so satisfying to see a previously downtrodden character scheme her way into a happy ending, and Shen Miao fucking deserves it. Some reviews that I’ve seen have claimed that the LI eventually takes over her revenge schemes, but I didn’t see it. They just partner up and she uses his manpower to do what she wants. There are also places where their separate goals intersect, so it just makes more sense for him to do the cleanup. The thing about Shen Miao is that she has no issues with letting others do the work for her, especially if it’s against people she wasn’t invested in putting work against to begin with. It’s the empress in her, I fear. As for the main pair as a couple, I loved their every interaction, and their descent into romance felt natural and gratifying. Greatest thing about this romance is the fact that it truly kicks off because Xie Jing Xing did not know to guard against horny drunk Shen Miao lmao!

The translation is pretty good outside of some clunky grammar, but once you train your eyes to glaze over the the five-millionth time the translator inserts directly into the story to complain about how often the LI is described as hot (unlike every other character, I guess???) as if this book is their early 2000s fanfic, it gets even better! Another thing that may or may not be here nor there is that this author is really weird with age consistency. Like, “MC is forever un-aging while everyone else ages 2 years every few months” weird. Shen Miao is forever 14 until the time skip in which she is forever 16, while Xie Jing Xing goes from “the same age as the students” to “17/18ish” to “vaguely in his 20s” during the same course of time where we literally never see Shen Miao acknowledge a birthday in any year. As for more serious content warnings, this story involves underage relationships (including non-explicit sex, marriage, and pregnancy), rape as a weapon, (assumed) incest between cousins, child abuse, and described but not explicitly shown torture. Though there are some humorous parts, this is not a lighthearted story. Read if you want something dark with an ultimate happy ending.

Translation: complete

#human promotes #rebirth of the malicious empress #my first foray into m/f cnovels #very good place to start #love me a girl winning #shen miao did the damn thing this whole novel #she up there in the hall of fame forreal

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im-out-of-it · 2 months

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PSA: JACE IS THE WORST PARABATAI OK?????

it kinda amazes me that people genuinely think that Alec and jace had a good relationship. it was shit in the books but it was almost as bad in the show. Jace has no character development and their whole bond is one sided. I know for a fact that Alec would’ve benefited with that fucker dying. losing that bond would’ve been one of the best things to happen to Alec. to lose that toxic tie would have done Alec wonders. LET JACE DIE AND KEEP HIM DEAD PLEASE I AM BEGGING

it’s crazy how they have alec act sad when jace died and he seems to be in torment but what actually is the point of them being parabatai? it’s gross that they had alec crushing on jace (ew CC you and your incest fetishes) and jace literally drops alec the first second he sees clary. I’m sorry but what does jace actually do for alec? he’s constantly berating him, acting as though clary is his responsibility, and putting Alec last but expects Alec to drop everything for him

even goes as far to state basically “we have to chip the downworlders so we know where they are.” ummmm that’s really fucked that you think a good leader would do that. he deserved to have that spot taken away from him and I’m glad Alec ended up in charge. I seriously don’t get why jace and clary got to lead the institute in the books. they were the least deserving lmao

Alec has gone through more pain and annoyance having jace in his life. yeah he would be sad for a bit but it would do alec wonderfully if he cut that tie. Maryse was right about cutting the cancer out lmao Alec needed much better friends!!!!!!!

I’m sorry but you cannot convince me that jace cares about alec. this goes for the books and show. definitely worse in the books because jace does not give a fuck about alec. maybe show jace wants to care about alec but his first concern and only is clary and clary only. if jace had to choose between saving Alec and clary, he would choose clary. and that’s a difference with them. Alec has saved jaces life plenty of times and he’s never thankful or appreciative of Alec. Alec deserved much better!!!!!!

#anti cassandra clare #anti cc #alec lightwood #anti jace herondale #anti clary fray #just my stupid opinions #seriously what was the point of their bond #it was one of the most unhealthy relationships ever #literally even Izzy and clary had a better bond #y’all can’t convince me that jace was good to Alec #i’ll die on this hill

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aihoshiino · 8 months

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chapter 139 thoughts

Because of the content of this chapter I will unavoidably have to discuss CSA and topics related to it, including grooming, emotional abuse and sexual assault. I do not discuss them in great detail, but if you very understandably just aren't in the headspace for that, no hard feelings - look after yourself and I'll see you next time.

Gonna say up top that my review of this chapter is probably gonna read more negative than it necessarily is, because I do not think this was an Actively Bad chapter. It was, however, a deeply frustrating one and it's because of a lot of small things piling up that are starting to really grind my gears.

ai eating sweets with that head empty expression again makes this a tenouttaten chapter regardless of anything else i say here btw

As was foreshadowed by Kamiki's appearance last week, this time we're finally diving into some of the details around how Kamiki and Ai met. I'm a little surprise by how… I guess, unceremonious it is? This is the catalyst for the entire rest of the story, after all. It's the first meeting between the twins' parents and the first time Ai comes face to face with the man who will eventually kill her. Even given to us secondhand, this should be a pretty weighty, dramatic moment but…

there's no diplomatic way to say this so I will say this the undiplomatic way: I really kind of fucking hate that a moment this meaningful was undermined by flaccid incest bait jokes again lmao. I absolutely loathe that any kind of complexity the mutual past life reveal could have introduced to the twins' dynamic and any potential exploration of Ruby's feelings on the matter has been completely tossed by the wayside in favor of just having her splooge about her oniichan every time they're together. I've said before and I'll say again: I think the idea of Ruby developing confusedly romantic feelings for Aqua in the wake of realizing he was Gorou is a deeply compelling one and I would be on board with Oshi no Ko exploring that dynamic if it was actually going to explore it. The way Oshi no Ko leans into and explores the discomfort and dysphoria caused by the friction between the twins' past lives and their current selves is incredibly compelling when we actually get it and it's so baffling to me that one of the biggest, most braindead opportunities to continue doing this has not been snatched up.

We are approaching 20 chapters worth of time, in and out of universe, since this reveal happened and almost nothing has come of it. The most exploration we've gotten of how this changes things is in Mengo's interlude chapter for the twins which just feels all the more jarring in hindsight when the main story has been so stuck on using it for this incredibly tired and worn out incest bait comedy. Like, come on, man. It's 2024. What are we even doing here.

Bitching aside for the time being, I did really like the little scene between Taiki & Aqua, though. Both of them are dealing with some deeply heavy material and portraying real people they themselves both have a lot of baggage with so I appreciate they're given a moment to breathe and get those feelings out. Though again, we are given frustratingly little insight into whatever is going on with Aqua's head right now and given just how much weight and focus was given to Ruby coming to understand Ai and get into the right headspace to act as her, it feels really jarring and conspicuous that we have absolutely no idea how he's done the same for Kamiki.

H O W E V E R. I think this scene does contain a fascinating and potentially huge reveal that can easily be missed if you let yourself be distracted by Ruby; Kamiki, at least as portrayed by Aqua at this point in time, has white stars in his eyes. While I don't subscribe to the idea of In Depth Hoshigan Colour Decoding that's common elsewhere in the fandom, this does undeniably put middle school Kamiki in a closer emotional headspace to Ai than his present day self. Given what we see of the black hoshigan in other characters and knowing that this is Kamiki in the thick of his abuse at Airi's hands, this implies that despite all the horror he's been subjected to thus far this is still a Kamiki who has some light left in him. In fact, everything about Aqua's portrayal of him here suggests a certain sense of kindness and innocence that has yet to be ripped away from him which is very, very interesting. This is, after all, a hateful work written to kill Aqua's father. So this disarmingly likable and sympathetic portrayal of him as an undeniable victim throws a lot about the movie's intentions into question

what i'm saying is even aqua is furthering the kamiki hikaru babygirlification agenda. so true, king.

That said, this scene also comes with its own nits to pick, which is the reveal - or I guess. the confirmation - that Ruby does in fact know who her father is. While we don't know exactly what and how much she knows, I think it's reasonable to conclude that she's been brought on board with at least everything about him the movie confirms. And like… man… wouldn't it be really great to have seen Ruby learn any of that information on screen? Wouldn't it have been really interesting to see Ruby learn literally any fucking information about this revenge quest and the man who murdered her beloved mother and to have to work out how to process all that? Wouldn't it have made a kickass arc for Ruby to learn that even the man she despised for killing her mother was himself a victim of the entertainment industry, to see the damage that can be caused by a relationship between an adult and a child when she herself was innocently fantasizing about a similarly huge age gap between her and Gorou and to perhaps go through some conflict and internal growth based on all this?

but no. splooging over her brother is a much more important use of page time. i guess.

speaking of airi. the image of her carrying around the baby she conceived by raping eleven year old boy, right in front of him at the place she is continuing to abuse him is so incredibly foul and rancid i kind of want to throw up about it. on god i hope hell's hot enough.

It's pretty short, but the montage of Ai and Hikaru spending time together and him gradually softening and opening up to her a little more was really sweet. I've been super interested in the HikaAi relationship ever since we learned who Hikaru even was so even these little tidbits filtered through 15YL's portrayal are really exciting to get. It also lends some credence to something I've been theorizing about why Ai specifically wanted to be with Hikaru - she seems to understand and relate to his experiences with objectification at the hands of the adults and people around him and to feel some sense of solidarity with him as a result. In terms of theming, I always expected the HKAI relationship to contain echoes of AquKana and AquAka - Hikaru is a dark mirror to Aqua, so it makes sense that his relationships would be so as well - and in this sense, I think we can see an echo of the AquAka romance there. In Hikaru, Ai begins to believe she can find a person who can understand and accept her. … or that's my theory as of now, anyway.

And that final scene between Airi and Hikaru… whoof. Genuinely blood curdling. In general, the reveal of just how long Hikari was being actively abused by Airi made my stomach churn - for some reason, it had never occurred to me that it might have run parallel to his meeting with Ai but the idea that this wasn't just a one-off incident, but active grooming and abuse that Airi got away with thanks to her position of power and authority over this child in her care for years… genuinely revolting and I do mean that in the best possible way.

CSA is such a heavy topic and quite frankly, anime and manga are not historically delicate or tasteful in its portrayal - especially when it comes to male victims of assault. Ever since we were told what had happened to Hikaru, I was really on the fence about whether this was something OnK could tackle in the way it needed to be. So far, though, I think its portrayal and indictment of Airi's abuse is excellent. It is not allowed to be a spectacle, and we are shown just enough to understand the nauseating scope of the horror Hikaru has been subjected to. I'm hoping Aka and Mengo are able to keep this up.

No break next week! Maybe one after next chapter, though? 140 will be the final chapter of volume 14 and I'm curious to see what note it's going to end on.

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk spoilers #csa mention

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lyingindecay · 5 months

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Intro/Rules

Hello! You may call me Decay. I'm just a silly little (not really) she/they. I'm 25, and post ns//fw stuff, so please MINORS DNI! I made a post a couple day ago but decided to make an official post type thing.

I have loved fallout for like 8 years now and used to write OC/Character stuff (never posted it anywhere but i'm sure i still have old docs somewhere) for Fallout! This show has ignited my love for the game and now I'm writing reader insert fics lmao

I do take requests, and they are currently OPEN!

Some quick rules!

I MOSTLY WRITE SMUT!! Minors, please do not interact with me, my content. I'm not trying to be a bitch. I will block minors/ageless blogs.

I do not write: Incest, pedophilia, bestiality, noncon, yandere (this may be added to as time goes on!)

I have the right to deny any requests (whether it's because I am uncomfortable, or because I feel like I can't write that specific request)!

I do have a full-time job and also Mental Illness, so, sadly, I can't spend all day writing (I wish I could). I'll post as often as I can though.

I only write reader inserts!

I also write poly fics! So, I wouldn't mind writing character x character, as long as there is a reader is involved.

Characters I currently write for (this can be added to at any time!):

Lucy

Cooper

Maximus

Norm (short king)

Thaddeus

May actually write for some game characters eventually, but we will see

That's all for now, and happy requesting! I love talking about my special interests, so even if you don't have a request, feel free to just talk!

#fallout #fallout prime #fallout amazon #fallout show #fallout series #fallout x reader #norm maclean #maximus fallout #lucy maclean #cooper howard #the ghoul

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genericpuff · 10 months

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Is there a real difference between something being a reimagining of Greek myths and something being inspired by it?

I mean, it's a difference that's kind of subjective IMO but the way I personally see it, it comes down to what the story itself is trying to be. Is it trying to be a retelling, or is it trying to be its own story that just happens to take elements from the myths for the fun of it?

A myth retelling will typically be doing just that, retelling a mythical story with its characters with maybe some aesthetic changes, artistic liberties, or tweaks to fit a new generation. Example: Stray Gods, Hades, Hadestown, Lore Olympus, etc. All these stories are retelling myths and tales while putting more modern or subversive twists on them. Hadestown may feature a version of the Underworld that's built on coal mines, but it's still the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Hades may feature a version of Hades and Persephone who genuinely fell in love (Persephone was born to Demeter and a mortal man instead of Zeus which also removes the incest, and Persephone genuinely wanted to leave Olympus and saw marrying Hades as her way out), but they still gave Demeter her affiliations with winter and grieving the loss of her daughter.

Something that's simply myth inspired isn't necessarily trying to be accurate to the myths or retell them, they're just yoinking elements out of myths either directly or indirectly for the sake of fun and creativity. A recent example is Attack on Titan which is clearly referencing a lot of Norse mythology by the end with Ymir. Though an even bigger example of this is JRPG's, a lot of them tend to reference Greek and Norse myth in obvious or subtle ways, but aren't necessarily retelling those stories. Persona 3 uses a lot of Greek myth as the foundation for its story. The Ascians in Final Fantasy XIV go by Greek myth aliases such as Hermes and Hades, while there are raids in the game with Greek naming conventions (there's literally a raid boss in the newest set of Asphodelos raids named "Athena"). Tales of Symphonia is WWII meets Norse mythology, featuring subplots that tackle deep topics like discrimination, segregation and genocide (the "human ranches" are literally concentration camps) while also taking artistic inspiration from the Norse myths featuring the Great Kharlan Tree (the tree of life, Yggdrasil) and even the final boss' name is Yggdrasil, in the game's final cutscene Lloyd is given the opportunity to name the new reborn tree and while the audio fades out before you can hear what he names it, when you learn of Norse myth and how it inspired the game you just know he named it Yggdrasil (unfortunately they played it safer with the name "World Tree" in the game's sequel Dawn of the New World, but we don't talk about DotNW lmao). There are also a lot of religious allegories in JRPG's, particularly with Christianity, but that's another topic.

Point is, something that's simply taking inspiration from Greek myth or other mythologies isn't necessarily trying to retell those stories directly or even at all. Sometimes a piece of work is simply referencing them or enjoys the naming conventions or messaging of those original stories that it makes for a good parallel.

Not every story inspired by mythologies are attempting to retell them, but every retelling is inspired by the mythologies upon which they're based.

#greek myth retellings #myth retelling #ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything

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melrosing · 2 months

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2.07 thoughts

liked the Rhaenyra and Jace convo but feel like they could’ve managed a better build to this + drawn it out a bit more. love that Jace needs to lean into targ supremacy more than anyone bc what else does he have etc, but there’s so much they could’ve done w that in earlier eps showing where he feels insufficient and self conscious of his heritage and the lowkey resentment towards Rhaenyra for it. would also like to have seen Rhaenyra defend herself, resulting in more tangible fracture between them. she’s so diplomatic on absolutely everything and we’re near the end of S2 now! PLEASE let d’arcy do more w this role

liked the saera mention!

liked aegon rehab and larys basically tormenting him into reclaiming his role, like instead of having it thrust upon him as per S1 (which I did think was a good place to start Aegon as a character) maybe he will seize it this time bc if he doesn’t have the power of the iron throne then what does he have etc, he will never know peace, his son is gone, and so on

Alicent lake scene sure did happen. but I felt nothing like it felt lazy sorry what exactly were they trying to convey. I like being able to read my own meaning into scenes but this was like they were actively relying on the audience to do so

hilarious watching a bunch of actors in bad wigs walking into dragonstone really enjoyed that

however I think it really speaks to how little they know what to do with Rhaenyra’s interiority that you have her watching on as Vermithor burns and demolishes all the poor people she herself stuck in front of him and like. what are we supposed to understand is going through her head. she’s just fucking staring lol. and then before she can even reflect Vermithor is successfully claimed so all’s well that ends well. like my god please can someone write Rhaenyra

Daemon and the riverlords ok I liked Oscar Tully fine. but I think they’re lacking the adventure w Daemon’s interiority that they seemed to promise in the first few eps. like if you want to compare to OG bad incest man redemption anti hero Jaime Lannister and his OWN riverlands adventure….. like im sorry but this doesn’t even compare lmao

liked the dragon keepers arguing w Rhaenyra and fucking off outta there. like the framing of the dragons as gods and smallfolk claiming them as blasphemy and the way they maybe feel like Jace in that if anyone can claim these beasts maybe they’re just glorified zookeepers

excited that we get to see Dreamfyre?

v excited to see what they do w Daeron

that’s it though I was really rooting for this series but I think you can really tell they were rushing to meet deadlines and had to make a bunch of last minute edits. It’s been a 6/10 on average for me so far w a 7/10 for the high points and a 4/10 for the low. and I can’t really believe that was the penultimate episode where it’s supposed to feel everything is really coming to ahead whereas actually it feels more like the midpoint of a few fumbled arcs

#hotd spoilers

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fillinforlater · 1 year

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Monday of Appreciation: Part 84

Hello everyone, Smite here!

I'm really sorry, I wanted to read 6 or more stories this week, but my health has been pretty bad the last couple of days and I have been quite busy. I couldn't even visit a doctor, which I should definitely do soon. I hope you're all good and healthy and taking care of yourselves.

Let's get to the fics, shall we?

-1-

@rvp32: The Secret Life of Yooa ft. Yooa, Irene

You asked for feedback on this, so lemme give you two quick "fixes" for your otherwise very creative, fun fic:

Change the first part, you know, the one that isn't part of the fic to look different than the rest of the fic-text. I was very confused at first lmao, maybe you could change the font, make some sort of barrier, include more info about the fic (length, kinks, etc)

You tend to repeat yourself quite often in your descriptions. Try to change things up, make them engaging: What is the reader feeling? What do they smell and see? Try to use something other than "You are... You do...", mix up the beginning and the verb.

Really liked it, you got the talent!

-2-

@maemisnippets: Be Care-full with her ft. Mashiro

BEST GIRL BEST GIRL BEST GIRL, for real she is so adorable and pretty and BEST GIRL she has to be in my life and take me to bed and heal my heart awwwww

-3-

@sinswithpleasure: Parental Guidance ft. Taeyeon, Winter (TW)

VERY TABOO; also very hot lmao. I noticed a small mistake though: When Winter and OC get it going, he takes his shirt off---and when Taeyeon joins a minute later, she urges him to take it off? A small mistake in an otherwise great piece of SPOILER hot incest.

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@haiabd: Lottery Earnings: Anniversary Affair ft. Choerry, ???

Read this series and be surprised by what's to come. It's very hentai like in many regards (e.g. stumbling into lewd postures, oooops), but that is kinda the charm. I love it when y'all mix idols from different groups, WE NEED MORE CROSSOVER SMUTS!

See y'all next week <3

#mondayofappreciation #kpop smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #male reader smut #loona smut #got the beat smut #snsd smut #aespa smut #red velvet smut #oh my girl smut #kepler fluff #girl group fluff

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theetherealbloom · 2 days

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AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 7 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Seven: I Vowed I Would Always Be Yours

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Attempted Su!c!de, Idealization of Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack, Insecurities,

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: Canonically, I know the Sand Snakes are in the Water Gardens, but I decided to go with what @forever-rogue did which is make ‘em stay at Hellholt. So shout out to her for being an incredible writer and one of the people who inspired me to gather my courage to write my own Oberyn fic. GO READ HER STUFF! Anyways, here we are, this is where I am literally in uncharted territories and have no script to go off from lmao. The next chapters of this fic are less conflict-focused and more romance-focused, and from here on out everything is almost canon-divergent hehe. It’s safe to expect that things will spice up from here! Lastly, I made the gif myself lmao. I’m lowkey proud of myself for that heheheh

Song: The Great War by Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

A FEW DAYS LATER...

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — NIGHT

The Red Keep’s halls felt different now, the tension from the trial lingering in the air like a suffocating cloud. You had been busy—preparing, strategizing, making sure every piece of the plan to take down Lord Tywin was in place. Yet, in the quiet moments between schemes, your mind drifted to Oberyn. You hadn’t seen him since you left that note by the ocean, but every day, you wondered if he still waited for you.

You step into the cool night air near the docks, the moonlight bathing everything in silver. The wine bottle feels heavy in your hand as you make your way to the familiar spot. And there he is, just as you hoped, standing by the water’s edge, his eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for something—or someone.

“I brought wine.” Your voice breaks the silence, and Oberyn turns. His gaze locks onto you, and in that moment, you see it all—the pain, the confusion, the anger, and the relief. He had been waiting, even though he had every reason to walk away.

“You…” he begins, his voice rough as if words are failing him. “You’re here.” He takes a small step forward, the moonlight catching the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “How could you? You left me... Do you know how much I’ve—"

You interrupt him gently, your heart in your throat. “I’ve missed you.”

He stops, the burden of your words hanging between you. His voice cracks when he asks, “Then why did you leave me again?”

You take a step closer, the scent of the sea mixing with the faint spice of Dornish air. “Maybe... maybe it was out of love, not revenge.”

Oberyn’s shoulders tense, his jaw clenching as he wipes at the tears staining his cheeks. “Love? You call it love when you disappear, when you leave me with nothing but ghosts to hold onto?”

His words slice through you, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “I had to go. There’s something more important than just us. Tyrion… he needs me. And so do you. I wasn’t running away—I was preparing. We’re going to take down Lord Tywin.”

Oberyn’s eyes widen slightly, the mention of Tyrion and Tywin pulling him from his anger. “You’ve been planning with him… to destroy Tywin?”

You nod, stepping even closer now. “I’ve been preparing to help. To take down the man who’s done so much harm to both of us.”

He stares at you, the anger fading into something softer, something broken. “I haven’t been well,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “My revenge didn’t go as I planned. Nothing has.”

You take the final step, your bodies almost touching. “Then maybe you need a tutor,” you say softly, brushing your fingers along his cheek. “Would you like me to give you lessons… in revenge?”

Oberyn closes his eyes at your touch, his breath shaky as he leans into your hand. “And what will you teach me?”

You smile faintly, leaning in until your lips are just a breath away from his. “I’ll be your headsman now. I’ll be your missing piece. Tell me… who do you want me to kill first?”

His eyes open, dark and full of something raw, something desperate. And then, without another word, he pulls you to him, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s fierce, hungry, and full of all the emotions he’s been holding back.

The bottle of wine slips from your hand, forgotten, as you lose yourself in him.

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — DAY

The Red Keep had become a hollow shell of what it once was. Tyrion was free, but you knew the fight was far from over. Tywin will soon be gone, and the balance of power will shift, but vengeance was still afoot—Tyrion’s sights are set on Cersei and those who had wronged him. A storm was brewing, and you had no place in it.

Standing by the window of your chambers, you looked out over the sprawling city. King’s Landing was a place of betrayal, lies, and the shadows of your past. There was no life for you here, not anymore. You had done what you came to do—the Mountain was dead, and the world was changing, but it wasn’t enough to erase the scars of what had been done to you.

The sun was warm on your face as you began to pack your things, carefully folding your clothes into a simple satchel. The room felt emptier now, as if it knew you wouldn’t be returning. The last few days had been a whirlwind of plans and goodbyes, but one task remained, one ghost that needed to be laid to rest before you left this cursed city.

Reaching into the drawer, your fingers brushed against the coarse fabric of a familiar dress. The one you wore the day Elia Martell was murdered. The day the Mountain had ravaged and destroyed her, leaving you burned and scarred as you tried to escape his cruelty. The sight of it brought a flood of memories that sent a sharp pain through your chest. You lifted the dress carefully, the fabric still stained with blood and soot.

You let out a shaky breath, tears stinging your eyes, the one thing you couldn’t bring yourself to burn. The pain of that day still lingered like a specter. But as you examined the dress, you felt something crinkle inside. Frowning, you reached into a hidden pocket you had never noticed before. Your fingers closed around something small and fragile—a letter.

Confusion filled you. How had you never seen this? The fabric had been untouched for years. Carefully, you unfolded the parchment, your heart pounding as you saw the handwriting. Elia’s.

The ink had faded, but the words were still legible. They hit you like a dagger to the chest.

"My dearest friend,

If you find this, the worst has come. I beg you, do not stay in King’s Landing. Flee. Run far from Maegor’s Holdfast, away from the fighting, away from the horror that is to come. Go to Dorne, to my brothers, Oberyn and Doran. Tell them I love them, that I wished for a different end. I should have sent you sooner, but now you must go, for my sake. Please… live."

Your fingers trembled as you held the letter, your breath caught in your throat. Eighteen years. Eighteen long years, and all this time, this letter had been here, untouched. Elia had tried to save you, to send you to her brothers, to Dorne. Your chest tightened with grief and regret. If only you had found this sooner, maybe everything would have been different.

As you sat on the edge of your bed, clutching the letter to your chest, there was a soft knock at the door. You wiped your eyes quickly and stood as Oberyn entered the room.

His eyes immediately went to the letter in your hand. He stepped closer, his expression softening with concern. “What’s that?”

You handed it to him, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s from Elia.”

Oberyn’s brow furrowed as he took the letter, his gaze scanning the words. His expression hardened, a storm of emotions flashing in his eyes—grief, love, guilt. “She wanted you to go to Dorne,” he murmured. “She tried to protect you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded. “I never found it. All these years, it was here, and I… I thought I had been abandoned. But Elia… she never forgot me.”

Oberyn exhaled, his jaw tightening as he folded the letter carefully. His voice was thick with emotion. “My sister loved you. She always spoke of you, even in her final days. If she had known what was coming, she would have done anything to save you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the significance of Elia’s words. “There was a time,” you whispered, “when I thought… ‘What if someone had tried to help me?’ Now I finally realize that there were good grown-ups around me, too. Friends, weather, and divine intervention, too. Now I know… she did.”

Oberyn’s hand found yours, his grip firm but gentle. “Come with me,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. “To Dorne. Come home with me. Meet my brother Doran, my daughters. Elia would’ve wanted you to see Dorne for all its beauty, for all it has to offer.”

Your heart ached at his words. Dorne had always been a place of legend in your mind, a distant dream. But now, with Oberyn standing before you, offering you the chance to finally belong, to heal, it felt like a promise of something new.

You took a deep breath, looking up at him. “Do you really think… Elia would’ve wanted me there?”

Oberyn smiled, a soft, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “I know she would. She always said you belonged in Dorne. She wanted you to be safe, to be loved. Let me show you the home she wanted for you.”

You nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP — LATER

The streets of King’s Landing were buzzing with whispers, like restless birds flocking above the ashes of a great fire. The once-powerful Lannister name now seemed vulnerable, as enemies crept from the shadows, eager to seize their chance.

You walked through the Red Keep for what would be the last time, your footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls. This place had never felt like home. It had always been a battlefield, not only in the physical sense but also in the games of politics and survival. You had played your part, avenging the wrongs that haunted your past. The poison Oberyn had carefully crafted for Lord Tywin will take effect soon. There was nothing left for you here. Still, there were those you needed to say goodbye to.

Your first stop was the docks. The salty breeze off Blackwater Bay tugged at your hair as you approached Serena, your faithful friend. She stood by the ship that would take her to Braavos, her belongings already packed and loaded onto the vessel.

When she saw you, her face softened, and she opened her arms. Without a word, you embraced her, the warmth of her body grounding you for a moment in the chaos of the day.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” you whispered, holding her tightly. “For everything. You’ve been my strength through all of this.”

Serena smiled, pulling back slightly to look at you. Her eyes, filled with wisdom and compassion, glistened under the light of the setting sun. “You don’t owe me anything. You’ve done enough, more than enough. It’s time for you to find your own peace now.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, knowing that her words were true, but still, the thought of leaving her behind stung. “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me,” you said softly, your voice breaking just a little.

She placed a gentle hand on your cheek. “And I’ll never forget you, my friend. Now go, before I start crying and embarrass myself.”

You both laughed softly, but the sadness lingered as you stepped back, giving her one last look before you left her there.

Your next farewell came in the shadowy corridors of the Red Keep. It was a place where you'd experienced both the highest stakes and the deepest betrayals, and now you were ready to sever your ties. You passed through the halls, not lingering any longer than necessary, your thoughts already drifting far away from this pit of liars.

First, you came across Tyrion, who was standing with a small, satisfied smile on his face despite everything. His recent freedom hadn’t come without cost, but his fight was far from over. He would carry on, and you respected that.

When he noticed you, his smile faltered, turning thoughtful as he stepped closer. “I owe you my life,” he said with a slight incline of his head. “Not many would have risked what you did.”

You offered him a small, bittersweet smile. “It wasn’t for you, Tyrion. But I’m glad you’re free. You deserve better than this place.”

Tyrion’s eyes softened with understanding. “And you deserve peace, wherever you find it.”

You nodded, knowing you would never forget the strange bond you had formed with him in these dark times. “Goodbye, Tyrion. May your revenge taste sweeter than mine.”

With that, you turned away, leaving behind the one Lannister you could stomach. But there was still one more encounter you couldn’t avoid.

---

Jaime Lannister was waiting, his golden hand resting on the pommel of his sword as he leaned against the stone wall, his gaze distant as he stared out over the courtyard. You approached him, your steps measured, your face set in a cool, unreadable expression.

When he noticed you, Jaime stood straighter, his eyes flicking to yours. There was no warmth between you, only an understanding born from the knowledge of who you both were—survivors of a cruel world, playing your roles as best you could.

“I never liked you,” you said bluntly, not bothering to soften your words. “You aren’t a good man, but you never pretended to be. I can respect that.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something like amusement passing over his features. “And here I thought we were going to end things on a high note.”

You smirked slightly, but there was no real humor in it. “You care for your family. That much I understand. But don’t mistake that for forgiveness.”

Jaime’s face darkened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded once, a quiet acceptance of your judgment. “I don’t expect forgiveness,” he said quietly. “Only survival.”

With that, you turned on your heel and left the Red Keep behind, feeling the weight of years of pain and bitterness slowly begin to lift from your shoulders as the doors closed behind you.

DORNE — DAY

The journey to Dorne was unlike anything you had imagined. As the landscape changed from the cold, rigid greys of King’s Landing to the warmth of Dorne, it felt as if the world itself was breathing for the first time. The golden sun bathed the rolling hills, turning the sand into rivers of light. Every breath you took felt lighter, cleaner, as if the air here was different. It smelled of spices and sea salt, a stark contrast to the rot and soot of the capital. The vibrant hues of the desert, the deep oranges and reds, made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

Oberyn rode beside you, silent but ever-present. His gaze lingered on you, watching as you took in the beauty of his homeland. There was an unspoken understanding between you. He had given you the space to process this new world, but you could feel his desire to share it with you.

When the sun began its descent, casting the sky in fiery shades of red and gold, he finally broke the silence. “This is your home now,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that mirrored the setting sun. “Elia would have wanted this for you—for you to find peace, to live freely.”

His words hit you with a force you hadn’t expected. The weight of everything you’d left behind—the pain, the anger, the scars—began to lift, if only just a little. You looked out at the expanse of land before you, the endless stretch of desert that seemed to go on forever, and felt tears prick your eyes. “It’s… beautiful,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I can’t believe I waited so long to come here.”

Oberyn reached over, taking your hand in his, his touch grounding you. “You’re here now,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “That’s what matters.”

As you reached Hellholt, Ellaria’s ancestral home, the grandeur of the sandstone fortress took your breath away. The open courtyard buzzed with life as her daughters ran about, their laughter filling the air like music. You could see how much they took after their mother, fierce and unyielding, yet full of life.

Ellaria greeted you with a quiet smile, her arms wrapping around you in a hug that felt softer than you expected. The tension between you two still lingered, the unspoken feelings surrounding Oberyn’s love for you hanging heavy in the air, but there was something close to peace in her embrace.

“You’ll look after him, won’t you?” she asked, her voice low and serious as she pulled away, her eyes locking onto yours. “Oberyn means well, but sometimes… he needs someone to steady him.”

You gave her a nod, offering a reassuring smile. “I will. And we’ll visit when we can.”

Ellaria stepped back to her daughters, but not without one last glance at you—an acknowledgment that perhaps, in time, the strangeness between you two might fade. Oberyn, watching from a distance, caught your eye and smiled, pride and affection shining in his gaze.

The next morning, you and Oberyn departed Hellholt, the sound of Ellaria’s daughters’ laughter fading as you rode further into Dorne’s heart. The heat of the day settled into your skin, and as the sun rose higher, Oberyn kept you close, ensuring you were comfortable, taking every opportunity to steal a kiss or brush his fingers along your arm.

DORNE, SUNSPEAR — DAY

When you finally arrived in Sunspear, the capital of Dorne, it was as though you had entered a dream. The towering spires of the palace loomed in the distance, and the city itself was bustling with life—merchants, nobles, and commoners alike filling the streets with vibrant colors and spirited conversations. The air was filled with the scent of oranges and spices, carried on the wind from the sea.

Oberyn stopped his horse and looked at you, his expression softening as he took in the sight of you against the backdrop of his homeland. “We’re home,” he said, his voice full of tenderness.

You turned to him, your heart swelling. There was something about the way he said it that made everything feel right. Home. This place—Dorne—had always been where you were meant to be, even if it had taken years to find your way here.

Oberyn dismounted and came to your side, helping you down. As your feet touched the warm sand, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “Elia would have wanted you to see this,” he whispered. “To be part of this life. She always believed Dorne had a way of healing the soul.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him, the love in his gaze overwhelming. “I wish she could be here,” you murmured, your voice breaking.

Oberyn smiled, though there was a sadness in it. “She is. In every sunset, in every breeze, Elia is here.”

Oberyn gathered you in his arms, “She loved you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And I love you. You belong here—with me.”

The two of you stood there, the sun setting over the sea, casting long shadows over the sand. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Home.

WATER GARDENS, DORNE — NOON

The gates of Sunspear opened before you, and the sight that greeted you was nothing short of breathtaking. The Water Gardens, the beloved retreat of House Martell, stretched out in all directions, a vision of tranquility and beauty. Lush greenery surrounded shimmering pools of water, each reflecting the clear blue sky above. The gardens were dotted with fountains, their soft trickling filling the air with a soothing melody. Vibrant flowers, rich in color, bloomed along the pathways, their petals swaying gently in the warm breeze. It was a stark contrast to the harsh, grey stone of King’s Landing, and you couldn’t help but pause, your breath catching in your throat as you took it all in. None of these walls are stained by hatred. How strange this all is.

Life, which had once felt so rigid and colorless, suddenly seemed full of possibility. The villas, painted in shades of orange, red, and gold, stood proudly against the sunlit sky, their terracotta roofs blending with the desert landscape. Everything felt so alive, bursting with color. The black-and-white certainty that had governed your thoughts for so long seemed to dissolve under the warmth of the Dornish sun.

The servants welcomed you and Oberyn with gracious bows and smiles. You felt a bit stiff, your body hesitant and unsure in the face of such warmth. You weren’t used to this—being at the center of attention. The greetings felt too much, the eyes on you too kind, and your fingers twitched nervously at your sides as you forced a small smile. The heat, blistering and unrelenting, pressed against your skin, a far cry from the cooler climate of the North. You tugged at the sleeves of your long gown, grateful for the cover. The thought of your scars made your stomach turn. It wasn’t your discomfort you feared, but their own. You weren’t ready to expose that part of yourself, not yet.

Oberyn seemed to sense your unease. He reached for your hand as he led you through the gardens toward the palace. “Dorne welcomes you,” he said softly, his voice a balm to your nerves. “There is no need for hesitation here. You are among friends.”

Ahead, on a shaded terrace overlooking the Water Gardens, Prince Doran awaited you. He sat in a grand chair, his posture regal despite the illness that clearly weighed on him. Beside him stood Areo Hotah, his loyal captain, ever watchful with his towering figure and unyielding gaze.

Oberyn introduced you, his voice full of pride as he presented you to his elder brother. “This is the one I spoke of,” Oberyn said, his eyes flicking to you with a tender smile. “She has traveled far to be here, and Dorne will be better for her presence.”

You stepped forward, ready to bow in respect, but Oberyn’s hand shot out, gently stopping you. “We don’t bow in Dorne,” he whispered with a chuckle, leaning in close. “Not unless you want to draw more attention to yourself.”

Your face heated up immediately, a wave of embarrassment washing over you. “Oh,” you murmured softly, feeling the eyes of both princes on you.

Prince Doran, however, only smiled warmly. “No need to worry,” he said kindly, his voice gentle despite the weariness in it. “We are not as formal as they are in the North. How was your journey?”

You composed yourself, offering a small, grateful smile. “The journey went well, Your Grace. Thank you for allowing me to come to Dorne… I only hope to be of use. I can work—”

“No,” Doran interrupted softly but firmly, shaking his head. “You have been through more than anyone should. You will not serve us. For the rest of your days, you will be treated with the respect you deserve. You will live here, in the palace, as one of our own.”

Your heart swelled at his words, but there was a heaviness that lingered in your chest. The kindness overwhelmed you. It felt like too much, like you didn’t deserve it. You glanced at Oberyn, who gave you a reassuring nod, his hand brushing against your arm in silent support.

You mustered a sad smile, trying to push away the guilt. “Thank you, Your Grace. Princess Elia… she was always so kind to me. I remember her laughter, her warmth… she made everything brighter, even when the world was falling apart.” The memory of Elia’s voice rang in your ears, and your chest tightened.

Doran’s eyes filled with unshed tears at the mention of his sister, and his voice trembled as he replied, “Thank you for remembering her.” He took a breath, blinking back his sorrow. “It is a gift that you survived.”

The guilt washed over you again, an unwelcome tide. Survived. Sometimes you wondered why you had been spared when so many others had fallen. But there was no room for that thought now—not here.

Doran’s voice, steady once more, broke the silence. “We will provide you with everything you need—clothing, food, whatever it is. I’m sure the Northern attire will be quite stifling in our heat.”

You nodded, uncertain. The thought of changing into Dornish clothing, so light and revealing compared to what you were used to, made you uneasy. You would have to speak to Oberyn about it later, perhaps when you were alone, away from the formalities of the palace.

Just then, a woman approached you, bowing slightly. “I am your lady-in-waiting, my lady,” she said with a smile. “My name is Mirra.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, still adjusting to the sudden rush of new faces and titles. Before you could say anything, Oberyn turned to you, his grin full of mischief. “I have some matters to discuss with my brother,” he said, his hand slipping around your waist, drawing you closer to him. “But do not worry. I will make sure to join you for dinner later.” His eyes gleamed with amusement, and before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you—right there, in front of Doran and Areo Hotah.

The warmth of his lips, the unexpected display of affection, left you completely caught off guard. Your body heated from head to toe, your thoughts spinning. It wasn’t just the kiss—it was the ease with which he did it, without a care for who was watching. You caught your breath as he pulled back, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction at your stunned reaction.

Doran merely chuckled softly from his chair, while you stood frozen in place, your heart racing. As Oberyn walked away, you realized one thing with absolute certainty: life in Dorne would be unlike anything you had ever known.

Mirra led you through the winding halls of the palace, her steps light and graceful, as if she had walked these paths her entire life. When she stopped before a large wooden door, you couldn’t help but feel a slight flutter in your chest. With a quiet smile, she pushed it open, revealing the grand quarters that would now be yours.

The room was breathtaking. Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. The bedroom was vast, far larger than anything you’d ever had before. A massive bed, draped in fine silks and adorned with pillows, took up the center of the room, its grand frame intricately carved with symbols of the sun and moon. The sheets were a deep, luxurious red, and you could already imagine how soft they would feel against your skin.

The walls were lined with vibrant tapestries, each telling stories of Dorne’s rich history, and the floor was covered in plush rugs that felt like clouds underfoot. A small table stood by the window, and on it, a pitcher of cool water with fresh fruit beside it, waiting for your return from the heat. Everything about this room spoke of comfort, of care, and luxury—things that had once felt so distant to you.

Mirra gestured toward a small chest at the foot of the bed. “They’ll bring your belongings soon, but for now, these were laid out for you.” She approached the chest and opened it, revealing several beautiful dresses, each more exquisite than the last. “Prince Oberyn thought you might like them. They’re light, perfect for our weather here in Dorne.”

You approached the chest cautiously, your fingers brushing over the fabric of the dresses. They were stunning—light, flowing pieces with intricate embroidery. Each was adorned with suns, crafted in gold thread that shimmered in the light. The colors were bold—reds, oranges, deep purples—celebrating the warmth of the Dornish sun. But as you lifted one of the gowns, your heart skipped. They were sleeveless, with daring necklines, designed to expose more skin than you were comfortable with.

You ran your fingers over the delicate fabric, feeling its softness. The dresses were stunning, yet the thought of wearing something so revealing made your chest tighten. It wasn’t the scars—they didn’t bother you, nor did the thought of people looking or asking questions. Those wounds had healed long ago, and their marks no longer held power over you. But here, in this new world of sun and beauty, the weight of something else pressed down on you.

It was the fear of embarrassing Oberyn. Standing beside him, so strong and proud, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, you might not belong here.

But you didn’t want to seem ungrateful, not after Oberyn had gone out of his way to choose something for you. You swallowed your discomfort, forcing a smile. “They’re beautiful.”

Mirra watched you carefully, her kind eyes noticing your hesitation. “Prince Oberyn mentioned you two would be sharing these quarters,” she said gently, her voice soft. “But he also said that if you’re uncomfortable, he’d be more than khappy to stay in another room.”

Her words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you froze. Sharing a room with Oberyn? The idea made your mind race. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that level of intimacy, not yet. The thought of sharing such close quarters with him both thrilled and terrified you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say no, not after everything you’d both been through. Not after all the kindness he’d shown you.

“It’s… fine,” you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. “I’ll be fine.”

Mirra nodded with understanding, offering you a small, comforting smile. “I’ll have a bath drawn for you,” she said, moving toward the door. “I imagine the journey was rough. I’ll return shortly to fetch you.”

Left alone, you wandered to the large balcony that overlooked the Water Gardens. The doors were already open, and as you stepped out, the warmth of the afternoon sun kissed your skin. The view before you was nothing short of breathtaking. The sprawling gardens stretched out below, filled with vibrant colors of the season. In the distance, you could see the faint outline of Sunspear’s city walls, the rooftops glistening in the sun.

The sun was slowly setting, painting the sky with hues of pink, orange, and gold. The colors blended together, washing over the landscape in a way that made everything feel serene, almost otherworldly. For the first time in what felt like years, you allowed yourself to breathe deeply, the tension in your shoulders melting away under the warmth of the sun.

Standing there, feeling the soft breeze caress your skin, you closed your eyes and let the moment envelop you. The weight of your past, the pain, and the fear—it was still there, lurking in the corners of your mind. But here, in this moment, it felt distant. You’re no longer there anymore, you told yourself, the words settling over your heart like a protective shield. No matter how much they’ve tried to break you, you’ve survived. You’re not scared of them anymore.

A sense of peace washed over you as you stood on the balcony, watching the sun dip beneath the horizon. For the first time in years, it felt like time was moving forward. You were no longer bound to the memories that once weighed you down, no longer trapped in the shadows of what had been. Here in Dorne, with Oberyn by your side, things felt different. You felt different. The world was no longer just black and white—it was bursting with color, vibrant and alive, and you were beginning to learn how to embrace it.

The quiet knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Mirra stepped in, her soft smile welcoming as she said, "My lady, your bath is ready."

You nodded, following her through the grand room. The air was warm, scented with lavender and the faint salt of the sea, and as you stepped into the adjoining bath chamber, you couldn’t help but admire the elegance of it all. The tub was large, carved from marble, with steam rising gently from the water.

Mirra moved to help you undress, her hands reaching for the ties of your gown. But as her fingers brushed your back, you froze, the sudden contact pulling you from the moment.

“No,” you said softly, your voice steady but firm. “I can take it from here.”

Mirra hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. “My lady?”

You offered her a small smile, your hand resting on hers to ease the tension. “Thank you, but I’ll manage.”

Her gaze lingered on you, a hint of concern in her eyes, but after a moment, she nodded, stepping back with a respectful bow. “Very well. I’ll leave you to it.”

Once she was gone, you stood for a moment, the room quiet except for the soft lapping of the water in the tub. Slowly, you undressed yourself, feeling the warmth of the bath beckoning you. When you finally stepped in, the water enveloped you, soothing every ache from the long journey.

You sank deeper into the bath, closing your eyes and letting the warmth relax your body. Here, alone, the weight of the world felt lighter. The tension you had carried for so long began to melt away, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to simply be.

WATER GARDENS, DORNE — EVENING

The evening air was warm as you stepped onto the terrace of the Water Gardens, the scent of citrus trees and the distant sound of trickling water surrounding you. Lanterns, hung delicately along the stone pillars, cast a soft glow over the long table where a simple yet elegant feast was laid out. The sky above was painted in soft shades of twilight, a backdrop of deep purples and golds that felt as if it had been created just for this moment.

Your dress—a light, flowing piece with intricate suns embroidered along the edges—shifted with the breeze, reminding you of the delicate balance between feeling exposed and free. You hadn’t quite made peace with showing so much skin, but here in Dorne, no one seemed to care about scars or imperfections. And for once, it was your own hesitation, not the eyes of others, that left you feeling vulnerable.

Oberyn was already there, seated at the head of the table, his eyes finding yours the moment you appeared. A soft smile tugged at his lips, warmth radiating from him in a way that set you at ease. He rose to greet you, his presence commanding yet intimate, making the vast expanse of the terrace feel smaller, more personal.

“You look stunning,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar mix of charm and sincerity. He reached for your hand, brushing his lips against your knuckles in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Though I’m certain the gardens pale in comparison.”

You chuckled, trying to shake off the nerves that fluttered in your stomach. “I’m not sure I can compete with all this,” you gestured to the beauty surrounding you—the elegant table, the vibrant colors of the Water Gardens, the night sky overhead. “It’s like stepping into a dream.”

Oberyn’s smile widened as he pulled out a chair for you. “Then let’s make sure the dream is one you never want to wake from.”

As you sat, servants moved gracefully around you, pouring wine into delicate goblets and laying out platters of fruit, roasted meats, and bread still warm from the oven. You shifted in your seat, trying to absorb the sudden attention, feeling a little out of place despite Oberyn’s calming presence.

“Are you always treated like this?” you asked, glancing at him as one servant filled your cup.

“Only when I’m fortunate enough to be dining with such company,” Oberyn replied, his tone teasing. “Though I have a feeling you’ll soon grow used to the luxuries of Dorne.”

You smiled but couldn’t shake the underlying tension. “I’m not sure I ever will.”

Oberyn leaned in slightly, his eyes holding yours. “You don’t have to fit into any mold here. You’re not in King’s Landing anymore. You’re in Dorne, where people live as they are—unapologetically.”

There was something in his gaze that felt reassuring, a reminder that here, with him, you were free from the constraints of the past. You exhaled, the weight of the day lifting slightly from your shoulders.

The conversation between you and Oberyn flowed easily as the evening stretched on. The food was rich, the wine sweeter than anything you’d had in King’s Landing, and yet, despite the grandeur of it all, the simplicity of being in Oberyn’s company felt like the real gift. He spoke of Dorne with pride, recounting stories of its history, its people, and the beauty that stretched beyond the Water Gardens to the deserts and mountains.

“Tomorrow,” he said, his hand resting over yours, “I’ll take you to Sunspear. There is more for you to see, more than even the Water Gardens can offer.”

You smiled, feeling your heart swell with anticipation. “I look forward to it.”

As the night grew darker, and the lanterns flickered softly in the breeze, Oberyn leaned closer. “And tonight,” he whispered, “I’m just glad we’re finally here. Together.”

You couldn’t help but feel a warmth bloom inside you at his words. No matter the uncertainty of what lay ahead, tonight felt like the start of something new—something that didn’t need to be rushed or defined, just lived.

WATER GARDENS, DORNE — LATE NIGHT

The walk to your chambers felt surreal, the weight of the evening's intimacy lingering in the air between you and Oberyn. The stars above cast a silver glow on the winding paths of the Water Gardens, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the warmth of his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. Each step brought you closer to the privacy of your shared quarters, and with it, the quiet flutter of nerves began to stir in your stomach.

You’d been in his presence for hours now, sharing a meal, stories, and laughter, yet the intimacy of entering a room together felt like crossing an invisible threshold. This was the moment where things might shift, where you couldn’t help but wonder if something was expected tonight.

As Oberyn opened the door to your chambers, the room beyond was as grand as you’d imagined—perhaps even more so. A massive bed with heavy, luxurious fabrics dominated the space, framed by stone walls adorned with intricate Dornish tapestries. The soft light of candles flickered across the room, casting warm, golden hues over everything. It was beautiful, intimate, a room meant for lovers.

Your heart raced as you stepped inside, your thoughts swirling as you tried to steady yourself. Oberyn, sensing your hesitation, moved behind you, his presence a steadying force. His fingers brushed your arm gently, grounding you in the moment.

“You’re nervous,” he said softly, his voice low and comforting.

You turned to face him, biting your lip as your gaze met his. “It’s just... I know you’re used to a certain lifestyle. I don’t want to... disappoint you.”

Oberyn’s brows lifted slightly, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before his expression softened. He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “Disappoint me?” he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. “Do you truly believe that?”

You shrugged, feeling a little foolish now, but the thought had gnawed at you since the moment you’d entered the room. “You’ve always been... free. With others. I just—what if I’m not ready tonight? Will you... find your needs somewhere else?”

A small smile curved his lips, and he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “I won’t lie to you,” he began, his voice a murmur, “I’ve lived my life enjoying pleasure wherever it could be found. But you...” His thumb traced the line of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. “With you, I am content to wait. Because when it happens, it will be passionate, raw, and it will be worth every second of restraint.”

His words were like a soothing balm to your nerves, each one sinking into you, wrapping around your fears and quieting them. There was no pressure, no expectation—only the promise of something real, something deeper than just the physical.

“I don’t want you to do anything until you’re ready,” he continued, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “Your consent is more important to me than anything. And if tonight is just us, here in this bed, holding each other, that is more than enough.”

You exhaled, a wave of relief washing over you. “I’ve never been with anyone like you,” you confessed quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Oberyn chuckled softly, his arms slipping around your waist and pulling you close. “That’s because there is no one like me,” he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered there, warm and soft against your skin, and you leaned into him, feeling the tension leave your body.

He drew back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours. “But I promise you this—no matter how long it takes, no matter when you’re ready, I will wait for you. And when that moment comes, it will be ours.”

His sincerity left you breathless. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your lips brushing his in a tentative kiss. Oberyn responded instantly, his mouth moving against yours with a softness that made your heart flutter. His hand cradled the back of your head, deepening the kiss just enough to remind you of the passion that simmered beneath his calm exterior, but never pushing, never demanding more than what you offered.

You pulled back, breathless, your forehead resting against his as you smiled. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet room.

He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring the moment. “There is no need to thank me,” he murmured against your lips. “I told you, you’re in Dorne now. We take our time with everything worth savoring.”

A warmth bloomed inside you, a sense of peace and safety in his arms. You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Oberyn whispered, guiding you toward the bed. He pulled back the heavy covers, and you slipped beneath them, the cool fabric against your skin a welcome contrast to the heat that still lingered between you. He joined you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close until your back was pressed to his chest, his body a comforting shield around you.

The last thing you remembered before sleep claimed you was the sound of Oberyn’s steady breathing and the warmth of his lips as he pressed one final kiss to your shoulder.

There's nothing that needs to happen tonight. You were exactly where you were meant to be.

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