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asoiafsworld · 2 years

Text

STAND BY ME.

pairing; aemond targaryen x original female character (alysanne velaryon)

summary; alysanne velaryon, jacaerys velaryon's twin sister and daughter to queen rhaenyra targaryen, has been betrothed to aemond targaryen since she was a little girl and has loved him since then too. king viserys dies however and war breaks out between their families. when alysanne learns of her brother's death caused by the man she loves, she does the only right thing.

warnings; hotd 1x10 spoilers, mentions of stillbirth, mentions and descriptions of self harm, major character death, very sad and painful, alysanne has bad anger issues, and she has psychopathic tendencies, my oc is really a emotional rollercoaster, blood, violence, revenge, sad ending

author's note; this fic is very painful to read at times so i just want to warn once more and its not all about her relationship with aemond, theres a lot of stuff about alysanne with her family too. i was going to make this a reader imagine but i felt that an oc would suit this more since its so angsty and gets pretty violent, i hope u guys still enjoy <3 jacaerys and alysanne are aged up here and are both only two years younger than aemond (jace and alysanne are 18, aemond is 20) and alysanne referrs to daemon as her father but hes not. also i imagine a young jodie comer as alysanne but u can imagine whoever u want! and everything that is written in cursive is a flashback an anything that is only in bold is alysanne's thoughts!! pls tell me what u guys think

masterlist

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"Shh! We need to be quiet!"

Aemond tried to look at her as sternly as possible but couldn't hold on to his giggle as she looked at him as apologetically and sweetly as she could. Before he could think any longer about how beautiful she looked as only the fire in the dungeons illuminated her face, he grabbed her hand and went further down the stairs to the underground room where the skull of Balerion the Black Dread was kept.

Alysanne gasped at the sight and was sure she had never seen a head this big from the dragons that lived still. She was small, a growing girl of four and ten and was definitely dwarfed even more as she stood in front of the skull of a creature that lived not too long ago.

"What a huge skull... He must have crushed people just by laying his head on them! Do you think Vhagar will be so big too one day?"

Aemond smiled at her and cupped her cheek with one hand, softly brushing his thumb over her temple.

"I know she will. And when she is that big, you will be in the skies with her, with me. Right by my side where you belong."

Alysanne smiled shyly, her cheeks red from how sweetly he was holding her and looking at her. She had liked Aemond for so long even though their families were so opposed to each other. To their luck, her grandfather, King Viserys announced on Aemond's eight nameday that they would be betrothed and no one else was delighted except the two of them. She remembered her mother pleading with her father to still wait and to not rush into betrothals and Queen Alicent had said the same but the King would hear none of it. He saw how the two of them spent most of their time with each other after all.

Aemond was closer to her now, his breath on her lips, his hand going from her cheek to holding the back of her head in place. His forehead found its place on hers and even though he had only one eye, it stared at her in intensity and adoration.

"You look beautiful like this... Just the fire that gives me a sight of your incredible, gorgeous face. How do I deserve a betrothed like you? Tell me, what Gods did I please for you to be mine?"

She blushed even more at his words, so sweet and unrelenting in making her see that she was the most beautiful woman that ever lived, in his eyes. She brought up her hand to his cheek, the one that bared his scar. She softly admired how brave it made him look, how it proved that he was the bravest warrior of them all with the scar to prove it.

"You deserve it by simply being you, Aemond. I am yours and you are mine and in due time, we will marry and it will be official. I will be yours as you are mine, now and always."

His heart clenched at her words and he pressed the softest of kisses on her lips, his touch as gentle as if he was holding a flower... His little flower, forever his.

Alysanne's heart feels as it's ripped apart in two. She is confused, she is angry, she is sad but does not know at what or whom. The gods are playing tricks on us, she thinks as she helps her mother in wrapping up her dead little sister. Cruel and selfish tricks.

It does not make sense to her, none of it. Her grandsire dies, the Greens crown a usurper and tell everyone a lie, that the King had wished for Aegon to be King in his last breath and Alysanne and her family sit at Dragonstone, unbeknownst of the horrors that were going on in the capital. She does not understand it, none of it. Does not understand why Aemond is letting them do this, letting them crown anyone else other than her mother... He could never marry Alysanne like this.

Her hands are covered in blood, in her dead sister's and mother's from the wrapping. She does not wish to wash it off, wants to keep it on her hands, fly to King's Landing at this moment and present her bloodied hands to the Queen Dowager and her father. Look at what you have done, she wants to scream. She wants to take the bundled up baby on the table and present it to them, make the bitch of a Queen look at it. Look at how you've killed my sister. My little Visenya.

"Alysanne." She hears her mother's voice clear up the fog of anger in her mind and wonders how many times she had called her already. The princess of eight and ten looks up at her mother and sees the grief and sorrow in her eyes but mostly concern. "My darling, do not let your anger take you over again, it is unneeded at this moment. Come, wash the blood of. We need to... do the burning."

"I do not wish to wash my blood off, mother. I want to smear it in her face and tell her that she deserves death for what she has done. Letting grandsire rot in his place for days before telling anyone he was even dead, killing my sister in cold blood and putting Aegon on the throne. She will pay for this... she will."

Rhaenyra knows she can say nothing to sway her mind at the moment, her only daughter's bloodlust and want for revenge mirroring something that Daemon would probably be proud of. She wonders when this happened, wonders when her own daughter became such a hardened woman, when the love she had for her family turned into protectiveness and when that turned into anger. No one except for Rhaenyra knows that everything Alysanne does is out of love for her family, not even Jacaerys who is the girl's own twin realizes this. She wonders if that anger will be reflected at Aemond too, the only person she holds any love for outside of her family. Alysanne has not uttered a single word of him ever since Rhaenys told them of what had happened.

Alysanne listens to her all the same because she could not be mad at her mother, the woman who loves her so much and lost everything. She may be a bloodthirsty, angry woman but she is still her mother's child, nothing changes that, ever. So she washes the blood off of herself, gets dressed in an all black dress and attends her sister's funeral. She stands next to her brothers and her face remains stone cold but a few tears slip past her cheeks as her sister's tiny, small body burns. She has to breathe in and out through her nose to control her emotions from overboiling and does not know what would happen if she could not control herself.

They stole my mother's crown and her throne. They stole her and my brother's birthright. They stole me of my sweet sister... And for that, the Hightowers will burn, she thinks. Otto, Alicent, Aegon. Otto, Alicent, Aegon. Otto, Alicent, Aegon.

She repeats their names in her head. She would not kill Helaena, the sister wife of the usurper had done no harm to her or her family, just like Aegon's children.

She does not think of Aemond, of what will happen to him, of what she will do about him... or what her father will do to him. She wonders if he's trying to find an excuse in his head for betraying her like this, if he tells himself that him and his brother will make sure her family will be gone before long and force her to marry him... But that is not Aemond's way.

She can not think of Aemond. She does not want to think of Aemond. She still loves Aemond.

They stood on opposing sides of the throne room, so close yet so far away. Aemond studied her closely, how much taller she had grown, how her beauty could not match that of a single lady in the Seven Kingdoms. The sun was she to him, feeling as if he could stand and live with her in his presence. The air was she to him, needing her to breathe and to calm himself down when his mind was plagued by his demons once more. Life was she to him, something worth fighting for and the sole reason he put up with her rather annoying family.

Alysanne could tell that her betrothed had eyes for no one but her, he was not listening to the Hand when he sat the throne, nor did he look away from her when the King marched up to his throne and settled matters. She only stole a few glances at him but had to hide her smile at the way he did not stop staring at her all the same. To him, none of what was happening mattered... He only cared about meeting his lovely betrothed again.

To her however, it was not so unimportant. Her brother's legitimacy was being questioned and ever since the accident at Driftmark where her brother had taken her betrothed's eye, tensions were as high as ever between the two families. She remembered that night, when she was called upon from her bed and had to look at her brothers' bloodied faces and wondered how foolish they could have been to do something like that. If she thought back on it, it was probably the moment that made her into the cold, hardened woman that she became over the years, realizing that no one but her family would be there for her, care for her and protect her... and she strived to do the same for them.

Aemond only ripped his eyes away from her when Daemon sliced Dark Sister through Vaemond, a move that shocked most people in the throne room. She was glad to see him gone and dead for calling her brothers bastards and her mother a whore... he deserved it.

Everyone in the throne room left as the matter was settled. Lucerys would inherit Driftmark as was his birthright and the young princess was glad of it because she would not have the Hightower snakes get their way, no matter what it was.

She had been told that the King had requested a dinner with the entire family and she wondered how well that would pass but Alysanne got ready for it nonetheless. She wore a beautiful black and red gown, accentuated with the dragon sigil of her mother's house that she had always been proud of. After the handmaidens had left, there was a knock on the door and when she turned around, it was Aemond entering through the door.

She looked at him with wide eyes and walked up to him, pulling him into the room by his arm and closing the doors before anyone else could see him. Her mind was reeling from where she had touched Aemond's skin and she hoped that the effect he had on her was not so apparent to him as she turned around. But Aemond clearly did not care for not showing his feelings as he caged her against the door, so close to her again like the first and last time they kissed. His hand came up to hold her chin and made her look up at him and oh, how the touch burned under his gentle fingers.

"Tell me, my little flower, has anything changed between us?" Alysanne knew that he did not wish to show his insecurity to her but it was reflected in his voice all the same, sounding scared of her feelings not being the same as they were before. She knew that he still very clearly felt just like four years ago when they had last seen each other, his love just as she always knew it... Resistant, powerful and undying.

"Well, I have changed in the years since we last met. I am a woman grown now, did you know? My nameday was a few moons ago. I have grown colder, harder and stronger in every way. It may be that even my heart has turned to ice for I do not wish for anyone in my company except the people I love." Alysanne leaned closer to him, their lips almost touching, the distance between them able to be closed in less than a second.

"But whatever part of my heart holds it's love for you has clearly not turned into ice... because I look at you and see you standing in front of me so closely, see you looking at me like you'll never love someone like you'll love me. And I realize that yes, I do love you still, have loved you for so many years and might never love anyone else except for you. I do not believe I could ever be with another man."

Aemond did not show it but she saw the relief take over his body, his shoulders releasing it's tension and he sighed deeply, closed his eye and leaned his forehead against hers. She placed a small, featherlight kiss on his lips and furrowed her eyebrows at how little it did to satisfy her. She tried to press her lips to his again but he held her back with a thumb on her lips and his eye opened again, looking at her with hunger and resistance.

"I wish to kiss you until you are breathless and beg me for more but we can not, my love. If we do, I could not stop and control myself from doing something so sinful that would have our mothers marry us swiftly in the sept tomorrow. Which of course, I would not oppose to but I shall not risk things with you. I want to do it properly, have a feast for us and have everyone in Westeros celebrate our union. With you, I will do things right. You deserve no less, my dragon."

Alysanne hated how her heart swelled at his words, hated how he spoke so gently and softly with her like he had when they were children. When she was a different woman, a girl still, she would have embraced and loved the way he made her feel and how he confessed his love for her and his wish to marry. But as it was, Alysanne was a changed woman and hated that she had so long ago fallen for a man that she was supposed to hate... One day, war would break out and they would be on opposite sides.

She did not have to think about it much longer as Aemond had to leave to get ready for the dinner himself. He pressed a small kiss to her lips that stirred things in her heart that she could not explain, a turmoil of emotions in her heart and mind after every word and every kiss of his lips. She composed herself and decided to visit her sickly grandsire since he had asked her to come see him before they would have dinner when she was there with her mother, father and siblings this morning.

Alysanne always had a special bond with King Viserys. It was widely known that Rhaenyra was his favorite child and that he loved her very dearly and therefore loved her grandchildren as well. When he held Jacaerys and Alysanne for the first time in his arms, he cried and blessed them both, her mother had told her. When she was a child and still lived in the Red Keep, she had often played with him, let him help her learn to read and write. It pained her to see him so weak and in pain but she would still go to see him, simply because she loved him so dearly.

She entered his chambers just as he had seemingly gotten ready dressing with the help of maids and servants. He seemed clearer in his state of mind than he was before, a crooked smile on his lips as he saw her entering. The maids and servants left them and Alysanne sat down next to her grandsire in front of the fire place. He looked at her lovingly and gently grabbed her hand, his grip weak but still full of adoration for his oldest granddaughter.

"My dearest Alysanne, my pride and joy. I know they say that we should not pick favorites, in children or grandchildren... but I think you know that I have loved you so much since you were placed in my arms, as if it was Rhaenyra put in my arms all over again. Because I love you so dearly, I need to ask you this and want to give you a choice, something that I sadly could not do for Rhaenyra."

The King spoke slowly but he still commanded presence even in his weakly state. Alysanne wanted to cry at how he looked, so breakable and ill, as if he could die at this very moment but she continued to listen to him attentively. He looked up with the one eye that was visible and she saw all the love he held for her, just like when she was a little girl.

"Alysanne, please be truthful when you answer me this. Do you love Aemond?"

Alysanne's breath hitched at the question and she felt a lump so heavy in her throat that the words would not come out at first. She knew that the only reason for his question was to possibly confirm a future marriage and maybe even set a loose date for a wedding and knew that if she said no, her grandfather would not hesitate in calling the marriage off. It was his hope for Alysanne to marry Aemond so that an inevitable conflict in the future could be avoided... besides that, Aemond had demanded since Alysanne's most recent nameday to plan the wedding. She knew that if she said no, her parents and brothers would be more than pleased and happy about it. She knew that if she said no, she could avoid having to live with the awful, other side of her family. She knew that if she said no, she would avoid the inner turmoil inside her that told her that she could not love, that she was too cold and unloving for marriage.

"Yes."

Alysanne knew of the dangers that would come if she said yes. She did it anyway.

Alysanne had claimed the Cannibal at the mere age of four and ten to everyone's great surprise. When her, Jace and her younger siblings were born, they had all received dragon eggs from Syrax as their mother wanted her children to have a lifelong bond with their dragons as well. Jace, Luke and Joffrey's eggs all hatched and all three of them, respectively, had Vermax, Arrax and Tyraxes as their bonded dragons. Alysanne's egg however had turned into stone when she was still a babe and in that entire time, Syrax did not hatch more eggs for the young princess to claim.

To be truthful, Alysanne did not care much for having a dragon. The bond and the care for a dragon was not something she deemed herself to have and having three brothers who rode dragons was surely enough in the family. However, after the incident at Driftmark, Alysanne changed her mind about it. She loved Aemond back then, knew he would not hurt her but him having Vhagar would make things difficult for her in the future, she knew that.

She had thought about claiming Sea Smoke whilst she was still at Driftmark then but knew that she needed a dragon that would match Vhagar not just in fiercness but in size. So when she was back at Dragonstone, she tried her luck first with Silverwing, the dragon that ironically belonged to her namesake once before and followed the advice of the Dragonkeepers at Dragonstone. Alysanne had tried to claim her in a duration of many moons but the Dragonkeepers deemed it a hopeless cause. She tried Vermithor next, the largest unclaimed dragon that had been ridden before by the Old King, Jaehaerys I. She tried to claim him for almost a year, sang to him in Valyrian as he liked it, didn't show her fear in front of him. The Dragonkeepers decided to observe her the last time that she went to tell her what she was doing wrong.

"You are too fierce for them, my princess. Dragons can feel our emotions, our feelings and our true ambitions and they bond with whoever they match best with. And I'm sorry to say it, my princess but you are simply too angry for them, even for Vermithor."

She was frustrated at that and wondered how she was ever supposed to have a dragon when she remembered the three wild dragons that still resided on Dragonstone that were never claimed by anyone. Surely, I must be angry enough for them, she thinks. One of them has to be as hateful and angry as me.

The first two wild dragons that she came across in the more abandoned areas of Dragonstone, Grey Ghost and Sheepstealer fled her as soon as she came closer, there was no real chance at getting close to them which disappointed her greatly. She was in all seriousness not considering to approach the Cannibal so she just wanted to leave the dragon be that was feasting on a poor animal just in her line of sight. The beast however had other plans for her, letting off of the dead animal and focusing on her and coming closer at a speed that she did not expect. He stopped right in front of her and his eyes studied her closely, circling her from left to right as if asessing if she was worth to be eaten. She was not scared however and only looked him in his eyes bravely. After a few more minutes, he stopped and gave her a nudge with its big head. From that day on, she understood what was meant with that bond, knew that he had assessed her and let her claim him because she matched his anger

The Cannibal was overall the second largest dragon that still lived but the size difference between this dragon and Vhagar was so small that most people assumed that they were the same size. Besides, the Cannibal was suprisingly quick, in the sky and on the ground which was an advantage against Vhagar who, due to her oldness, had become rather slow.

Neverthless, it was a miracle that the beast had accepted Alysanne as it's first ever rider, Alysanne, who was only four and ten and still a tiny girl, rode the second largest dragon in the world and a wild dragon at that, the first one to tame it. She was of course scolded greatly for it by her mother but Daemon could only look at her proudly.

It was ironic, really. Alysanne was scolded all night by her mother who kept asking her why she did it, why she was so obsessed with having a dragon, one that was impossible to claim and terrifying as well. To prepare for war, she thought. To prepare for a war to defend you and my family. A war I have been preparing for since I was a child.

Holding council is truly a dreadful thing. Counting out who would support their side, who would hold honor their oaths given to her mother many years ago and which dragons could fight for their side.

"My prince, we may be in the lead with dragons but Prince Aemond still possesses the largest dragon alive. It will be a hard task to defeat Vhagar." The other lords around the table seem to agree and she cuts Daemon off before he can reply.

"Leave Vhagar to me, my lord. I'm sure that me and Cannibal can handle her." The table falls into silence at that and she sees from the corners of her eye that her mother and father are not agreed on that statement. The silence is interrupted by Ser Erryk who informs the council that a ship from the Greens had been seen on the shores and the council room is quickly cleared, leaving only Alysanne, Jace and Luke in the room.

She continues to assess the table and what allies they have when Luke places his hand on hers on the table. She looks over at him and sees that he looks concerned for her, his hand soft and warm on hers and so small. She pulls her hand out and places it on top of his, softly brushing her thumb over his. Sadly, her change in personality had also affected her relationships with her brothers. She spent so much time training Cannibal for possible fights with other dragons and herself spent more time into training with a sword as well. Still, she never acts cold towards them, never lashes her anger out at them because she lives for them and for the affection and love she receives from them. Luke still looks concerned but doesn't voice his worries. Instead, Jace does.

"Alysanne... If you mean to 'take care' of Vhagar, you mean to kill her... But for that, you will need to kill Aemond too."

She knew that it was exactly what all the lords around the table had questioned because Aemond's affections and love for his long time betrothed were so well known by everyone in the realm. She sighs deeply and knows deep down in her heart that it rebels at the thought of having to kill her one true love, the one man she loves. She hides her turmoil and problems under a practiced mask and puts on a smile that fools Luke and almost would have fooled Jacaerys. She softly grabs his hand and holds it tightly, needing to feel her twins' presence next to her.

"Don't worry about me, brothers. We aren't officially at war yet but when it comes to it, I will do what I must to defend us and to fight for our mother's and your birthright."

"I may not live for much longer... but I wish for one last thing before I might leave this earth forever." The King looks at Aemond and then at Alysanne at the dinner table with something that she assumed was a smile on his face. She realized then that this was it, that she had sealed her fate forever with the words she had uttered just hours ago in his chambers... She just didn't know that it would happen so soon.

"To mend the estrangement between our families, I have decided that Prince Aemond and Princess Alysanne shall be married to each other swiftly and soon, possibly after Rhaenyra gives birth. Then, we will celebrate the biggest wedding the Seven Kingdoms have ever seen. Then the gods can happily take me away."

The news of the wedding was a shock for everyone at the table and Alysanne swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat for she could feel the stares from both sides. Pretty much everyone either forgot the betrothal or opted to ignore it, knowing it still existed but not truly thinking of what would further happen with it. So to hear the King's words made both of her parents look at her in confusion and shock and Jace was almost uncontrollable with anger, wanting to punch the one eyed Prince right in his face. Before anything further could escalate, Aemond stood up with his cup in his hand, looking right at Alysanne who only had her cold gaze on the table.

"I wish to toast to my betrothed and soon enough, my wife. It has been twelve years since we were engaged and throughout our shared youth, you didn't fail to make me fall in love with you. Every time that I have seen you since only further proves that my love for you never dwindled or disappeared but simply resurfaced when I saw your evergrowing beauty through the years. I have loved you for years and will continue to love you until my dying breath. To You, my love."

Even though Alysanne felt sick at the looks that her family was giving her, she still had a tiny smile on her face and looked at Aemond lovingly, unable to hold her stoic, cold expression any longer. He smiled at her, genuinely and she wished he didn't.

Nothing in this world was more difficult for Alysanne than loving Aemond Targaryen.

Her father is furious as he comes back from their meeting with Otto Hightower, her mother as unreadable as ever. Alysanne thinks it was a good idea that she did not come for she would have ripped him apart, whether her mother commanded otherwise or not. The Council is only reconvened for a few moments before everyone is told to leave the room except for Alysanne, Jacaerys and Lucerys. The oldest daughter watches Daemon walk up and down the fireplace as he thinks hard about something she does not know. Her mother is across from her on the other side of the table, her brothers are next to her.

"Otto Hightower also mentioned your promised betrothal to Aemond. He said that we should go through with it and that it would mend the drift between our families and prevent war."

Alysanne's mind reels as she thinks about those words and wonders if a simple marriage between a second son and an eldest daughter would really mend anything... her mind immediately answers her, clear and aggressive. She does not believe she can marry Aemond with how he had betrayed her. Suddenly, Daemon turns around and looks at Alysanne, almost menacingly.

"If you had never said a single word to my brother no one would care for this stupid betrothal anymore. But you had to go through with it, didn't you? Why, because you love Aemond so much? Because you wanted to be with him? I am happy to know that you never will. You were stupid to think that you could ever marry him when you know the positions our families stand at. I don't know if you even care about your family when you were willing to marry your own enemy."

His fury is one that she had not ever seen directed at her and his words sting, just like he wants them to. Daemon has been a father to Alysanne ever since he had married her mother and he had never said anything so vile and hurtful to her. Her mother looks at him in a certain way that is silently trying to tell him to stop, to tone it down but he does not listen and keeps staring at her with anger that makes her furious in return.

"Yes, I know it was stupid, of course I knew! I knew what could happen, what the dangers were to wanting to marry him but believe it or not, at some point, I did love him. It was stupid and I let him love me and that was even stupider. But don't ever tell me that I do not care for this family, Daemon. Do not act as if that is true when you know it isn't."

"How would I know? You can not even outright say that you will kill him when you eventually face him and Vhagar with Cannibal! No, I do not believe you care for your family, Alysanne, not with the way you behave."

She sees her mother's mouth form words, something that looks like she's saying stop but it is too late for Alysanne is as angry and mad as anyone could ever be. She's hurt, she's sad, she's furious. In this moment, she feels like driving a sword through Daemon's chest.

"You liar! I have always cared for my family! Every single moment of my life, I have wanted to protect my family! Ever since Aemond lost his eye at Driftmark I have known and understood the consequences of the separation between our families. Why do you think I wanted a dragon the moment we got back? Why do you think I spent two years trying to claim and bond to dragons? Why do you think that, out of all the wild dragons, I claimed Cannibal? Because I knew none of the other ones stood a chance against Vhagar! Why do you think I have been obsessed with learning how to fight with a sword? Why do you think I always worry about where my brothers and sisters are? Because I have been preparing for this war since I was a child! I have been scared of it, of what would happen to my family and about what would happen to Aemond, yes, I worried over him because I love him. But don't ever tell me that I do not care for my family when I know deep down in my heart that I would kill Aemond the moment I get my hands on him. Don't ever make assumptions and accusations like that ever again, Daemon."

Alysanne is screaming at him in fury and her hands are shaking from how angry she feels. She starts crying at some point too but she does not care and later on realizes that confessing all her insecurities and worries to her family is an awful thing. Her grip on the table makes her feel like it will break apart soon and she feels like she will break apart in a similar way. She knows her brothers are staring at her in shock next to her, her mother looks at her with concern and her father remains unreadable. Before anything else can be said, she storms away from the painted table and out of the room, furiously wiping her tears away as if they were poison to her.

She hears her mother calling after her but no one follows her which she deems as good. It's good, she should be alone. She loves to be alone. She needs to be alone. She does not want to be alone.

Anger and sadness rage inside her in a tandem and she keeps having to stop herself from throwing a punch at the wall just so she would be rid of this agonizing feeling. She hears a distant roar that echoes out, Cannibal feeling her emotions through the bond and most likely trying to pick a fight with one of the other dragons now. With this fury inside her and Cannibal, she thinks she could burn King's Landing down at this very moment.

She walks back to her chambers quickly to prevent herself from actually going to Cannibal's nest and take off with him. Once she is inside her room, she practices the calming breathing techniques that the Maestar had taught her. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Breathe in, hold, breathe out.

She feels like it works although she is never so sure because her rage never truly leaves her, only retreats and waits to come back in the worst possible times. She walks around in her room, closing her eyes and wills herself to be normal, be normal, be fucking normal.

She hears the door open behind her and it's Jace. She does not say anything as he comes closer to her and stops right in front of her, his face etched in concern and love. She wonders what he possibly could love about her. He closes the distance between them and takes her in his arms, holding her close and hugging her tightly like he used to when they were small. She hugs him back and wonders how long it has been since she hugged her own twin because her heart aches at how much she missed this. Her face is buried in his neck and she smells his scent on him, undeniably her twin. She wishes she would cry in his arms and tell him that she's sorry but she doesn't.

He breaks away from their hug and stares into her eyes. She wonders if he can see how broken she truly is, how incredibly awful and terrible she is at her core but she does not think of it, not now. Maybe in the dead of the night under the covers when she can cry herself to sleep. She takes Jacaerys's face into her hands and hopes to make him understand how she feels.

"Everything I have done... Claiming Cannibal, learning how to fight, closing myself off to anyone who is not my family... I have done this for mother and for her birthright because I knew that someday, we would go to war and have to fight for it and we have arrived at that day. But I want you to know that by extension, I do not only do this for mother but for you too. I believe in you, Jacaerys. Your reign over the Kingdom will be peaceful and good because you are a kind man and have learned all your life how to rule, unlike Aegon. I will breathe, live and die to put mother and you on the Iron Throne. I swear by this, nothing will ever change that, not even Aemond."

Alysanne sees his eyes gather with tears and she wonders if her brother knows that she would really do anything for him to have his birthright, which was promised to him all his life. His hands hold her wrists and his tears fall as if a waterfall had opened and she tries to control her emotions so she won't cry. He is taller than her but she goes up on her toes and plants a soft kiss on his forehead and wipes the tears from his face. She holds onto him so dearly, so tightly because she's scared of losing him, scared of what will happen during the war. People die so quickly and easily and her heart aches at the thought of having to lose a single person in her family... Mother, Father, Jace, Luke, Joffrey, Baela, Rhaena, Aegon, Viserys. Nothing can happen to them. Nothing, not ever.

"I will make sure you will sit on the throne after our mother, trust this, Jace. I will forever be by your side."

"I know you are worried about our families but please, set it aside for now. I just want to be with you and not worry about their stupid problems for once."

Alysanne continued to stare into the fireplace, hoping for an answer to her worries and fears. She basked in the closeness she was enjoying with Aemond, his arm around her and her head on his shoulder, leaning onto him. She played with the string of his shirt as she contemplated on anything and everything, whatever that was.

"The reason I worry is because they hate each other. I don't know how this will work out... But at least it is set in stone now. Only a few moons until we are to be married... It doesn't feel real."

His hand was so gentle as it went through her hair, so loving and caring, attributes that no one would ever think of Aemond. No one but Alysanne. She wondered if she was cursed for it in the end, if her love for Aemond would be ill-placed and she wanted to forget about it just now. She was in the arms of the man she loved, a man she maybe should not be marrying but she could worry about that later. She broke herself away from her cozy place only to sit on his lap, her legs on either side of his body and she looked at him with nothing but love. He looked down at where Alysanne was sitting on his thigh and looked back up again, the smallest smile on his lips.

Alysanne reached up and took the eyepatch off to reveal the beautiful blue sapphire that was in the place of his eye. She brushed over his scarred cheek and studied his hidden eye closely, Aemond was not phased by this in any way. He liked that Alysanne did not feel uncomfortable about seeing him without the eyepatch and his heart clenched once more at how carefully she was touching him. She was everything to him, his beautiful Alysanne, his perfect girl, the sun to his moon. He wished to have her in his arms forever like this. She studied the years old scar as if it would rip open and tell her all of Aemond's secrets and thoughts.

"Don't worry. I'll get back at your brother for this one day."

She glared at him but didn't say anything since he laughed right after and it made her heart skip. He brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and held one side of her face with his hand. He knew that many thought of her as a brute, cold woman but she was never like that to him, always so soft and gentle and he wished he could keep her right here forever, in his arms, until the world crashed and burned around them.

He knew it would not bother them. They would be happy together, for the rest of their days.

Alysanne hates it, she lets everyone know by making a show of protesting it. She tells her mother that it's foolish to send Jacaerys and Lucerys away to be messengers, that the ravens would be enough, that she could go to the Vale, Winterfell and Storm's End to deliver the messages on Cannibal. Her mother immediately renounces that idea, telling her that sending Cannibal and her would send the wrong message to these lords. She would remain at Dragonstone with her and father to continue plans and be present at the council.

The nervousness strikes her, her worry for her brothers immense and unrelenting. She stands by their dragons as they swear to not act as warriors on their journeys but as messengers. Alysanne knows they will be fine because they have to be. They have no other choice but to come back to her safe and sound.

They leave mother with one last hug and approach her now as they are about to fly off. She is clearly worried and nervous as they come closer and Jace is the first to hug her, holding her close just like last time. She closes her eyes at how familiar it feels to be held by him and presses him close. She leaves a small kiss on his cheek before they part and she holds onto his shoulders, wondering if she can keep him here if she holds on strongly enough. He sees the worry in his twin's eyes and squeezes her shoulder.

"I will come back, sister, do not worry."

Alysanne thinks he's foolish for telling her not to worry but lets him leap onto Vermax either way. She is then faced with Luke who looks up at her with wide, scared eyes from the nest of brown locks on his head. Alysanne's heart hurts at how small he looks and she wants to pick him up like she used to when they were younger and hide him in the castle, wrap him in a blanket and never let him see the horrors of the world. He is almost as tall as her and it frightens her that her younger brother is growing up so quickly. She never gave him permission for that. She cups his small face in her hands and wants to cry at how much more it dwarfs him, so small and yet so brave to fly to Storm's End all on his own.

"My little brother, I'll miss you but you'll be back in no time anyway. Either way, be careful. I wish I could go instead but maybe I can secretly follow after you on Cannibal."

Luke lets out a small laugh at that and smiles at her, his nervousness not so bad now. "I think mother would kill you if you did."

Alysanne smiles at that too and agrees. She ruffles his pretty locks and leans down to be closer to him and kisses his forehead as gently as ever. He had always loved when his elder sister was sweet to him, always felt safe and secure with her. Luke then turns to approach his dragon but comes running back just a few seconds later and hugs Alysanne tightly.

"Don't blame yourself for Aemond. It's alright for you to love him, you can't choose over it but please don't blame yourself, sister. I know what you have done for us and I'm happy that you're my sister and protect me from everything. I love you, Alysanne."

The princess is startled by his words but she smiles at them nonetheless, her heart bursting at how sweet her brother is. Her smart boy, her little Luke.

"I love you too, sweet boy. Don't worry about me, you make sure that you come back safely to me."

My dearest Alysanne,

it has been only a day since you left but I miss you so terribly already. I hope you arrive safely at Dragonstone and think of me as much as I think of you. Soon we will be wed and everyone will see that we are bound and meant to be together, in the eyes of god and men.

It almost pains me physically to not have you by my side now, to hold you close to me and to let you see me as I am. There is no one in the Seven Kingdoms that I have ever met that has made me feel like you do. There is no one in the Known World, living or dead, that will ever enthrall me like you. I could not explain it, can not tell you why I love you so much, just that I do. I am yours and you are mine until the end of our days. I wish to get on Vhagar and fly after you and Cannibal to Dragonstone just so I can be with you, hold your hands, your face, tell you that my heart desires no one but you and that you will forever have me trapped, that I chase you like the moon chases the sun, forever.

I hope to meet up at our spot soon. The little island will always be there and I will be there too, waiting for you.

I love you. Now and always.

Forever yours, Aemond

She hates him. Now and always.

She doesn't believe it when she's told, only shakes her head when her mother comes into her room, tears all over her face. She tells him that Lucerys had died, attacked by another dragon. Her mother is silent when Alysanne asks which dragon and who it was. Did it matter? She does not believe her anyway because it's not true. Lucerys is still alive, just on his way back from Storm's End.

She's completely still as her mother tells her that it was Vhagar who had attacked and killed him. She doesn't move, doesn't breathe, doesn't see anything but red. She did not believe it because who would hurt her Luke like this? Who? Her sweet little brother who was only a child, a little boy still so young and unaware of the horrors of war. But now she believes it because she sees the way her mother continues to sob and cry.

Alysanne believes it now.

I'll get back at your brother for this one day.

A loud dragon roar is heard outside, Cannibal is so loud that it almost deafens her. It must have been heard to King's Landing.

Good, she thinks. Let them hear the roar of a dragon.

She wants to throw the chair she leans on at the wall, wants to take her sword and break her bed with it, wants to scream and pull her hair and bash her head on the ground and punch herself and punch her fist at the wall until it breaks-

She feels arms envelop her and it's her mother that had been crying so bitterly at the loss of her son, holding her close, so close because she's scared of losing her. Alysanne's mind swallows her anger automatically with her mother so close in her vicinity. She can not be violent towards her mother, she would rather die. Maybe her mother senses that she's feeling awful and that she wants to hurt herself to make the pain go away and hugs her so she won't. Alysanne doesn't know. She holds onto her mother either way, like a child she wails in her arms and screams for him. She screams for Lucerys to come back, she doesn't understand why he's not coming and running to her at her distress, doesn't understand that the little brother she held in her arms and kissed on his forehead just hours ago was dead.

The Gods play tricks on her indeed.

Her mother leaves her alone a little while later at her request and Alysanne goes to Lucerys' room because maybe he'll be hiding somewhere, waiting for Alysanne to find him. She looks around the room and wonders how it can suddenly feel so empty, so void as if no one lived here anymore. She takes a few more steps into the room, looks at the strewn and messy books on his study table and remembers that she told him once to keep his mess organized. He never listened to her.

He'll never listen to her ever again.

Her eyes go over his bed and she spots a small plush toy that she knows all too well. She approaches the bed and takes it in her hands, almost feeling like it will dissolve when she picks it up. She had made it for him, years ago when she still had lessons with a septa, she learned how to make these small plush toys. When she was young, she had made one for each of her brothers and made them look like their dragons. She sits there with a toy version of Arrax and her heart hurts, screams, burns like a wildfire. Their bodies are gone, she realizes. Lucerys and Arrax are both lost somewhere in the sea. They can not even be burned.

Another loud, angry roar is heard from Cannibal. She's never heard him sound this angry.

She's never been this angry.

She puts the plush toy back and swiftly walks out of the room, her face stone cold as she marches to her room. All she takes is her sword and small dagger, nothing to protect her from the cold.

Good, she thinks. I shall feel what Lucerys felt when he died. Cold, scared and frightened.

She passes guards as she makes her way outside but they pay her no mind and pass by her quickly because they are scared of Cannibal's roars and know that he is only so loud because of her anger. Her dragon is already perched right outside of the gates. He looks as black and dreadful and menacing as ever, his roars still sounding all over Dragonstone. The guards that stand outside are terrified, not willing to get any closer to him but Alysanne does not care. She approaches him and climbs onto his back, the huge dragon is not at all phased by this.

As soon as she is in her saddle the dragon shouts out another menacing roar and takes off, not having to listen to his rider's orders. Alysanne believes he can read her mind and knows where to go without her having to say anything. She loves him for it.

It's a short flight to the island that they called theirs, somewhere in the middle in between King's Landing and Dragonstone. It was just large enough for Vhagar and Cannibal to reside on and for Aemond and Alysanne to have time for themselves when they could.

Yes, she thinks. We'll be by ourselves with no one to hear his or Vhagar's screams and roars.

She does not know for sure if he is there but behold the gods, he is. She spots the large dragon figure on the island and a figure of white long hair in black clothes sitting on the beach. His head is downcast when she comes closer but he does not raise his head even though Cannibal is more than loud. He lands her a safe distance away from Vhagar, the older dragon staying at her spot with her snout next to Aemond. Alysanne gets off of Cannibal and approaches Aemond who is crying into his hands. She doesn't concern herself with it, only pulls her sword out towards him and the sound of the metal finally makes him turn his head. He looks horrified at who's standing in front of him but Alysanne remains cold, stoic, hard. His tear streaked face and his tired, sorrowful expression do not hurt her.

He is frantic to come closer and she lets him but only until the tip of her sword touches his chest. He looks at her beggingly but she only shakes her head. He feels cold and awful at the empty eyes she's looking at him with and it seems to terrify him that she held no love for him in her eyes. Before he can say anything, she cuts him off.

"I thought about killing Aegon first, you know? An eye for an eye, a brother for a brother. That's what all this was about after all. But then I realized that you do not love Aegon nearly as much as I love Lucerys. In fact, if I killed him, you would be better off since the crown would fall to you, his children are still so little after all. Then I thought and thought about whose death would pain you as much as Luke's pains me... That's why I thought of killing myself in front of you."

Aemond looks horrified at her words and does not believe that this is really his Alysanne. He had never, ever felt any of the anger or animosity she held inside of her directed to him so this hurts him deeply, cuts his heart in half so painfully. He shakes his head at her word and falls on his knees, powerless and defeated by the murder he had done and by the hatred of the woman he loves.

"Please, Alysanne, I beg you, do not hurt yourself. Please, I'm sorry, I swear it was an accident. I lost control of Vhagar, I didn't mean to do it! I never wanted to kill him, I just wanted his eye! Please, you have to believe me, please, I will do anything for you, please don't hate me."

Aemond sobs and cries like she did earlier and it satisfies her to know that he is in pain. She does not think that he deserves to cry like this just because she wants to hurt him. She lost a brother, he only lost his love. Unfortunately however, she still loves him and a small part of her is in pain at seeing him so distraught and hysterical. She wants to hold him, comfort him, hug him...

And then she remembers that Luke is dead. And all those feelings are gone immediately.

"Don't worry, I won't kill myself. I still have a war to win, a mother to put on a throne, a birthright to restore for my brother. My family needs me and Cannibal so no, I can not give myself the pleasure of killing myself for your misery." Alysanne then smiles, a tiny smile but it is so scaring and horrifying that Aemond shivers from where he's looking up to her.

"But I'm happy that you mention Vhagar. I was going to kill her anyway for killing Luke and Arrax but now, I want you to watch her die. I want you to watch me take away the one only thing that has ever given you power in your life and want you to feel what it's like to lose everything."

Aemond only looks at her in disbelief and horror and watches as if he is trapped in his body as Alysanne commands for Cannibal to attack and kill. Vhagar is still lazily lying there, clearly exhausted from the turmoil of emotions her rider is feeling. Because of this, she is weak and her already old state makes her slow to move. It's almost funny that Cannibal is almost as old as her but so much quicker and more brutal. Even Aemond had once admitted that Cannibal was a better war dragon than Vhagar, simply because he was large but because of his long body, still quick to move. Besides, wild dragons are truly ruthless creatures, taking whatever they want and being used to much more brutally by themselves and without a rider.

Alysanne smiles as Cannibal bites the old dragon's tail and simply rips it off, tossing it on the beach next to him, never one to waste his food. Vhagar roars out but it's weak, lame and it takes a long time for her to move, so long that Cannibal is already bursting his massive fire at the old creature. The pain from the fire only makes it worse for the she-dragon and just as Vhagar is about to attack and spew fire of her own, Cannibal grips his teeth around her neck. They struggle back and forth for a few seconds and Alysanne sees the blood drip from Vhagar's neck. Eventually, Cannibal bites all around her neck completely and the dragon's head slices slowly to the ground, making a wet, disgusting sound as it lands on the sand. The huge body of the dragon sacks down in itself and Cannibal begins to feast on her carcass. He will have plenty of food for at least a week.

Alysanne turns back to Aemond who had just watched in horror this whole time, did not say a single word or command Vhagar to attack back. His mouth is open in shock and tears fall down his face as he watches Cannibal feast on his dragon. This is what it feels like, Alysanne thinks. You should feel even more.

Aemond turns back to her and his expression is unchanged, only shock and disbelief in his eyes. She only holds her sword up and points it at his chest once again. She doesn't know how stupid he is but clearly, he is very stupid because he makes no move to get away or attack her. She hardens the grip on her handle and holds the sword right where his heart is. She looks down on his chest and then back up again into his eye. She reaches forward and rips his eyepatch off in anger. Her expression is just as cold as before but her heart beats in fear now and she does not know if she can bring herself to slice it into his chest.

For him, she thinks. For Luke. Your little Luke who only ever wanted to be held by you and talk to you about his worries over ruling one day. Luke who only ever wanted to know that he was loved. Luke who did not wish to go, did not wish to fly into a trap to his own death.

Her inner demons make the decision for her and she pushes the sword in with all her strength and feels it go through his skin, his blood spilling out like a fountain. She doesn't stop pushing in until she feels the sword come out at the other end and only then does she rip it out. The blood flows out even more and Aemond doesn't scream at the pain, only holds his chest in shock and falls backwards on the sand onto his back. Alysanne throws her sword to the side and pulls out the dagger as she falls to her knees next to his body. He looks at her, has been looking at her this whole time and still does not say anything, does not attack her or tell her to stop. He has accepted his demise, so it seems.

His blood covered hand from his chest reaches up with all the strength he has left and he touches her cheek, so softly and gently. Alysanne is crying now and can not hold her emotions at bay anymore as she feels his warm, almost hot blood cover her cheek. He wipes away her tears and she drops the dagger that she had planned to take his eye out with as he cries too but strangely, there's a smile on his face. She leans down now and lies next to him, half her body on his as she continues to cry over her lost love. She puts one hand on his where it's holding his wound and smiles back at him. She feels happiness but sadness, sorrow and relief, darkness and light all at the same time. She sees how much harder it gets for him to breathe and the blood continues to come out of his chest, staining her dress but she doesn't care.

"Will you... come back here? Sometimes, just to remember me? When you have found... someone else you will love and be with and marry, will you still.. remember me?"

He talks slowly and his voice is almost at a whisper, taking breaths in between his words and Alysanne cries and cries and cries. She sobs for him and at what she had to do and asks why in hell he had to kill her brother but she nods all the same, can not let go of her first and only real love she ever had. Her heart feels just like Aemond's wound, bleeding and pierced with a sword and she leans her head on his, her tears falling on his face and mixing with his tears.

"No, I won't ever take anyone else. I can never love anyone like I love you, Aemond. I do not understand it... I despise you and I adore you. I hate you and I love you. I kill you and cry over you dying. What have you done with me, Aemond? What is this spell that you have put on me? I can never love someone again, never in my life. And I will think of you in every breath I take, with every turn of the sun, with every time I wake and go to sleep. You will never leave me, Aemond Targaryen. In death and in life. I love you, now and always."

Alysanne sobs and cries so bitterly, so painfully that she feels like she can not breathe from her sobs. She looks at Aemond and can see the life slowly leaving his eyes and she only holds on tighter to his hand on his chest, sobs and cries as if she had not done this to him. She reaches down and kisses him, one last time and wishes she had kissed him more in the past so she could remember what it really felt like. He looks at her with still so much love and smiles at her.

"I love you, Alysanne. Now and always."

She feels his hand on her cheek slowly slip away, the strength leaving his body and it pains and fills her with joy in a way that she does not understand. She only cries more as his hand falls down, his other hand turning motionless too. She sees the moment life leaves his eyes, that his soul departs from his body. Alysanne screams now and sobs and cries and can not stop her emotions from overflowing. She leans closer to him, her head on his chest right next to where his wound is and holds onto his hand with both of her hands as she lies there next to him. Her love was gone, forever perished by her hand and would never wake up again, tell her that he loved her, hold her so gently and speak of their wedding and how happy he would finally be to not be apart, to have her at his side at all times. He would never feel that happiness again, he would never feel his love for her again, he would never feel anything ever again. She sobs and cries next to his body for some time more, knowing that what she had done would haunt her for the rest of her life. It was terrible. Terrible but necessary.

Aemond Targaryen is dead.

Lucerys Velaryon is avenged.

When she comes flying back on Cannibal hours later her family is standing at the gates, seemingly worried for her. She sees her parents waiting for her and wonders if they will judge her for what she has done today.

Cannibal lands and Alysanne quickly gets off of the dragon. Her mother and father rush to her but stop when she sees that the blood she is covered in is not hers. She must look as insane as she feels, her white dress covered in blood at almost every part, her face and hands covered in it even more. She doesn't look at either of them as she gets off, too ashamed for how they would see her now. She gives Cannibal two pats and Aemond's body rolls out of his jaw with a horrifying splat and her dragon flies off to his nest, resting from the emotional and physically turmoil he had felt today. Rhaenyra and Daemon both look at him in shock and then at Alysanne. She only looks at Aemond, his eyes now closed but his body grotesquely bloodied all the same. Her mother steps closer and holds her by her shoulder, begging her to look up but she does not. She needs to remember Aemond's face, one last time before he's truly gone.

"What happened to Vhagar?" Her father questions, his shock now over but he still seems hesitant about how he feels. She looks up now and looks Daemon in the eyes, nothing but coldness in her eyes.

"Dead, lying on an island not far from here where I found her with him. Cannibal gave her a quick death and ate half her carcass already. He'll go back for more in the next few days until there's nothing left."

She now finally looks at her mother, who looks horrified at what she has done. She wonders if her own mother might not see her in the same light anymore but she brings the hand from her shoulder to her cheek and softly holds it there, uncaring about the blood.

"You did not have to do this, my little one." Her mother has tears in her eyes and she doesn't stop them from flowing out, in sadness over how her little girl had to go through so much pain just because of the man she loved. She looks at her mother and tries to soften her gaze. She does not know if it works or if she will ever be able to feel something again after what she has done.

"But I did. I loved him but I had to kill him at the same time. I could not let him live knowing what he had done to Luke. I just couldn't."

She looks away and back down at Aemond, his face so at peace now with his eye closed and almost a ghost of a smile on his lips. She stares at him for a few seconds, tries to memorize every detail about his beautiful face and feels herself crying again without sobbing this time. The tears just fall down her face without her wanting them to, just like everything else feels out of her control. She then bends down to him and leans his head in her direction, his body already growing cold and it pains her, burns her to feel that there was no more dragon blood in his body. She reaches her hand up to his face and softly cradles his cheeks and then takes the sapphire out of his eye socket. She does not look at him after that anymore, knowing he would not have wanted her to see him without it. She stands upright again and looks at the small blue sapphire in her hands, her last memory of him. She balls her hand into a fist around the sapphire and wishes she could just be at peace in her life, for once. She does not get peace, will never get it.

She walks past her parents and into the castle, the guards she passes looking at her in horror and shock. Now they see me as I am, she thinks. A monster.

She wants to start crying again when she remembers that Aemond had once said the same thing to her about himself. She wishes to hold him again, one last time just like on the beach, hold hands with him and tell him that she loved him and could never forget him. She wishes to hold him, to be with him but she does not wish for him to be alive again because it would then rip her apart to know that the man who had murdered her brother still lived. But she wished to turn back time for the rest of her life, lay in his arms again on the beach, kiss him and tell him that she will never forget about him. But she can not.

Aemond Targaryen is dead. Lucerys Velaryon is avenged.

Alysanne Velaryon brought justice for her brother and for her family. It was justice for the world and a small consolation prize for her pain of losing Luke.

An eye for an eye, she thinks. A life for a life.

Alysanne wishes justice for herself too. She wishes death for herself too.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon spoilers

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msmorningstaarr · 6 months

Text

Holy and Heathen - Chapter 5 (I am hers and she is mine.)

Pairing: young!Oberyn Martell x Female OC (Melara Hightower)

Word count: 9.3k

Chapter warning: oberyn longing for his sister; sex; smut; melara likes it but feels guilt so could it be considered to be dubcon?;

ao3 | masterlist

SUMMARY: Lady Melara Hightower is the youngest daughter of Lord Leyton Hightower and has a distinct, serious and pious personality. She is sent to serve the Faith as a Septa, but her destiny suddenly changes once she becomes betrothed to the heir of Dorne, Prince Oberyn Martell. She sees herself living in a land far from hers with distinct habits, dealing with many divergences and a husband far more wild than she could ever expect. Would she be capable of lighting the way of her mind and heart?

(Except for Melara Hightower, all characters do not belong to me but to George RR Martin, author of the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' book series.)

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa

Oberyn

The ride back home was insufferable. His mother demanded him to apologise to his lady bride and have some time entertaining Melara after his absent behaviour towards her, but the blonde girl was constantly in the presence of her handmaidens and showed little interest in being around him. Oberyn wanted to try and push his betrothed to the edge once more, although she seemed so frightened it took all the fun of trying it. Oberyn desired for Melara to be like Elia, to dress like her and act like her if it was possible. In his most inner thoughts, she was everything he had left, the closest of Elia he could ever get. On the other hand, Melara was so distant from his sister it enraged him to know he had to marry a girl who only wished to pray from dusk till dawn and rather live in poverty washing the feet of the poor than marrying him.

Being back on Dorne at least brought him some comfort. Elia left a few of her belongings like a necklace or a veil with him so he wouldn’t forget about her scent or her at all, as if it would be possible. After so many days on the road, he yearned for some time resting on his bed, having a fair whore regardless of their gender and wine to relax. More than this, he yearned to see his daughters.

It has been more than a month without the presence of his babes and not listening to their childish laughing and feeling their flustered embraces, he missed them dearly. Instead of going to Sunspear with the royals and the entourage, he chose to go to the Water Gardens where he would see his two girls, Nymeria and Obara. Oberyn could already hear the outburst Obara was throwing at her nurse because she wanted to be with her ‘papa’. His lips formed a smile thinking about her. For as much as Nymeria used to be more ladylike and calm, Obara could be indubitably mistaken for a sand storm. At six years of age, she demonstrated to be her father’s daughter and took great enthusiasm in sword fighting and spear fighting as well and even sharing the ill tempered blood and sharp tongue Oberyn proudly had. Nymeria, on the other hand was still very little and had only four completed name days of life, having her biggest interests to be watching her father practising with the spear and daggers, although Oberyn could not allow her to manipulate them yet, due to her age.

“Papa!” Obara ran into her father, full of happiness. Nymeria held the skirt of her dress and ran after her sister with her tiny legs, trying not to fall on the floor. Oberyn tittered widely and held the girls in his arms.

“Sweet girls,” He smiled, lifting the girls in the air and carrying one on each arm.

“I am not sweet, papa!” Obara exclaimed.

Oberyn giggled.“What are you, then?”

“I am a soldier, like you!” She replied, determined.

The prince leaned his forehead on hers, lovingly. “Of course you are. But even the bravest of warriors can be loved by their fathers as well, Obara.”

“I am your sweet girl, father.” Nymeria said, clinging into his arms in the time they walked near a pool.

“And I am most glad for it. I have a warrior and a lady to call ‘my daughters’.” He smiled at his youngest.

“Did you brought something for us?” Obara questioned, agitated.

“Yes,” He replied, smirking. “But first, I need to know if you were on your best behaviour.”

The girls looked at each other for a moment in silence. “Obara cursed our nurse and stomped on her foot, papa!” Nymeria exclaimed, pointing her fingers at her eldest sister. Obara, enraged, let her small hand reach her sister’s hair, aggressively pulling it when they were still in their father’s arms. Oberyn abruptly stopped the confrontation between the sisters and put the girls on the floor, separating them.

“I just arrived home and I will hear no more screaming from both of you.” He said, sternly annoyed. The girls, slightly intimidated, retreated and nodded their heads in respect. “I expect both of you to be on your best behaviour with everyone, even your nurses. Is that understood?” They nodded once more, quietly.

“Sorry, papa.” They said, in unison. Oberyn extended his hands and Obara held one insofar Nymeria held the other, following their father.

He caressed the dark hair of his children, slowly. “The servants left your gifts in your chambers.” He said, with a sly grin. The girls clapped their small hands in excitement.

“What did you bring?” Nymeria asked, curious.

“It will be a surprise, sweetling.” He caringly brushed his daughter’s jawline. “First, we will pick a book from the library so I can read something for you. Then, I promise to show you my gifts.” The girls happily agreed and balanced their heads quickly.

The truth was that he had forgotten about bringing them something from King’s Landing. He was so absorbed with everything happening there that he gave no thought to his girls, something that made him feel slightly ashamed. However, during the journey he demanded the entourage to stop so he could take something for his babe snakes. To Obara, he bought a wooden sword and spear for her practice and for Nymeria two new dolls, since the girl did not show yet a true desire to learn how to be a warrior like her elder sister.

“Did you miss me?” He asked, softly.

“Yes!” Nymeria and Obara replied together.

“Why did you travel with grandmother, father?” Obara asked and Oberyn frowned.

“We were bringing my future wife to our home.” He replied, quietly awaiting their thoughts on the situation.

“Will we have a new mother?” Nymeria asked, confused. Obara lowered her eyes and changed her expression. Even at a young age, his first daughter was very intense with emotions, albeit very reserved. He noticed her hands sweating and face turning into a concerned one, but trying to keep her emotions aside.

“Yes,” He replied, simply. “I need to have trueborn children.” The girls looked at him with puzzled eyes.

“But we are your children, papa.” Obara replied, slightly offended.

Oberyn sighed and kneeled to be on the same level as them. “Yes, you are.” He gently brushed his fingers on their cheeks. “But still, I am not married to your mothers, therefore, it makes you two bastards.” He continued. “I love you, dearly. But I need more children to rule Dorne officially when I die.”

Obara crossed her arms, outraged. “This is not fair, papa!” Nymeria pouted, turning her back to Oberyn.

“You are too young to fathom it, sweetlings.” He sat at the stoned floor by the pool and patted the floor for them to sit as well. “Bastards can thrive in our land, girls. To me, it doesn’t change the way I see you. I plan for you to have great futures beyond the Sunspear throne, just like many other bastards here in Dorne. You will be free to be whatever you desire.” They would have the freedom he yearned to have and could never afford. The girls looked at him suspiciously. Oberyn grabbed Obara’s chin to make the girl face him. “You will be a knight, sparring and conquering many victories for Dorne, leading our tropes in the wars to come right by my side.” Then, Oberyn made Nymeria look at him. “And you,” He squeezed gently Nymeria’s hand. “Will be as deadly as Obara is. Perhaps even more, hiding your danger beneath this purple silk you take joy in wearing.” He smiled, bringing his daughters together. “You two are my true legacy, my image. But you occupy different positions in this family.” He replied, genuinely. “Being a bastard or not, you are blood of my blood. My little vipers, my sand snakes.” Oberyn smirked and involved his arms around the children in a tender manner. The girls smiled and kissed his cheeks, eventually calming themselves with the affirmation words Oberyn spoke.

Obara stood up next to her father and her sister, as they turned to walk once more. “Is she pretty?”

The prince wetted his lips with his tongue and his head recollected about Melara for a moment and on her appearance, remembering her plump lips and shy, blue eyes, her shimmering blonde hair and ethereal, quiet beauty. “She is. In fact, she comes from the same place as you. Oldtown.”

Obara raised her eyes to her father. “Is she a whore like my mother too?”

The dornish prince giggled. “No, no, my love. She is a noble lady from a castle named ‘Hightower’.” Nymeria and Obara narrowed her eyes in amazement. Oberyn was glad he could explain this to Obara before, otherwise he was absolutely sure Melara would feel at least furious with her assumption.

“She is a lady like my mother!” The youngest exclaimed, cheerful.

“Yes, love.” He tenderly caressed the back of her hand. “But your mother comes from Volantis and so do you.”

“Do you believe she’ll like us, father?” Obara asked, apprehensively fiddling her fingers.

“She will be a dead woman if she doesn’t.” He swore, escorting his daughters.

“What is her name?” Obara kept her interrogatory going.

“Lady Melara Hightower.” He smirked.

The imponent child shrugged. “I suppose it is a fair name, father. When can we see her?”

“Soon.” Oberyn promised.

“Soon when?” Obara impatiently asked.

Calmly, Oberyn replied. “In her time,” She pouted his lips. “Lady Melara is on a hardship adapting to Dorne.”

“Is she here in the Water Gardens? I want to see her!” Nymeria pleaded to him.

“She is with your grandmother in the Old Palace, love.” He said, opening the door of the library and entering the room after his daughters. “You must wait for a while before getting to know her. Even I must wait.”

“I need to see if she is pretty and kind, father!” Nymeria said, trying to reason with her father. Oberyn did in fact want to introduce Obara and Nym to Melara, but his own mind advised him to prepare the ground before putting them all together. He feared Melara would despise his daughters for being bastards and he was in no mood to tear apart fights between an adult woman and two children.

“She is very pretty, trust my words, Nym.” He said, grabbing a book to read for the girls when in the meanwhile they sat on a comforting sofa in front of him.

“Can you tell us how she is, father?” Nymeria asked, intrigued.

“Of course,” He turned his face to the infants and sat in a chair in front of them. “Melara is so pale that her skin seems to be made out of snow. Her eyes are bright blue like the sea from the Isle of Tarth.” Oberyn continued, placing the book on his lap. “She is not very tall, albeit has a slender body. And her hair is so golden that it's similar to that silvery Targaryen hair.”

Obara and Nymeria opened their mouths in the shape of an “O” once they heard how Melara was, flabbergasted with the information they just received. “But pale people are rather strange, father.” Obara replied and Oberyn chuckled. “Do you think that if she spends some time under the sun she can look not so pale like me, you and Nym?”

He laughed. “You can suggest it to her in the future, sweet girl.” Then, he opened the black book to read with the girls, something they would do on a daily basis. “I’ll read to you tonight your favourite tale. ‘The Dragon’s Wroth’.”

The story about the first Dornish War when House Targaryen attempted to make Dorne bend the knee and acknowledge Aegon the Conqueror as their rightful King, following by House Martell being able to defeat and kill the dragon Meraxes and Queen Rhaenys Targaryen was definitely Obara and Nymeria’s favourite narrative. Oberyn always made sure to read it to them whenever they asked. He read the whole book to the girls and after this he did as he promised and showed their presents after that moment. Obara and Nymeria shouted and twirled around, dazzled with their new items and holding their father’s thighs whilst thanking him for remembering them. Those smiles were priceless to him. His next children with Melara would grow close to them, wanting his bride or not and he would never allow any kind of ill treatment towards Obara or Nymeria.

After this brief moment with the girls, the salty prince could notice that Obara was nervous, fearful. She would never admit it to him, but Oberyn noticed it all. Nymeria had constant contact with her own mother who sent her letters and gifts from Volantis. However, Obara’s mother drank to death after Oberyn took her away from her arms in that brothel in Oldtown. His first born was a tough girl, never cried in front of him or anyone and seemed to be fearless in front of people, but he would often see how the lack of a motherly presence weighed on her at such a young age. At least for this Melara could have a good use in this marriage, he thought. Obara needed to feel safe to be fearless and he would do anything to provide it for her and Oberyn would make it clear for Melara if she ever tried to convince him the opposite of it.

*********

And after a few days after a month, there he was, standing on the Sept of Sunspear, surrounded by the Martells and some of his bannermen watching him being wedded to Lady Melara. She looked beautiful, wearing an ivory dress with grey stars embroidered on the upper part and golden suns on its tail. Pearls and diamonds were added to her garment and on her jewellery, alongside the long, heavy sleeves reaching the floor. The design was not revealing but it showed her pale collarbones, all red due to sunburn. Her hair was half combed and half loose, with twisted locks and braids in alternate sections, with a hairpin on the top of her hair leaving a cascade of crystals going down her silvery blonde hair and exposing how exquisite and rich House Hightower is. Oberyn wore an ivory robe made of Myrish silk, forming a pattern with suns crossed by a red spear, having a light yellow tunic under the long robe he wore. On his neck, golden chains involved him with an extravagant pendant of House Martell sigil inserted in it, contrasting with his olive skin. His black curls were big and as usual, a small lock would fall over his left eye. He also carried golden rings on his fingers, his ancestral sword “Nymeria’s daughter” and a stern look seeing Melara walk down the aisle.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The septon began once Melara stopped by his side. Undeniably, she was stunning. Almost as marvellous as Elia. Oberyn covered her carefully with the cloak she prepared and her face finally met his, screaming anxiety. His fingers lightly touched her chin and he turned back at the clergyman.

The septon proclaims, "My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."

Melara sighed and Oberyn felt his freedom escape through his fingers like sand going back to the ground. The young couple joined hands in front of the crowd and the septon tied the ribbon around their hands. He noticed how Melara blinked her eyes repeatedly to avoid crying in front of him. Oberyn, on the other hand, was uninterested in her. The prince found her innocence to be enticing at first… now it was abhorrent.

"Let it be known that Prince Oberyn of House Nymeros Martell and Lady Melara of House Hightower are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." The septon announces next, "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity." Soon after, he unravels the ribbon. The septon commands. "Look upon each other and say the words."

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…” They repeated at the same time.

“I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,” Oberyn locked his gaze on hers.

“I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.” It was almost done… he approached her, slowly.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” And their lips encountered on a gentle kiss as applauses rounded for the newlyweds. It was done, he was married to the girl his mother chose. He was married for more than three minutes and Oberyn already felt stuck, suffocated. Oberyn pondered if she would fancy the lovemaking as much as he did. She glanced at him and the prince tried to ease her tension with assuring eyes while walking out from the Sept.

“It’s done, my lady.” The first words he would state to her in days since that infamous night at the Red Keep.

Melara made gentle steps by his side, facing the floor. “It is done, Ser.” She spoke, quietly. Her hands were sweaty and shaking the whole time he was holding it and making their way to the Great Hall.

The only people Oberyn felt like interacting were his children, but the girls were not allowed in the ceremony, due to their young ages. The prince was in no mood for interacting with people during the feast. When he left Elia behind, it felt bad, sad, overwhelming. The moments he neglected the company of his now wife during the ride back home, Oberyn could not bear spending his time with Melara. Not because she was displeasing him, but because he could not stand the fact she was not his sister. He always knew he had to overcome this feeling and let her go eventually, however, the more he tried, the more drowned into Elia. His mother was very aware of it and tried to separate them, turning out to be successful in the end. Howbeit, Melara was nothing he expected. The prince was hoping to see her more loose and turning to be more cunning when she comes to distance from her family, but she remained the same: dreadful, quiet, melancholic.

“Would you like to dance, my lady?” He asked, drinking a sip of his wine.

“I am not particularly fond of dancing, my lord.” She replied, taciturn. Oberyn had no clue about her thoughts, feelings. He had made so much progress with her before and he felt like they went backwards. The Gods saw he was on his best conduct to be caring to her and Melara was reclusive, refusing to even speak to her father after the ceremony. She only observed and talked to some few words to the lords who came to present themselves at her and make some curtsy, something she apparently was not very amused to do. Giving her some credit, he hated the false politeness any court required and made no secret about this, Melara had no intentions to hide her feelings about it either and he admired her for it, at least.

“Accordingly, you should get acquainted with dancing and singing. I am rather keen on tournaments and feasts, you as my wife must follow me.” He pointed out, watching the guests dancing along.

Melara sighed and fiddled her fingers. “Yes, husband. I shall endeavour my best.”

Her silence annoyed him, but most of the time it was easier to imagine someone he could see as his equal by his side instead of her. Once more, his mind brough Elia back. No one would be good enough for him, especially Melara.

“Why do you have such reticent behaviour?” Oberyn asked, trying to control his bothersomeness.

Melara turned to him with unease. “I am what I am, Ser.”

“Stop with this nonsense of calling me ‘Ser’,” he rolled his eyes. “You were more engaged in conversation on the evening we met, my wife. Should I be concerned I did something wrong?”

“Of course not,” She replied quickly. “I must apologise for my attitude. I was too distant from you.”

Oberyn curved the corner of his lips and frowned, unworried. “I was not at my best demeanour as well, I must admit.”

After some moments of silence between them, Melara seemed apprehensive and drank her glass of wine to have the courage to open her mouth. “I… I was contemplating if my… actions have displeased you.” She muttered, hesitant.

The prince bit his lips and brushed his fingers over it. “Only your lack of emotions, my lady. But I was deeply rejoiced the moment you expressed your pleasure to me.” Melara blushed and faced the floor, ashamed. “There is no need to be embarrassed, Melara.”

“It does not feel right, husband.”

Oberyn stared at her, confused. “What, exactly?”

“To feel… those feelings.” She anxiously fiddled her fingers.

Oberyn laughed. “Is only natural, wife.” He leaned to her earlobe and Oberyn could feel her goosefleshing to the proximity. His mind was already dominated by the strongly sweet Dornish Red. “Do you still remember that night you rode my thigh?” He whispered.

Melara tried to look away, swallowing her own spit. “I-I do…”

Oberyn smirked. “Your body could not lie to me that night. Your little cunt was so wet it made my trousers a mess, all covered in your wetness.” Melara’s cheeks were burning red that moment. With the tip of his fingers, he brought her gaze to face him. “Your hips were riding me so easily, desperate to release. It was natural, you were perfect that night, my lady.”

Her eyes were tearful. “Bedding is to produce heirs and only, husband.”

The Martell laughed. “Lies!” he exclaimed, with a cocky grin. “You may not be my first, second, third or perhaps even my fourth choice of bride, but I intend to make you scream my name on our first night as a wedded couple.”

Melara faced him, with a consternated expression. “I was instructed in different manners. According to the Faith and the…”

His lips curled on a pout before he cut her words. “You belong to me now. You will enjoy the new things I’ll teach you.”

Melara sighed and nodded, passively listening. “I will not deny you any marital rights, husband. I will provide you with children.”

Oberyn could not help but feel as if he was walking in circles around Melara. The girl was so dutiful it bored Oberyn in a matter of seconds, he did not remember her that way.

After a deep breath, he opened his mouth. “Thereupon, this is a promise that you will take pleasure on our first night, my lady?”

Melara nodded silently, slightly uncomfortable with the situation. “Yes, husband.”

Oberyn doubted she would actually take any pleasure, although he was very engaged in pleasing all his partners. Seeing Melara so distressed actually made Oberyn sad, at times. He realised she would never be Elia and it made his heart ache with a strange anxiety. He could have any woman in the world - in fact, he had one of the fairest maidens of the Seven Kingdoms despite her abnormal personality and she was his by oath. Nonetheless, it did not felt enough. The conversations with Elia were much easier to develop, they understood each other fastly. He loved Elia as a woman, even knowing he would never take her as a woman on his bed. The woman he wanted would never be his and the life he longed for he would never live, in behalf of his duty.

“I also intend to keep my promise.” He gently patted her hand.

“Which promise?” She asked, narrowing her eyes.

“To be gentle once I take your maidenhead.”

“Oh… thank you, husband.” Melara said, giving him a sympathetic expression and blushing deeply on her cheeks.

He would never be cruel towards his lady wife. He could notice she was not a bad person, just not very well adjusted and for thus, she deserved to be well treated. But when it came to affection, he was very little attracted to her. Oberyn held no high spirit when it came to chastity or shyness, except for the moments where he met her when her naivety was attractive. The prince grew bored after a troubled beginning of their relationship. He appreciated the chaos and Melara was as peaceful as a calm sunset breeze or a lonely star in the sky.

“My lady,” Ysilla approached Oberyn and Melara, smiling at them sitting in the High Table. “Son,”

“Mother.” The couple talked in unison and the princess mother grinned.

“You should see how wonderful you appear together. Painters would portray the image of the Mother and Father with your faces.”

“I appreciate your words, mother.” Melara earnestly responded. At least Ysilla and her were creating a bonding time and his wife seemed much more comfortable around his mother than himself, something that also bothered him once the girl was often distant, wary and he had her under the impression she was scared of him. It made him tempted to send her to the Water Gardens where she would live for the rest of her days and encounter him once a year to give him a child. Could be a better arrangement for both, he thought. Far less cruel than obliging her to be in his presence and him on hers.

“I only speak the truth, sweet girl.” Her eyes shrink, displaying some wrinkles on the edge of her eyes when she grinned at her good daughter. “What a fine work the dressmaker did with the pearls and diamonds. A divine embroidery, my dear.”

“My father brought this fabric from Qarth.” Melara had a coy grin on her lips. He envied his mother for at least being able to socialise with Melara.

“Please, come and join me. I need to introduce you to some ladies and lords, I am sure you will be delighted to meet them.”

Melara stood up and waited for Oberyn’s consent to move forward. “Yes, mother.”

The Hightower lady faced her husband and received a discreet nod. “If you excuse me, my prince.”

“Please, be my guest, my lady.” Oberyn pointed to his mother as a sign for her to leave.

Melara nodded and walked away from the table for the first time with her mother by law. Both ladies left, holding their arms in the direction of a small group of people. He remained sitting down, still showing no desire to interact with other lords that day. For a natural social man, that was an odd comportment, but he gave no care to good manners and gestures that night. He thought about Elia in King’s Landing with Rhaegar, yearning for a letter, since he only received one after arriving back in Sunspear, where she wrote him flirtatious words about how she missed him and how she dreamed that Rhaegar changed his face like a faceless man and had Oberyn’s face instead, Elia claimed to be one of her happiest dreams.

He gazed vacantly on the dance floor, trying to forget about the things on his mind. Oberyn was a positive man, despite everything he would always try to take some advantage of the situation.

From afar, his vision catched a lady and his heart skipped a beat. It could not be possible the similarities, even if the lady was on her back to Oberyn. Her black, long hair could only belong to one person: Elia. He walked eagerly towards the lady, feeling his heartbeat so fast it made his body exhilaratingly vibrate in synchrony with the loud song playing in the Great Hall of Sunspear after spending that long time away from his sister. Mayhaps it was the large amount of wine he drank or simply an illusion, he didn’t care, it was vital for Oberyn to have another moment with her.

Carefully, he touched the back of the lady and she turned to face him, bowing at his presence. “Prince Oberyn.”

He was disappointed at her, afterwards she was not Elia. “My apologies, my lady. I have mistaken you for someone else, I thought you were my sister.” Oberyn replied, with a soft giggle.

The girl laughed. “You honour me with your words, my prince. But in reality, I am to be sent to King’s Landing to be her lady-in-waiting.”

Oberyn smirked. “Oh, for this reason, I insist you dance with me.” He muttered, seductively. The girl did not blushed or turned down his invitation, extending her arm for him to kiss. Slowly, he leaned his lips on the back of her hand and walked with her to the middle of the dance floor. Her face was the opposite of Elia, but she was beyond alluring. She had profound dark hair and unique, bewitching violet eyes who resembled some Valyrian heritage, except for the lack of silver hair. She could only belong to one house. “By the colour of your eyes, I assume you are from House Dayne. Youngest or oldest?” He asked, spinning her body during the dance.

The girl beamed. “Youngest, Ashara Dayne.”

Oberyn smirked at her. “I must declare that your beauty has caught my attention, Lady Ashara.”

Ashara stared at Melara from afar, who stared at them with a numb expression. “I am afraid your lady wife will loathe me if she listens to the things you are telling me now, my prince.”

“Not something to worry about, my lady,” he spoke, briefly gazing at his wife. “For I believe she is not very fond of me either.”

Ashara giggled and both raised their arms in the air along with the others dancing. “I am sure she does, Prince Oberyn. Every woman shall love their husbands, just as every husband must love their wives.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “However, I believe we are not a part of this saying, my lady,” He grinned.

“Oh,” Ashara gasped, holding his arm on another dance step. “Love grows out of the strangest of things. You will find in your heart to love her and she will love you too.”

Oberyn stared at her and chuckled. “You are very wise in your words, my lady.”

“And you are the most kind, red viper.” She giggled.

“When you arrive in King’s Landing, tell my sister I love her very much. And that I miss her dearly.” He asked, with a solemn expression.

“I shall deliver the message, my prince.” She grinned once the music ended.

“Thank you, Lady Ashara.” Oberyn bowed at her and glanced at Melara, always fidgeting her fingers and trying to be as nice as possible to the ones talking to her.

“No need to thank me, for my advice is always freely given, my prince.” Ashara said, politely.

Oberyn smiled smugly and danced with her until someone asked the hand of Lady Ashara for a dance. Her presence was unexpectedly amusing and kind, resembling Elia in many aspects. Perhaps it was the fact they shared the same culture and many things in common, but in his head her resemblance to Elia spoke volumes to his wishes to be around Ashara.

Eventually, the new couple reunited together and Melara was back to her recluse expression. Oberyn ruminated if Melara held some grudge over him, because he saw her being courteous to a few lords and holding her step mother’s hands for a moment, though their relationship seemed to be queer on her parent’s side too. Oberyn observed Lord Leyton and Lady Rhea from a certain distance, raising his goblet in the air.

“My lords, my ladies,” the man started. “Lord Leyton started. “We gather here today to celebrate not only the union of our two houses but also the enduring spirit of our realm. As we witness the union of House Hightower and House Martell, let us raise our goblets to honour their marriage. May the Mother bless them with many heirs and keep our bloodline alive and powerful.”

Lady Rhea, standing beside Lord Leyton, smiled warmly, in agreement with the crowd's applause. The great hall was filled with the clinking of cups and joyful chatter as the guests celebrated the joyous occasion.

Oberyn raised his goblet alongside Melara and looked at her, raising her goblet as well. “A toast to us, then.” She said.

Melara and Oberyn exchanged glasses and one drank the wine from the goblet of the other. He could feel her lavender scent rising from her thin skin, the cloth of her sleeves slowly rubbing the fabric of her attire and her eyes meeting his intensely. It was the first time in that feast their eyes met that way, so sincerely. Oberyn hoped to at least have some sort of amicable relationship with her, for the physical attraction was fully gone despite her beauty. His fingers caressed her cheek, feeling the softness from her face. The wine may have poisoned him, but he felt the urge to touch her, gently as he is doing to her.

The prince was raging inside, also. He was adamant she was not right for him, more than ever. Oberyn remembered her panic to his touch, her refusal to believe in pleasure, her constant punishment for feeling, her iminent silence. To live to perform a duty was something he always knew he was meant for. Growing up, he always imagined his mother would pass the throne to Elia if he rebelled, Oberyn hated to be the centre of attention, he abominated the concept of marriage and distasted even more the fact being tricked into this marriage with Melara. What else would he do? Wine seemed to be a good alternative to escape reality.

And he drank wine.

Glass after glass.

Uncountable jars of Dornish Red.

Melara appeared to be worried seeing the large amount of wine he ingested. “Husband, are you alright?”

Oberyn looked at her, numb. “I am alright. No need to worry.”

He was alright. Oberyn had a high tolerance for liquor and was accustomed to ingesting wine on a regular basis every day. That night, all the wine in the world was insufficient for him and he was nearly close to feeling high and numb, only.

“I fear you have been drinking too much.” She muttered, scared he would be angry at her words.

Oberyn got silent for a moment and looked at her. “Very well,” he put the glass over the table and respected her wishes. “I shall stop for you. You have a fair point, my lady.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Melara lowered her eyes and her fingertips traced the hem of his attire’s sleeve, clumsily. His eyes noticed quietly her moves and he intertwined his finger around hers, delicately. The hours passed swiftly, the music was loud and the courtyard danced as they entered in the deep points of the night. Oberyn chose to not drink anymore as Melara requested and little by little, he gained back his senses. Melara, on the other hand, appeared to be overwhelmed by so many stimuli from the feast, which could only mean it was time for one thing.

“Go to our chambers and fetch your handmaidens to bathe and prepare you. I will be there in an hour.” He softly commanded, whispering in her ear. The thin hair of her skin creeped to the closeness and she opened her mouth, trying to catch some air to recompose herself. Oberyn tried to convince himself it would be only that night and fortunately he would put a babe on her womb, leave her be in peace and he would keep pursuing his life the way he was most pleased.

“Yes, husband.” Melara obeyed him and headed to her chambers with her head facing the floor, nervously digging her fingers on the embroidery of her dress. The prince watched Melara leaving with Melessa, Lys and Megga until they faded from his sight. Oberyn would never allow the savagery of a bedding ceremony with Melara, his wife deserved to be respected and more ashamed in her first night. He was tired of all that feast as well, but he promised to wait for an hour so she could get ready for him and so he did, patiently expecting the hour to pass as soon as possible.

The guests were more than drunk and he envied all of them for being happier than him in his own wedding. When the time had arrived, he paid his goodbyes to his mother and the Hightowers and exited the Great Hall, heading to what would be their new private quarters. Bedding her was a prospect that initially made him aroused, now made him feel nothing but an insistent feeling of guilt for being away from the person he wanted, to know he desired so much that his head desired even the forbidden ones. He realised he didn’t want Melara, but the idea of conquering her, unravelling her deepest secrets and desires. What is the joy of conquering someone who was delivered for him like a roasted pork with an apple in his mouth, only waiting to be eaten?

The room was bathed in the soft, flickering glow of candlelight. The sound of a distant song rumbled, a symphony of words and accelerated steps that seemed to mirror the fast speed beating within Oberyn's heart.

“Husband.” Melara said, standing up for him. Oberyn had to stop for a moment to admire his spouse in the nightgown he chose for her. It was a white, transparent silk. It disappeared in her skin and slightly made her nipples visible through the fabric. Her hair was loose like a cascade of silver and her eyes screamed anxiety.

“Wife.” He replied, slowly coming closer to the blonde. An awkward silence reigned between them, Oberyn scrutinised her body, inch by inch and Melara joined her hands, ashamed. That is when he realised she could be waiting for his commands. “I believe I made a fool of myself for not pointing out how splendid you look, my lady.” He commented.

“Thank you.” She replied, twirling her shift.

“I only spoke the truth, Melara.” Oberyn walked towards her and poured two goblets of wine.

“Are you nervous, my lady?” He said, stopping right in front of her. Melara just nodded in silence. “Drink with me.” He commands. Gently, Melara got one goblet for her and Oberyn did the same for himself. Both drank in silence for a while.

Oberyn leaned his forehead on hers, grabbing her hand delicately and kissing her cheeks. “Do you consent me to fuck you?” Her cheeks burned red in shame. “You do have the option to deny me, my lady.”

Melara joined her fingers with his and looked into his eyes, biting her lips. “You may go on, Ser.”

Oberyn smirked and caressed her jawline, brushing her skin with caution. “Stop this nonsense of calling me ‘Ser’ once more.” Melara stood still, closing her eyes and just received his touches on her face. “Sorry, husband.” His free hand reached her hair, pulling it behind carefully so he could see her breasts through the night dress, he found them to be small and beautiful. His cock already throbbed inside his pants, eager to bury himself on her, but he would be careful. “Much better, princess.”

“I will not force myself on you,” He whispered in her ear. “If you can’t handle it, tell me and I will stop immediately. Is that understood?”

Melara agreed in silence. “Yes, husband.”

Oberyn smiled mischievously feeling the shivering of her skin against the heat of his. His hand was almost cupping one of her teats, but he stopped and took a few steps back.

“Did I do something to displease you?” She asked, biting her lips.

“No, my lady.” He came closer to her once more. “It's just that I… we have the same age, you and I. But when it comes to experiences,” He opened his belt and opened his attire, leaving his chest on display. “I am far more expert than you when it comes to fucking. I will teach you a few things tonight, sweetling.”

Melara heavily sighed and shaked her head. “I want you to touch me first, Melara. Do you want this?”

The girl blinked her eyes repeatedly, with her cloddish hands she took off his robe, revealing his muscles and scars. Her gaze lingered on his bust, stirring the tip of her fingers along his sun kissed skin. Suddenly, she kissed his neck and he felt a rush that made his blood boil with a simple contact. Maybe her naivety was still very enticing to him.

“Have you ever touched someone like this, wife?” He questioned her, inert in front of her. Oberyn did not even mind that she was lacking facial expressions that moment, her attitudes were clearly speaking louder.

“Never.” She murmured, anxiously. His hands cupped her face, bringing it close to his carefully and joining their lips together on a subtle kiss. Oberyn touched her hips and kissed her on her pace, lightly squeezing her waist with one hand and burying his other hand on the golden curls.

“Do you want more?” He asked after breaking the kiss. Melara consented and faced him, waiting for more. He was afraid she would be retreated but her demeanour was surprisingly exciting.

“Do you wish to be touched?” Oberyn roamed her, stopping behind her back and moving her hair to her front, revealing her bare back to him. He noticed she had some faint bruises on her back and touched it with her fingers. Who could ever do this to such a lady? He felt a wave of tension seeing so many bruises on her back. “Who did these bruises on you?”

Melara turned her face to face him, embarrassed. “If you are not pleased, I can cover it for you, Prince Oberyn.”

“I asked you a question.” He replied, in a cold manner.

Melara breathed heavily. “My… my Septa. At the Starry Sept.”

Oberyn was taken aback by her answer, but endured his posture. “Why did she do this to you?”

“Because I did some wrong things, husband.” Melara frowned and Oberyn furrowed his eyebrows and smirked, curious to know more about this.

“What are the wrong things, my lady?” He asked, waiting for a torrid story, a mischievous secret.

“I was late for a lesson after a chore, husband.” Oberyn could not even hide his dissatisfaction once he heard her secret was something so silly as this. But could notice that she carried some sorrow in her voice speaking about this.

“No one will hurt you ever again my lady. I swear it under the sight of the Gods. Old and new.” He said, grabbing her by the chin.

Melara had teary eyes whilst listening to his words. “Thank you, husband.” She replied.

His fingers cleaned her tears falling down her eyes over her face and he kissed her forehead as a sign of protection. That girl did not deserve to suffer, why did she choose to be there after being spanked that way?

“Do you still wish to continue our bedding?” Oberyn asked, caressing her hair.

“Yes.” Melara abruptly replied and Oberyn passed his fingers over her right nipple, making her moan in a low tone. Oberyn smiled involuntarily.

“Very well.” He said, undoing his trousers in front of her. Melara could see the length of his cock hard for her, fully on display. She blushed with the vision she was having, but did not look away. “I will take off your clothes now. Is that acceptable?”

Melara looked at him, opening her mouth and closing a few times, mayhaps thinking about what she wanted to say. “No…”

“Then I will do as it pleases you, princess.” Melara stared at her cock and could not even blink with a mix of curiosity and fear. Her eyes met his once more, passively waiting for his commands. “Lay in bed, Melara.”

The now princess complied and laid in bed, laying her head on the pillow. Oberyn came after her and waited for his wife to be fully laid on the mattress so he could linger his admiration looks on her for one more moment. He laid on top of her, rubbing his cock against her thighs and kissing her neck. Her fingers dive into his skin while she stiffened her moans when he kissed her neck seductively.

“Do not keep those moans inside your throat, my wife.” He panted. “I want to hear your sweet moans...”

Her leg bent in the bed, grinding against his naked thigh and her body squirmed under his, Melara let a moan leave her lips freely in that drift of sensations Oberyn was giving her. His hands were more desperate now, lifting her dress to squeeze her thighs. In the meanwhile, Melara felt Oberyn grinding his cock against her cunt with only that piece of clothing separating them.

“I will taste you now, my wife.” He warned her and Melara looked slightly confused. Oberyn lowered his body and grabbed her left food, kissing it and little by little moving his lips further her cunt. Melara arched her head back in the pillow, holding the sheet of the bed. “Spread your legs for me, princess.” He pleaded, opening them with ease for Oberyn. Gently, he lifted a part of her dress and finally encountered the sea of her wetness, drowning himself in it lustfully. “You taste so sweet, my wife.” He hummed, tasting the sensible skin and Melara screamed to his special kiss.

His tongue travelled her cunt, licking the curves of her organ and holding her legs, immobilising it. Melara whined and pulled his hair, squirming her body while her husband eated her out as if she was his last meal.

“Please, husband…” She whimpered and moaned. Oberyn kissed and suckled her bundle of nerves a bit deeper, licking her labia and alternating with gentle circles around her clit and making them both sweat.

“Please what, wife?” He asked, muffling his voice against her intimacy, his nose nudging her clit and adding some pressure to the moves, making Melara scream once more as he grunts against her aching core.

“That thing… is happening again… oh…” His speed increased and it lit his body up, circling his tongue on her swollen clit. His face was fully drowned with her wetness and his sweat, he wouldn’t go backwards now. He groaned and the sound coming out of his throat vibrated on her, making his cock leak a transparent liquid out of hunger for her.

“Come for me, Melara.” He commanded. Her legs started shaking as her voice trembled and her body shuddered with his touch, exchanging his tongue going at full pace for his index massaging her sensitive spot on circular slow moves, driving Melara to complete madness. He raised his head and could see Melara looking at him with desperation, bouncing her hips on his face, craving for releasing her tension.

His index and middle finger masturbated her slowly, taking her to the edge. “Do you enjoy it, wife?”

Melara moaned and nodded eagerly. “Can I keep suckling your cunt?” He asked, teasing her whilst his fingers kept moving in circles.

“Please, do.” She pleaded and he laughed. Leaning his head back into her cunt with ease, cries filled up the room as Melara contorsed her body and screamed her husband’s name loudly, tensing her muscles as he insisted on not letting her go when she was climaxing on his mouth, leaving the couple extremely messy. Oberyn wiped up his face with a towel placed at the table and gently handed it to his wife, cleaning her sweat slowly while she heavily breathed, leaning her back on the headboard. Her golden curls were all over the place, her cheeks blushed out of heat and legs could not find strength to move.

“How did it felt?” Oberyn asked, carefully passing the towel on her face.

“I feel… tingling.” She panted and Oberyn chuckled.

“Are you ready to consummate our vows now?” He brushed his fingers, still wet with her juices on her rosy lips and she consented to him, ashamed.

“Will it hurt me?” She muttered, apprehensively laying back on the bed under Oberyn.The prince cupped her face carefully.

“I promised I would never hurt you, my lady.” Oberyn kissed her jawline sensually and gently grabbed her hands, kissing it too. Her eyes were locked on his and her legs parted soon with Oberyn positioning his cock on her entrance.

His eyes fluttered with lust, leisurely making his way inside her walls. Melara was wet, but shed a few tears due to the discomfort she was feeling. But Oberyn would not go back, he wanted her to feel respected and listened. Oberyn felt her body get tense underneath him and she could not bear to look at him that moment, which made him stop for a while.

“Do you want me to stop, my lady?” He asked, tracing his fingers over her face.

Melara wiped her tears and sighed. “No, we must fulfil our duty.”

“This is not a duty, my lady,” Oberyn went back pushing himself inside her. “This is pleasure.”

With tender moves, he moved his hips back and forth on Melara, so she would get used to it. Subtly, her hands caressed the back of her neck and some very low whimpers would allow him to keep moving forward.

His pace increased a bit once her hips bounced alongside his, in a sultry and synchronised dance. Oberyn groaned and pulled her hair, feeling the tightness of her warm privates, clenching around his cock, legs bare rubbing on his and nipples scuffing through her nightgown. It felt so mechanical to be with her that way but he knew he needed to be slow with her.

“Turn around.” He commanded, rolling her body and taking her from behind, cupping her breasts and kissing her neck. “Does it feel good, wife?” He murmured between the desperate moves.

Melara tried to support her body on her two arms while he invaded her, pulling her hair softly and pushing inside a bit harshly. Melara looked at him, consenting silently. “Use your words, Melara.” He demanded.

“Y-yes.” She replied between the sound of the collision of her arse against his pelvis. Melara was quiet under his touch, surprisingly. His thrusts became a bit more violent now, but he could not stop, his cock was so hard it could tear her in half. Oberyn felt a rush, wave after wave as his cock went in and out of her core, squeezing her hips each time he would feel his cock throb inside of her. “I’m close…” His lips warned as his pace increased the speed on a higher level, making Melara leave some quiet sobs. He was in a full state of mind to care about anything at that moment.

Sweat ran down his face and wet his hair, His moans were loud enough for her to hear, the grip on her hips was strong and his penis twitched inside of her, giving signs of his upcoming release and then finally, his body exploded like someone had thrown him at a wildfire explosion.

His seed spilled inside of her, reaching the deepest of her walls he could. Feeling the aftershocks of that exhilarating moment, his body fell beside hers, exhausted from all that action. Oberyn breathed frantically and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recompose his body after that. “Are you alright, my lady?” He turned to see her, but noticed she whispered a few words, trying to make as little noise as possible.

“Oh… I am..,” She replied, blushing.

“What are you doing, if I may be so bold to ask?” Oberyn questioned, narrowing his eyes.

“Praying.” Melara replied, with a distant trace of embarrassment in front of him. Oberyn wanted to laugh but his lady wife seemed to be very real at her purpose.

“Praying?” He repeated her, trying to assure it was what he actually heard.

“Yes. Husband…” She tried to speak, but Oberyn cut her.

“My lady, did I hurt you? Was I too forceful?” The prince asked, concerned.

“No, husband.” Melara started to fiddle her fingers again. “Is just that… it does not feel proper for a lady. For a couple.”

“What would not feel right, my lady?”

“To commit the sins we just committed.” She replied and now Oberyn could not hold his laughter.

“The sin of taking my wife’s maidenhood?” He asked, indignant.

“The sin of using our marital duties to indulge ourselves, husband. Bedding is to produce heirs, not to feel… those things.”

“Well, you appeared to be taking a great deal of pleasure, my lady.” He teased her. “I am afraid you will have to recite too many prayers.”

“I know,” She said, nervously letting a tear fall from her eyes and Oberyn stopped laughing at her. “The Gods will punish me for being like this.”

Her body shrunk in bed and his heart shattered to pieces seeing her that way. “Please, the next time you bed me, do not do those things to me. Ever again.” Melara pleaded, crying silently over the bed.

Oberyn was taken aback by her request, because he enjoyed the lovemaking and hoped to at least grow fond of his lady wife. She returned to bore him to bits again.

“My lady, you need to understand that you are no longer a Septa. You are my wife and I am your husband.”

Melara had no response but to sit in the bed. “I hold no affection for you Melara. You are not the bride I chose, but you seemed to be enjoying it. Were you pretending it all?”

“No…” She replied, wiping her tears.

“Then why do you change your feelings so swiftly?” Oberyn asked, concerned. ”I promised to never hurt you, I swore you an oath and I take it seriously. But I need you to be honest to me.”

“I just… things changed too fast. This is too much for me to bear, Oberyn. But I will do as you command.” Oberyn had her submissive personality as a pathetic trait, but having her so undressed of all her shame in front of him made him at least feel that initial empathy he had for her on the day they met. Perhaps she was not his ideal woman, he would not see her as an equal but Oberyn never intended to hurt her or offend her honour.

“Then I suggest we find a middle ground for us.”

Melara narrowed her eyes. “What do you suggest?”

He grabbed her hand, gently. “We are tied to each other, but we can find our happiness. You leave me free to pursue my lovers and I leave you in the Water Gardens. We will encounter ourselves to produce our babies and we’ll have as many as you desire, my only request is that we have at least two children. We do not share the same bed, but I will pay my visits to you so we get acquainted.”

She nodded silently, lowering her head. “I suppose it is acceptable.”

Oberyn brushed his index on her jawline and smiled at his wife. “You and I don’t need to hate ourselves.”

Melara smiled at him for the first time. Not the coy smile he spotted her giving to prince Rhaegar or the shy one she gave to his mother, but a very sincere one. He had to admit she was stunning, even with the mess on her face. Elia was vivid in his mind, but after having that conversation something changed. Melara seemed to be more human to his eyes. It could be the beginning of some cordial relationship for him. All he needed to know is if Melara is willing to cooperate with him too.

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