#elia martell lives

[untilmynextstory]

we're falling like stars

we're falling like stars | - coming soon - Pairing: Elia Martell x Brandon Stark

SUMMARY: The first time, she felt she owed herself something after being dutiful and loyal to her husband. The second time, she blamed the horrendous ale he had brought to Moat Cailin when she was visiting Ned and Ashara. The third time, she stopped giving excuses.

CHAPTER 1: We're Falling Like Stars CHAPTER 2: Just For a Second, It All Felt Simple - 10/05 CHAPTER 3: I'm Wishing On a Dream, To Follow What It Means - 10/12 CHAPTER 4: In The Freefall - 10/19 CHAPTER 5: I'm Such a Fool to Pay This Price - 10/26

AO3 | Wattpad | FF.NET

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

let me wrap my teeth around the world (Rhaella gets a dragon)

Title is from "Eat Your Young" by Hozier. A dragon is born at Harrenhal, but it's not Rhaegar or Aerys.

Aka Rhaella Targaryen GETS A DRAGON!

---

At first, those that survive the blaze believe that the dragon hatched for the babe.

Of course, they say. Two royal lineages, began again. In fire and in blood.

Of course, Rhaella's half-mad husband says, our son is the Prince Who Was Promised. The product of our line. Our family might have perished, but he will bring us glory.

But Rhaella knows different.

The tiny creature is not born quite right. The tiny, silvered she-beast looks, for the most part, like the dragons of old. It has a mane of small spikes to its nape. It has two fully functional wings, guaranteed to grow wild and fierce. It has sharp claws and teeth and a snarl that even at its birth, no more than three feet in length, strikes fear in hearts.

But it is half-blind, one beady, black eye intelligent, one ice blue and clouded over. It is tarnished. It is defected.

It is not a mount for the prince that is promised. It is a dragon, a monster, made for a queen forced into her duty and broken by her brother husband.

And it is a gift like no other.

Nearly every member of the family has died at Summerhall, but she has secured the Targaryen family's might for generations, by birthing a babe and a beast in the same hour.

Balerion, her husband names the dragon, the Silver Dread. 

It evokes Targaryen might. It summons images of burnt fields and extinct houses and Valyrian apocalypse.

Bitterwing, Rhaella names it, something strange and ferocious rising in her chest. It is not a royal name, but she does not give a damn.

The little whelp is the first thing she can call her own, and Rhaella will cling tight to her scales.

She hands Rhaegar over to a wet nurse, but she visits Bitterwing as often as she can, whenever her husband is busy with his mistresses. He might fuck every flowered girl in King's Landing, but she doesn't care. She doesn't need his loyalty. In fact, she would love to see him never spend a night in her bed again.

Because these moments, these nights, with her dragon are hers.

Her officially sanctioned visits to the Dragonpit always include her son. She knows that Rhaegar visits the Dragonpit without her, accompanied by his monstrous father. Aerys sees the prophecies fulfilled in his son.

Bitterwing tolerates Rhaegar, because Rhaella holds some fondness for her son, but she holds none for her husband, and therefore does not constrain her dragon to politeness.

Her dragon can rage as she cannot, and it is considered natural. Dragon-like.

Dragons are monsters, she hears the servants whisper, and they're not entirely wrong.

Bitterwing is a monster, yes but she is such a beautiful one.

No matter how many times her husband summoned her to his bed, no matter how many times she emerges bruised and bloody and broken-boned, she is not bowed. She is not bent.

Because for the first time in her life, Rhaella cradles power. Not within her and her womb, but within her first friend. 

Rhaella lets out her first laugh since her wedding the first night that Bitterwing lets out a jet of flame. It stutters after seconds, and Bitterwing hiccups, and Rhaella can't help the giggle that emerges from her lips. Bitterwing's eyes glitter, something curving her snout. Rhaella reaches out and snuggles into Bitterwing's neck, Bitterwing's scales warm and smooth and comforting against her bruised cheek.

Bitterwing grows long and and sinuous, more serpentine than dragon-like, but she is graceful and loves Rhaella's hand against her snout and snaps at Aerys when he gets too close, and that is all Rhaella could wish for.

***

Years pass. Rhaella is raped into birthing her second son, and Aerys announces before the court that he will give up his mistresses for his Queen, and Rhaella cannot stand to be the only outlet of his bites and his bruises and his burns.

She is no warrior. She is no knight. Her arms are too thin and weak to wield a sword. She has been told she is too delicate to study tactics or ponder war.

But she is a survivor.

And she will be a dragonrider.

Rhaella steals down to the Dragon Pit and climbs Bitterwing's back for the first time. She is sore- she is always sore- but her legs clench around her dragon's back and the warmth soothes some of the ache away.

And Rhaella rides her best friend in this wretched world through the roof of the throne room.

Rhaella is not wearing armor, but Bitterwing dives in such a way that her armored belly takes the brunt of the damage. Rhaella ends up with some scrapes and a cut across her lower leg, but it is worth it for Bitterwing to land in front of the Iron Throne, Aerys ' head in her maw and his corpse beneath her legs.

They will call Rhaella the Kingslayer, the Kinslayer. Many will want to take her power from her. They will want to execute her for her crimes. They will want to rebel.

But everyone fears another Field of Fire, and so they will not.

She is a Targaryen. She is the only person in the world with a dragon. She will never have to lay beneath a man again if she does not want to.

She steps to the throne and sits herself upon it and for the first time in her entire life, she does not fear it.

Rhaegar is her heir, but he has no dragon. Not yet. And without a dragon or her abdication or her death, he cannot hope to be King.

Queen Rhaella, First of Her Name, Kingslayer, Kinslayer, Abomination, yes- but also Queen Rhaella the Just, Queen Rhaella the Breaker, and the only Rider of a dragon in the known world takes the throne and the crown of the Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.

She declares crafty, clever Olenna Tyrell her hand of the queen, reaffirming the Riverlands' loyalty to the crown, and attends Council meetings with Bitterwing by her side until Bitterwing grows too large to fit into the castle. Then Rhaella moves the Council out into the courtyard, erecting a series of stone seats for the Council to meet under the watchful gaze of her beloved Bitterwing, her hand on Bitterwing's scales a constant reminder to the Council of her power.

She is the only one with a dragon. Thus, she is the only one with power, and it tastes oh so sweet.

She passes laws regarding the welfare of wives and the punishments upon men that dare to lay hands on their Brides. The realm thinks her delicate, unwilling to enforce her laws, but Bitterwing snaps her teeth and the Lord's head goes flying and none dare question Rhaella's iron grip on justice. She destroys male primogeniture in favor of the eldest child inheriting, as in Dorne.

And years later, she will take a queen consort. She has an heir and a spare; she has no need to marry a man that she has no desire for. She has no need to give some man the power of Targaryen kings. She will marry a widowed Meria Martell, who came on a visit in the name of her mother's Dayne house and her husband's Martell house. She is woman with a harsh face, all long lines against dark skin, but has a sparkle in her eye, a clever wit, and a quick laugh. She shrieks with joy the first time Rhaella takes her up on Bitterwing in a saddle crafted for two souls, a wedding gift from the leather workers of the North.

(Rhaella does not give a shit what the Faith says about homosexuality. The Stranger was the only one of them to ever treat her kindly, and she has no desire to embrace any of the others. There is already one Targaryen exception; let there be another until she can persuade the Council to expand the freedom to all.)

Meria leaves her sons in Dorne—heir Doran and the vivacious Oberon- but she brings young Elia with her to court, where she becomes one of Rhaella's ladies.

But in the meantime, Rhaella raises her unruly boys not to be violent, to insist on control, to understand gentleness. To be tender with their women while being stern enough to be fair and just leaders of the Seven Kingdoms. She slaps Viserys the first time he lays a hand on a woman in a way he shouldn't. She does it right in front of the court, and raises the baseborn girl, a bastard of her husband's, to one of her ladies. Ceryse and Elia get along like a house on fire, and it is to no one's surprise that Elia and Ceryse elope. It ends up a scandal that will be remembered for decades, the two of them disappearing off to Essos without a second glance, but Rhaella and Meria receive letters at least thrice a year updating them on the adventures of their daughters-turned-explorers, and they don't mind the mark on their legacy. Neither Ceryse nor Elia will ever die on the birthing bed nor under the hand of a man, only as a consequence of their own ventures, and that is the greatest fate they can ask for.

Rhaegar doesn't turn prophecy into madness. His mother has a dragon. He has no reason to go seeking for a way to save his house and his world. Rhaegar marries Robarra Baratheon, the closest cousin he has, while Viserys crowns Lyanna Stark the Queen of Love and Beauty at his brother's engagement tourney.

Meria suggests matching Cersei Lannister with Stannis Baratheon, an entreaty to Tywin Lannister to darken the gleam in his eye when he learned his daughter would be passed over for Princess of the Realm.

Neither Rhaegar nor Viserys hatch a dragon, but when Rhaegar and Robarra place one of Bitterwing's eggs in the cradle of their eldest daughter and heir, silver-curled Argella Targaryen, who has eyes as dark as ink, it hatches, a squat dark blue she-beast with a nasty snarl, guaranteed to be a mighty war beast. Robarra chooses Elenei, the storm goddess, as the name of her daughter's dragon.

Argella grows stubborn and quick with a sword and even quicker to learn. She is no delicate flower like her Targaryen grandmother; if she falls down, she bounces right back up. If she wasn't a Princess and the heir to the throne, Rhaella suspects she would spit on the ground.

And Argella and Elenei bond like none in modern history. While Bitterwing was as melancholy as her Queen at first, Elenei is a rambunctious dragon who loves to spin in the air, seemingly taking great joy from the shrieks of laughter and urging towards speed that her Princess desires.

Robarra births a son next, but he is not an heir; Argella will be the Iron Queen after Rhaegar. Rather, dark-haired and blue-eyed Jaehaerys is betrothed to Margaery Tyrell. He hatches no dragon, but does make a name for himself in tourneys. Some day, he will be the Prince of Dragonstone and sire heirs for House Tyrell; for now, he squires for his father, as his sister did before him.

Robarra's third child, golden-haired and sallow-faced Steffon, inherits his father's love for books, and becomes a maester. He is curious but lacks all Targaryen or Baratheon temper, and will do well integrating Rhaella's new laws into the beliefs of Oldtown.

A year after Jaehaerys's birth, Viserys and Lyanna's raven-haired, long-faced babe Lyarra hatches her own crimson-scaled beast. Night Breaker, they decide to name him.

Lyarra does not have her cousin's temper. But she does have a mind for tactics, for history, for politics and diplomacy that Argella's storm blood sometimes lacks. She and Steffon get along well, debating war tactics and history and politics in the solar. Someday, she will be her cousin's Hand. For now, she gets the best training in the world and embraces Night Breaker as her trusted mount for traveling the Realm, learning everything she can about the people.

Rhaella presides over all of her grandchildren, satisfaction burning in her chest at the knowledge that none of their mothers were pressed into the marriage bed unwillingly. She checks in with Robarra and Lyanna regularly, treats them as Princesses and ladies in her family. Family banquets are joyous affairs, full of boisterous laughter and japes and healthy debates and good-natured needling. Fear does not make itself any of her family’s bedfellow.

Meria holds Rhaella’s hand and kisses her cheek in front of the children and grandchildren and Rhaegar teases them for being too scandalously affectionate. Viserys rolls his eyes at his brother and japes that nothing a Targaryen does can be scandalous- they are the exception, not the rule. Viserys’ she-wolf wife flicks him on the upper arm, and Viserys offers her a chagrined smile.

And above it all, Rhaella smiles, unburdened by abuse and fear.

Rhaella is not Visenya or Aegon or Maegor. She does not know how to wield a sword, how to command an army. She is no warrior. She never becomes one. She never wanted power for its own sake; she wanted it to guarantee safety and happiness for herself and those she loves.

But she commands a dragon, and her family, and that will win her the Realm.

***

When the Others begin to rise in the north, the women of House Targaryen will be ready. Lyarra, Argella, and Rhaella will soar through the sky, the three violet-eyed heads of the dragon. Baratheon and Stark and Targaryen, Elenei and Night Breaker and Bitterwing. One silver, one blue, one red.

They will write songs about this battle. About the swinging of uncovered Valyrian steel, about the roar of dragonfire, about the Storm Queen, the Princess of Ice, and the Queen of Fire and Blood.

A song of ice and fire indeed.

[martellspear]

─── ELIA WEEK - DAY O2

Doran & Oberyn: I had a sister

[escailyyy]

Here's a toast to the HBO Targaryen wives who were made Targaryens by men who didn't love them

Aemma Targaryen deserved better

Alicent Targaryen Deserved better

Rhea Targaryen deserved better

Laena Targaryen deserved better

And Elia Targaryen most of all, deserved so much more better

Because if you're going to take your a-hole husband's last name and are expected to relinquish all that made you you while he makes it clear he's only there to get whatever use he can out of you. Then you sure as heck deserve better

[rhynrnmph]

ELIA WEEK DAY1: Elia and her children

Headcanons I've been keeping in my heart about our PrincessDianaElia:

artist @the-lady-raerae <3

The first weeks she was weakened and exhausted for no reason

Her bizarre cravings were a dead giveaway

Elia when told she was expecting immidately told Ashara to send the word to all of Dorne!

She actually cried of joy and was extra careful about what she ate

She would read as soon as she could when she knew she was pregnant

When she felt Rhaenys kick the frst time she was overjoyed. This specific moment made all her pain worth it.

She hoped her child would be healthy (That was her biggest fear)

The delivery was the most intense pain she ever felt

Once she held Rhaenys for the first time she was overwhelmed and happy to know the babe was healthy

She wouldn’t let her go so bad Rhaenys got quickly used to being constantly carried

Rhaenys never had milk mothers. Elia was so happy about her daughter she'd INSIST to feed her herself and actually adored those moments

Elia would talk to Rhaenys like she her best friend, gossiping and chatting away FOR HOURS

Elias ladies in waiting were constantly having their eyes on the babe whenever Elia was away for xyz

After Aerys said nasty shit about Rhaenys at her introduction at court she told Rhaegar she NEVER wishes to be left alone with him. It’s Dragonstone or Dorne for her and her child

The amount of love and care Queen Rhaella showed to her granddaughter salvaged her good family’s reputation to her eyes

Rhaella confided she had always wanted a daughter, it was bittersweet

In fact Queen Rhaella and Princess Elia had mutual respect and care for each other

After this humiliation Elia made sure to have no Aerys patriots around her blood

Security and guardsmen were ordered to be very careful about who wanted to see her daughter

Once she was announced to be carrying Aegon she felt terrified

That period was the worst and only got worser

Rhaegar was already speaking of a third child when she couldn’t obviously carry no more

She was found of her young husband but frustrated of his lack of realism

The King was getting more erratic and mad

The wood attack and the court having obvious stands on Rhaegars succession to the throne

The Kings attitude towards her allowed micro aggressions to flourish at court about her and her children

This she avoided to bring them in that environment as much as possible

When Rhaegar passed her and gave the garland of roses to Lady Lyanna time stopped for her

Funnily enough she felt nothing however her family was livid

Only once she felt eyes on her did she sense something was amiss

In the carriage on the way back she felt numb and eerily calm

She returned to Dragonstone the same evening thinking on the next moves to secure her children’s rights

What would it mean for her bloodline and their claim of the throne

Rhaegar sent for her to return, to explain. She had no interest to return and told him to return to his family once he’s finished there

Both Rhaenys and Aegon would quiet down and soothe when she’d read to them

Her favourite lullabies would be sung in hushed tones

Elia had great aspirations for her children and was already looking into a stable future for both

Elia got familiar with High Valyrian because of Rhaegar

Rhaenys has proven to be Oberyns niece

A turbulent baby leaving chaos everywhere she went

But she was adorable so she got a pass

Aegon was quiet fussy and had a birds appetite

Unsettling his mother a bit that her health got through him

But maesters would constantly reassure her that he was a healthy boy

Elia would teach Rhaenys affirmations and repeat them every morning and night like a prayer

Because this is what her own mother did for her

Rhaenys hated her hair being done by anyone else but her mother (and elia was lowkey proud of this privilege)

Balerion was Rhaegars last gift to his daughter

Princess Rhaenys was a daddy’s girl

As a ritual Elia Rhaegar and Rhaenys used to watch the sun set on the Narrow Sea

While Rhaegar would explain to his daughter the history of Aegon and his sisters Queen Rhaenys and Queen Visenya

Rhaenys is a history nerd too

Father and daughter would also sing together sometimes Elia watched foundly from the doorframe

All her ladies in waiting were her pillars and allies

All their children would play together with the little Princess

Though Ashara Dayne was the favourite aunt and she felt her absence the most once alone in Kingslanding

Her last letter to Ashara was to warn her that Aegon had indigo eyes and that she had won their bet

Ashara received it too late…

Elia Aegon and Rhaenys remains rest in the Watergardens in Dorne

[fruitageoforanges]

Princess Elia Nymeros Martell, heir to Dorne, and her husband Rhaegar in the year 279 AC.

(this is inspired by my au in which birth orders are swapped — elia is the eldest martell sibling and rhaegar is a second son — so their marriage agreement works the other way, with rhaegar being sent to dorne. elia’s clothes are inspired by fashions in moorish spain during the 11th century, while rhaegar’s are a mix of byzantine and early renaissance italy)

[the-queen-who-should-have-been]

Rhaenys Martell Targaryen

"The Sun Dragon"

(Daughter of Rhaegar and Elia)

[ligawolfcosplayandarts]

I decided to add shading , so have Gregor gradually gearing up.

Let's pretend he's Gregor from Good! Mountain AU because he's smiling here. We need Good!Mountain AU just to have less dead people and smiling Mountain who wants to make up to his brother Sandor. I adore Sandor so much and in my Sandor x OC fanfic I have AU Mountain who even didn't kill Elia and her children (He told Varys to take them three, hide them far away from Lannisters and lied to Tywin that was too late to get them).

Anyway, gradual gear up.

Shirtless.

Armoured

Armoured with Helm on. 🏔️

[nocheiraia]

Have been thinking about the Grishaverse for a while and-

Elia as the Sun Summoner who can defeat the Others bc they are afraid of sun's light.

[neithergodsnormen]

@agirlofwinterfell/ @dornishzaldrizes sent: "You're wearing the wrong colour." Dornishzaldrizes for Elia 

° ✧ GAME OF THRONES PROMPTS. PART I.

Elia looked up at her daughter’s words and smiled. “Is that so? What colors should I wear, sweetling?” Choosing a dress for her husband’s coronation, and her own as she would soon be Queen, had proven harder than she’d thought. She’d not wanted to have a dress commissioned, solely to avoid the fight among seamstresses that would have ensued.

[songcfmuses]

character tag drop

[martellspear]

Meta asks 2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

Fandom-wise, the work I’m most excited to start writing is “Familiar Face”. I've shared this with just one person until now and it's feels nice to talk more about it 😁

Madeline Miller — 'It was my first lesson. Beneath the smooth, familiar face of things is another that waits to tear the world in two.'

It’s a Rhaenys lives AU in which she unlocks water magic during the Sack of King’s Landing. Later, she’s sent away to be raised outside Westeros. Jaime, Varys, Oberyn and Doran are the only ones who know that she’s alive and the later trio knows of her location.

The thing is: that island is home to followers of the Roynish Faith, Rhaenys - who doesn’t even go by that name anymore - is what they consider the key to fulfilling an ancient prophecy. However, her power never manifested again until later in life, but by doing that, a darker was also awakened and its magic took root in - literally - Rhaenys’ heart -. It’s pure death; as if to balance the water, which is associated with life in the story, magic. Also, that event causes Elia and Rhaegar to come back to life, but they’re nothing more than spirits when the story starts. One of the main hassles Rhaenys will have to deal with is: that the closer her parents get to reach a corporeal state, the weaker she grows.

Amidst trying to understanding her newfound powers and the truth surrounding her life, Rhaenys will sail to Westeros in order to - not that she likes it - forge an alliance with Robb Stark. Robert has just died and there’s a child on the throne she intends to make hers. And if I write more than that, I’ll completely spoil it haha. Thank you for sending the number ♡

[dwellordream]

the assertion that ‘blaming rhaegar in any way for elia’s death detracts from the true culprits, the lannisters, and diminishes the tragedy of her story’ confuses me for several reasons:

You can hold Rhaegar, a grown man who seemingly had tremendous influence over his own father’s Kingsguard to the point where several of them were willing to obey Rhaegar over Aerys, responsible for his inaction (and actions) without blaming Lyanna, a 15 year old captive.

The idea that Rhaegar was helpless before Aerys is absurd when Rhaegar demonstrably defied his father several times- hiding Lyanna’s identity as the KotLT, fleeing with her to Dorne, refusing to return to court for months on end. Rhaegar absolutely could have made some attempt to remove Elia and his children from KL. He was either in denial that they were in serious danger, or simply so fixated on conceiving a living prophecy with Lyanna that he chose not to care.

The claim that the present day Martells do not blame Rhaegar and thus we shouldn’t either is silly. Rhaegar is dead and has been for 15 years. There’s no further vengeance to be sought against him. Tywin Lannister and his cronies are the surviving culprits who have yet to be held accountable when the book series begins.

You can view Rhaegar as a tragic character while still admitting that he made very blatantly idiotic decisions and absolutely helped dig his own grave. Putting all blame for the civil war on Aerys diminishes Rhaegar into a helpless child who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Rhaegar chose when to act and when not to act. He was 24, not a little boy.

[juletheghoul]

Unbroken

AN: I have been toying around with this idea for a couple of years at this point-the idea of being Elia's lady in waiting, and being aggressively pursued by her brother, Oberyn. I imagine him to be younger, wilder, but just as passionate. There is no Ellaria yet, there is no betrayal, just two people who cannot get enough of each other and Oberyn using his position for nothing but mischief. This is quite obviously before the nastiness that we all know befalls House Martell, lets live in it a while! I have a whole drama planned out for them in my head so I might actually write it all out - lets see if I can find the time lol. (in the moodboard above, the face you see is how I imagine Elia to be, reader is still completely nondescript!) This is unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine- hope you enjoy! 🧡

Oberyn Martell x F!Reader

Pairing: Oberyn x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) , language, Smut 18+, PIV sex (wrap it up), dirty talk **pregnancy**

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist 

Her skirts swirl in the wind, whipping around her legs like sand. They were the colour of dusk, burnt oranges and yellows, favouring her golden skin, and her dark eyes. Elia Martell–all the Martells–looked best in these colours. You smile at her as you pour her a cup of wine, indulging her despite her delicate constitution. 

“This is the last of it my Princess,” you fill the cup halfway, “You know it does not sit well.”

“Yes, yes,” she rolled her eyes, sipping at the wine, “you are worse than Doran.” 

You sigh, goodnaturedly, until one of the guards of Sunspear comes, interrupting the Princess enjoying the non-existent breeze.  

“My princess, my lady,” He speaks, addressing you respectively, “The Prince, Oberyn requests your company-”

“Oh what could my brother possibly want from me right now?” She huffs out a breath, her winecup getting the brunt of her annoyance. 

“My apologies Princess, it is not your company he asks for.” He bows his head in deference, his gaze then moving to you. “My lady, Prince Oberyn awaits.” 

Your heart races to hear him calling for you, despite it not being the first time. Elia laughs, and dismisses you graciously. “Go then, my lady. You cannot keep The Red Viper waiting for long, he is prone to sulk, or fight.” Her tinkling laugh follows you where the guard leads, ringing out as you make your way towards his chambers. 

You smile to yourself as you walk the halls of Sunspear, the sound of your soft steps ringing out, bouncing off the tiles and the high, arched ceilings. Your heart feels like a bird in the cage of your ribs, fluttering wildly as you finally make it to the giant door leading to him. 

You meet the solid wall of his back when the guard opens his chamber door, he is sitting at his desk by the window, head down and quill scratching across a piece of parchment. His head turns at the sound of the door, and the quill is discarded. His eyes are lively when they meet yours, full of mischief and devilment. 

“You called for me, my Prince?” You try, genuinely, try to keep the smile off your face. “Is there something you desire of me?” He narrows his eyes, rising and slinking over like some big, predatory cat. He is so tall, his shoulders so broad and the cut of his robes only serves to highlight his best features. The breadth of him, the trim waist, the enchanting vision of his throat and chest on display. All of it conspiring to make you ache to touch him. He laughs low, the sound hardening your nipples. 

“Just you, my flower.” He doesn’t so much reach for you, as strike, like his namesake. His arms wrapping around your waist quick enough to pull a gasp from you. His lips descend quickly, pressing against your neck, his tongue following closely behind and all you can do for a moment is gasp in delight, gathered up in his arms with your hands pressed against his chest.

“This is why you pull me away from the Princess? Because you cannot contain your passion for a few hours my Prince?” His hands travel, landing heavy on your backside, while his mouth travels from your shoulder, up to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, a kiss that pushes everything but him from your mind.

“Yes, my love, I cannot contain my passion for you for even a heartbeat.” He speaks the words, turning your heart, and your cunt to liquid for him, before his deft hands pull at the laces and fastenings of your dress. 

“My Prince, I am to serve-” He pulls the dress up and off, leaving you in your small clothes, “Your sister, I am to serve–” He cuts off the words with another kiss and this time you moan into his mouth, heart pounding between your legs, knowing even now as you protest that you will let him do whatever he wants, that you need him to.

“My sister is too greedy with you, too selfish.” He undoes his robe, slipping it off to fall at his feet as he herds you towards his bed. 

“She keeps you to herself, when she knows of my desire for you.” you tumble into his linens, the smell of him surrounding you, spicy and sweet, like desert heat, fiery peppers, sweet and fragrant oranges. 

He slots his hips between your legs, and his cock is so hard it makes you gasp, the fabric of his breeches dampening when he grinds against the small clothes that cover your sex. 

“You are insatiable–Oberyn!” You gasp his name when he tears the small clothes from your body, his impatience to have you naked and open to him making him ravenous. He laughs, eyes like black diamonds as he practically kicks his breeches off in his haste to get his cock out. 

“I am unwell, my love, truly and deeply sick with want.” He moans the last word when he finally fits himself at the mouth of your cunt, slipping in with one brutal thrust. 

“Gods, yes my love, this is what I needed, to be buried up to my balls in this sweet little cunt.” He moans, his tone obscene as he rocks himself inside you. 

Your arousal is something as fierce as he, the fullness of him only further inflaming your passion. It is always like this with him, never dull, never calm, always an inferno in your veins and in your lungs. He passes it on to you, his fire catching on your skin and soon, you are clutching to him, begging him, your arousal coating him and dripping onto his bed. 

“Yes, yes–” You chant, in tune with every roll of his hips. The sun shining through the window paints everything in his colours. 

“Did you miss me, my love? Miss me here?” He punctuates the word with a hard snap of his hips, it makes your breasts bounce, makes you let out a whine. 

“Yes my Prince, yes, always miss you–” You open your legs wider, giving him more room to get deeper, to fuck you harder, “Oberyn, you’re splitting me open.” You pull him forward, the temptation of his neck is too great, you suck a mark into it, relishing the way he groans. His hand pulls yours up and over your head, making your chest jut out for his tongue. He teases at your sensitive nipples as his cock strokes, and strokes, and strokes until you are on the precipice, on the dagger's edge of pleasure. 

“I can feel it, ready to burst for me–” He smiles, drunk on the pleasure and when he lets go of your hands and presses his thumb to your clit you unravel, clenching and soaking him in your release. “There it is, that’s it-” He speeds up, burying his face into your neck while you take what he gives, his chest pressed up against yours, sweat slicked and warm. 

His pace falters and you feel the hot jet of his seed inside, he groans, changing to a dirty grind as he comes deep. 

He collapses once he’s milked himself dry, his comforting weight pressing you to his feather bed. Your legs settle around his waist, ankles locking on the swell of his ass and your arms wind around his neck to play with his sweat-soaked hair. He hums as you trail your nails down, tickling at the smooth skin of his back. Your lips press kisses against his shoulder where it rests under your chin. This is your favourite part, being full of him, surrounded by him, loved by him, and pouring all of your affection and love back into him in return. 

“Are you quite comfortable, my Prince?” You scratch at his scalp as he takes deep breaths, his softening cock still buried deep. 

“Oh yes,” He huffs the words into your neck, his tongue licking a stripe up to your ear, “I could spend the rest of my life here, cock inside you, my body on yours.” 

You laugh, full throated. 

“Oh I bet you could, rutting away until I’m raw.” You bring your hands to his face, making him face you and you are once again struck by his beauty, no matter how many times you find yourself in his bed, he still makes your heart race. You swipe your thumb across his plump lower lip, and fix the unruly state of his hair. “I could stay here too, Oberyn. I could be here, under you, with you, beside you always. I love you.” You press your mouth to his, and he deepens the kiss, his ardour burning just as brightly. 

“I love you, my flower, and what we’ve created. I cannot wait to meet my son.” He brings his hand down, to the little swell of your belly, the one that's barely showing yet. You laugh again, and he smiles, his hand warm against your womb. 

“A boy is it? How would you divine that? I am barely showing–”

“I know it is a boy, I can feel it. He will be my little viper, a menace to his instructors, he will have the sweet face of his mother, and the fierce hunger of his father.” He removes himself with a hiss, pulling out and lowering himself until he presses kiss after kiss to the little bump. “Won’t you my boy? You will be the terror and delight of my life.”

He smiles up at you, bright eyed, with all of the love you feel for him shining back at you. 

“You, my love, will give birth to princes and princesses, the most beautiful children in all of the world.” He always got like this after, sentimental and romantic and it always made you happy enough to cry. 

“Yes my love, he will be all that and more.” You pull him up, wrapping his arms around you to lay your head on his chest. “You know I must go soon, I cannot stay in bed with you, despite my wish to.” He sighs, resigned. 

“Yes, Elia awaits, just another moment, and I will let you go.” You laugh, and bury your face into his neck. 

- Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi  @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed  @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita @honey-on-your-tongue

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

People in the ASOIAF fandom are very obsessed with passive women they can project onto. The obsessions with the characters of show!Alicent, Sansa, Elia, and Helaena are perfect examples of this.

In the show, Alicent is changed from a woman who actively seeks power and heads the scheming of the green faction into a passive victim who watches and reacts to the men around her. And yet, despite this being a much more boring characterization, the show version is vastly more preferred by her stans. They condemn her book character as simply an "evil stepmother trope" while completely ignoring how their fav is just as blank and tropey as they accuse her book counterpart to be. Alicent stans want her to be the show's blank victimized canvas.

Helaena is someone who the show changed very little in the adaptation, because both book and show Helaena have little impact on the plot other than to be victims of their surroundings. Both women are forced to marry Aegon at thirteen and have his children, go through B&C, and are the least active members of the green faction. The show only added elements to make her more tragic: her dreaming and autistic behaviors. Helaena's character makes her the perfect canvas for certain fans to project themselves onto as she simply exists to be victimized and play the dutiful wife/daughter despite her circumstances, just like the show version of her mother.

Elia Martell is a woman who we know very little about. She died thirteen years before the events of ASOIAF and, unlike characters like Rhaegar and Lyanna, she has no pov characters who think about her enough for us to learn anything about her. The only things we know are that she was loved by her family, was in an arranged marriage to Rhaegar, had his two (confirmed) children, and was brutally raped and murdered by Lannister men. She is an unknown character and, again unlike Rhaegar and Lyanna, has no known active role in the events surrounding the Rebellion. Because of these things, she is, again, the perfect blank canvas for people to project on.

Sansa is, despite being a prominent pov character in ASOIAF, a very passive character. She rarely takes action in her circumstances and simply reacts to them while trying to survive. There's nothing wrong with this, she's a young girl who has never had to fight for anything in her life, it's not unexpected or condemnable for her reaction to her circumstances to be this way. However, her passivity is something her stans obsess over. She is praised for being the "perfect lady" and they project their desires to see her rule onto her and how they view her story.

These women have been chosen by these fans because of their passivity and tragedy. They love that the women have suffered in the name of the "duty" they believe is higher than them. Because they love passivity, they hate the women of ASOIAF who are active in their own lives and fight to better their circumstances. Characters like Rhaenyra, Arya, Daenerys, and Lyanna are all massive influences on the world and purposely chose to challenge the patriarchy. Since they did not take their suffering silently, theses certain fans view them as wrong and hate them. They only love the women they can project on and who simply refuse to fight for better lives.

[sunspearesque]

Day III: Prince Doran Martell, the Bereaved Prince

“I was the oldest,” the prince said, “and yet I am the last. After Mors and Olyvar died in their cradles, I gave up hope of brothers. I was nine when Elia came, a squire in service at Salt Shore. When the raven arrived with word that my mother had been brought to bed a month too soon, I was old enough to understand that meant the child would not live. Even when Lord Gargalen told me that I had a sister, I assured him that she must shortly die. Yet she lived, by the Mother’s mercy. And a year later Oberyn arrived, squalling and kicking. I was a man grown when they were playing in these pools. Yet here I sit, and they are gone.”