#but I'm going for Dorn

[cleric-of-ilmater-and-sune]

So I've reblogged and commented on a post, before, about how there's no male romance-able evil companions other than Astarion. So I picked three evil male characters from the previous games to make this poll. There were a lot more options, but I wanted to keep it short. Listed from left to right

Baldur's Gate Wiki Character Articles under poll. I also recommend looking up their voice lines on YouTube.

[ilisteria]

Wild West/American Frontier Horus Heresy AU (Part 1)

Not sure if this was done before this has been stewing in my mind for a while. I don't have a complete list of all the Primarchs in this AU yet because they're either awkward fits or I just don't know how to make them have spice.

This is set in the late 20s. Some of their names will probably be changed but I haven't figured out to what yet.

As for how the Chaos vs Imperium conflict is represented here, I'd say it's more like the remaining colonial powers with a presence in the Americas, Mexico, and the indigenous tribes vs American expansionism. "Chaos" here isn't comically evil, it's still very much human - just with people pulling the strings of desperate people and everyone getting double crossed in the end.

And yes, the implication is that the Emperor is a parallel to Andrew Jackson. The Imperium is satire of the military complex ramped up 1000 times with heavy doses of fascism in the guise of freedom and literally entails colonizing the entire galaxy and driving out xenos species while narrowing humanity to a hyperspecific version of it. Plus, Andrew Jackson was known as the man and president of the American people and Big E is the Emperor of Mankind.

What can I say, the parallel writes itself.

Part two with the primarchs missing from this post

Loyalists

Sanguinius, the poster child of Manifest Destiny - he replaces Columbia in the American Progress painting. His wings aren't literal, but he's practically the saint of Westward Expansion and is thus usually depicted with them. A Quaker who knows he's supporting something terrible, but he takes in those orphaned by expansionist conflicts to try and atone and runs a network to help runaway slaves find freedom.

Ferrus, the owner of an iron company who's looking to take on Fulgrim as a business partner. Deep into the Manifest Destiny ideal because he firmly believes that industry is a blessing and he fell into the propaganda of the "barbaric" west. When he sees Fulgrim "slipping" from the ways of American society, he's still furious and things go as they do in 30k - but this time, his head gets beaten in with a steel bar.

Dorn, the figurehead of an architecture firm whose former partner is Perturabo. He holds similar beliefs to Ferrus on top of the ideal of American dream, albiet less brutal about how it could spread to the west. He has benefitted greatly from the dream, being renowned and contracted for the designs of various buildings for prestigious clients through sheer hard work and some well-placed connections. He has a massive disconnect between his own personal experiences as a part-native-part-white American and what's actually happening on the frontier.

Lion, a general from the War of 1812 and celebrated by the country. He believes to this day that there was an additional party orchestrating it and is in active investigation into a possible infiltrator of the military. Does he fully believe in Manifest Destiny? Maybe so, maybe not. He did swallow the propaganda about the "barbaric" west, but he holds some begrudging respect for their war tactics. Does he like them though? Not really, and he can't be convinced out of it. Conformity or death is at the forefront of his ideals. Currently a member of Big E's Cabinet.

Leman, another general from the War of 1812 albeit less celebrated than Lion due to his off-duty reputation and dishonourable discharge. He also believes there was an additional party orchestrating the war, but the lack of evidence thus far has left him generally leaning towards the side of "where there is or isn't, there'll still be a war to fight". He's not really keen on Manifest Destiny since he surprisingly feels that there's still a way for the indigenous people to integrate (albeit through assimilation) but does solidly believe in the American dream since he came from a peasant family. He's out in the frontier with a handful of his former soldiers, largely exploring and repelling attacks against the towns of the frontier.

Corvus, the descendent of slaves that fled to Massachusetts. Currently working with Sanguinius to help more people flee the South and is silently orchestrating a rebellion through an information network made up of those sympathetic to the cause of abolitionism and freed and current slaves. He doesn't have much involvement in the native vs white American conflict past occasionally tipping off certain tribal informants on any legislation or hunts that could impact them.

Vulkan, a freed slave via multiple successful slave revolts he started in order to force his state to abolish slavery. One of the few major timeline divergences against history in the real world. He's working with Corvus and Sanguinius to some degree and is trying to campaign for a Congressional seat in order to push a formal act to end slavery. He, of course, still rubs elbows with revolutionaries in other states through Corvus' network.

Jaghatai, a later player in the setting. He won't show up until the California Gold Rush when Chinese immigrants start appearing, so in the 30s he's living in a very politically fragile China marred by the Opium trade and is merely a lower level member of one of the banner families of the Qing. He's still Mongolian here (at least partially) since some of the Manchurian clans preferred to marry Mongolian women over Han women.

Bobby G what do I do with you and your backstory. Please send ideas my way he's so bland.

Traitors (better name pending)

Fulgrim, the son of Italian immigrants who worked to unionize a factory in NYC. He's travelling west with some former fellow factory workers to buy some land and try to make his own company with ethical working conditions. He abandons Manifest Destiny when he realizes that westward expansion and the prosperity of the country relies on the suffering and disposession of the indigenous peoples, and in a sense he sees himself in them. But this comes with a sort of saviour complex that he fails to acknowledge. The struggle against imperialism isn't fought in the same way as the struggle against ruthless capitalism.

Lorgar, one of the adherents of Pan-Indianism though he didn't directly fight in Tecumseh's War or the War of 1812. A native who was taken into American society as a child and grew disillusioned with it as he witnessed the abuses towards his people and realized there wasn't a place for him in such a society, so he fled the moment he heard rumours of a native movement and religious revival. Currently acts as a bridge between those sympathetic to the cause and the remaining tribes of Tecumseh's Confederacy.

Perturabo, someone disillusioned with the American dream because, as it turns out, pure hard work and diligence didn't get him anything. He used to work in an architectural firm with Dorn and contributed to the designs of various theatres and colleges but lost the credits and fame to them solely because Dorn's name was listed first and he was the front facing person of the firm. He watched Dorn recieve accolades from the President and the public while he sat in the office sorting out construction contracts and finishing blueprints, and eventually broke and left to the frontiers to restart his life and quite literally rebuild his ego. This, of course, means he's stuck designing forts instead.

Magnus, an early anthropologist who has a genuine interest in studying indigenous cultures and is one of the early proponents of something similar to cultural relativity before Franz Boas would create the American school of anthropology. He would also quickly become disillusioned with the American dream because even if his work earned him accolades, it was ultimately being used to crush the very cultures he dedicated his life to studying. He finds himself out west with resistance movements using his knowledge of American society to try to turn people on border and frontier towns to support the local natives and turn away soldiers should they come.

Angron, a runaway slave who fled west and came across Lorgar who acted as a bridge between him and a tribe that would take him in out of sympathy for the shared struggle against the abuses of the American Dream. No nails in this AU. He's still furious about the way things are going, but he's against direct combat here and largely relegates himself to helping runaways find their way to safety and freedom. Vaguely connected to Sanguinius' efforts, but they've never met directly.

Alpharius, a double agent for the British Empire. He's working to destabilize both Mexico and the US through orchestrating events that'll exacerbate the tensions between them and indigenous tribes until war breaks out. The moment things tip into the beginnings of war, his orders are to contact the British Empire and resecure the New World where the territory will be divvied up between them and any allies from the other colonial empires. Does he actually support them? Who knows.

Horus, Konrad, and Mortarion are big question marks for now, but if this gains any traction, I'd love to see interpretations for them plus Guilliman.

[raventreehall]

a lotta annoying people boutta be real annoying about this...

[picatea]

Hush Bo, Golden Boy's cataloguing HIS lego.

[incorrect-primarchs-quotes]

[nikolaj-costerwaldau]

viggos-mortensen -> nikolaj-costerwaldau

new year new me I suppose.

also, i've had this fuckin url saved since game of thrones season 5 came out all those years ago. and have coincidentally decided to rewatch Thrones against my better judgement now so yeah, figured I'd might as well use it for once.

[sakom75]

I decided I wanted to figure out how I thought all the Primarchs looked, so I started w/ the dead ones: Sanguinius (or as my spouse calls him, Sanguini), Ferrus Manus and Rogal Dorn.

I've got at least all the other loyalists sketched-- the fun part has been reimagining them while also attempting to keep them recognizable to other people.

[proffbon]

This is a very specific scenario that isn't even possible in canon, but I can't stop imagining God of Murder Gorion's Ward + Dorn duking it out with God of Ambition Gale + Tav.

"Mortal ascendant who elevated their Chosen lover to divinity" solidarity? WRONG! Chicken fight!

[taviamoth]

do you ever have a pair that you ship but don't think about too much because they might not end up getting together and their paths separating is a horrible thought

[relevant-url-incoming]

the funniest thing about the companion conversations at the end of the class stories when one of them that you didn't/couldn't romance is like "I will help teach your children" or whatever is that I'm almost always out here shipping polyamorously so like.

Elara: I will educate the kids you and Jorgan will have if you want me to!

Ven: or you can just. Have them. Have the kids with us.

[riddlesbunny]

my sister's keeper

summary: Aemond intends to send you away to protect you after he starts the war, but Aegon isn't ready to let you go.

pairing: Aegon & Aemond x Sister!Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Explicit smut, mention of death, incest, threesome, p in v sex, oral (m&f receiving), voyeurism, male masturbation, infidelity (reader is married to Aemond), lactation kink, choking, cum play/eating, spit, Aegond kiss!! (oop) 18+ MDNI

note: Uhhhh. I'm sorry??? I feel like I just breezed through this, idk I was horny lol. Feedback is appreciated!

You’ll never forget the look on Aemond’s face when he first arrived back to the Red Keep from his journey to Storm’s End. Your family was desperate in the inevitable, upcoming war against Rhaenyra so Aemond had been sent to help strike up a proposal between one of Lord Borros’ daughters and the youngest son of the late king Viserys, Daeron Targaryen.

Sitting in the large bed of your shared chamber, you had been anxiously awaiting his arrival, chewing your fingernails down to bloody nubs.

“Aemond!” you practically leapt into his arms when he appeared sopping wet in the doorway. Overjoyed to see he’d returned in one piece, but something was off, something was wrong. He was vacant, like he had seen a ghost.

“Lucerys Velaryon is dead.”

With that simple sentence you knew your lives would be changed forever.

“You cannot just make me disappear,” you said to your husband through gritted teeth, as your voice trembled, lump in your throat forming as tears threatened to fall from your eyes.

“If we are not here they will just go looking for us.”

“Anywhere is safer than here, my love.” Aemond answered coolly.

“If you think this decision was not difficult to make, you are wrong. It is simply what's best for the both of you. You and the babe will be staying in Dorne until I know for certain that it is safe for you here.”

“But –”

“But nothing! This is not up for debate,” he growled at you, “the decision has been made and it is final!” His words cut through you like a knife.

“You cannot make a decision like this. You are not the king.”

“No “ he retorted, “but I am your husband, therefore, when it comes to you and my child, what I say goes!”

You got up and exited your shared chambers with haste, not wanting Aemond to see you cry.

Your bare feet padded against the cold stone floor of the Red Keep, the walls echoed and groaned as you made your way to your eldest brother’s chambers.

Aegon’s head perked up when he heard you come in. He stared at you sheepishly from behind his goblet of wine.

“Has he told you?”

Letting out a deep sigh, “he has.”

“I cannot leave you. I will not leave you, Aegon.”

“I know, I know,” he says, patting the spot next to him, motioning for you to come and sit.

“Our half-sister is unpredictable,” he replied calmly, “there’s no telling what she might do… not to mention, Daemon.”

As much as you did not want to admit it, both of your brothers were right. Accident or not, Rhaneyra’s son was dead. You would be a fool to believe she wouldn’t be out for blood.

Aegon pulled you into his lap, his cock already half hard. You kissed him deeply as he grinded his hips up into yours. You ran your fingers through his unruly silver hair, enjoying the feel of his mouth on you. Completely lost in the moment, you hadn’t heard Aemond enter the room.

He cleared his throat loudly to make his presence known.

“Aemond!”

Your brother-husband stalked into the room, his violet eye scanning over you with amusement.

“Oh please, do continue.”

Your chest rose and fell as you struggled to find the right words to say.

“Did you not hear me? I said continue,” Aemond repeated, as he approached you and Aegon.

“Aemond, this is not what it looks like —“

His brow furrowed at you as he gripped your chin forcing you to look him directly in the eye.

“Do you mistake me for a fool? You believed me to be unaware of your little arrangement?”

Still at a loss for words, you and Aegon just stared at your brother nervously. Aemond moved away a few inches and started to remove his tunic and his trousers. His cock strained hard against his small clothes, which he removed not long after. You gawked at him as he pumped his cock in his left hand, making his way back to you.

Aegon’s violet eyes beamed with excitement at this, pupils blown with lust. He took no time to nip at your neck, your earlobes, grinding against your core once again.

“I fear this is inappropriate,” you began.

“What’s inappropriate is you sneaking away from your husband to come fuck this wastrel,” Aemond began, his words thick with venom.

“Clearly, you want the both of us. So have us… while you still can.”

A slight moan left your lips as you tilted your head to the side, allowing Aegon easier access to your throat, your gaze never leaving Aemond’s, his expression unreadable as he nodded his head at you.

Aemond had his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the tip bright red, lushed and angry, his arousal already dripping from the tip.

Aegon leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, and began to suck harshly. Being that your babe was only two months old, you were lactating. A loud moan escaped your lips as you felt the milk begin to flow.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, “just like that. You’re doing so good.”

You could feel his cock twitching against your leg at your praise as he continued to ravenously lap at your breast.

As he switched to your other breast he sucked harder at your stiffened peak, the milk coming almost instantly. He palmed your abandoned breast with his large hand, squeezing gently. Shivers ran down your spine as the sweet feeling of relief washed over you once again.

A growl erupted from Aemond’s throat and he unexpectedly pulled Aegon away from your chest. To your utter surprise, he crashed his lips against Aegon’s, tasting your milk on his tongue. You watched with bewilderment as your husband passionately kissed your brother, tugging at his unruly hair, moaning into his mouth. Arousal seeped from your core and onto Aegon’s thighs. Aemond broke the kiss abruptly and stared at you.

Aegon’s hands gripped your waist, flipping you around so you were underneath him. Your eldest brother positioned you so you were laying on your back comfortably against the pillows. He nestled himself between your thighs and hastily hiked your nightgown up over your waist. You shivered as his warm breath fanned over your folds. Before you could blink his tongue was prodding at your entrance. Your hands flew to the back of his head on instinct, pulling him closer into your center.

Aemond approached you carefully. He tapped his cock against your lower lip a few times, a signal for you to open your mouth. Just as he did so, Aegon’s tongue had reached the right spot, causing your mouth to gape open as a loud moan escaped your lips. Aemond took this as an opportunity to forcefully shove his cock into your mouth. You felt a rush of pleasure as Aemond's cock filled your mouth. You began to suck and lick it, eager to make him moan even louder. Aegon's tongue continued to explore you as you pleasured Aemond, and you felt your body quiver with pleasure.

If you knew being with another man in his presence would have this effect on him, you would have brought your affair to light long ago.

With a low groan of your name he pumped in and out of your mouth mercilessly, the salty taste of his precum evading your tastebuds. The air left your lungs as you gagged around him. You could feel the pent up anger Aemond held for the entirety of the situation with each brutal buck of his hips. Ever so slowly he pulled back, giving the you the illusion he was going to give you a break. But before you were able to catch your breath, his cock found his way to the back of your throat again. The faster he went, tears began to stream down your face.

As bubbles of spit began to form around the corners of your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks to the best of your ability. With Aegon now three fingers knuckle deep in your cunt it was almost impossible for you to focus on Aemond; but as the pace of his thrusts quickened you knew he was going to cum soon. You moaned around his length, the vibrations making his cock twitch, you could feel every throb of the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock.

“No,” Aemond growled as he pulled himself from your throat, “I need to feel your cunt around me.”

Aemond all but shoved Aegon away from you, almost knocking him off the large bed. Aemond lined his cock up with your center and sheathed himself inside of you with quickness.

As Aegon now sat on the upper left corner of the bed, he watched intently as Aemond’s cock disappeared into you repeatedly. One hand tugged at his painfully hard cock and the other wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he cooed, “look at how you take him so well,” he praised.

You nodded your head at him enthusiastically, pleasure overwhelming you. Aegon hooked his thumb into your mouth and you sucked and nipped at it intently.

There was no doubt that Aemond enjoyed the praise as well, snapping his hips even harder into your own. His cock bullied your sweet spot mercilessly. Your body tingled with a mix of pleasure and pain as Aemond's thrusts intensified; pressing hard against your cervix. His large hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently. The overwhelming sensation sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you, making it difficult to focus on anything else but the raw desire consuming your every thought.

“Fuck, Aemond, I’m going to cum!” you screamed as your hot waves of pleasure coursed through you.

Aegon watched intently as your orgasm wracked your entire frame, his own following not long after. He let out a loud groan as he came into his hand. He flashed an evil grin at Aemond as he brought his fingers to Aemond's mouth, shoving them down his throat.

Your husband gagged around his digits, sucking Aegon's release from them.

As the aftershock of your orgasm continued to pump though you, your cunt squeezed around Aemond’s cock. The depravity of it all overwhelmed him and Aemond came with a shudder. With one final thrust and a loud grunt, he was spilling himself inside of you.

As Aegon removed his fingers from your husband's throat, Aemond leaned over you, his cock still buried deep inside you.

"Open up, baby," he said before spitting directly into your mouth, a mixture of his saliva and Aegon's cum evident on your tongue. You swallowed with a contented hum.

Aemond pulled himself out of you and got up quickly.

You curled up in the bed next to Aegon, Aemond’s seed seeping out of you onto the sheets, sleep finding you almost immediately.

“She can stay here for the night,” Aemond said as he leaned down to kiss your sweat-drenched forehead.

Aegon frowned at his brother.

“Aemond, we cannot make her leave,” he rasped, desperation clear in his voice.

“I think she needs to leave now more than ever, brother. To ensure nothing like this ever happens again.”

A loud sigh escaped Aegon’s lips as he diverted his gaze from Aemond to you, pushing your hair out of your face, admiring your beauty.

“Enjoy your time with her tonight. She will be on her way to Dorne by morning.”

[diabolicalevil]

No context handing a Primarch a cat

I'm thinking about the freaks again,,, love those guys

Lion El'johnson: grabs it by the stomach and immediately tosses it to the ground. he knows it will be fine cause he's also a kitty

Fulgrim: if its a siamese, ragdoll or one of those expensive ones he'll start fawning over how gorgeous and elegant it is. other breeds he'll be very confused and a little intrigued. if it's a black cat he'll point at it and go "that's you" to ferrus manus

Perturabo: do not hand this man a cat he will hurt it!!!! on accident. and he'll be self loathing about the only thing he knows how to do is destroy until the end of time. and you're like yeah ok whatever but we gotta take that thang to the vet man

Jaghatai Khan: deeply amused, he thinks it's cute but will pass it back to you. unless it visibly has zoomies. "a fine warrior!" he will proclaim as it runs around

Leman Russ: dog person, doesn't like cats at all but he's experienced enough w animals to hold it properly. frowning so hard and puts it down quickly but gently

Rogal Dorn: he's holding it two handed like its a really big subway sandwich. very confused, just so baffled. if he let's it stay and it walks over his desk he talks to it very sternly about how that is Not appropriate behaviour. it does it again

Konrad Curze: DO NOT GIVE THIS MAN AN ANIMAL TO HOLD. he scares it away with his freak aura, for the best tbh

Sanguinius: curious but amused. the cat is going AT it trying to attack his wings but he's holding it very nicely I think sang loves animals

Ferrus Manus: annoyed I'm afraid. he's also worried he'll hurt it and passes it off to someone else. under no circumstances is that "someone else" someone from his legion, they cannot be trusted

Angron: another do not give this man an animal. its cute to him however ☝️ he is aware he might hurt it and is very quick to let it run off. from @evilraideroverboss Or for Angron: some people can imitate cat's hissing. Cat jumps on something high and hisses back. love this it's cute

Roboute Guilliman: confused but he's so tired everything is confusing him. he just treats it like another Thing to Handle and puts it on the stupid useless paperwork pile. if he ever locks back in to reality I think he'd find it very cute. it lives in his office now

Mortarion: annoyed. he doesn't like animals as much as plants but if it's a rarer breed of cat he'll quietly observe it like a bug for a little while. otherwise he's shoving it back to you immediately

Magnus: MAGNUS CAT DAD PROPAGANDA he has ten squillion cats in his library and this one is coming home with him too

Horus Lupercal: laughs, he thinks it's very amusing. handles it clumsily but he's doing his best

Lorgar Aurelian: extremely unfamiliar with animals, they're not allowed in the temple so he doesn't know what to do with it and hands it back to you

Vulkan: the best cat holder on this list. any confusion is not relevant he's holding that thang as if he personally gave birth to it

Corvus Corax: not interested and thinks it's weird you'd hand it to him, hands it back by the scruff of the neck

Alpharius/Omegon: kitty gets too confused and runs away

[lamortwrites]

With the Shadowheart romance au too? I've gotta be able to do smth fun w that

Every day my Labrys as reincarnated GW au grows stronger

[divaofmads]

Daughter of Water

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader (OC)

Warnings: Sacred virginity nonsense, Smut, +18, loss of virginity, sex with a stranger, fingering, standing sex, sexuality leaning more toward body-worship, dirty talk, fluff, mockery of absurd beliefs, use of the title “sacred whore” (though not to degrade the woman — you’ll understand when you read it), manipulative and mischievous Oberyn, Rough, Language!

Y/N: Your Name S/T: Skin Tone H/C: Hair Color

Word Count: 8.5k

Gif by Pinterest

A/N: I'm not a professional when it comes to fanfiction. I just write as a hobby. I started writing thanks to the amazing people who do this perfectly. So if you're going to focus on my mistakes, please don't read it.

A/N 2 : I apologize for the mistakes I made in English that is not my native language and I am trying to improve my writing skills.

The dunes of Dorne shimmered even on starless nights, yet that evening felt dark and silent to Prince Oberyn Martell. The decision to exile him had begun with news from Highgarden. A covert assassination attempt against House Tyrell had failed, and subtle clues cast a shadow of suspicion upon Oberyn. The true perpetrator was never confirmed, but the delicate balance of power within the Seven Kingdoms was fragile enough to threaten Dorne's independence. Oberyn's courage and rebellious spirit made him an easy target for such intrigues. His brother, Doran Martell, saw no alternative but to send him into exile.

"The best thing you can do for Dorne," Doran said, "is to leave. This will be the salvation not just for you, but for our house."

As always, Oberyn responded with a smile.

"Exile me? Perhaps you're doing me a favor, brother. A fine excuse to explore the world beyond the Seven Kingdoms."

Upon leaving the warm sands of Dorne, Oberyn stepped into the complex and ruthless world of Essos. Exile offered him not just freedom but also the opportunity to discover the extent of his own boundaries. His first destination was Lys; known as the island of love and passion, this city was famed for its golden beaches, wealthy merchants, and renowned beauties. However, Lys's seductive façade quickly became monotonous for Oberyn. Dazzling women, gold-embroidered wine goblets, delicate incenses... These could not fill the void within a Martell's soul.

"Beauty becomes dull quickly," he muttered to himself, sipping wine on the terrace of a Lys inn. "The essence of pleasure lies in the unexplored."

After spending a few months in Lys, Oberyn set his course for Myr. Known for its fine craftsmanship, glassmaking, and ancient poison masters, Myr offered more than just hedonistic pursuits—it provided something to satiate his curiosity: the fine art of death.

While wandering through Myr's narrow, labyrinthine streets, Oberyn's eyes caught a shop he'd heard much about. Known as Tanith's "House of Spices and Elixirs," this establishment was a hub for poison dealers from across Essos. Upon entering, the air was thick with the scent of spices; dried herbs, snake skins, and finely ground mineral powders lined the shelves.

Tanith was an elderly woman; her eyes bore the faded memories of something once vibrant. Upon seeing Oberyn, she immediately recognized not just a customer but a student hungry for knowledge.

"Poison isn't wielded like a crude dagger, prince," Tanith said, retrieving a dark red powder from a shelf. "Poison requires patience and intellect. In the right hands, it's an art; in the wrong, a disgrace."

Under Tanith's guidance, Oberyn began to learn the secrets of poisons. He delved beyond the common toxins sold in Myr's markets, seeking rarer and more lethal concoctions. The impact of poison lay not just in the victim's physical agony but also in the psychological terror it induced.

Tanith taught Oberyn three fundamental principles:

1. The Power of Time: Some poisons acted instantly, while others consumed their victims slowly over weeks. Oberyn learned that a poison derived from the blood of the Lys snake left its victim debilitated for days, with death arriving only during sleep.

2. Deceptive Taste and Aroma: The deadliest poisons often appeared as innocent as a dessert. Oberyn tasted a poison from Old Volantis; when mixed with wine, it left a sweet, spicy flavor, yet a single sip ignited a burning sensation in the victim's veins.

3. Poison and Intrigue: Poison was not merely a physical weapon but a message. It was used not just to kill a king but to instill fear in a kingdom. Oberyn understood the importance of poisoning not just the victim but also those around them.

Under Tanith's supervision, Oberyn began crafting his own poisons. One of his most successful creations earned him the title "Red Sand" among the people of Myr. This sand-colored powder induced a sensation of sand coursing through the victim's veins, leading to death within hours. However, Oberyn used his poisons not solely for killing but also to slowly subdue his enemies and leave them in terror.

During his months with Tanith, Oberyn began to grasp the philosophy of poison. It was quieter than a sword, swifter than an arrow, and as powerful as a word. He researched the great poison masters of history; he listened to tales of a poison made from dragon blood used in the final years of Valyria. Compared to Myr, Westeros's tradition of poison seemed primitive.

One evening, he turned to Tanith and said,

"Poison is like a gift stolen from the gods. A swift death can make a king feel powerless; a slow one can strike terror into an entire people."

Tanith smiled and replied,

"But remember, prince. Poison consumes the one who wields it as well. If you go too deep, in the end, you may find nothing but yourself."

Oberyn, satisfied with the knowledge he had gained and the poisons he had crafted in Myr, still felt an emptiness within a longing for new places to discover and desires yet to be fulfilled. He had mastered the subtleties of poison, but now it was time for a different kind of adventure.

Leaving behind the warm, salt-scented air of Myr, Oberyn Martell burned with the yearning for his next journey. During his time in Myr, he had fed both his mind and his soul, yet the restless passion in a Martell's blood drove him to seek more. It was then, in a harbor tavern, that a tale sparked the beginning of his journey to Pentos.

The tavern, a wooden structure overlooking the port of Myr, was filled with the scents of wine and bursts of raucous laughter at dusk. Oberyn was drawn in by a drunken merchant’s tale. He spoke of the Prince of Pentos, who, as part of an age-old tradition, would be sacrificed to the gods after a season of poor harvests. A new prince would then be chosen in his place. But what caught Oberyn's interest most was the central figure of this ritual: Daughter of Water.

"Daughter of Water ," the merchant slurred, wine dripping from his lips, "is seen as a gift from the gods. She must be so pure, so beautiful, that when the new prince unites with her, fertility and peace return. The city waits for her for years, dedicates her to the gods. They say there's one now… her name is Y/N."

Oberyn listened to the words with a deep smile. He slowly lifted his wine glass and leaned toward the merchant. “Tell me, my friend. What is the story of this Y/N? And what kind of place is Pentos, that even the gods marvel at the beauty of its women?”

Pentos, a golden city overlooking the sea on the western shores of Essos, began to take shape in Oberyn’s imagination. Known for its brothels and harbor, Pentos was a hub where merchants, pirates, and nomadic warriors converged. But the city held far more than outsiders might suspect.

The narrow, stone-paved streets of Pentos were adorned with ancient mosaics, each telling a story from the city’s past. Golden-domed palaces stood as symbols of wealth, yet beneath this splendor lay a sharp game of fear and balance of power. Though it seemed as if Pentos was ruled by its lords, true power rested in the hands of merchants and wealthy families.

The people of Pentos fed their city with the gifts of the sea. Spices, exotic fabrics, fish, and precious stones from the East kept the port alive with motion. But behind this wealth were also the marks of poverty. Most of the houses were narrow, leaning on one another, barely letting sunlight pass through. The streets echoed with both the laughter of wine merchants and the silence of beggars crushed by hunger.

And in the middle of all this chaos, like an offering to the gods, the name of Daughter of Water, Y/N, was whispered among the people. Y/N was on the verge of becoming a legend.

What the merchant said had stirred Oberyn’s blood. The mere fact that Y/N had been chosen as Daughter of Water was enough to convince him to embark on this journey. But it was not just about a woman or a ritual. For Oberyn, Pentos was a new playing field. When the merchant said, “Pentos lives like prey caught in the talons of an eagle. It looks strong, but it always fears,” a sly smile spread across Oberyn’s face.

“Is it easy to get to Pentos?” Oberyn asked.

“Finding ships in the harbors isn't hard. But be careful—Pentos lords don't easily trust outsiders,” said the merchant.

Oberyn paid little mind to the man's warning. He was confident that with his wit and charm, he could get whatever he wanted in Pentos. At the port of Myr, he boarded a trade ship called the Silver Scorpion. The vessel was filled with exotic spices and rare fabrics, but for Oberyn, this journey was not about commerce—it was about discovering a woman and the dark secrets of a city.

As the Silver Scorpion glided over the waves, Oberyn pondered what lay ahead. The beauty of Lysandra, the ritual of the Water Maiden, the mysteries hidden beneath the golden domes of Pentos... This voyage promised to be one of his greatest adventures in Essos.

“Pentos,” he murmured to himself. “The gods truly know where to hide their gifts.”

As the Silver Scorpion approached the harbor, the grandeur and darkness of Pentos slowly entered Oberyn Martell’s view. The city’s golden domes and elegant seaside palaces suggested peace and order, but beneath that splendor was a chaos waiting to be uncovered.

The moment he disembarked, Oberyn scanned his surroundings. His eyes sought the order beneath the harbor’s chaos. Pentos seemed disorganized at first glance, but deep within its heart lay a hierarchy. Here, power was shaped in silence and shadows. Oberyn trusted his instincts—they would lead him to Daughter of Water, for a Martell never strays from his path.

He acted on the information given to him by the merchant he met in Myr. Daughter of Water was no ordinary girl. She was seen as a gift from the gods, venerated by the people. Such a being would not be hidden among the common folk; she would be kept in a special place, protected like a living icon.

Crossing the cobbled roads beyond the harbor, Oberyn made his way to the quieter and more noble part of the city. The northern quarter of Pentos was home to wealthy merchants and lords. Here, grand structures rose toward the sky, courtyards adorned with marble statues. But Oberyn knew Daughter of Water would be kept not just in wealth, but in sanctity.

As he traced her trail through the city’s bustle, a wine merchant whispered to him, “Daughter of Water? She’s in the Garden of the Gods. Beneath the golden arbors... but you can’t just walk in there.”

The Garden of the Gods was one of the oldest and most sacred parts of Pentos. Located on the city’s western slope, this area was a sanctuary dedicated to the old gods, filled with graceful statues and exotic flora. According to rumor, Daughter of Water resided there, under the watchful eyes of temple priests. The temple was open only to the chosen; within its walls, magic, tradition, and faith intertwined.

Before reaching the Garden of the Gods, Oberyn sought out more knowledge of Y/N from merchants and priests. Each described her divinity and beauty in their own way.

Y/N’s S/T skin was said to shine as purely and brightly as moonlight reflected on water. Her luminous complexion was viewed as a sacred sign by the people—as if the gods had touched her and crafted her with a purity unlike any other. Her H/C hair resembled the night sky: long, silky, and moving like waves in a gentle breeze. But what truly set Y/N apart wasn’t merely her physical beauty.

The priests said that the real reason people believed Y/N was sacred was because of the Blood Moon that appeared on the night of her birth. That night, Pentos fell into an eerie silence, and the city’s oldest priest declared that Y/N was “the rebirth of the gods.” Even more impressive was her voice, which seemed to enchant everyone who heard it. Her songs touched the hearts of those who listened, filling them with a kind of peace and awe. The people believed they heard the voices of the gods in her melodies.

Oberyn knew that entry to the garden was only possible for chosen individuals. But a Martell possessed the wit to turn obstacles into opportunity.

As Oberyn Martell moved through the narrow streets of Pentos, he gathered clues step by step to locate the Garden of the Gods. Every time he heard its name, he sensed a tremble of reverence in people’s voices. This place held not only beauty, but also mystery and power.

In the marketplace, he spotted one of the priests. The man was different from the others—his robe was cleaner, his walk more dignified. Most likely, he held a significant place in the temple’s inner hierarchy. Oberyn decided to follow him. He watched as the man began speaking to a merchant in a spice-scented alley. Observing from a distance, he noticed their interaction was based on mutual trust.

This insight offered Oberyn an opportunity. Even among the temple priests, some could succumb to worldly desires; for gold or prestige, no door was truly sealed. He needed only to wait for the right moment.

The next day, he witnessed a priest examining fresh flowers being taken into the Garden of the Gods. Oberyn seized the chance and approached, introducing himself as one of Pentos’s prominent merchants. He centered his conversation on the people's devotion to the gods and his "admiration" for the sanctity of the temples.

“Honored priest,” Oberyn began, with a subtle smile. “I’ve heard stories about the Garden of the Gods in Pentos. They say the gods left traces of themselves there. Tell me, what does such a sacred place look like?”

The priest responded with a cautious expression. “The garden is for the gods and their servants alone. Entry is not permitted for someone off the street.”

Oberyn’s lips curled slightly. “Someone off the street? Perhaps. But I didn’t come to Pentos as just another merchant. I’ve spent most of my life uncovering the mysteries of Essos. In Myr, Lys, Qohor... I’ve seen the signs of the gods. I believe in what you say, and I cannot help but admire what has been granted to you.”

The priest examined Oberyn’s confident tone. Still, he seemed ready to object. At that moment, Oberyn lowered his voice, speaking in a tone that balanced between a subtle threat and a tempting offer. “In this city, many speak of the sacrifices made by the temple priests, and of the sacred relics you guard in the Garden of the Gods. But sadly, some rumors suggest that this sanctity is no longer well protected. Such whispers could tarnish the priests’ reputation. However, a foreigner like me could see things in a very different light. I could help exalt the temple’s name, if we worked together.”

The priest evaluated Oberyn's words, sensing the subtle threat and flattery woven together. Turning him away carried risk; remaining silent, however, might make an enemy of a man as clever as Oberyn. In the end, they reached an agreement. The priest would lead Oberyn to the edge of the garden, but crossing the temple's boundaries would depend entirely on Oberyn’s own skill.

The massive stone gates of the Garden of the Gods were more magnificent than even the grandest structures of Pentos. The carvings above depicted ancient deities, each holding a different element of nature: fire, water, earth, and air. As Oberyn studied these representations, a phrase etched beneath the gate caught his eye: "Peace is found only in places blessed by the gods."

As the priest opened the gate, he turned to Oberyn. "Not everyone who comes here can feel its sanctity. But this place sees the soul. If you lose your way during this journey, it will be by your own choice."

When the gate opened, Oberyn felt the presence of another world. The Garden of the Gods was no ordinary garden. Towering marble columns reached toward the sky, and birds danced around them, transforming the temple grounds into a work of art. Water whispered from every corner, flowing through narrow channels that connected the courtyards.

Oberyn tried not to be swept away by the garden’s enchantment. "The blood of a Martell is sacred too," he reminded himself. Even amid such beauty, he remained focused on his mission. He could sense that Y/N was at the very heart of this garden. His eyes scanned every corner, every step calculated.

Oberyn Martell relied on his intelligence and sharp observational skills to move through the Garden of the Gods undetected. His desire to reach Y/N gave him a renewed sense of determination. As he watched the garden and its routines, he carefully noted the behavior of the priests, the patrol paths of the guards, and every small detail around him.

The first thing he noticed was the sacred order that governed the garden. The priests moved in a constant ritual rhythm, traveling to different sections of the garden at set times. The guards were vigilant, especially near the central pergola that lay at the garden’s core—an area under tight surveillance. Oberyn realized that a direct approach was impossible; he would need to find a flaw within the system’s structure.

Through his observations, Oberyn noticed that at specific times the priests gathered beneath a small pavilion in the garden’s corner. There, fruits and wines were offered as symbols of the garden’s sanctity, and the priests partook of these gifts while expressing their devotion. Yet Oberyn saw beyond the sacredness—he saw a glimpse of human nature: despite their faith, the priests consumed the fruits and wine with eager appetite, surrendering themselves to the moment’s comfort.

Oberyn recalled the months he had spent in Myr, learning the arts of poison. In the small leather pouch he carried, one vial contained an extract of a plant called Silent Shadow. The poison was not deadly; its effects were more subtle. It clouded the mind, dulled awareness, and slowed reflexes. For his goal, it was a perfect tool.

His next step was to mix the extract into the fruits and wine offered to the priests. But it had to be done without drawing attention. Oberyn purchased a few pomegranates and figs from a small fruit stall outside the garden. In a secluded corner behind the stand, he used a thin syringe to inject the poison into the fruits. He also treated a bottle of Pentoshi wine in the same way, preparing everything for his plan.

Oberyn discreetly placed the fruit and wine on a table near the pavilion, blending them in with the other offerings. When the priests gathered at the corner of the garden, they unknowingly included Oberyn’s contributions in their ritual. Soon after, he watched as they began to taste the sacred offerings, all while his plan took root.

The effects became evident quickly. The priests' movements grew looser, their speech slowed. Some chuckled softly; others gently swayed where they sat. Even the guards, having sampled a few bites, started to show signs of the same dazed state.

Oberyn knew this was his moment.

Oberyn, knowing this distraction would continue, decided to act. At this point, the most crucial part of his plan was to silently find the path to the center of the garden, to Y/N’s arbor.

The water channels running through the garden were another detail that hadn't escaped Oberyn’s notice. Passing under delicate stone arches, these channels connected every corner of the garden, extending silently toward the center. When Oberyn realized they were wide enough for a person to pass through, he decided to use them.

Taking advantage of the priests’ and guards’ scattered attention, he slipped into the most secluded part of the garden. There, a small arched tunnel marked the origin of the water. As he entered the tunnel, he stripped off his outer garments and began to move carefully, clinging to the damp stone walls. The humid, dark atmosphere tested both his mental and physical endurance. But Oberyn was used to such challenges; a Martell did not succumb to fear when opportunity presented itself.

As he moved forward with the sound of the water guiding him, he noticed a small stone staircase at the end of the channel. It led directly beneath Y/N’s arbor. Climbing the damp steps in silence, Oberyn advanced like a chess piece moved with careful intent. At the end of the tunnel, he spotted a sentry priest standing alert in the dim light. Now, intelligence and creativity had to serve as sharper weapons than any blade.

Looking around, Oberyn noticed thinly carved stone holes reaching up to the ceiling of the channel. These openings, combined with the sound of the water, created echoes that carried whispers across the garden.

A clever idea came to him to distract the priest. He picked up a small stone from near the entrance of the tunnel and placed it in the flow of the stream, waiting patiently. As the stone drifted with the current and clattered against others, it echoed, making it seem as though the sound had come from a distant part of the tunnel. But Oberyn wasn’t finished; to amplify the illusion, he gently blew air into one of the stone carvings, adding a whisper that blended with the rhythm of the water.

The priest suddenly stiffened. The rhythmic sound of the stream mixed with faint whispers must have seemed like a divine warning or sign. With unease, he turned his head and began to approach the shadowy entrance of the water channels. At that moment, Oberyn's cunning triumphed once again; while the priest waited for a sign from the gods, Oberyn glided up the stairs like a shadow.

The stairs led Oberyn to a chamber beneath the arbor. Here, on the surface of the stone walls, he saw carvings resembling ancient Valyrian symbols. Yet among them, Oberyn recognized the subtle outline of a mechanism. The stones shifted slightly when touched with care. With the patience honed under Dorne's blazing sun, he studied their arrangement. Moving with near-blind sensitivity in the dark, he found the correct alignment. As the final stone clicked into place, a soft mechanical sound whispered through the air and a stone door slowly opened.

A narrow passage led Oberyn just a few steps from Y/N’s arbor. Yet he could already feel her presence; the air itself seemed to hum with divine energy around her. It was as if her very breath filled the chamber.

But for Oberyn, the real challenge was how to approach her. It would take more than wit—it required a captivating strategy. This meeting with Y/N was less a hunt and more the final steps of a dance. He had reached the most sacred part of the garden, but as he neared Y/N, he prepared to don his mask: one of charm, danger, and cleverness.

When Oberyn Martell stepped into the sacred chamber of the arbor, his eyes lingered for a heartbeat. Y/N was far more than what the priests and the people of Pentos had described. The young woman seemed shaped by the very hands of the gods. Her S/T skin, so rare and pristine to someone who had grown under Dorne’s scorching sun, was like a canvas—pure and mesmerizing. The smoothness of her complexion reminded him of a mountain peak kissed by the first snow; cold, yet with an untouchable allure.

Her H/C hair, catching the flickering light of the torches in the room, resembled the night sky itself—each strand a shadow of starlight cloaked in darkness. It flowed down to her waist like a silken veil, framing her face in a way that made her seem like she belonged in a sacred portrait. But what struck him most were her eyes: deep, intense, caught between the golden flame of a dragon and the silvery gray of Valyria. Those eyes pierced through Oberyn’s gaze like an arrow.

Y/N left a divine impression not just with her beauty but with her very presence. Her movements were graceful—not in the way of a trained lady, but as though gifted by the gods themselves. The golden bracelets on her slender wrists, bestowed by the priests, chimed softly with each subtle motion. Yet Oberyn sensed those bracelets were shackles; Y/N was a bird in a cage, condemned to a fate she had never chosen.

A faint smile touched Oberyn’s lips—not one of victory, but of something deeper, a recognition. Y/N was not simply beautiful. She possessed a uniqueness unlike anything he had ever seen or experienced. This young woman could make him forget the flower gardens of Dorne, yet behind her beauty lay fragility and solitude.

"As beautiful as a goddess, and as fragile as a bird," Oberyn thought. "But a Martell fears neither gods nor cages." Y/N’s beauty stirred not only his admiration but also a hunger. He was not a man content with watching—he was a man of pursuit. But with Y/N, that pursuit felt elevated. This woman was more than a symbol offered to the gods—she was powerful enough to deceive the gods themselves.

Oberyn was captivated by not just her appearance, but the aura she emanated. The priests may have marked her as chosen by the divine, but in Oberyn’s eyes, Y/N held a power beyond their reach. The sorrow in her gaze ignited the fire in his Martell blood. His fury at her caged destiny, and his desire to truly know her, made him more resolute than ever.

"To only look upon her," Oberyn thought, "would be like gazing at stars and never daring to make a wish." Every movement she made, every breath she took, became less an image and more a melody in his mind. The fire of Dorne met the elegance of Y/N, and he knew this was merely the beginning.

Oberyn Martell would not accept that Lysandra belonged to the gods. In his eyes gleamed the resolve of a warrior and the passion of a lover. This bird would not remain caged—for Oberyn was a man who broke cages.

The Garden of the Gods in Pentos had lost none of its grandeur, even under the night’s shadow. Marble columns rose like phantoms in the moonlight, while the ancient trees overhead formed a canopy that veiled the sky. The soft trickle of water and the occasional chirp of birds gave the garden a sacred harmony with nature. The holiness of this place weighed upon the hearts of all who entered—but Oberyn Martell’s heart bore only one thought: Y/N.

“Y/N,” he said, stepping from the shadows with his usual confident, cunning smile. His attire—rich in black and red—was embroidered with golden suns of House Martell. He looked both noble and enigmatic, moving with the ease of a predator who cared little for the sacred. Y/N, under the moonlight, shone like a tale brought to life. But to Oberyn, this was no tale. This was the beginning of a mystery waiting to be unraveled.

“The Garden of the Gods... they say it’s a sacred place. But I’ve always been intrigued by how fragile sacred things can be. Just like you, shining here tonight.”

Y/N was sitting on the bench by the window; she quickly turned around and frowned at the stranger standing before her. There was more discomfort than fear in her eyes. "I don't know who you are, but you shouldn't be here. Only priests and the divinely chosen are allowed to walk in this garden."

Oberyn took a few steps toward her, and when the moonlight hit his face, that famous smile of his became more pronounced. "I did not claim my right from the priests, but from the night itself. I’m looking for something, Y/N. And I’ve found it."

Y/N's brows furrowed. "This isn't a place for games. Tell me who you are and leave."

Oberyn didn't seem affected by her authoritative tone. On the contrary, the smile on his face grew wider. "I am Oberyn Martell," he said, each word carrying the power of his name. "Prince of Dorne, son of the Snake, a wanderer who sings songs of love and death across the Seven Kingdoms. But tonight, I am only a man. And perhaps the Garden of the Gods has summoned me."

Y/N stared at Oberyn. "You came all this way just to find me? If achieving that makes you feel divine, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. I'm not a miracle, nor the embodiment of a prophecy. I'm just... someone born in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Oberyn took a step to sit beside her, but Y/N stopped him with a motion of her hand. "Don’t come closer. I don't care who you are. I’m in no state of mind to talk to anyone on behalf of the gods."

"I'm not speaking on behalf of the gods," Oberyn said, his voice warm enough to slowly melt Y/N’s defenses. "I speak for myself. And when I look at you, I don’t see a prophecy or a miracle. I see a woman. A woman who has bewitched me."

Y/N turned her eyes away from Oberyn. "Bewitched? I suppose after growing up in a brothel, being seen as sacred is somehow less unbelievable."

Oberyn was quiet for a moment. "A brothel?" he asked, his voice curious rather than mocking.

Y/N paused for a second, then shrugged and continued speaking. "Yes. I was born in one of the famous brothels of Pentos. My mother worked there. The women did everything they could to protect me, but I grew up in the middle of that life. If you’re wondering how I remained a virgin, the answer is simple: I was scary enough."

Oberyn raised his eyebrows slightly. "You were scary?"

"Yes," Y/N said with a sharp smile. "From an early age, I didn’t let anyone come near me. I outsmarted them, protected myself with fear. Eventually, the priests came and told me I was the chosen of the gods. Funny, isn’t it? Someone who grew up in the back rooms of a brothel suddenly becomes Pentos’s sacred symbol."

As Oberyn listened to her words, the smile on his face faded into a more serious expression. "I can’t say your story surprises me," he said at last. "But I must admit, it makes you even more captivating. Because it's impossible to believe that a woman who defends herself so perfectly could ever be ordinary."

Y/N shot him a sharp look. "Don't flatter me. I've heard enough praise before you ever walked into this place. If you want something from me, just say it!"

Oberyn took a few more steps closer, locking eyes with her. “You wonder what I want from you? I want the truth. I want to know what guides you beyond this prophecy nonsense, what makes you feel like a pawn in the gods' game. But most of all, I want to understand you, Y/N. Because your story is more sacred than anything in this garden.”

Y/N remained silent for a moment. The sincerity in Oberyn’s voice had begun to chip away at her walls. Yet deep down, she still questioned how trustworthy this man truly was. “Your tales and my truths are very different, Oberyn Martell. I gave up believing in fairy tales a long time ago. But if it’s the truth you want, I might keep talking.”

Oberyn lowered his head slightly, wearing that famous smile again. “I’m not just a storyteller, Y/N. I’m a man who knows how to seek the truth, and live it. And tonight, here with you, I’m ready to uncover the truths that touch your soul.”

In his eyes, Y/N could see the dark shadows of her own fate. This man could be the most dangerous and the most captivating person to cross her path. But standing before him, she was determined to keep whatever she felt tonight a secret.

Oberyn stood in silence before her. Her sarcastic gaze, tired smile, and disbelief might have dissuaded another. But for Oberyn Martell, this was nothing short of a challenge. His intelligence and charm were often sharper and deadlier than any blade.

“The chosen one,” Oberyn said, adding a sly warmth to his voice. “You once said how foolish you thought that title was. But I’ve been wondering something. When you reject it, is it truly because of disbelief? Or is it rebellion against something that was forced upon you?”

Y/N turned to him, brows furrowed. “You’re trying to understand me, aren’t you? Others have tried before. Priests speaking in the name of gods, dragging my mother through the dirt while lifting me up… They all told the same lies. But my mother… she was different. She was the only one who taught me how the world really works.”

Oberyn took another careful step forward. “Your mother was a prostitute. But she did everything she could to protect you from her fate, didn’t she? A girl who grew up in a brothel and managed to remain a virgin… That alone is an incredible story. What protected you, Y/N? Your mother’s love? Or your own will?”

Y/N looked down in silence. The sharpness in her voice had faded, replaced by sorrow. “My mother trained me. Not just to protect my body, but my soul too. It had nothing to do with the gods. But that doesn’t make me sacred. It just… means I survived.”

Oberyn didn’t let the moment slip away. “Survival is already a miracle, Y/N. Especially in a place like that, with a past like yours. Staying a virgin doesn’t have to be a sign from the gods. But it is a power. A power only you know, and only you can control.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to persuade me? Because if you are, you’re talking to the wrong person.”

Oberyn leaned in, his face close to hers. “No, I’m talking to the right one. Because you’re someone who rejects titles and prophecies. That makes you stronger. The reason so many people cling to you like you’re divine isn’t just your beauty, it’s your resolve. Y/N, they want to make you sacred because you control your own fate. And now, we can write that fate together.”

When Y/N saw the sincerity in his eyes, she hesitated for a moment. His words were chipping away at her walls. “What do you want, Oberyn? What do you really want from me?”

Oberyn shrugged with a soft smile. “Just one night… just one moment. To be with you, and leave all this prophecy nonsense behind.”

Y/N, while weighing the meaning behind his words, remembered her mother’s advice. Oberyn’s charm and wit offered her a world she had never known. But within that world, she realized she could make her own choices. This man was offering her an option.

She looked at Oberyn in silence for a while. Then, with a slight nod, she spoke. “If that’s what you want, then I will be with you. But that doesn’t make me sacred. It makes me a woman. A woman who can make her own choices.”

Oberyn leaned in with a look that was a mix of triumph and tenderness, taking her hand. “What is sacredness anyway? Where there are choices and freedom, there is true power. And being with you will be a source of strength for me.”

Y/N smiled softly. This man had reached the vulnerable parts of her. But most importantly, he reminded her that she could choose something of her own free will. A gift from the gods? Perhaps. But in that moment, she chose to simply be a woman.

Y/N stood up to come level with Oberyn. The room was cloaked in semi-darkness. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of experiencing such an intimate moment with a man for the first time, but the shadows would conceal her. Yet her skin glowed like porcelain in the candlelight, making it impossible not to notice the change in her color. Oberyn gently cupped her chin between his fingers and lifted it, making her look into his eyes. Her eyelids carried a subtle weight. Her gaze became more alluring, more intimate than ever before. As Oberyn looked into her eyes, he felt both a kingdom to be conquered and a goddess to be worshipped. Then his eyes wandered to her lips, curving softly upward. He slid his thumb down to her lower lip. Its hue resembled a rose fed with fresh blood. Her lower lip was fuller, each word she spoke a silent invitation for a kiss. He could no longer resist. As their faces drew closer, their skin touched, and he kissed her lips—an innocent yet sinful kiss.

Oberyn Martell’s kiss carried layers of meaning, passionate yet always in control. Y/N’s body trembled involuntarily. This was the first true intimacy she had ever experienced. Her lips were soft and shy, while Oberyn’s were like a storm of experience overtaking them.

The kiss began gently. Y/N’s trembling breath made the warmth of Oberyn’s lips even more vivid. When Oberyn slipped his tongue lightly between her lips, Y/N’s entire body reacted as though washed in fire. For the first time, she discovered the depth of her own desire. When Oberyn’s tongue touched hers, she instinctively held onto his shoulder.

The kiss became more and more sensual. Oberyn’s experienced lips tore through Y/N’s shyness, urging her toward boldness. Their tongues began to dance, as though trying to taste each other more deeply; with each motion, the dance became bolder and more intricate. Y/N’s first hesitant touch of her tongue drove Oberyn wild. Her fresh and innocent responses only fueled the fire burning within him. As he deepened the kiss, his hands slowly moved upward. His palms caressed the sides of Y/N’s delicate neck, tilting her head back slightly to make her fully surrender. His thumb pressed gently on the spot where her pulse throbbed; this small gesture allowed him to feel how alive and sensitive her body was. The rhythm of her heartbeat pulsed beneath his fingers like a melodic song.

The moisture of the kiss blended with the warmth that spread from Y/N’s lips to Oberyn’s beard. Oberyn deepened the kiss as if he wanted to savor the taste of her lips a little longer. His free hand slowly moved down to her waist. Y/N’s slender figure, for Oberyn’s strong hands, was as precious as the gold and diamonds that adorned her body. His other hand gently touched the small of her back, fingers gliding beneath the fabric as they explored the curves of her body. His fingertips traced the bends of her spine, offering both reassurance and a subtle invitation to his fire. With every touch, he could feel Y/N’s faint shivers. Her deep breaths were a sign of how willingly she was surrendering to his passionate caress. While Oberyn honored her innocence, he was also relishing the pleasure of breaking it with her.

When Oberyn finally slowed the kiss and pulled away from her face, a soft breath escaped her lips. Y/N’s cheeks were flushed with desire; her lips slightly parted, marked by the trace of his bite. Oberyn studied her face and spoke with a mocking smile. "The taste of innocence is so sweet. But you will never be innocent again, Y/N. Not with me."

Then, Oberyn bent his knees slightly, one hand behind her back, the other under her thighs, and lifted her into his arms. His feet glided over the carpet embroidered with pomegranate motifs symbolizing fertility and sanctity. Though his movement was graceful, it held the decisiveness of a warrior lifting his sword. Y/N’s body felt light in his powerful embrace. When Oberyn's hand held her back, his fingertips discovered the smoothness of her skin—silky, warm, and fresh.

As he carried her toward the bed standing at the center of the room, the walls carved from black marble and inscribed with ancient symbols seemed to close in around them. The heavy velvet curtains darkened with each step, surrounding them like a lingering echo.

The bed was draped in deep blue silk covers, rippling like sea waves, adorned with shimmering white floral motifs. An ornate golden headboard stood tall like a symbol of sacredness. But for Oberyn, it was merely a vessel—not for the gods, but for surrendering to desire.

As he laid Y/N down, his movements were as delicate as a sculptor placing a masterpiece, yet as assertive as a conqueror celebrating victory. When her back met the softness of the bed, every fabric and texture on her skin suddenly felt foreign. Oberyn paused for a moment; leaning over her, his lips nearly touching hers, his breath stirred her skin. "The gods offered you as a sacred body," he whispered, his voice a reverberating tone in the darkness. "But here, in this bed, your sanctity will be undone. The gods misplaced you... They left you in my hands, not theirs."

His hands glided gently down her sides, as though drawing a boundary between her smooth skin and the bed's fabric. Oberyn read both her fears and desires. As his lips returned to hers, his hands moved over the curves of her breasts, the fullness of her hips, her skin burning like fire under his touch.

The dress Y/N wore hugged every curve with its thin and soft fabric, yet it drew a line Oberyn had yet to cross. His hands moved toward the elegant slope of her neck. As he gently slipped the fabric from her shoulders, his fingers made their first direct contact with her skin. There was a beauty that was both inviting and provocative, stoking the flame already burning low in his loins. "Being this flawless... is it merely a coincidence?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

He slowly slid the dress down to her wrists. The fabric stretched slightly over the fullness of her hips before falling freely again. The idea of a man seeing her bare body excited her; her nipples hardened, the fine hairs on her skin stood on end, her breathing grew erratic, and her chest rose and fell with intensity. How long could Oberyn withstand such an enticing sight? He climbed on top of her, supporting himself with one hand on the bed while the other cupped her breasts. Their round shape echoed nature’s symmetry. When he rolled the hardened tips between his fingers, a shiver erupted from her spine and surged toward her loins. Oberyn, alternately soft and firm in his caresses, bent to kiss her lips once more, ensuring her body met each touch with delicate sensitivity.

His fingers, feather-light, traced a path from her breasts to her stomach and down to her waist, brushing her body with teasing strokes that danced along the curves brought to life by the deep contrast of candlelight. Y/N trembled under Oberyn’s every touch, her body tightening in pleasure as she tasted such new and overwhelming sensations.

When Oberyn released her lips and moved down to her breasts, she gasped in surprise as if she had discovered something unknown. Her areolas were enveloped by his mouth, her nipples caught teasingly between his teeth while his tongue continued to provoke the untouched areas. Yet his hands never strayed from her sinuous figure.

In the midst of all this lustful passion, Y/N noticed something—an ache pooling low in her body, unlike anything she’d felt before. The tension gathered in her pelvis, and her most intimate part pulsed with heat. One leg rested on the bed like a column, while the other bent slightly inward, as if trying to contain the trembling arousal spreading through her. She felt embarrassed. Oberyn’s sensual touches had awakened every sensitive cell in her body, preparing her for a climax she couldn’t fully comprehend, while a warm, slick moisture began to seep between her thighs.

Oberyn finally released her breast from his hungry mouth, and without lifting his face from her skin, he trailed his nose, lips, and tongue between the swell of her breasts down to her navel. He licked each spot the candlelight revealed, and the trail of saliva he left behind cooled her delicate skin like a breeze across silk.

Kisses soon accompanied the strokes of his tongue. As he moved closer to her pelvis, the pleasure seemed to intensify; when a soft moan slipped through her teeth and filled the room, Oberyn lifted his head and smiled. "You're finally starting to let yourself go," he said, not with mockery but with the feral intensity of an impatient bull. "How about mimicking the sounds you heard in the brothel, Y/N? You may have kept your virginity, but surely you've been exposed to memories you didn't ask for."

Y/N froze for a moment. It was as if she had forgotten how to breathe. She saw the certainty in Oberyn’s eyes. She had grown up in a brothel and witnessed the orgasmic expressions on women's faces—grimaces that seemed to mix pain and desperation, as if they hurt but still begged for more. Her mother always said the women in that house were on a wicked path, that they sold their feelings for money, and ever since, a woman's moan had felt like something shameful to her. But now, she understood—resisting the overwhelming power of the pleasure she was experiencing would be absurd. As Oberyn continued to taste her body, a louder moan escaped her lips. The tension in her muscles had eased, and she could feel his touch much more deeply now. Her mind had surrendered completely to the spell of lust.

But it seemed even this wasn’t enough for the prince. He straightened up and gazed at Y/N’s sculpture-like, flawless face with desire. "Come on, gift me the sanctity of your moans," he said, "let me help you—lie on your stomach, and part your legs."

She hesitated at first. Her womanhood was like a vault where an artist hid their most precious works—a mysterious sanctuary. And now she was about to open that mystery to a man she barely knew. Her nervousness slowed her movements, but she did as he asked, supporting herself with her arms. She lay face down, pressing her elbows into the mattress while her head and breasts hovered above. She slowly dragged her feet across the sheets and opened her legs. When the cool air from the window brushed against her burning sex, she realized just how ready she was for this man.

Meanwhile, Oberyn began removing his clothes. The sharp sound of skin sliding against fabric, the gentle thud of garments hitting the floor filled Y/N’s ears and echoed in her mind like a melody announcing the carnal pleasure to come.

When Oberyn moved to position himself on the bed, his knees on the bed again, the bed trembled with his movements. And when he finally placed his body on top of Y/N’s, she felt his strength and weight down to her feet. When Y/N’s body, which would make the gods jealous, merged with Oberyn’s, the missing piece of the puzzle was complete, they were in such harmony.

On the ceiling was a fresco dedicated to the gods. The fresco depicted dragons piercing the sky and sea goddesses. The pale light filtered through the fresco, adding a mystical air to the room and illuminating Oberyn’s bronze skin and Y/N’s S/T. The light from the fresco surrounded their bodies in harmony like a sacred halo.

Oberyn’s hand moved along the edges of Y/N’s body, stopping at the edge of the bed and her body, his fingers began to push the edge. “Come on, Daughter of Water, help me,” he said, leaning into her ear, his warm breath mixing with his words. His lips were so close, the goosebumps of his breath brushing against her skin.

Oberyn slid his hand from her waist, wedging himself between her and the bed. He struggled toward her groin, his fingers finally meeting a warm slick, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Y/N felt trapped beneath Oberyn. His weight, his strength, and the way his arm wrapped around her waist and lowered his hand to her fresh pussy made her feel like a captive, a prisoner who had forgotten her freedom. Her movements were completely restricted, and she realized that she had to surrender herself only to his touch. But what she was trapped in was the orgasmic moment Oberyn would give her, and she could remain in a prison of lust forever.

As uncomfortable as Oberyn thought it was when his beard dug into her skin when he placed his head on her neck, even that discomfort gave her a reason to get wet when the prince’s fingers started moving. The sloshing sound of her wet pussy caught her ears. Oberyn was slowly caressing the girl's clitoris in a circular motion, moving his fingers to the left side with a certain tempo, and with the sudden change of direction, he could feel the girl's whole body shaking under him. Then he dipped his index and ring fingers into her outer lips, stretching her swollen flesh on both sides, and reached the entrance of her vagina with his middle finger, and while stimulating this area, he continued to stimulate it with frequent up and down movements, sliding the precum he had collected up to her clitoris and pressing it hard.

Oberyn had passed his other arm under Y/N's ribcage and placed his hand on the girl's neck. As the girl was exposed to the naughty movements surrounding her inner lips, her tensed muscles struggled to lift her off the bed and get some rest from this maddening pleasure, Oberyn wrapped his arms and legs tighter around her body. Y/N was moaning now, as he wanted. A deep moan coming from her chest, a combination of pain and pleasure.

"Does this feel good?" he asked, knowing that the girl was in no mood to speak. And as he had expected, no words came from her lips except a groan. A dark and threatening air swept through the room as Oberyn repeated his question. The fingers around her neck tightened slightly.

Y/N's mouth let out a series of painful, broken cries, then she answered, her voice trembling. "Yes, I've always wondered about that feeling," she admitted.

“Oh, good,” Oberyn said, his fingers softly against her throat. But Y/N had become so sensitive to the sudden stimulation from her entrance to her clitoris that she buried her head in the pillow. She was moaning much louder now. But he was forgetting something. Oberyn wanted Y/N’s moans to echo throughout the room. So he pulled his hand from her pussy, tangled his damp fingers in her hair, and lifted her head violently off the pillow until his ears brushed her lips. He breathed through his teeth. “You will not do this, Y/N! If necessary, the priests and guards will hear your moans and come here, but you will never lower your voice, do you understand me?”

Y/N was afraid. She was disturbed by this rough treatment, by the disregard for her will. But she also wanted, absurdly, to continue this fear and for Oberyn to be harsher with her. And she was too ashamed to tell him.

She did as he said. When Oberyn placed his hand between her vulva and the bed again, his voice grew louder with the intensity of his caresses. Oberyn was pleased with her. He laughed softly. "Well done, Y/N," he said, "as long as you listen to me, it is inevitable that you will lose yourself in the 'sacred' pleasures of sex." As the girl moaned and shook more, a hardness that belonged to Oberyn continued to swell in her ass. He wondered how hard it would get, and was equally surprised. Back in the brothel days, she had watched the son of a young, rich family fucking one of the girls in the house. When he had withdrawn his penis from the woman's vagina while he was secretly looking at them through the open door, he had seen that it was a small and slender organ. It did not look very hard, though. Now, as the hardness she felt behind her increased, she felt sorry for the boy. And she understood why he had come there.

Oberyn rose from Y/N, choosing to look down on her squirming body, and when he placed his strong hands on her waist, turning her like a wooden puppet, he spoke in a tone that showed his admiration. "To touch you is like defying the gods. But it is worth it; I am willing to burn with your fire."

Y/N tried to catch her breath and digest his words. The intensity of Oberyn's gaze startled her, but it also made her feel stronger than she had ever felt before.

The invisible attraction between them grew stronger with each second as the captivating scent of basil and sandalwood filled their lungs.

Oberyn would prepare Y/N for their new position. She was wet enough, eager enough... But she was still just a young. This time he didn't ask her. He placed his hands under her knees and made her stretch her legs. This way, Oberyn could easily slide between her legs, making sure her slit, which was burning with pleasure and completely covered in precum, was spread apart so he could insert his cock between them.

Y/N gasped as her prince's vein-throbbing cock pressed against her inner lips, and she punched the bed with sudden force. "Fuck," she screamed. Oberyn laughed with pleasure. "What would the priests and common people do if they knew that Daughter of Water they worship as a sacred virgin was screaming lust under a foreign man?" he asked breathlessly, his voice stinging and mocking. The girl's virgin pussy was so wet that the liquid leaking from her legs began to spread on the blue fabric of the bed.

Oberyn was forcing his way into her vagina, first grabbing his cock in his hand and flicking it against her clit, then stroking it all the way around her vagina a few times, then inserting a few millimeters of his tip into her vagina, but it never went in. This was driving Y/N crazy. "Fuck you, Martell!" she screamed, a phrase she had heard a whore say in the past. "I want you inside me now." As rude as it had sounded at first, she now realized how useful it was.

Oberyn was provoked by the girl's words. With sudden movements, he grabbed her by the arms, straightened her up, and hugged her as if he wanted to crush her. He pulled the hair covering her ears hard and growled through his teeth. "Do you want me to fuck you like your whore mother, Y/N? Turn the holy virgin into a holy whore?"

Y/N was aroused by these words. It was interesting that Oberyn treated her differently than other people. "Yes," she moaned, "I want you to fuck me like a whore."

The more the girl begged him, the more Oberyn became greedy. "You really need to be fucked hard by a strange man, don't you, Y/N, huh? Tell me!"

Y/N moaned breathlessly, "Oh, yes, I just want to be Prince Martell's bitch!"

Oberyn got off the bed without letting go of the girl's arm and stood on his feet. He turned the girl's back to him and placed his chin on her shoulder. One of his hands was pushing her back as he spoke. "Bend over, my holy whore," he commanded.

Y/N did as he said immediately and pressed her upper body against the bed. Oberyn placed his strong hand on the girl's back to find the position she needed and made her chest press a little more against the bed. Y/N's full ass was now clearly visible to Oberyn's eyes. Smooth as porcelain and as aesthetic as a statue. Just below, between her ass cheeks, her full pussy lips were glistening with precum reflected by the candlelight. So needy, so delicious and worthy of being spanked without tolerance...

Oberyn first placed his fingers on Y/N's right ass cheek. He caressed it gently. Then he repeated the same for her left as he now held her cheeks with both hands and stretched them to the sides. And suddenly he slid his penis into the girl's vagina. Y/N was startled and breathless when she suddenly felt his cock in her vagina. She wanted to get up, but Oberyn's hand was still on her back, keeping her steady.

Oberyn’s cock completely enveloped Y/N’s vagina. It was neither too tight for him. He threw his head back in pleasure as the rough, warm walls of her vagina encased Oberyn’s smooth manhood. “Oh, gods! I hope they’re watching us.”

It had been a long time since Oberyn had been inside such a tight vagina, and he was lost in longing for the pleasure it gave him. Each time he pushed his huge snake inside her, his swollen balls slapped against her clit, stimulating both her g-spot and her clitoral, nearly bringing her to tears.

“You like that, don’t you?” Oberyn asked between growls. “Tell me you want me, Y/N, tell me you want your prince’s big, hard, juicy cock in your horny cunt!”

Y/N was panting. With the intensity of the pleasure she experienced, tears started to flow from her eyes and she started to cry, her moans became louder and echoed in all the frescoes. "Oh, yes, I want my prince's cock inside me."

A wild moan came out of her throat with each impact as he rooted it into her tight hole. And he continued to push rhythmically. "Feeling you from the inside is like a mortal tasting heaven."

Both of them were about to reach the peaks of pleasure. Y/N's tight vagina felt Oberyn's hardness and veined surface down to its smallest cell. Oberyn's penis, on the other hand, was wrapped in Y/N's warm and knotted walls, twitching like a pulse.

At this moment, Oberyn's attention was drawn to a mirror hanging on the wall opposite the bed.

Its frame was delicately shaped and decorated with mythological figures. Women's faces, looking up as if praying to the gods, were intertwined among sacred texts embroidered in gold. Its surface was like natural water, radiating a wavy light.

Oberyn grabbed Y/N's arms before he could pull her toward him. His head found its place in the curve of her shoulder, his lips caressing her cheek as he asked if the mirror was related to her sacredness nonsense. Y/N tried to regain her composure, her breath coming back to her. Then he answered. It was a mirror made solely to reflect Y/N's virginal and "sacred" body.

There was irony in Oberyn's eyes as he emerged from Y/N, examining her as if she were a being as fragile as glass. He gently wrapped his fingers around Y/N's arm and led her to the mirror, speaking in a voice that echoed off the cold stone floor of the room. "Is this it? Is this the holy light they believe in?

The mirror had made Y/N an icon in this world. To the priests, her silhouette on the mirror's shiny surface was a mark as pure as the touch of the gods. But now... this was a night when that holy glow would be tested.

He entwined his fingers in her hair and stroked her encouragingly. "A reflection, a vision shining on the surface of the glass..." then Oberyn touched her perfect curves as if introducing their naked bodies. "But you are the real thing, Y/N. Blood, living, human..." he pulled aside the hair covering her neck and kissed her passionately. Each kiss was wet and sincere.

Y/N turned her gaze away from the mirror. But Oberyn held her chin and turned her face back to the mirror. Now her reflection was not of the godlike light she was used to, but of the heat of excitement in her body.

"We will continue here," Oberyn said softly, almost a whisper. "You will see the girl reflected in the mirror free from her chains. Now...bend."

Y/N felt guilty despite everything. When she saw herself in the mirror, she felt in her heart that she had broken the trust of the people, the priests, and even her mother in her. While the words that had been flying in the air just now disappeared, the image reflected in the mirror hit her with all its concreteness. But she never gave in to the impositions of the people, she did not really want to play the role assigned to her. The reflection she saw had changed; she was no longer an innocent icon, but the silhouette of a woman who did not hide her feelings.

Oberyn ordered her in a harsher tone this time. And he grabbed her waist tightly and helped her bend forward with a rough intervention. Y/N spread her legs. Her clitoris and vagina were still pulsing, and the colorless fluid was leaking from her legs. And when Oberyn slid back inside her, she groaned, realizing that she was still as hard as iron. He fucked Y/N much faster now. He gripped her arms to support himself comfortably and control his movements, and pressed his fingertips tightly into her flesh. Her firm breasts, defeated by gravity, shook and quivered as Oberyn moved rapidly inside her. Her vaginal walls tightened and pierced her joints each time he entered, announcing his presence to her entire body, and when he left, he created a huge void.

Oberyn leaned toward her ear, his voice trembling with a snarl. "You want their imposed sanctity to be destroyed, don't you?" She was out of breath, her moans mixing with each other. "Look in this mirror," he said, his voice so firm that Y/N obeyed. "Your innocence, your beauty, the reflection they loved so much to worship. But tonight, the gods saw you differently." He pulled her arms tightly toward him, still thrusting; he pressed his lips to her ear. His growls were still wild and ambitious. "You are breaking free from being their temple and carving your own path." When Y/N looked into the mirror, the smooth, godlike silhouette that had symbolized her virginity was replaced by the traces of sin. Now, on the surface, a body moved by Oberyn's hands, a body shaking with passion, a lustful cry on her lips. This was the story not only of a body but also of the liberation of her soul. The moment came with a mocking smile that came from Y/N’s own voice. The words she managed to squeeze out between her moans were, “Perhaps the gods are not jealous of me, but of the pleasure I feel in sinning.”

Oberyn laughed softly at her words, then took her chin between his fingers, holding her face in the mirror. As if he were addressing the gods who ruled the room, he spoke into Y/N’s skin, almost a whisper but threatening. “Look and learn. This woman has rejected your lies, and now she lives here, with her own desires, her lust. That is true holiness. That is true power.”

With the spasms and twitches that betrayed the coming of a perfect orgasm, Oberyn pressed his lips to Y/N’s. They were kissing wildly. Wet and hard. Their tongues danced in harmony. He continued, his rasping voice not taking his lips away. “I will miss this night so much… I would take you to my palace.”

Y/N could not even answer for all the pleasure she was feeling. Oberyn continued to bite and kiss her ears, neck, and jawbone. They were now close to their orgasm, their moans echoing through the room.

"Y/N, are you ready?" he moaned. Y/N was in sync with Oberyn's pace. He spoke without taking his lips off hers. "Oh, Y/N, you're perfect for me." Oberyn let go of her arms and grabbed her waist to increase his pace. He sped up, faster and faster. The "snap" sound of their flesh slapping against each other drowned out his words.

Y/N closed her eyes tightly and breathed deeply. Her chest rose and fell. The pleasure made her head spin so much that when she stretched her arms out to the wall to keep her balance, her hands gripped the edge of the mirror tightly. "Oh, my prince!" The sacred mirror trembled along with Y/N's shaking body as Oberyn continued to fuck her at a steady pace. Her balance was completely off and she was leaning to the left, at an acute angle to the wall.

Oberyn finally came inside Y/N. He clenched his glutes so tightly in pleasure that her pits were clearly visible. Y/N came at that moment. As the electrifying electricity of her orgasm coursed through her body, she used her power disproportionately against the mirror, causing the already unbalanced sacred mirror to slide down the wall and fall to the floor as Oberyn wrapped his arms around her. The sacred mirror, now shattered into hundreds of pieces, now reflected Oberyn and Y/N's lust from every angle.

Both were out of breath. Y/N’s head was resting on the prince’s shoulder, her eyes closed and her legs shaking in exhaustion as she tried to control her breathing. If Oberyn hadn’t wrapped his strong arms around her, she would have collapsed to the ground. Her juices mixed with Oberyn’s cum and seeped from the sides of his massive penis, branching out from her legs and running down to her ankles.

Y/N’s eyes caught her reflection in the broken mirror on the floor. The impositions of virginity, sanctity, the gift of the gods had vanished one by one.

Her ears were still ringing when Oberyn released her. “No more sanctity,” Y/N said, her breath coming in short gasps, her voice carrying a dark pleasure and a hint of mockery. “The Water's Daughter of Pentos, destroyed by her own decisions.”

Oberyn took her face in his hands and kissed her passionately on the forehead. “Holiness is a chain only for the weak,” she said, her voice a whisper of defiance. “You are not a daughter of the gods, but of your desires and your freedom. If you have power in this world, it is your will to be your own.”

The reflection in the shards was a sign of chaos for Y/N’s people. The holy virgin was now tainted; a crisis of faith would erupt between the priests and the people who believed that her body would bring fertility. When the land lost its fertility, the priests would surely blame Y/N. But Y/N felt the lightness of freedom, not the weight of her sin, in the mirror.

“Oberyn,” she said, her eyes now on Oberyn’s. “These people sought to enslave me to their gods. But now I will show them that I am only mortal. I am neither holy nor cursed. I am only myself.”

Oberyn smiled, with the pride of a victorious general. "And so I chose you," he said, his fingers touching her cheeks. "These people wanted to use you for the gods, but you lit your own light. Now all will see that you belong only to yourself."

The mirror no longer symbolized holiness, but rebellion and freedom. Y/N's reflection reflected her own choice instead of the definitions that had once been imposed on her. The chaos of the people and priests would echo a revolution that had begun in front of the mirror.

The morning sun of Pentos rose above a continual chaos. The streets of the city were filled with talk of the fall of Daughter of Water and the lies of the priests. Whispers of Y/N’s loss of sanctity had spread to every corner of the city; the woman who had been seen as a symbol of fertility was now a sinner in the eyes of the people. The priests tried to erase the traces of this event that had shaken their faith, making promises to keep the people in check. But the roots of the chaos were too deep. The lands of Pentos would never be the same again.

Oberyn Martell stood on the deck of a ship that waited silently in the harbor, taking one last look at the city he had left behind. A wry smile was on his face, a combination of the destruction he had left behind and the freedom he had gained. Y/N had chosen her own path, and with Oberyn’s touch she had broken the chains imposed on her. Her virginity may have been sacred, but no one could offer that sacredness to the gods anymore.

This city was merely a stopover for Oberyn, the beginning of another adventure.

“Prince Oberyn,” the captain said, coming up behind him. “We are ready.”

Oberyn turned once more to Pentos. His eyes scanned the horizon of the city, his thoughts following the chaos he left behind. “Divinity,” he muttered to himself, “is a lie invented only by the weak. But chaos… that is the true gift.”

He walked across the deck to the prow of the ship. He leaned his hands on the side rails as the salty air rising from the sea filled his lungs. His heart beat with the excitement of a free man. The marks he had left on the city would not be forgotten for long, but Oberyn had no place in his life for the burden of the past. The seas and new horizons, pleasures to be discovered and vengeance to be taken, answered his call.

The skyline of Pentos grew smaller as the ship slowly left the harbor. Oberyn turned and looked to the horizon. The sun was drawing a golden path across the seas, heralding a new adventure. "The story of Pentos is over," he said to himself, "but mine is just beginning."

And so The Red Viper of Dorne set sail for new adventures, leaving a city full of chaos in his wake. The lands and peoples that awaited him were ready to bear the mark of Oberyn Martell.

[msmorningstaarr]

let me fill you up | Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader

ao3 | masterlist

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader

Summary: You, a Targaryen princess were married into the Lannister fold to ensure the alliance between the two houses, ensuring your eldest brother’s claim to the Iron Throne. Now, Lord Jaime makes your days filled with happiness and makes you eager to present him babies.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: rhaegar wins AU, no targcest, smuff, fluff, breeding kink, praising kink, a lot of pet names (sweet girl, princess, love), reader has no physical description besides the silvery white targaryen hair, creampie, oral (f receiving), a very devoted husband commited to your pleasure, smut, sex;

a/n: Happy new year! I had posted I wanted to write something like that and it's been a while since I want to write something other than holy and heathen because I must admit I'm not very satisfied with what I've been writing lately. Some validation kudos, comments and reblogs would be very important to me, seriously :') I’ve been thinking in turning this into a small series but I’m not so sure. Could you give me your thoughts on this too? please, enjoy your reading!

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody

You are sitting surrounded by your maids and children on a breezy night, covered with a fur coat and a crimson silk dress under it. Attentively, you go stitch by stitch and slowly form a lion, sigil of your husband’s house. Ever since Robert’s Rebellion ended and your brother, King Rhaegar Targaryen won, you became promised to the former knight of the Kingsguard, now Lord Jaime Lannister. Life in the lion’s den was not difficult, once Lord Tywin treated her with the most kindness and Jaime was still coming out of his shell. At first, he was your sworn sword in King’s Landing and spent plenty of time together in an unbalanced relationship. Now, you two are sharing a bed after a tumultuous year of war and destruction, as equals. In the beginning, you were sceptical about marrying into the Lannister household, but as the months went by, you found yourself drowned at him. Jaime is careful, gentle and kind. He brings you a small dandelion every morning once he knows it reminds you of home.

His only quirk was the strange attachment to his sister, Lady Cersei. But after being sent to Dorne to marry Prince Oberyn of House Martell and getting distant from each other, your relationship with your husband seemed to finally thrive.

“It appears to be beautiful, my lady.” Said one of her maids, taking care of your youngest son, a small silvery blonde figure of two years of age.

“A bright lion handkerchief for Jaime to carry with him.” You reply, admiring your piece of work. “Do you believe your father will like it, sweetling?” You then ask your eldest daughter, an adorable child of four. Your daughter eagerly nods her head and wraps her hands around one of your fingers to pull the fabric closer to her eyes.

“Dada will love it, mama!” The little one exclaimed, spinning around with the kerchief on her tiny hands.

“What will I love, if I’m allowed to ask?” A tall, blonde figure shows up in your private bedchambers, wearing a classic Westerland attire with a crimson fabric and intricate strings of gold shaped into the sleeves and collar. You smile sweetly to Jaime as he approaches you and grabs your middle child to hold in his arms.

“Papa!” The blonde little girl runs towards her father to embrace his legs and your maids stand up to bow to their lord.

“Have you missed me, dear?” Jaime asked and the fussy children eagerly nodded at him, embracing their father even more. Sometimes, seeing Jaime being so loving and kind towards your children simply melted your heart. You felt the urgency to kiss him and dig your fingers onto his bright hair, begging him for another child. Your cunt ached in pleasure to the thought of Jaime pumping his seed inside of you. You were still young and could bear many more children.

“Mm-rrhm…” You scoffed. “I have missed you too, husband.”

The three children giggled and the child on his arms hid his face on the crook of Jaime’s neck. The eldest covered her laugh with her tiny hands and the youngest beamed along their siblings. Jaime came closer to you and caressed your cheeks with his free hand. Then, a single and gentle kiss he places over your forehead, making your heart flutters with love and passion.

“I have missed you too, my love.” Jaime said, passing his fingertips on your chin and smiling at you.

Your maids quickly stood up and bowed at their overlord as a sign of respect. “Excuse me, my lord, my lady,” Said the servant girl. “Let us take the children so you can rest.”

“But I want to stay with papa!” Said the elder daughter, pouting and crossing her arms. The other two children whined and complained along, but you lowered into their level whilst Jaime talked to the youngest on his arm.

“Sweetlings,” She said, caressing their cheeks. “Your father is rather tired after riding for so long. Go with her, I promise you, your siblings, me and your father will have plenty of time together on the morrow. Is that understood, my loves?”

“I can take you to ride a horse tomorrow and even let you eat lemon cakes before super. What do you think?” Jaime asked, delivering the fussy child from his arms to the other maid. In unison, the three infants agreed and left disappointed. Once you and your husband were alone in your bedchambers, Jaime smiled at you gallantly. You embrace him intimately and are finally able to feel the warmth of his muscular body and feel the softness of his golden hair. His lips reach yours and in a whirlwind of sensations, your cunt is already dripping in anticipation just by a simple touch coming from him. Once he breaks the kiss, he keeps holding you by your waist and gazing at you with admiration.

“You have been gone for too long, love.” You say, passing your fingertips on his lips. He smiles and gives you a peck on the lips before speaking.

“I had duties with your brother, Our Grace King Rhaegar, sweet girl.” Jaime replies, pulling her out gently and grabbing the fabric she embroidered for him.

“I hope you like it, I made it just for you.” You point out, joining your hands to follow him. He keeps smiling as he observes attentively the intricate work you did.

“I shall cherish it and take it wherever I go, dragon princess.” He replied, folding and putting the kerchief in one of his pockets. You giggle as you hear him calling you ‘dragon princess’, a custom he chose to never abandon as a form to remember the late days of their relationship “I wish I had more time to be around and play with the children, I have been missing them and you.”

“They made drawings every day and left it on your desk at your office.” You reply, walking to the window and being followed by him.

“I will make sure to have them guarded in our chambers. Safe as our gold.” He says, hugging you from behind and kissing your neck lightly. You beam in ecstasy feeling his body smother you into a comforting embrace and full missing him.

“Sometimes I still cannot believe we are wedded to each other. You were my sworn shield in King’s Landing!” You exclaim as his hand caresses your empty belly and it tingles by his touch. He grins at your words and says.

“Most people are not so lucky to know your spouse before the wedding day. I consider myself the most lucky man in the world because I could be in your acquaintance from so long ago.” He replies, falling his head on the crook of your neck.

You turn around to be face to face with Jaime, feeling the cold breeze of the rock hitting your back and giving you small shocks as Jaime caresses your back, making you experience a thermal shock and shudder to his touch.

“I feel very lucky to be your wife, Jaime. Most women are not so fortunate to have such a kind, loving and handsome husband.” You mutter as he strokes your hair, in awe with your beauty.

“I guess we are fortunate to be together after so many troubles in war. We even brought new lives into this world to paint a new, brightful history.” He replies, caressing your womb. You stare at his fingers passing up and down your belly and glances at him with a sweet smile.

“And we could have more, love. I must admit I feel empty for so long and I want to give you more children… I know I can give you an entire army of your own. Half lion, half dragon. Unstoppable creatures.”

“You feel empty, love?” He asks, smirking and you eagerly agree with him. “Then allow me to fill you up…” Jaime finished, slowly undoing the intricate laces of your dress to reveal your bare skin under the crimson fabric. In response, you open his attire slowly and little by little his white tunic appears to her eyes.

By this point, your cunt is already sore in anticipation for the moment about to happen and clenches around nothing once he pushes the last section of string holding your garment, releasing you from the pressure tightening your upper body. Jaime pushes down your dress and your underwear is now on display for him, which makes him bite his lip and eagerly take down your white camisole to show him your bare body. You moan as he squeezes your breast and pinches your nipples whilst kissing you. You quickly take off his own undershirt to show off his chest.

“So eager is my dragon princess.” He playfully says, leading you to bed and carefully laying you down. With devotion, he starts to kiss your feet, legs and knees, his hands roaming through your thighs and hips. “Spread your legs for me, little dragon.”

You part your legs, obeying his soft command. “So wet… I can see you truly missed me, my love.” He says, kissing your inner thighs as your body squirms in pleasure before he reaches your intimacy.

“Oh… I have missed you so much, my lion.” You moan your words as he kisses your groyne and passes his fingers lightly over your clit, making your womb tremble and convulse to his touch.

“I can see that, just as I missed you, my dragon princess. Do I have permission to give you a lord’s kiss?” He asks and you only nod in response, making Jaime wet his lips with his own saliva before diving into your dripping core and you to scream involuntarily as his tongue and lips eat you up with full desire. Jaime circles his tongue around your clit and roam around your entire intimacy, making your hips bounce onto his direction. It was his costume to make you come every time before he would be inside of you, now could not be different.

You feel your body explode as if someone threw you into dragon fire as Jaime relentlessly pleases you, making magic with his tongue. Skillfully, he explores your intimate area inch by inch with eagerness, making you dig your fingers on his golden curls, pulling him closer to your cunt and you contorses your body urging for more. Tears of pleasure fall off as you feel goosebumps once you realise you are close to your climax.

As the intensity builds, Jaime's movements become more deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge of bliss. Your breath hitches, and your fingers entwine in his golden locks, urging him on. The world narrows down to the pleasure he provides, the connection between you deepening with every passing moment.

When the climax finally crashes over you, Jaime doesn't relent. He continues to caress your sensitive core with his tongue, prolonging the sweet release. Your body shudders with pleasure, and you feel the bond between you and Jaime reaching new heights.

“Husband…” You try to stop him and give yourself some time to take a breath, but Jaime does not back off and part your legs once more, holding it as he keeps licking, kissing and sucking your pussy.

“No no, wife… let me please you and bring you to climax once more…” He cuts your words and gently goes back, but now he plays with his fingers on your clit, with far less pressure and slowly draws circles around it, taking soft moans from you. Jaime rises to hover over you, a wicked glint in his eyes. His fingers trace patterns on your flushed skin as he leans in for a heated kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips. “Taste yourself, love.”

And not so long after, you scream his name as you feel waves of pleasure hitting your body as a lightning bolt hits the ground in a storm. Your body is trembling and your legs seem to be two wooden sticks, barely able to stand.

“Please… inside of me, Jaime… I need you…” You plead with him, pulling his body to be on top of yours.

“Your wish is my command, princess.” He replies, kissing you passionately once more and positioning between your legs. Jaime's eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. The anticipation was hanging heavy in the air, your bodies aligned perfectly, and as he slowly entered you, a shared moan escaped both of your lips.

The sensation is electrifying, the culmination of the pleasure he bestowed upon you and the intimate connection between your bodies. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deepening the bond that exists only between you two.

“My perfect princess takes me so well…” He grows as thrusts into you going back and forth nonstop. You lock him by involving your legs around his waist and feeling his hard cock entering your cunt in full force, reaching your cervix and making you beg for more in his ear.

The room echoes with the sounds of your shared ecstasy, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies, creating a tapestry of love and passion.

“Put another babe on my belly Ser, please…” You beg him as moans leave your mouth and the sound of crashing bodies fill the room quickly.

“With pleasure, love…” He says once more. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deeper inside of your pussy in farfetched positions. He missed you too much after months away from you and it shows by the way he kisses you as he moves desperately to have more of mounting his dragon. The room echoes with the sounds of your shared passion, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies. As Jaime's movements become faster, the pleasure intensifies, and you find yourself on the verge of another climax. The pleasure is overwhelming, and your bodies move in perfect harmony.

With a final, fervent thrust, Jaime succumbs to the ecstasy and releases his seed deep inside of your womb, growling and grunting with relief and utter bliss. You hit your own orgasm as you feel the warm jets of his seed invading your walls and your body squirm and you scream his name, crying out.

Your bodies tremble in the aftermath, and he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. The room is filled with a comforting silence as you both catch your breath. Jaime's fingers gently trace patterns on your skin as you bask in the warmth of the afterglow. “Do you think we created one more life for our household, love?” You ask him, laying your head on his chest. The world outside your chambers seems distant, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, lost in the serenity of each other's embrace.

“Depending on your fertile womb, my love, I have no doubts you are.” He replies, caressing your silvery white hair. “But we must endure in our pursuit on a daily routine. Just to make sure our fourth babe is on the way.” He playfully replies, smirking at you, who mischievously smiles back at him and kisses his lips, wiping some strings of sweat from his face.

Jaime presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice a soothing murmur, "I love you, my dragon princess."

And you, wrapped in the arms of the man you love, whisper back, "And I love you, my lion shield."

[proffbon]

I initially planned for three runs tops. I'm not even done with my second one and I'm already getting ideas for a fourth one. This is hell. At this point, I'll be playing BG3 till I die.