#hot dorne summer

[asongoficeandfiresource]

“Cool breezes, sparkling water, and the laughter of children. The Water Gardens are my favorite place in this world, ser. One of my ancestors had them built to please his Targaryen bride and free her from the dust and heat of Sunspear. Daenerys was her name. She was sister to King Daeron the Good, and it was her marriage that made Dorne part of the Seven Kingdoms. The whole realm knew that the girl loved Daeron’s bastard brother Daemon Blackfyre, and was loved by him in turn, but the king was wise enough to see that the good of thousands must come before the desires of two, even if those two were dear to him. It was Daenerys who filled the gardens with laughing children. Her own children at the start, but later the sons and daughters of lords and landed knights were brought in to be companions to the boys and girls of princely blood. And one summer’s day when it was scorching hot, she took pity on the children of her grooms and cooks and serving men and invited them to use the pools and fountains too, a tradition that has endured till this day.”  - The Watcher, ADWD

A Song of Ice and Fire Calendar 2025 || The Water Gardens by Eddie Mendoza

[cherryredlove]

☆ summer in sunspear ☆

Modern! au Gwayne Hightower x reader SMUT

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Your flatmate and best friend Rhaenyra invites you along with her group of friends on a summer holiday to Dorne. In the group is the gorgeous Gwayne. Is it the heat or is he checking you out?

Word Count: 2.2k

Themes: SMUT, very indulgent smut, rough p in v, praise, semi-public sex, creampie, content warning of alcohol, lots of fluffy love too

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

You've been looking forward to this trip for weeks, but now that it's finally here, you can't help but feel a twinge of anxiety. After all, you're flying to Sunspear in Dorne with a group of people who are practically strangers to you. Sure, your best friend and flatmate Rhaenyra Targaryen will be there, but her friends are a mix of old schoolmates, some of whom you've only met in passing. You know that, just like Rhaenyra, they're all unfairly cool and chic.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, stuffing the last of your essentials into your suitcase, when Rhaenyra bursts into the room with a vibrant energy only she possesses. Her long silver hair is tied up in a messy bun, sunglasses perched on her nose, and a grin spreads across her face.

"Are you ready for the best holiday ever?" she asks, practically bouncing on her toes. She flops onto your bed, grabbing your hot pink bikini from the bed and wiggling her eyebrows.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you reply with a giggle. "I'm just hoping I won't be the odd one out."

"Nonsense! Everyone's going to love you. Just wait until you meet them. Criston is a riot, Alicent is a sweetie, the siblings Laena and Laenor are the life of any party. Oh, and Gwayne is coming too—Alicent's brother. You remember him, right?"

Vaguely, you think. You've seen him at a couple of Rhaenyra's gatherings. Tall, handsome, with a laid-back charming demeanour that contrasts with his sister's quieter and more reserved nature. You recall his wry smile and the way he watches the room as though he's in on a joke no one else knows. There’s something about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

As you make your way to the airport, Rhaenyra rambles on about her plans for the week. She’s planned for days on the beach lounging in the Dornish sun and nights out on the town drinking. Your worries slowly dissolve in the anticipation of the warmth and adventure awaiting in Dorne.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

You step out of the airport into the sultry Dornish air, feeling the sun's heat embrace you like an old friend. The group has already assembled—Criston Cole, tall and charismatic, with a smirk and brash humour; Alicent Hightower, elegant and serene, her presence calming like the ocean breeze you can already feel; Laena Velaryon, with hair as wild as the ocean, whose laughter is contagious; and her brother Laenor, who immediately makes you feel at ease with a light hug and smile.

And then there's Gwayne.

You notice him standing off to the side, leaning against the huge rental car (thank the Gods Rhaenyra is rich), a lazy smile spreading across his lips as he catches sight of you. He has an air of effortless charm, like someone who doesn't need to try too hard to make an impression—and from the way his eyes linger on you and your heart races, it's clear that he's made one on you.

“Welcome to Dorne,” he says, extending a hand to help you with your luggage. His touch is firm yet gentle, and you feel an unexpected thrill at the contact.

“Thanks,” you manage, smiling back. “It’s good to be here.”

Rhaenyra claps her hands, pulling everyone’s attention back to her. “Alright, folks! Let’s get this party started!” Criston whoops loudly, winding his arms around yours and Alicent's shoulders, walking towards the car.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The massive beach house you’re staying in is a dream come true. Nestled on the coast with a panoramic view of the glittering sea, it has enough room for everyone, plus some. The ocean breeze filters through the open windows, carrying with it the scent of salt and orange blossoms.

Your days quickly fall into a blissful rhythm. Each morning begins with a lazy breakfast on the terrace, the laughter and chatter of your friends setting the tone for the rest of the day. Rhaenyra is the queen of leisure, leading the group in a daily swim as soon as the sun reaches its peak.

One afternoon, as you laze under the sun, you find yourself alongside Gwayne. He's reclined on a deck chair next to you, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare. The two of you have drifted into a companionable silence, occasionally exchanging thoughts about the holiday.

“Do you ever feel like you belong in a place you’ve never been to before?” he asks suddenly, turning to you. The sincerity in his voice surprises you.

You nod, considering his words. “Yeah, I do. There’s something about Dorne—it's different from anywhere else.”

Gwayne smiles, his gaze thoughtful. “I think you fit here. With us.”

The words make your heart skip a beat. You hold his gaze, the air between you charged with an unspoken understanding.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Nighttime in Dorne is a different beast altogether. The group descends upon the local beach bars, eager to get as drunk as possible on zesty cocktails.

Criston, ever the instigator, orders round after round of drinks for the group, insisting on trying every concoction on the menu. The Valyrian Blaze cocktail is bright red, spicy, and strong enough to burn as it goes down, while the Winterfell Chill is a stark contrast, with its cool minty freshness. You yourself favour the delicious Dornish wines, the Stormlands sangria taking the cake.

You find yourself next to Gwayne again, both of you leaning against the bar, both trying a drink that seems to be some unholy blend of dragonfruit and tequila. The laughter from your friends fills the air, mixing with the sound of the waves crashing in the distance and tropical music playing in the bar.

"These are dangerous," you comment, swirling the colourful drink in your glass.

Gwayne chuckles, taking a sip from his own glass. "That's the point, isn’t it? To let loose and forget about everything for a while."

His eyes lock onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine.

"I suppose you're right," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the night wears on, the drinks take effect. Everyone is dancing now, the rhythmic beats of the music vibrating through the air. You join in, feeling the weight of your worries lift as you move to the rhythm, hips swaying, and sandals gliding across the floor.

At some point, Gwayne finds you on the dance floor, his movements in sync with yours. There's a magnetism between you, an undeniable pull that keeps drawing you closer. The music slows, and without missing a beat, he slips an arm around your waist, guiding you in a gentle sway.

The sun is setting as you and the group make your way back to the beach house. The day has been long, but the energy is still buzzing among your friends. As you approach the entrance, you hear Rhaenyra’s voice rise above the chatter.

"Right, everyone, it's surfing and a seafood meal out tomorrow!"

Everyone sounds out their approval, and plans are quickly made for an early morning departure. But for now, the night is still young, and you find yourself wandering the grounds outside of the beach house, needing a moment to yourself whilst the others head to bed.

Or at least you think you're alone until you hear footsteps on the sand behind you.

"Couldn't sleep?" Gwayne's voice cuts through the darkening sky, smooth and inviting. He steps into view, and even in the low light, you can see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Just needed some air," you admit, sighing lightly. "It's been a long day."

He nods, falling into step beside you. Wordlessly, his hand slips into yours and guides you towards the Water Gardens that lie adjacent to the beach house. Together, you walk through the gardens, the scent of jasmine and sea salt heavy in the air. There’s a tranquillity here that contrasts with the vibrant chaos of earlier, and it offers a quiet intimacy between you and Gwayne.

"These gardens are beautiful," you muse, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gwayne stops walking, turning to face you fully. "They are," he agrees, his gaze steady on yours. "But not as beautiful as you." His hand comes up to gently brush some hair from your face and rests on your blushing cheek.

The words hang between you, heavy with meaning. In the next breath, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is both gentle and insistent. It’s a moment that feels like it’s been building from the instant you laid eyes on each other, a culmination of unspoken desire fuelled by the Dornish summer.

Gwayne pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, and you can feel the heat radiating from him like the sun you’ve spent all day under. His hands are firm on your back, anchoring you against him in a way that feels both possessive and tender.

Before you realize it, you're backing up toward the edge of the garden where a small, secluded pool lies hidden among the lush foliage. The water shimmers under the sunset, inviting and cool.

Gwayne breaks the kiss first, his breathing uneven, eyes searching yours for permission. There’s a question in his gaze, an unspoken invitation to take this moment further.

You answer with a nod, slipping off your purple sun dress as he unclothes, and with a shared smile, the two of you slip into the water. It’s cool against your sun-warmed skin, a welcome reprieve. The coolness tingles against the building fire between your legs.

Gwayne pulls you into him again, his lips tracing a path down your neck as you wrap your arms around him. The water laps around you, creating a rhythm that matches the steady pulse of your heart. His hands explore your body with a reverence that makes you feel cherished, desired in a way that’s almost intoxicating.

Gasping lightly, you reach beneath the water to feel his cock, hard and thick in your hands. He moans against your neck, standing on the floor of the pool, pushing you up against the pool wall. You instinctively wrap your legs around him, moaning as his hardness presses against your aching pussy.

He looks at you, asking if he can continue. You nod slightly, feeling a shiver of lust as his hands grip your ass tight and his cock nudges against your slickness. He pushes inside smoothly, holding you tightly for what feels like an age as your pussy flutters around him. He murmers sweet words into your hair, caressing you, cherishing you.

"You feel divine, you look divine, my angel, let me make you feel good." Gwayne rumbles against your lips. You nod desperately, feeling so full and loved.

He thrusts against your wetness, sending the cool shimmering water rippling. Your head lolls back, lips parted, as Gwayne bestows kiss after kiss on your tender neck and collarbone as his cock pounds your pussy hard in a measured pace.

His fingers sneak between your legs to touch your clit reverently. Gwayne circles your clit delicately, and whilst you enjoy his worship, you want more.

You kiss him, hard, and bite his lip, not hard but enough to make his eyes widen.

"Gwayne," you beg. "Fuck me, please. I need you to show me how much you want me." Your pussy weeps as his hips slam harder. He leans over you, eyes ablaze and a smirk curling across his lips. You mewl helplessly.

"My angel, I'd love nothing more." He snaps his hips, rubbing your clit more urgently now. You feel the warmth of an orgasm licking inside as his teeth brand marks across your neck. Your fingernails scratch against his muscled back as Gwayne moans.

The water ripples quicker now as he fucks you hard and fast, kissing across your cheeks and nose.

"My pretty baby," he rasps. "So good for me, pussy so good for my cock. Gonna cum, gotta make you cum my angel."

You cry out in agreement, hips bucking wildly as his fingers and cock draw out a searing orgasm from you. His head falls to your shoulders as he cums, thick white cum filling up inside you.

You both stay there for a while, kissing each other softly and stroking hands through each others hair. Gwayne's eyes are shining in the moonlight as you seal your lips under the stars.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The next morning, the pair of you are greeted with whoops and hollers from the rest of the group as you walk into the kitchen hand in hand. You bashfully smile as Gwayne proudly kisses your cheek. Criston pats him on the back in congratulations.

"I'll make you an iced coffee." Gwayne says, pecking your lips. Laena pretends to gag but throws a cheeky smile at you.

Rhaenyra sidles up next to you, offering you a brioche, looking far too smug. You roll your eyes.

"Glad you came now?" She asks, hip bumping you. You glance over at Gwayne, who is chatting with Laenor but looking at you reverently.

"Yes I am."

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: the way i was kicking my own damn feet writing this. it has been a scorcher in england today (at least for me lol) so got inspired to write a summery sexy fic for darling gwayne. check out my masterlist for more modern aus and sexy fun! send requests and feedback plz love u xx 🍒

[sepherinaspoppies]

after hours - modern! aemond targaryen x reader

summary: she receives a late night call from her needy boyfriend, aemond.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f and m masturbation, phone sex, use of sex toys for reader, and I think that's it?

wc: 2,387

masterlist

notes: this was supposed to be a very small drabble lmao. anyways this is kind of unedited. oops

She sits on her bed, a plate of yesterday’s reheated pepperoni pizza laid across her lap while the television played rerun episodes of Gilmore Girls when her phone rang unexpectedly.

At such late hours she decided to let her phone ring, for if she answered whoever it was calling on the other end would know she was awake and she did not want that. It was probably one of those scam calls that were going around tricking people to give out their credit card information for their own benefit.

Though, she wondered if they knew that she had only ten dollars currently sitting in her bank account after she had spent the last of her savings on pizza. 

She sighed happily once her ringtone slowly faltered down but it wasn’t long before it started ringing again and again. And on the fourth ring she sadly set down her pizza to the side before snatching off her phone from the power socket. 

Her eyes widen in horror as she views the bold letters of the caller ID. She immediately accepts the call, rushing to turn off the television to give her full attention to her caller. 

“Angel.” Aemond greeted in a low hum, sounds of metal clanking could be heard from the background. 

She appreciates that he doesn’t sound angry for her lack of response. In the past few months she had the pleasure of knowing Aemond, she had come to learn very quickly that he was not a very patient man. If Aemond wanted something, whether it’d be something materialistic or sexual, he wanted it now in any way possible. 

“Hey Aem, sorry I thought you’d be asleep.” She apologizes, setting a few pieces of loose hair behind her ear.  

In the other line, she hears Aemond acknowledge her by singing another low hum, something Aemond regularly did that frustrated her. At first she thought Aegon was just joking around when he first set them up on a blind date, that Aemond was a man of a few words and only humming out his responses. But as she got to know him more throughout their dating phase, she realized that Aegon was in fact not joking. It took her months to break him out of his shell. 

“So, how are things down south?” She asks, quickly changing the subject to that of his work status. 

Aemond worked in the field he always wanted to be in; as a high school history and philosophy teacher. Aemond loved his job even if they were students who made it tough for him to educate those who did take their studies seriously. He loved the challenge. He loved being up on his feet teaching the histories of how Westeros came to be or educating the famous ideologies of the greatest philosophers that made Aemond fall in love with the subject. 

You could say Aemond was a workaholic. There was no denying that. What some teachers considered the best part of teaching was the summer vacations, Aemond absolutely despised it. However that problem would soon resolve after she had called up her uncle Oberyn, who taught gender and sexuality studies at Sunspear University, if there were any positions available for Aemond’s area of degree during the summer. To her delight, her uncle informed her that the university was looking for someone who was fluent in High Valyrian to teach a beginner course. 

Aemond immediately emailed his resume in and within a few days after his students left for summer break Aemond got on a plane to Dorne and began to work in his new position in a new city. 

Which was about a month ago. 

“Hard,” Aemond breathes as he licks his lips. 

“Aw, my love—” She tried to comfort him before she was cut off. “Hot,” Aemond corrects himself, standing up from his own bed to retrieve his laptop. 

“Well Dorne is known to be quite hot. Especially during the summer.” She informs in a matter of fact tone as she toys with the thin strap of her nightgown. “Besides, I thought dragons prefer the heat.” 

A low chuckle came from the other end. She can practically imagine the corners of his lips curving up to a smirk. “We do prefer heat but we are not immune to it as you think. I even purchased three fans to keep myself cool. Though, they do not work for shit which leaves me, as of right now bare.” 

She paused, straightening up from the bed. “When you say bare—”

“I mean bare as when I came into this world” 

A long silence came afterward, and she could hear the beat of her own heart thumping against the screen of her phone. She looked at her Charlie Brown calendar hung above her nightstand. Once she confirmed that today was in fact the weekend, it became evident why Aemond was calling at such a late hour. 

Heat began to seep into her lower belly down between her thighs at what she could surmise would happen next. 

It had been some time since they were last intimate. Forty-two days to be exact; the day before his departure to Dorne.

Aemond and her spent the whole morning, afternoon and night tangled within each other going round after round in different positions and different rooms of their shared cottage saying their goodbyes until she passed out from the many orgasms Aemond gave her. The following morning Aemond threw himself into fits of giggles when she could no longer stand up from their bed to drive him to the airport, feeling sore and bruised from the intensity of the night before. 

“Angel? Have I lost you?” Aemond asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. She replied with a shaky no before Aemond began to speak again. “Hmm then accept my facetime call.” Her eyes locked with her laptop which she did not realize it had been ringing and nervously pressed the green button. 

Through the low lighted room she could see the silhouette of Aemond. His laptop perched on top of his stomach, his bare and freckled chest full on display. She so desperately wished she was there to roam her hands all over him. And she stifled a moan when she noticed Aemond’s silver hair was pulled back into a braid just as how she liked it. 

“There you are my beautiful angel,” Aemond purrs, giving his hardened cock a good squeeze from the base. His eye roams over her clothed figure, taking in her sheer white nightgown that leaves nothing to his imagination. 

Heats spread to her cheeks, his compliments never tiring her. 

“You don’t know how much I miss you, angel. Your hands—” On cue her hand slowly waves itself down between her thighs, pushing her lacy panties to the side as her fingers come into contact with her arousal on the way to her clit. 

“Stroking my cock while your lovely mouth sucks me off.” Aemond imagines it all like it was yesterday and his cock pulsed so hard it ached. It wasn’t any better when he saw her chest rise and fall with wanton little pants escaping her lips. 

She was touching herself. Something Aemond warned her not to do in his absence. He wanted to reprimand her for such an act but instead Aemond let her continue as he wanted to watch her unfold and peak especially for what he had in mind. 

“Oh, Aemond, I miss you too.” She whines, throwing her head back into the pillows, struggling to keep her laptop perched ontop her knees. Waves of pleasure move throughout her body, his words going straight to her core. 

She hears Aemond groan. 

“Your tongue on my cunt and- and—” Her words stammer and she feels the tips of her ears flush with embarrassment for her next confession. “Go on, angel.” Aemond encourages as he gazes at her reddened state. He finds it endearing and if he was there right now, he would pull away her hand until she confessed. 

“Your nose.”  

“And what about my nose?” He hums using his thumb to circle the tip of cock. 

“I-I love your nose on my clit.” 

Aemond’s one good eye widened and felt the intense pressure in his lower stomach increase. It was no wonder why whenever he went down on her she screamed the loudest when his nose brushed against her sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Aemond continued watching her touch and lose herself in pleasure. Intensely watching as her fingers vigorously circled her clit with sweat above her brow. He moaned sweet nothings through his laptop and just as he sensed she was about to peak, Aemond stopped her. 

She did as she was told and she couldn’t help to let out a few tears of frustration.

“Get your buzzy out, angel.” Aemond instructed. Instantly her mood shifts into an excited and eager one. 

“Which one?” 

“Oh you know which one.” 

She definitely knows which one. Her hand reaches for the drawer of her nightstand where inside lay rows of different forms of vibrators as well as different sizes and shapes of dildos Aemond purchased within their relationship. Their favorite being a dual pink vibrator that was made to stimulate her g-spot along with her clit. It was also remote and app controlled with multiple levels of speed and vibrations that made her come in less than five minutes. Which was good since it took her a while to come. 

“Good. Now be a good girl and undress in front of me, angel” She eagerly nods at his words and sets her laptop in front of her. “Look at me while you bare yourself to me.” Her eyes snap up meeting his darkened violet eye that was full of passion and concentration as her fingers lift the hem of her nightgown. 

She sees him bite his lower lip once her breasts are revealed. Aemond nods for her to proceed to take off the next piece of clothing and she does so, tossing it somewhere across the room not caring where it lands. 

Having laid together multiple times, she swallows the need to cover herself and spreads her legs apart just enough for Aemond to gaze through the camera at how wet she was for him. Aemond inhales the desire to stroke his cock into completion. He wanted to see her fall apart first. 

“Now place the buzzy in your cunt, slowly.” 

She rubs the silicone against her slick gathering some of her juices before sliding the thicker part of the vibrator inside. She sighs in relief at the sensation, it wasn’t as big and delicious of a stretch like Aemond’s cock but it was just right to feel some satisfaction. 

She then bends the longest part of the silicone gently against her pulsating clit with needy whines and pants waiting for further instructions. 

Seven fucking Hells. Aemond curses to himself wishing nothing more than to book a flight back to King’s Landing and have her sit on his face licking away her juices. Aemond remembers that in a month that will happen soon. 

Aemond’s fingers swipe through the different kinds of vibrational settings through the blue hearted app and settle for one with the lowest speed to get her started. 

Once Aemond hears a series of surprised cries and gasps, he gives up on trying not to touch himself. He starts stroking his cock at a languid pace as he watches his lovely little angel struggle to keep her legs still and open through the camera. 

“You’re doing so well baby,” She hears Aemond praise. “Tell me does that feel good? Are you close? Answer me, sweet angel.” 

She fervently nods her head. 

“Use your words, angel.” 

“Y-yes.” She says, barely being able to control words out through the pleasure. “Yes, what?” Aemond taunts before he lets out a hiss when the fat head of cock starts to ache more. He knew he wasn’t going to last long as he hadn’t touched himself so intimately in forty-two days, wanting to also keep good on his promise. 

“Yes, Aemond, it feels so good. I need more please.” While vibrations felt so indescribably good it wasn’t sufficient to send her over the edge. She knew Aemond set the vibrator in level one. And in their lovemaking, Aemond usually set the speed at level five which was neither too fast nor too slow. Just right to see stars followed by another round. 

When Aemond set his laptop to the side, giving her a full view of his proud length standing straight against his stomach, she nearly lost it, clenching the silicone tightly inside her walls. Gods she really did miss him. All of him. 

She groans loudly when Aemond sets the speed she likes, making her eyes roll at the back of her head, pinching both of her nipples for some extra stimulation but what Aemond says makes her halt and glance at his disheveled state. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m coming!” He moans as she watches his hand stroke his cock vigorously while long ropes of his seed spurt all across his chest and hand. Series of whines and growls leave his lips all while his hips buck upwards at the intense pleasure that makes Aemond cry. Literally cry. 

She watches all in awe.  

Saying he looked beautiful was an understatement. No, Aemond looked so godly and ethereal and she understood now the reference that Targaryens were closer to gods than men. 

Once Aemond steadied himself, the words left her lips without thinking. 

“That was quick.” 

And before she had time to explain, the air in her lungs left quickly like her words as she felt the most intense and deep sensation between her legs. She let out incoherent noises to which she could not describe. Were they moans? Groans? Cries? She did not know. 

All she did know was the tightness in her lower belly finally snapped and her orgasm washes all over her like a tide. 

After a few minutes, she heard Aemond laugh through the screen. “You were saying?” He teases as he waves his phone around the camera. 

She feels too tired to reply. Her body automatically feels relaxed and stress-free. 

“Oh, angel, don’t get too comfortable. I’m not done with you yet. I’m still very hard.” 

Oh shit….

im gonna go hide under my bed now lol

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empty is who I could not tag im sorry!

if you like to be on my general taglist click here

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

🌞📖 Summer readin' 💕🕶️

It's been a loooong time since I've indulged in reading fic. Time is always the biggest issue, but if I'm being really really honest, I have a bit of a complex when it comes to reading. I never feel like I read enough, or I don't read widely enough, and the guilt got to a point where it's been been easier to not read anything at all.

I'm trying to reconnect with the joy of reading, so I picked a selection ok more like a smorgasbord of writers that I've always wanted to read but haven't yet (or in a couple of cases, to read more of). I had the best time delving into these amazing fics, and I will queue up my reblogs over the course of the week, in no particular order ❤️ I hope y'all get to read these gems too, and don't forget to reblog if you do 🥰

@guiltyasdave - Delicate | Modern!Oberyn Martell

@frenchiereading - Resting Eyes | Joel Miller

@schnarfer - The Cowboy & the Thief | Jack Daniels

@morallyinept - Till Death | Marcus Acacius

@trulybetty - Sequins | Joel Miller

@artsy-girl-76 - Date Night - An Evening at the Arcade | Frankie Morales

@perotovar - ásjá - A Winter Solstice Story | Pero Tovar

@sixhours - Looking for the Light | Joel Miller

@burntheedges - Good | Clint

@aurorawritestoescape - Hot For You | Joel Miller

@thosewickedlovelies - Press Play | Tim Rockford

@sawymredfox - Moonlight Flight | Pero Tovar

@wordywarriorwrites - Feels Like Home | Javier Peña

@ghotifishreads - A fake date with Joel Miller | Joel Miller

@missredherring - Dieter does Dorne | Dieter Bravo

@thelightsandtheroses - Everywhere, Everything | Joel Miller bouncer!AU

@604to647 - Hold On | Tim Rockford

@pascalispretty - Each Man's Mad Desire | Marcus Acacius

[fantasybabygirlslutsworld]

The Prophecy - 1

As said before, the celebration for Princess Mariana Targaryen's birth was indeed considered as the most lavish one happened in a decade.

All the lords of westeros and free cities came to king's landing to see the newborn Targaryen and participate in the hunting and tourneys conducted in the princess's honour.

A welcome feast was prepared for welcoming the lords and ladies staying at the palace.

The whole Targaryen family were sitting in a long table facing the lords with King Jaehaerys in the middle. Queen Alysanne sat on her husband's right side while Crown Prince Baelon sat on his left. His son Prince Viserys and his wife Princess Aemma sat beside him while Princess Rhaenys and her husband sat next to the Queen .

Prince Daemon was seen speaking with some lords from Lys and volantis. Recently,the young Prince had started to trade with the wealthy lords of the free cities.

Prince Baelon thought it would be a good experience for him but both the King and the Queen didn't think so as there was still raising tensions after the death of Prince Aemon Targaryen. Some lords of Lys and Braavos might have helped Dorne even though it is not proven by anyone.

Lord Rickon Stark of Winterfell had gifted books about the old gods and various dresses made of a wolf's fur hunted by him and his entourage to the little princess. He brought along his five summers past son,Cregan Stark, who curiously looked at the princess lying in the Queen's arms.

" Thank you , Lord Stark. It was nice to see all the lords gathered up for this occasion. " Queen Alysanne remarked . With all the festivities, the palace is looking very lively than ever.

" Then, you would be perplexed seeing the gift prepared by House Lannister,your grace"

 Lord Lannister said while shoving past the Lord of Winterfell. He presented a necklace huge enought to be worn by an adult made of pure gold along with other ornaments. All the jewels resembled  the lannister sigil - a Lion or silks in lannister red. Even though the gifts were harmless , the intent was apparent that lord lannister was hoping to arrange a betrothal to one of his sons. Mayhaps, the Lord had thought by being the first in line for the hand of the one day old Targaryen princess  may guarantee  them an upper hand.

  " We thank you for this wonderful gifts , Lord Lannister. I am sure my granddaughter can wear them when she becomes a lady which will 16 summers from now" 

Prince Viserys chuckled while Princess Aemma's smile tightened. She didn't want to think about her daughter's marriage only a day after her birth.

The King and Prince Baelon all had similar reactions in their faces whereas Princess Rhaenys sighed next to her husband. This was the fate expected of a Targaryen Princess - she can either marry one of her family member out of love like late Princess Alyssa or be some lady to one of the lords in westeros like late Lady Daella Arryn  .

While thinking about this ,  the members of House Targaryen didn't seem to notice a dark aura emitting from the rogue prince . His usually hot blood was boiling even higher at Lord Lannister's apparent intent . He want to cross over to his table and strangle him and his twin sons to death so that they may never think of his niece again.

However , if he want to kill every lord and heirs who were having intent of a betrothal to his niece , then Westeros won't have any lords anymore  by the time he finishes his rampage. 

-----------------------------

Aside from that moment , the celebration went smoother with other lords gifting jewels, dresses and various land deeds for the princess.

For the next week, the royal tourney was held in the princess's honor. Several knights across Westeros had came to participate in the jousting contest. 

The winner was obviously Prince Daemon Targaryen who had beaten against the heir of house tyrell who had broken his left arm . All the ladies who are of marriagiable age seem to lean closer towards him hoping to be crowned as his Queen of love and beauty.

With everyone's gaze turned on him , the Prince  went to the royal stand in his horse . As if reading his mind ,Princess Aemma slowly went near the stands with the Princess in her arms.

" As befitted for her , Princess Mariana Targaryen will be my Queen of Love and Beauty today." 

Prince Daemon proudly said while looking at his niece. He carefully placed the crown made up of dragon's breath on her head. The Princess was also curiously looking at him with the same intensity.

Everyone in the arena cheered as Princess Aemma displayed Princess Mariana to the crowd. Although they expected the Prince to offer the crown to a lady of a respectable House , it was acceptable for the Prince give it to his niece.However, everyone didn't seem to notice the possessiveness glinting in the Rogue Prince's eyes.

In the evening, a small celebration was held in the honor of the tourney's winner . As Prince Daemon was the winner, the royal family also attended the celebration.

The said Prince could be seen mingling with his fellow knights in the garden . While all of the sudden , Prince Baelon came to his side .

" Congratulations, son . Your mom and I are proud of you . " Even after his sister-wife's death , Crown Prince Baelon didn't remarry anyone. He still believes that she was always present near him.

" Thank you, Father. The fights were rather easy enough that I can close my eyes and still win every knights" Prince Daemon mocked his opponents .

" When I look at her eyes and hair , I see your mother in her , Daemon . It is like Alyssa had reborn again ." Prince Baelon said with pure sorrow in his eyes.

" Indeed she is , father." Prince Daemon said while looking at the sleeping form of his niece in her mother's arms.

In the future, Princess Mariana would cherish this day by being told by her Septa and maids .

Part 5

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Author's Note: Sorry for the delay,guys . I am trying to balance time to write for my other stories. Do vote for the story if you sure like it.

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[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I like whatever you like, my lord." After all, is that not what he is here for? Being a man with a voracious appetite for pleasure makes him an asset in a place like this.

Oberyn growls, eyeing his cock tenting the loose trousers he is wearing. “Strip and join us if you are going to.”

Spacious as it is, there is not enough room for everyone in the bath, and the last remaining girl lays down bare on the edge after everyone has climbed in and patiently plays with herself while she waits her turn. There is plenty to feast her eyes on until one of them decides to bury their face in her pussy.

Twitching inside his lover, he kisses her gently and pulls her off his cock. “Go play, my love.” He urges her, knowing she wants to do more than just be touched.

"We may learn to enjoy King's Landing after all." Ellaria laughs, happily letting hands explore her skin. Leyth and the man gravitate toward Oberyn, and she is happy to drown herself in a sea of pussy until she is drunk on the sound of women's pleasure.

When he is close enough, Oberyn reaches down and cups the man’s cock firmly. “What is your name?” He demands, squeezing him gently and jerking him slowly.

"Cal, my lord." His eyelids flutter slightly at the firm touch, eager for more. "Or whatever you want it to be."

“Cal….” He smirks and presses his thumb against the head of the man’s cock. “Have you ever been fucked by a Prince?”

The way Cal shudders and his breath hitches is reverent, and he shakes his head as he tries to remember to breathe. "No, your Grace. But I would like to be."

He turns to Leyth, jerking his chin up. “Kiss me.” he orders, stretching his neck out and lets go of the man’s cock so he can slide his hand around him to press between the cheeks of his ass.

The room fills with moans as Leyth eagerly complies, licking into the prince's mouth with surety. She knows her skill and she hopes to impress, even pressing closer to him to wrap her own hand around his cock.

Oberyn hisses, his tongue sliding against hers happily as he finds Cal’s puckered hole quickly and starts to rub around the opening.Hands are everywhere as Cal lowers his head to lay kisses along the taut muscles of the prince's neck, one hand caressing his skin and the other groping for Leyth's breast to squeeze the supple flesh and play with her nipple. They are paired together often, when clients wish for a show, so he knows her body as well as any instrument.

“You are lovers.” Oberyn groans, pushing a finger inside the man’s quivering hole. On the other side of the bath, Ellaria and the ebony skinned beauty are tangled together in a passionate embrace.

"Sometimes." Leyth agrees, leaning over to give Cal a kiss without missing a single stroke of the prince's cock.

The sounds of heavy breathing and pleasure are filling the bathing room and he can feel the way Cal’s body squeezes his finger as he pumps it into him to stretch him out. “So do you want his cock or his tongue while I fuck him?”

"If I have his cock, I will feel every time you fuck into him." She moans at the idea, chest heaving with just the thought. "You will be driving us both wild with pleasure."

He chuckles and nods, pulling his fingers out of the other man. “Then get on your knees and let him slide inside your cunt.”

Kneeling on the bench where he had been sitting, Leyth presents herself easily for both men to appreciate and sighs out loud when the familiar stretch of Cal's cock presses inside of her wet heat. She knows that Cal is truly the one getting spoiled today and hopes the prince lives up to every rumour for his sake.

Oberyn can’t help but reach out and slap her ass and groans when her generous skin jiggles. “I will fuck you after I have had my fill of your lover.”

"He is insatiable," Ellaria offers, chuckling deeply before burying her face in the cunt nearest her talented mouth. Oberyn is not the only one with an endless appetite. It is one of the reasons that they have so much fun together.

“It has been two weeks.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. There hadn’t been any place to stop and fuck while on the road. He was pent up.

"No one here will complain, my lord." Cal promises, burying himself again in Leyth's cunt and groaning at her heat. "The stories of you are legend, and most of us are eager to know if they are true."

“They are true.” Ellaria pulls his tongue out of the cunt to purr her vote of confidence.

“Thank you, my love.” Oberyn chuckles and reaches for the oils that are kept on the edge of the bath for things such as this.

"Then we will add our praise to the stories that already exist." Soon Leyth will be able to do nothing but take the thrusts from the two men above her, but for now she meets each movement with a roll of her plush hips.

"We are yours for as long as you wish to stay." It is only half of a promise from Cal himself, having been instructed by Littlefinger himself to give Prince Oberyn whatever he wants, but at least now Cal can make the vow with pleasure.

Oberyn has no doubt that these people have been told to do whatever he or his paramour likes but he will only take what he deems right. “Only if I bring you both pleasure.”

"I cannot imagine you have trouble giving pleasure." Cal moans, bending over Leyth's back to present himself to the prince for the taking.

Coating his cock in enough oil to wash his entrance, the water in the bath sloshes as he shuffles closer and takes himself in hand. Pressing closer and pushing the head of his cock against the other man’s hole and slowly rolls his hips forward to break him open.

Cal curses, eyes rolling back into his head as the prince's girth fills him, and in turn pushes his cock further into Leyth's fluttering pussy. The bathing room may as well be their own private party in this moment, because of the large handful of people indulging in each other no one notices Littlefinger lurking by the doorway. True pleasure is rare in a whorehouse, so this is sure to be a lucrative visit for the proprietor.

Oberyn lets out a lusty groan when his hips are flush against the other man’s ass. “You do not flinch away.” He praises, wrapping his long arms around the man so he can cup Leyth’s generous breasts while he waits for the man’s muscles to relax around him.

“Pleasure is a gift.” Cal’s body shudders as he takes Oberyn fully, the stretch of him making the man pant and reach back to grasp the prince’s hip. “You have a very large gift, my lord.”

Oberyn chuckles quietly, pleased with Cal’s words and leans in to nibble on his ear. Enjoying the way he shudders again. “Let me show you what I can do with that gift.”

******

The Red Keep looms above you when you finally step out of your carriage, trying with all your might to block out your mother’s voice muttering indignities that your party was not greeted by a royal retinue at the city line. What utter nonsense. Your house is ancient and wealthy, yes, but certainly not royal and there is no reason for the royal Baratheons or Lannisters to pay you any heed. At least, outside the carriage, you can finally be more than a foot and a half away from your mother again.

“Alright, pumpkin?” Your father beams down at you before swinging off of his horse.

“Of course, Papa.” Of course not is the truth, but after days of spitting venom you are too tired to put up much of a fight. Besides, now that you know this is your mother’s doing, it is hard to be upset with your father for simply being a fool.

Your father beams at you as he steps beside you and offers you his arm. Not having an opportunity to talk much on the road, he wants to assure you. “I understand you are nervous because you have not been to Dorne, but your grandmother and her mother are from Dorne.” He reminds you. “And there is family in Braavos and across the Narrow Sea.” The long tradition of finding love outside the Vale is common, your father finding the free-spirited prince to be a far worthier match for you than some sniveling little lord grasping for favor. The idea that his daughter will be princess is also a factor.

“I shall visit them all at my earliest ability.” The idea of traveling to see family you have never met sounds infinitely preferable to spending even a minute in the presence of the prince you never agreed to wed, and for a moment you almost relax at the idea.

“I doubt your husband will allow anything other than you spitting out his heirs for the next few years.” Your mother scoffs. “You will be visiting his bed.”

“That is not for you to know or to decide.” You tell her, though the fact that she may be right makes you sick to your stomach. Two steps behind the three of you, Raeden could not have missed the comment but you cannot exactly turn to look at him.

Raeden keeps his gaze down, your mother’s words in his mind as he tries to decide if he had made the right choice. Perhaps he should have run away with you. He’s noticed the captain of your father’s guard eyeing him so he had tried to be as impassive as possible. His heart aches at the idea of you in the Prince’s bed, despite the rumors of his prowess and propensity for men and women, something that he shamefully shares with the Prince of Dorne. He had fought his attraction to the other men around him. Not even sharing it with you.

“My lord. My ladies.” A steward in the hallway bows to you dutifully and opens his mouth to welcome you to the Red Keep, but a swish of skirts and a silky smooth voice cuts him off from behind. “Lollard, I will greet my guests,” she instructs, sounding nearly severe before her voice pitches up to something delighted and seemingly terribly excited. “I was so pleased to see your banner approach that I could not help myself.” The woman declares, and you cannot tell if she means it or not. “Lady Margaery Tyrell,” she introduces herself with a broad smile. “It was I who sent your invitation. Welcome to King’s Landing, and to the Red Keep.”

“You are even more beautiful than your portrait, Lady Margaery,” your mother gushes, simpering to the woman who appeared to be several years younger than even you. “And how thoughtful of you to include our House in your nuptial feast. We are honoured.”

“It is I who am honoured.” She steps toward you with a smile. “To have the future princess of Dorne amongst my guests, and of course the ancient connection between our Houses makes us loving cousins, does it not?” The marriage of a Tyrell daughter into your House was four generations ago, but Margaery has never been one to overlook a string that might be pulled in her favour. At least not after her grandmother pointed it out.

Future princess of Dorne. Raeden’s fists clench at his sides as he tries to ignore the fury in his heart at that simple phrase. You will be a princess, and the gap between your stations will be more vast than before.

“We are flattered by such a personal welcome.” Beside you, your father is talking and patting your hand on his arm, but you barely hear him. Each time another person calls you princess or refers to the man who bought you, you feel closer and closer to being sick all over the floor. Or perhaps sinking in a wasting depression. If both are possible simultaneously, that may be the answer.

“Forgive me.” When you find your voice it almost cracks, but you put one hand to your stomach delicately. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Margaery, but I am afraid I feel quite ill from weeks of travel. Would it be possible to be escorted to our chamber so that I might be well enough for a turn around the gardens later?” An ally – any ally – may be worth grasping, and you enjoy the way this young woman made your mother frown by not paying attention to her. For right now, though, you would do anything to be alone so that Raeden could visit you.

“Forgive me.” Margaery bows her head respectfully and gives a small, sincere smile. “My manners have forsaken me.” She gestures towards the keep. “Allow me to show you personally to your rooms. A light repast has been laid out for your pleasure as well.”

“How very kind of you,” you murmur, knowing you won’t touch a thing. The reality of your situation has stolen your normally healthy appetite.

Clever blue eyes catch the subtle grimace when she mentions food and yet she doesn’t comment on it. Sensing that you will have much to talk about, Margaery had invited you to stay in the keep as her guest after learning of your betrothal to Oberyn Martell. “This way.” She smiles and motions towards the left corridor.

Though you might not be fond of the games of society, you were raised in them, and you have sense enough that when the future queen offers you her arm you take it. That is how the first glimpse many guests to court ever have of you is strolling arm-in-arm with the woman who will become queen in two days time. It does not matter that you just met. It does not matter that she is chattering away politely while you simply smile your polite smile and nod. The future queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the future princess of Dorne paint a very pretty picture on their way through the halls of the Red Keep with your family trailing behind. If you weren’t so desperate to be alone with Raeden again and attempt to forget all this is happening, you might more fully enjoy the way your mother is green with envy.

______

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[softpascalito]

Pedro Pascal Kinktober Day Twentytwo

Washing hair - Oberyn Martell/F!Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Oberyn begin to try conceiving and days before he leaves for Kings Landing, he finds you cooling down in the baths during a hot day.

Relationships: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader

WC: 1700

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Mild Smut, Bathing/Washing, Hair Washing, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mentions of Pregnancy, Kissing, Female Reader, Oberyn Martell Lives, this turned into a fix it fic along the way

AO3 LINK

notes: this is a direct continuation of kinktober day eight - breeding. highly recommend reading that one first! :)

_________________________________________

It had been a few weeks since that night, since she had first tasted the red tea leaves that were supposedly going to help her conceive, that Oberyn had had shipped to Dorne for that sole reason. It hadn't been until the next day that he had admitted to her that he had ordered a large quantity of them and that, if she chose to, there would be enough for several months.

So, every night, next to her dinner, a steaming mug sat waiting for her.

Most nights, it was followed by Oberyn waiting for her in their chambers afterwards. Though there had been several occasions where he hadn't waited on their bed or balcony or even the baths. He had waited at the table in the dining quarters, sitting next to her, his hand on her thigh and his gaze fixed on her movements. He watched, ready to pounce, just like a viper. And he did.

As soon as she would get up, he would be there, by her side, leading her out of the dining room. She felt his gaze on him in those moments and they were both thinking the same way, causing them, more than once, to not even make it back to their chambers before giving it another try.

He had taken their conversation to heart, the way she had mentioned that it was a lot of pressure to “ be his ” and so he had made a point to not bring it up too much, never asking if it had taken or if she felt any different.

Still, the man had noticed that she hadn't mentioned bleeding in a while and maybe, just maybe, he hoped it could mean something had shifted.

Oberyn found himself wandering the palace on a hot summer midday. The sun had been shining relentlessly on Dorne for days now and despite the Southerners being used to heat, even they had started hiding from the sun in the afternoon, not wanting to get burned. While nothing compared to the water gardens with its many chances for one to cool down and wade through the shallow pools, there was a small, closed-in pool at the palace in Sunspear as well. The outer wall was missing, replaced by thick columns and a beautifully crafted balustrade. One could bathe while overlooking the sea but without being burned by the sun. Over the years, plants had grown up the walls and columns and spread over the once open beams of the ceiling. Now, the greenery served as protection from the heat, only occasionally letting one or two rays of direct sunshine filter into the small pool.

Oberyn could smell the spices that hung in the air, the scent mixing with that of the salty sea as he stepped into the shade around the pool. And there she was.

He smiled as he watched her. Her back towards him, her hair tied up on her head, her naked body glistening under the water that was completely still around her. He stood for a moment, simply admiring the scene before he approached, silently letting his shawl and pants fall to the floor. The prince let himself glide into the water and reached out to touch her. Just then, feeling the ripple from him moving behind her, she turned her head towards him. A small smile formed on her face, matching his own.

“Greetings.” She mumbled as he closed the distance between them, ”What is my little sun doing out here, all by herself?”

“Hiding from the big sun.” That earned her a small laughter from Oberyn, ”I see.” His arms came to lay around her waist, his lips quickly finding that spot on her neck that made her whimper softly.

“Tell me, are you teasing your prince?” It was her turn to smirk, ”I would not dream of it, your highness. I am quite sure that would be a rather … unhonorary offense in Dorne.”

“That is right.” Teeth scratched over her neck lightly and she let out a surprised gasp as Oberyn continued, ”I should have them lock you up for such an offense. Or at the very least, I should tie you up.”

She smiled again but this time, it didn't quite reach her eyes. Oberyn sighed at that, stopping the assault on her neck and he let her head fall back against his broad chest. She watched the sea they were facing, the waves far below them building and crashing in a never ending circle. How powerless the water must feel, she thought.

Oberyn's gaze was trained on her, watching the slight crease between her eyebrows that told him something was off.

“What is it, my love?” He asked quietly. He did not care for small talk or for sneakily trying to get something out of her. He wanted her trust. And if something was wrong, he expected to know.

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, ”I would rather not speak about it.” Her voice was quiet and soft and Oberyn felt like there was a small tremor in it.

One of his hands came up to her face, caressing her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, ”And I would rather you did. Please tell me, my love.”

She opened her eyes again at that, slowly turning so that she was facing Oberyn. Almost automatically, he brought one strong arm under her to support her in the water, her legs wrapping around his hips. Their sexes were touching and at any other moment, the red viper would have made his move, slipped a hand onto her bundle of nerves or squeezed her round behind- but not now. He could feel that this was important to her and therefore, by extension, to him.

The woman took a deep breath, working up the nerve to say what she had not wanted to yet reveal, ”You're leaving for Kings Landing tomorrow.”

He gave a small nod, ”I am. It will be a rather boring trip, truly. A few council meetings, a wedding. Two events where every minute spent with the Lannisters will feel like one minute too much.”

Her gaze shifted slightly at that and he fell silent, sensing that this was not what she was referring to. She opened her mouth to speak but he was faster, ”You do not wish for me to leave.”

Oberyn's gaze softened slightly, ”Do you?”

Her mouth closed again as her gaze fell and she gave a small shake of her head, confirming his guess, ”No. I wish you would stay here.”

The viper took her face in for a moment, his free hand still gently caressing her cheek, ”I asked you a while back. You said it was alright with you if I left for a few weeks.”

He had had doubts too, never having been separated from her for so long. Even knowing that he left her in a safe place like Sunspear could not cancel out all the doubts he carried about leaving her alone.

“I thought-” He started once more but she cut him off.

“I think I'm pregnant.”

Oberyn stared at her, his eyes softening as a smile played around his lips, ”My sun, you-”

The legends that would speak of the Red Viper, of the prince of Dorne, of Oberyn Martell years and years later, would claim that he had never been speechless. They were wrong.

He was speechless now.

It took him a few moments to gather the words, his own voice now shaking slightly as he spoke, ”Are you certain?”

“I think so. I mean, I have never been before but- I have not bled in two moons,” she said quietly. His expression changed slightly, his smile faltering, ”Why do you not sound happy about it?”

“I am,” she quickly reassured him, ”I am, it is just-” Finally, she let the strong facade fall and as her shoulders slumped, tears sprang into her eyes, ”I am just so scared, Oberyn.”

His heart broke at the sight in front of him, her round eyes looking up at him with so much uncertainty in them, “Is that why you did not tell me before?”

Her look was confirmation enough and he quickly pulled her closer, hugging her naked body. “Oh, my sun,” he whispered, ”You do not have to be afraid. I will take care of you. Of both of you. You are not alone in this nor will you ever be.”

She hiccuped softly, ”But you said-”

Oberyn shook his head softly, ”I will not go. I will stay here. With you.” His hand left her cheek and wandered to her stomach, gently caressing the curve of it, ” And with our little Martell. ”

She looked at him, her lip quivering slightly, ”Oberyn, you said it was important that you go to King's Landing. You said that because of Elia-”

“Shhhh,” he mumbled, his hand rubbing small circles into her skin, ”That was before. Besides, Elia would want me to stay. To take care of you.”

It became clear to her then, that Oberyn had lost a child before- two, in fact. Despite them not having been his own, they had been his sisters and that had meant they had been as good as his. He was never going to let the same thing happen to his little sun.

She nodded softly, raising her head to get a better look at him and Oberyn kissed her gently, using his hand to push a strand of dark hair behind her ears as he smiled at her, “Come here. Let me take care of you.”

He reached for the soap bar that was resting on a small plate at the side of the pool, rubbing it over her hair for a moment before he placed it back in its spot and brought both hands to her head, massaging it gently.

Oberyn washed her hair and told her about his plans for the future. The things he would buy for the baby before it even saw the light of day, the things he had already ordered to hopefully lessen her discomfort during the pregnancy, the things he wanted to teach their child, the books he wanted to read to them to put them to sleep.

She smiled, listening to his plans for their future as he rinsed her hair.

It didn't seem so scary anymore.

[houseofpendragons]

The Sand Snakes

[Most characters cut; those who remained were changed to some extent]

Obara Sand - Prince Oberyn’s first born; A prickly, hot-tempered woman, long legged, calloused hands, rat brown hair tied up in a knot, and nearing 30. When her father came for her in Oldtown he threw down a spear and told her to pick her weapon, to which she chose the spear, leaving her prostitute mother behind whom not long after drank herself to death

Nymeria Sand “Lady Nym” - She is 25, slim and slender, with long jet black hair usually pulled back in a braid, which pronounces her widows peak. Her mother was a Volantene highborn woman of the noblest blood. Whilst Nym stole all the beauty from Obara she was no less deadly and has been described as vengeful

Tyene Sand - Born from a Septa, she is described as having golden hair, deep blue eyes, dimples that bloom on her cheeks when she smiles, fair of skin, and her voice is both gentle and sweet. Though her hands were not calloused as with Obara, they were just as deadly due to her adeptness for poisons. She and Princess Arianne Martell are as close as sisters, having grown up together, and even bedded the same man together whom took their maidenheads

Sarella Sand “Alleras the Sphinx” - The daughter of the Summer Islander Captain of the Feathered Kiss. She has light brown skin and an insatiable curiosity which strikes up a love for Oldtown in her. It is theorized that she is currently in the Citadel disguised as Alleras the Sphinx (Alleras is Sarella spelled backwards, both characters are half Dornish and half Southern Islander) studying to become a Maester

Elia Sand “Lady Lance/El” - The oldest child of The Red Viper and Ellaria Sand, named after her late aunt Princess Elia Martell. She has her father’s eyes and also wears her hair in a braid. She and Obella are described as worshiping their elder sisters, such as they are worshipped by their younger sisters. Her weapon of choice is without question a lance

Obella Sand - the second daughter of the Prince and his long time paramour, she is described as a terror in the pools of the Water Garden, and is currently a Cupbearer to the Castellan of Sunspear, Manfrey Martell

Dorea Sand - She, like most of her siblings, share the shape of her fathers eyes and is named after her Uncle and the Prince of Sunspear and Dorne, Doran Martell

Loreza Sand “Loree” - The youngest child has just turned 7 and is accompanying her mother Ellaria to Hellholt, which is the seat of Lord Harmen Uller, her grandfather

[crowandmousewritingco]

Summer Days of Dorne

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x gn!reader (Ellaria is mentioned to be involved.)

Words: 963

Rating G (It Oberyn come on. There's a little sexy flirty happening.)

Warnings: Oberyn being Oberyn, but this one is pretty chill.

Summary: Dorne is known for its hot summers so you take comfort in a nice cool pool. Though you catch the attention of a certain Prince.

Author: Mod Mouse

Note: Heres my first fanfiction in awhile and the first work on Crow and Mouse Writing Co. I hope you all enjoy 😋

Summer has always been your favorite season. It was a welcomed relief after the dark and cold winters of your hometown. And now that you lived in Dorne, the kingdom rarely left the summer season. Although on days like today you wished for cooler temperatures. The heat had become unbearable making the castle too muggy for your afternoon reading sessions. That’s when you decided that a dip in the pool would solve all of your heat related problems which was where you found yourself now. 

You dipped your toes into the cool pool with a sigh. The perfect weather was amazing but when the sun beat down a little too long then you started to wish for the cooler summers of your hometown. You let your face lean back on your hands taking in the rays of the sun. Lazy days like this were few and far between since you became the prince of Dorne. Of course Oberyn was more than happy to help you relax, but nothing felt better than cool water on a hot day. Even if something was bothering you, Oberyn would be there to give you some quick loving. And honestly you couldn’t be more happy about it. 

After sunning yourself for a couple more minutes, you stood up and finally let the see through robe fall onto the stones behind you. You slowly slipped into the pool, sighing as the cool water took away the summer heat. The water doing nothing to cover your nudity although you didn’t really mind. If it wasn’t for Oberyn showing you that it was okay to show off your body, you would have been stuck in the historic ways of your hometown. You let yourself lazily glide through the water before deciding that floating on your back sounded like the best idea. You stayed on your back for a moment staring up at the beautiful sky. The clouds slowly drifted across your vision creating and disappearing in a moment's notice. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you held one and sank under the surface. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile Oberyn had just left a meeting he wasn’t entirely thrilled about being called to. Doran needed him to witness some important trade agreements, but Oberyn didn’t think that way. Meetings meant time away from his partners and that was something he wasn’t too keen on. Now that he was free from his responsibility he began his search for you. Oberyn started with the normal spots– the bedroom, library and the garden– but no sign of you. He was ready to go upstairs when he spotted you swimming in the pool. His hungry eyes took in your moving body watching as your muscles moved. His eyes glinted with a spark of mischievousness and he hurried to join you by the pool. After the day he had had, he was ready to have his hands on you. 

You hadn’t noticed that he had approached the pool until you heard him say, “Well I didn’t know we had mermaids in our pool,” Oberyn chuckled as he squatted at the edge of the pool. Turning towards the voice, you opened your eyes and smiled at the sight of your husband. 

“A pool is no place for a mermaid. We must swim free in the salty waves of the ocean,” you playfully replied before swimming over to him. 

Oberyn smirked in return, “I think the best place for a mermaid is in my bed.” 

“Wouldn’t that make your bed too wet?” You teased titling your head to the side. 

“Oh I think my bed gets wet enough with you and Ellaria in it.” Oberyn teased flirtatiously knowing what the two of you were like during last night's activities. 

You couldn’t help but blush at his words. Damn he always knew how to make you shiver. How with just a few words he could make you weak in knees and ready to do whatever he asked. Oberyn had that power over you, and so did Ellaria, but even Ellaria wasn’t immune to Oberyn’s antics. 

“I don’t doubt your abilities but why wait when you can take your mermaid in their own domain.” You replied with an edge of invitation to it. Nothing would please more than for your husband to take you where anyone could walk in and see you.

Oberyn raised his eyebrows as if he was about to question you, but quickly he smiled at the idea. Oberyn’s golden robes were quickly discarded, and your eyes couldn’t help but roam his fit body. All the scars from his past battles were on display for your eyes, and all you wanted to do was to kiss every single one of them. He sat down on the edge and quickly slipped in beside you. Wasting no time putting his hands on you to pull you in for a long kiss. You smiled and kissed him, letting your hands rest on his chest

You broke the kiss and spoke just loud enough for him to hear you, “Someone missed me,” You teased. 

“I always miss you when you aren’t in my arms,” Oberyn purred and nuzzled his face into your neck. “Maybe I should ask the Maesters if there’s a way to keep you attached to me.” 

You chuckled and kissed his cheek before dragging your lips up his cheek, stopping just before his ear. A smirk found its way across your face, opening your mouth, just slightly you dragged your teeth across his ear lobe and whispered, “Well I can think of one way that you can stay attached to me.” 

Oberyn let out a soft moan and pushed you up against the pool wall, kissing you with the heat of the sun itself. What a wonderful summer this was going to be. 

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

GRRM, on the question of the agriculture in the North of Westeros

SJ: From what we’ve seen in the books so far, it looks like even in summer the snow covers most of the lands in the North, and it surely does cover all in winter, doesn’t it? GRRM: I wouldn’t say that snow “covers most of the lands” in summer. Rather than they have occasional summer snows. It never gets really hot in the north, even in summer, but it’s not icy and snowing all the time either. Winter is a different tale. SJ: But quite a lot of people are living there. What do they eat? GRRM: A lot of food is stored. Smoked, salted, packed away in granaries, and so on. The populations along the coast depend on fishing a great deal, and even inland, there is ice fishing on the rivers and on Long Lake. And some of the great lords try and maintain greenhouses to provide for their own castles… the “glass gardens” of Winterfell are referred to several times. But the short answer is… if the winter lasts too long, the food runs out… and then people move south, or starve… SJ: Are there some areas without snow, which are suitable for agriculture, or are there significant temperature changes inside the “bigger seasons”? To grow a harvest, at least a couple of months’ time of warm temperature (15-20 degrees by Celsius) is needed. Is it available in the North? GRRM: Sometimes. It is not something that can be relied on, given the random nature of the seasons, but there are “false springs” and “spirit summers.” The maesters try and monitor temperature grand closely, to advise on when to plant and when to harvest and how much food to store. SJ: And what happens when a winter comes - five, six years long? GRRM: Famine happens. The north is cruel. SJ: Surely, the import of grain from the South alone can’t cover the North’s needs. And, by the way, does it snow in the South during the winter? GRRM: Yes, some times, in some places. The Mountains of the Moon get quite a lot of snow, the Vale and the riverlands and the west rather less, but some. King’s Landing gets snow infrequently, the Storm Lands and the Reach rarely, Oldtown and Dorne almost never.

–June 21, 2001

For more on the seasons and the world of ASOIAF, please see this post.

[francesminos-tt]

Victorian era, Daeron is engaged to Lady Baratheon, thus ensuring a strong alliance for his family, but on his return to Kings Lading, he finally meets his nephew Joffrey, a knight so interesting and handsome that he makes Daeron question everything... angst, Interlized homophobia, denying feelings... pls 🥹🫶

I’m not sure if this is angst enough for you, but it’s the best I can do. Enjoy.

Daeron regretted returning to King’s Landing by ship the moment the ship left Old Town Harbor. The weather was unforgiving this time of the year, strong gust sweeping across the sea, with occasional rain, or even hail. Daeron couldn't sleep in his cold chamber, with howling wind and loud noises of rain drops pouring on the deck. The captain kept the ship carefully near the coast, sailing south first and then traced the shoreline of Dorne. However, the ship still almost got wrecked when sailing through the Stepstones in a storm. Daeron was struck by the severest seasickness of his life. He kept vomiting and vomiting, unable to even hold down a glass of wine. He was about to vomit his guts out when the ship finally sailed past the treacherous water of the Stepstones. Three days later, the ship sailed into the Blackwater Bay.

King’s Landing was a strange place for Daeron. He had left the capital at the young age of four, so his memory of the city was unreliable, to say the least. He was more used to the sunny days of Old Town, when the golden sun met the white wall of the Citadel and the black marble of the Starry Sept. Old Town smelled of flowery delicacy, melons, moonbloom, nightshade, peaches and pomegranates. The long summer days were stiflingly hot, but when the night fell, the city came alive with markets, taverns and pleasure houses open well into the night. Old Town was a place where knowledge met religion, where tradition met foreign values, where restriction met decadence. One could find the holiest place as well as the most extravagant pleasure houses in the Southern part of the realm. Daeron was brought up in such a place of conflict. That was why he considered himself a man with strong beliefs in the Seven, but also a sinner of the most unspeakable crime.

Daeron could tell King’s Landing was different before he even set foot on its soil. For start, the smell was different. No flowery delicacy, only the pungent mix of fish, iron, foreign spices and human filth. He could see the Red Keep in the distance, its red walls half veiled by a thick fog, like an ominous eye of the evil. The harbor was even busier than that of Old Town. Workers were unloading the cargo from the trading ships, merchants rushing to the harbor office to get their paperwork gone, oyster girls sliding skillfully in the crowd with their salty snacks, and armed soldiers patrolling the area. This place was bustling with life.

Daeron gathered his suitcase and walked carefully down the deck. He tried his best to make himself presentable, but the result was not so satisfactory. Days of seasickness and sleep deprivation left him exhausted and weak, his skin so dull and his cheeks so sunken that he looked more like a skeleton than a man. He stink, too. Daeron wondered who would be so unlucky to welcome him back to King’s Landing.

Probably some servant. Or maybe Hel, if she insisted. Daeron’s sister was always the most adventurous one among his siblings, though she didn't look the part.

“Excuse me, sir, are you Daeron Targaryen by any chance?” A young man stopped him on his way to the harbor office.

“Yes.” Daeron replied, “And you are?”

“Uncle!” The young man laughed and gave Daeron a big hug before the blonde could realize what was happening, “It’s been so long since we last met! So nice to see you again!”

Daeron was taken aback by the young man’s sudden intimacy. For a second, he worried that the fishy smell on his clothes might disgust the young man. Then his attention was drawn to the word uncle. Was this young man one of his nephews? He was too old to be Jaehaerys or Maelor, obviously, so who did that leave? Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey. Which one could he be?

“I am terribly sorry,” Daeron found his voice again after a long while, but he was still too shocked to hug the man back, “forgive me not for not recognizing you. It seems my memory isn’t as good as I think it is.”

The young man laughed and took half a step back. His arms were still loosely wrapped around Daeron’s torso, their face so close that Daeron could make out the small freckles adorning the man’s cheek. The man was slightly shorter than Daeron, with dark fluffy curls and darker eyes. Unlike Daeron, who was dressed in a formal suit even after a long journey at sea, the young man was wearing only a shirt and matching pants, with the top buttons undone to expose his beautiful collar bone and sun-kissed skin. Daeron’s eyes landed on the man’s lips, rosy and soft like the freshest petals, now curling up into a bright smile.

“No need to apologize, uncle. I won't blame you for not recognizing me. The last time we met, I was still a toddler.” The man chuckled, “Welcome back, uncle Daeron. I am Joffrey.”

Daeron barely reacted to the name because he was too caught up by how close Joffrey was. He could feel the heat from his dark-haired nephew, smell the faint cologne from Joffrey’s neck, and see the small beads of sweat hanging on Joffrey’s smooth forehead. Daeron went stiff all of a sudden, his palms began to sweat and his breathing quickened by nervousness. Joffrey was too close, too close for Daeron to remain sane.

“Uncle?” Joffrey tilted his head and called Daeron’s name again, “Uncle Daeron?”

“Oh! Sorry.” Daeron lowered his gaze immediately and struggled out of Joffrey’s arms, as if burned by the brunette’s skin, “Thank you for seeing me here, nephew. Forgive my rudeness. The sea journey must have messed up my head.”

“No problem.” Joffrey’s smile resumed, “I volunteered to pick you up, since I work at the harbor office, you know.”

Daeron wanted to ask what Joffrey’s job was, because he didn't believe the brunette’s outfit was appropriate for any job, let alone an office one. But he kept his mouth shut eventually. Maybe things were different here in King’s Landing.

“Besides,” Joffrey spoke, reaching out wrap his arm around Daeron’s shoulder again, “I am curious about you, uncle Daeron. I wonder what kind of a man you have become.”

Not as honorable as you might expect, Daeron thought. He let himself be led to the office to process his paperwork, while keeping his eyes on Joffrey’s snatched waist and cute butt.

“When will your betrothed join us, my dear?” Lady Alicent asked after Daeron had followed her into her private parlor for tea.

“Ellyn will stay with her family for the holiday, mother.” Daeron replied, his voice perfectly flat.

“She can join us for the holiday. I am sure King’s Landing has more to offer than Storm’s End.” Alicent said, stirring her tea after putting one scoop of sugar in it. She sat elegantly in her chair, back straight and shoulder squared, as if she was having tea with the royalty rather than her own son. Daeron couldn’t remember a time when his mother broke her perfect posture. No, Lady Alicent was the epitome of self-discipline.

“Her family is at Storm’s End, mother.” Daeron reminded her as gently as possible. Lady Alicent was a proper woman, but sometimes she just lacked the ability to empathize with others.

“I don’t see any sense for her to stay at that gloomy place any longer, since the wedding will take place in spring.” Alicent took a small bite of the jam filled sponge cake and then her tea, “Perhaps you should send her a letter and ask her to come here. I can't wait to meet my daughter-in-law.”

Daeron’s betrothal with Ellyn Baratheon was made solely by his mother. It was somewhat of a compensation for the failed betrothal of Daeron’s brother Aemond and Ellyn’s sister Floris. Lord Baratheon was furious when Aemond broke the marriage pact, but fortunately, Lady Alicent was able to persuade the old lord that their family still had the chance to form an alliance by the marriage of her youngest son and his lordship’s youngest daughter. Daeron only found out about his betrothal by a letter from the capital. He hadn't even met Ellyn Baratheon yet, only exchanged letters with the young lady. Daeron still felt detached to the matter, as if his mother was talking about someone else. He had to detach himself, or the fate would be too cruel to accept.

He always knew he would marry for the benefit of the family. His own feelings did not matter. Daeron had to spend the rest of his life with Ellyn Baratheon, whether he loved her or not.

No. Daeron was sure he would not love her, not in a romantic way, at least. He was incapable of loving a woman. His interest and affection always ended up on the same sex. He liked the angular features of men, the hard feeling of muscle under his hand, the musky breath, the smell of cologne and sweat, the beautiful body sculptured by the God.

Daeron couldn’t help but think of his nephew. Joffrey. Wild, handsome, and so full of life. Joffrey had occupied his dream ever since their meeting at the harbor. Daeron couldn’t stop thinking about how Joffrey’s smile seemed to brighten up the day, how warm Joffrey’s arm felt around his shoulder, and how beautiful Joffrey was.

Seven. He had sinned for having inappropriate thoughts about his nephew.

“Daeron? Are you listening, my dear?” Alicent’s voice snapped Daeron out of his train of thoughts.

“I am sorry, mother.” Daeron smiled awkwardly, “What were you saying?”

“I said, you should send a letter to invite your betrothed to King’s Landing.” Alicent put down her cup and leaned in to take Daeron’s hand into hers, “Are you okay, dear? You seem a little out of it today.”

“Thank you, mother. I am fine.” Daeron squeezed her hand gently, “Just tired.”

“Perhaps you should retire to your room early. I will tell the servants to prepare something for your sleep.” Alicent suggested, reaching her free hand for the bell.

Daeron nodded. He didn’t think some random concoction would help calm his mind, but he was desperate to be alone right now. He would agree to anything if it meant he could get away from his mother. He loved his mother, and he was sure she loved him back, to an acceptable extent at least, but sometimes her attitude was just suffocating. Lady Alicent would go extreme length to make sure all her children live a proper life, which meant accomplish things at appropriate age. Start studying no later than six, get involved in holy practices from eight, secure a proper marriage pact at eighteen, and marry before twenty. Such were the general rules of the society, and Lady Alicent believed an honorable member of the society needed to follow these rules.

Daeron went to the Sept frequently even though he never really understood the core of the Seven. He didn't object when his mother informed him in the letter that she had arranged a desirable marriage pact for him. Daeron guessed it was a show of love from his mother that she ever bothered to send a letter to him. All Daeron did was writing back to tell her that he trusted her wise judgment and thank her for the trouble.

It never mattered what Daeron wanted. He had lived his whole life like a puppet, doing everything his mother considered proper and beneficial to their family, so why stop now?

“Get some rest, my son.” Alicent planted a soft kiss on Daeron’s forehead before resuming her upright position, “Hopefully I will see you tomorrow morning at breakfast.”

“I will. Thank you, mother.” Daeron said, a strained smile on his face. He didn't know if his mother sensed his melancholy, but even if she did, she wouldn't ask about it anyway.

Daeron went straight back to his room located on the other wing of the mansion. The Red Keep was a magcificent place, having more than a dozen of bedrooms, a large ballroom, three lounges, two libraries, and numerous rooms for various entertainment purposes. There was a large kitchen on the ground floor, with spaces for servants and helpers. The Targaryen family had estates in other parts of the realm too, such as the Dragonstone mansion that Daeron’s half-sister and her family currently resided.

Not Joffrey though. Joffrey lived in Red Keep, in one of the guestrooms, since his work required him to stay in the capital. Lady Alicent begrudgingly invited the young man to live under her roof, because, again, it was considered a properly thing for a step grandmother to do.

Daeron was thinking about Joffrey’s bright smile when he bumped into the brunette right in front of his own room.

“Nephew?” Daeron gasped, his light violet eyes widened in surprise, “What are you doing outside my room?”

“Waiting for you, of course.” Joffrey flashed a smile, as bright as how Daeron remembered it, “You disappeared after dinner. I reckon I’d better wait here so I don’t miss you.”

“Do you need to discuss anything with me? Is it important?” Daeron took a step back, trying to stay a safe distance away from the brunette. Joffrey was like a house on fire; Daeron would be engulfed in flame if he stayed too close.

“I do have something I want to ask you.” Joffrey said, eyeing the closed door, “But it is best to discuss in private. Why don’t you ask me in, uncle?”

Daeron bit his lower lip and stayed silent for a long while. He was torn. On one hand, he was thrilled to invite Joffrey into his room, but on the other hand, he was scared to let others invade in his private space. Daeron had always been a private person. He had to, because he had so much to hide. He had to stay behind closed door, because he couldn't afford to expose his dirtiest secret to anyone. He risked losing everything.

Joffrey leaned against the wall and waited patiently for Daeron to give his answer. He still had a faint smile on his face, but his dark eyes contained something Daeron could not decipher. Was it guilt? What was Joffrey guilty of?

“We don't have all night, uncle.” Joffrey reminded him in a whisper.

A maid appeared around the corner with a tray in her hands, interrupting the heavy silence.

“Oh! Good evening, Sirs.” She bowed her head at two young gentlemen, “Lady Alicent sent me to bring you the sleep drop, Lord Daeron.”

“Right.” Daeron murmured under his breath, taking the tray from her, “You can go. I will take it from here.”

“But sir-”

“I said go.” Daeron’s voice came out harsher than he intended, “Please, I can take care of myself.”

The maid curtseyed and fled the scene. Even she could feel the tension between the two young lords, so instinct told her to leave before she witnessed anything she shouldn’t.

“Have trouble sleeping, uncle?” Joffrey asked after making sure the maid had already gone, “Perhaps I should go. Sorry to bother you.”

“NO!” Daeron balanced the tray on his left forearm and used his right hand to grab Joffrey’s shoulder, “Don't go. Don't you have things to discuss with me? Come inside.”

Joffrey half turned and lifted his eyes to observe Daeron closely. Joffrey’s eyes were like a bottomless pool of pure darkness, so glassy and so beautiful that Daeron could see his own reflection on them. Daeron didn't know what Joffrey was looking for, but apparently the brunette found the result he needed.

“Okay.” Joffrey whispered, blinking, “If you insist.”

“I do.” Daeron confirmed. For some reason, he had never been more confident of his decisions like he was now. He had no idea what would happen next, but he was damn sure if he let Joffrey go now, he would regret for the rest of his life.

Daeron’s bedroom was a comfortable suite with a four-post bed and a study desk. The hearth was burning quietly, providing much needed warmth. There were a pair of armchairs and a small table in front of the fire. Daeron put the tray down on the table before gesturing Joffrey to take a seat in one of the armchairs.

“What is that you want to discuss?” Daeron asked after sitting down on the oppose chair.

“How do you find King’s Landing so far, uncle?” Joffrey asked, turning his head from the hearth to look at Daeron, his face painted a lovely yellow by the fire.

“Pleasant. I am glad to be back.” Daeron replied before he could really understand the question. He had practiced the answer in his mind for so many times in case someone asked him about it.

“Honestly, I don't believe you, uncle.” Joffrey said, “If it’s truly the case, you won't need sleep drops to help you rest. So I am going to ask you again. How do you find King’s Landing?”

Daeron’s heart skipped a beat. No one had ever seen through his practiced lie before, not in his face, anyway. How could Joffrey expose his lie to his face so easily?

“…Tolerable.” Daeron answered with a helpless sigh. He hadn’t really thought about his feelings towards the city he was supposed to call home, so tolerable was the best he could come up with right now.

“I won't blame you. According to my knowledge, King’s Landing is quite different from anywhere else in the realm. I feel like an outsider when I am visiting Dragonstone, too, you know. Like, everything is quieter there.” Joffrey shrugged, “The sky is clearer and people are, let’s say, more content with their lives.”

“But you like it more here.” Daeron said.

“Yes.” Joffrey nodded, never one to hide his thoughts, “Hard to believe, isn't it? King’s Landing is like a melting pot of all sorts of people having their own agendas. I am used to reaching for my pocket whenever someone bumps into me on the street. Besides, the city smells like shit too.”

Daeron chuckled. What Joffrey had just described was absolutely true. He was intrigued by how eloquent Joffrey could be, and the way the brunette vividly described the city genuinely impressed him. Joffrey Velaryon was truly an interesting character. His very presence was the reason why the capital was tolerable to Daeron. If not for Joffrey, King’s Landing would just be a filthy place drowned by shit and industrial waste.

“Again, despite all the things you say, you like King’s Landing.” Daeron pointed out, finally relaxing in his chair. He had grown the habit of staying upright like his mother all the time, to keep the family’s honor, but here, in the privacy of his room and with Joffrey, Daeron slowly let his guard down. It was impossible not to be influenced by Joffrey’s easygoing demeanor.

“I do. I find the people interesting. All the different values, ambitions, desires, and culture. Just fascinating.” Joffrey rested his chin in his hand, “I have learned a lot here, but there is so much more to explore still. Currently, my biggest interest is you, uncle.”

Daeron almost choked on his own spit. No, he told himself, Joffrey didn't mean it like that. His nephew was probably curious about his sudden return to the capital. Nothing more. Stop acting like an awkward boy.

“I am afraid you will be disappointed, nephew. I am a simple man, you see. I don't have much to interest you.” Daeron said, clasping his hands together to stop them from fidgeting.

“I understand that you are coming back to get married.” Joffrey spoke, his voice almost drowned out by the crackling fire, “Lady Ellyn from House Baratheon, right? I have met her in a ball once. Pretty lady, the most agreeable among her sisters, I would say.”

“I haven’t met her yet.” Daeron admitted. He probably shouldn't reveal this to Joffrey, but somehow, Joffrey had the ability to dig the honest side out from people.

“Oh,” Joffrey said, a bit surprised, “I see.”

“My mother arranged the marriage for me. Lord Baratheon is a longtime business partner of the family, so marrying will strengthen the bond between our house and House Baratheon.” Daeron said, clasping his hands so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“How can you know your feelings for Lady Ellyn if you haven't met her yet?” Joffrey asked, genuinely confused, “What if you don't like her? What if she doesn't like you? How are you supposed to spend the rest of your lives together if you don't having feelings for each other?”

“Marriage isn't about feelings.” Daeron said, more like a reminder to himself than to Joffrey.

“Fuck that.” Joffrey hissed, “Who makes you believe in such nonsense? Feelings are the foundation of a happy marriage.”

“Is that why you haven't been betrothed yet?” Daeron blurted out before he could stop himself, “Haven’t found anyone you like?”

Joffrey pursed his lips together and went silent. Daeron’s question might sound a bit intruding, but it was not an offensive one. Why did Joffrey choose to stay silent now?

“Joffrey?” Daeron called the brunette’s name, “It’s okay if you don't want to answer. I am sorry. I didn't mean to pry.”

“There is someone I like.” Joffrey interrupted Daeron’s babbling, “But that person is not marriage material.”

“Why? You never know unless you try. Is the lady of low birth?”

Joffrey laughed, before whispering eventually.

“There is no lady to begin with.”

“What do you mean? You did say you have feelings for someone.” Daeron frowned, not quite sure where this conversation was going, “How come there is no lady...”

Daeron trailed off, as realization struck him like lightening. Could it be? But how? What was the odds of Joffrey sharing the same sinful thoughts with him?

“I’ve never liked women, not in a romantic way.” Joffrey spoke, his voice low but firm, “My feelings are always towards the same sex.”

“Stop it,” Daeron hissed, looking down, his voice trembling, “stop it, Joffrey.”

Daeron saw a pair of boots stopping before him, as Joffrey had gotten up from the armchair and walked to Daeron’s side. Joffrey stood so close that their knees almost touched.

“Why?” Joffrey’s voice came from above, “I am just being honest. Honesty is a virtue, uncle.”

Now Daeron could smell Joffrey’s cologne, and the faint trace of brandy.

“You are drunk, nephew. You are not thinking straight.” Daeron said, trying his best to keep his voice flat, “I will let your words slip this time.”

“I can't be more sober than I am now.” Joffrey put his hands on Daeron’s shoulder and pushed gently, forcing the blonde to lean on the chair as he straddled his uncle, “I like men. I’ve always liked men, and I like you.”

“You don't know what you are talking about.” Daeron murmured, but he didn't push Joffrey away. He couldn't. He was paralyzed by the brunette’s closeness.

“You are interested in me as well, aren’t you?” Joffrey grabbed Daeron’s hand and led it to his own chest, “You couldn’t stop checking me out as soon as we met at the harbor.”

Joffrey’s skin was scorching hot against Daeron’s own, and Daeron could feel the other man’s racing heart against his palm.

“You can feel me if you like.” Joffrey whispered, guiding Daeron’s hand down from his chest to his stomach, then further down to his navel, his lower abdomen, and finally his groin.

Daeron shivered as his hand touched something hard and twitching over Joffrey’s pants. He had never touched another man’s cock before, but he could tell Joffrey was already well aroused from the wetness of the fabric. Daeron swallowed, too fascinated to pull his hand back.

“Admit it, uncle,” Joffrey began to grind on Daeron’s lap, “you want me. Stop lying to yourself.”

“I am getting married,” Daeron managed lamely, “I can't-”

“Then push me away.” Joffrey wrapped his arms around Daeron’s neck to balance himself as he kept grinding, “Push me away and say you don't want me. I will never bother you again.”

Daeron should push him away. He really should, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The Seven always taught him to be tough in face of temptation, but Daeron was weak. Years of attending sept did nothing to help him now, as he was easily led astray by this beautiful young man, who happened to be his nephew.

This was so wrong. Wrong in every level.

“Stop lying to yourself, uncle.” Joffrey whispered in Daeron’s ear before taking the blonde’s earlobe between his teeth and nibbled gently.

Daeron squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He was the one who couldn't think straight now. He had always been standing on the edge of the abyss, and Joffrey was the push he needed to throw himself off the cliff.

“Call my name.” Daeron said, burying his face into Joffrey’s neck and bit down hard.

“Daeron.”

Daeron’s whole body sang at Joffrey’s words. He didn't know what ecstasy was, but this was close enough.

[armandisdaddy]

We’re Just Friends-Modern Au! Rhaenyra x Dornish Male Reader

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Dornish Male Reader (House of Blackmont)

Content/Warning: !!🔞 PLUS ONLY!!, age-gap, sexual tension, lots of jealousy, toxic relationship, strap-on penetration, femme-dom, angst, swearing.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: You and Rhaenyra have been inseparable since you were kids. She accepted you when you could express who you really were to anyone else and overtime you’ve grown to love her in ways a bestfriend shouldn’t. Should you tell her or is it worth possibly losing a friendship?

Author’s Notes: The content/warning section is something I put on all my stories because it will come up eventually and I like to let everyone know it’s for adults and adults only. Also I’ve somewhat changed the ages of Rhaenyra and her brother Aegon so Jace and everyone else aren’t involved in the story.

Chapter One

You and Rhaenyra first met in secondary school for your first year. You had just moved from Dorne over the summer, being the hot topic of discussion when you arrived Y/N Blackmont. One of the most prestigious families of Westoros in King’s Landing. You were walking down the hall dressed in the normal outfit set out for yourself everyday a preppy button up, a skirt, and some platformed boots.

As everyone knew Dorne was a more accepting culture. Women were sexually liberated and men were allowed to take on the lovers that suited them men or women. But in King’s Landing it was foreign to them and of course ignorance came along with it. The bullying was relentless on your first day only stopping when Rhaenyra Targaryen spoke up for you. She was a few years ahead of you and seemed to be an all around tomboy.

Aegon and his group of dick wads had been the ones making thing difficult for you, following you around nonstop projecting no doubt. “Hey…are you a boy or a girl?” It was a good thing you had thick skin an even sharper tongue. “Why Aegon? Do you think I’m pretty?” He grimaced and cocked a fist back before his older sister grabbed onto his shoulder pulling him aside. “What the fuck are you doing?” She scolded him like a mother.

She was thin and a little taller than an average girl. Her skin pale like snow and eyes the color of lavender. Her silver locks were cut short and her style well let’s just say the both of you were very androgynous. “I’m sorry about my brother he can be a cunt…and you are?” You were a bit shocked that she even bothered to acknowledge you. “Oh yeah it’s okay…I prepared myself for someone to come fucking with me today. I’m Y/N…Y/N Blackmont.”

“Well, Y/N I think you and I are going to great friends…don’t you think?” She wrapped her arm into yours and dragged you away like you were her new prized pet and you two have been inseparable ever since. The years had passed and Rhaenyra had graduated from King’s Landing Prep and went to uni and two years later you soon followed. The two of you had become roommates and every professor and student knew if they saw one of you the other was not too far behind.

It seemed like it took forever for Friday to come, but finally it was here. You had exams to do and Rhaenyra had no classes today so she was at home waiting for you. You decided with how well you did it was time to celebrate so you went to the liquor store and bought a bottle of Dorne’s best tequila. Coming through the door your smile quickly turned into a frown seeing who was on your couch. What the fuck was she doing here?

Rhaenyra’s “girlfriend” Lydia Tyrell, now in the beginning you actually wanted to like her, but it was clear that Ms. Tyrell wanted to be the only important person in Rhaenyra’s life. She made it a point to always make the plan you two made fall through. She often threw snarky jabs at you that Rhaenyra was to cunt drunk to pick up on, but you endured for the happiness of your friend.

“Oh..Lydia…you’re here…” You tried to seem happy about her being there, but you failed horribly. “Y/N..” She responded coldly, soon you were interrupted and your smile returned seeing her come out of her room just as excited to see you. Running to you, Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around you picking you up in the air, were you really that light? You blush. “Rhae…put me down please..” you laughed like giddy child before she placed you back on the ground. “So how’d my baby do?” You pulled out the bottle of tequila and squealed. “I passed bitch!!!!” The two of you jumped up and down like highschool girls and Lydia cleared her throat causing the both of you to look her way.

“Umm..congratulations and everything, butttt we have a party to go to tonight. So sorry to cut your celebration so short, love.” A smug smile curled upon her lips. That condescending little cunt. You gritted your teeth into a cheerful grin. “Oh no it’s fine you made plans before this so it’s no biggy.” Rhaenyra pulled you in to whisper something to you. “We can get fucked up when I get back I promise.” She pulled away smiling at you with that smile that gave you butterflies sometimes. Lydia looked like she could’ve puked and you relished how annoyed you made her. “But while you wait Aegon said he was coming by he wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk to me about what?” She shrugged. “I think he likes you honestly.” You scoffed and gagged. “You’re not trying to hook me up with your brother. The same brother that bullied me, because of how I dress and identify? I think the fuck not..” She winced, remembering just how bad he treated you. “Yes you are right. You know he actually came out last year. And he’s been talking about you nonstop for some reason.”

“I’m not the least bit attracted to him so no.” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes and playfully popped the back of your thigh. “Well, you should find someone you like…you’ve never had a boyfriend or girlfriend since I’ve known you.” She was right you weren’t too good at dating. You were a bit awkward with affection and girls didn’t actually gravitate to you since you were on the feminine side yourself. “Rhae…you know I would like my own person…but people don’t stick around long enough to get past all of this.” You sighed

“But, I’ll be fine my toys are my lovers.” You chuckled and Rhae gave you this look that you couldn’t quite read, but it made you nervous. “Well, I’m going to take a shower and start getting drunk in my room. You two have fun at your party. Love ya.” You said sweetly before disappearing in the back of the apartment. “Love you too.” She yelled in your direction.

You sighed after your shower taking two shots of the harsh but smooth spirit. You blasted your music hearing your best friend and her bitch of a girlfriend going at it in the next room…gross. Soon you heard a knock on the door and you got up to answer. You were in some spandex shorts and a crop top. Your dark locks still wet from the shower were pinned up with a hair clip. Opening the door it was her brother. “Hey, Y/N. Can I come in? I brought party favors.” He held up two bottles of tequila and you smiled somewhat. “Oh yeah come in, let me go get my bottle from my room.” You noticed his wandering eyes and gave him a cheeky smile. “Yeah I know I look good.” you teased.

Once you were back you sat on the couch next to him and turned on the tv, the silence between the two of you was deafening. “So I heard you passed your exam.” This was how he was going to start the conversation? “Oh yeah. I kinda psyched myself out, but I got a perfect score.” He smiled giving you a friendly push, “That’s good. You’re pretty damn smart any way.” You smile, “Thanks.” He cleared his throat again you could sense him getting a tad nervous. “So…Y/N first and foremost I want to apologize for the way I treated you when we were kids. I’m was an idiot, trying to deal with my own shit and I don’t know if Nyra has told you, but I’m gay…” You listened intently knowing where this was probably headed. “When did you figure that out?”

He smiled and looked down to his shoes before his lavender gaze found your sweet pools of honey. “If I’m being honest around the time I saw you..” That was a shocker you basically despised one another or so you thought. “Oh so you were taking your insecurities out on me?” He looked away from you and sighed. “Look, I’ve been thinking about how I was going to say this all day, but I like you a lot..and I was hoping we could start over and I could take you out?”

You smiled a bit and thought about it honestly what could it hurt a date could only either go great or not like they plan but forgiving him wouldn’t hurt you either. “Okay, well I forgive you and sure you can take me out on a date.” He smiled and hugged you kissing your cheek. Your cheeks flushed and you opened your mouth to speak, but you were interrupted by Lydia barging out of Rhaenyra’s room. “I’m fucking sick of this! You always take him everywhere we go. On dates, movies, parties…when can I ever have you to myself.”

Rhaenyra was seething her face red with anger. “I’ve noticed you don’t like him and I want to know why? He’s done nothing, but be nice to you and you insist on being a cold bitch!” Lydia was in shock, you and Aegon were meer bystanders. “I wouldn’t be so bothered by Y/N if you weren’t so clearly in love with him.”Lydia stormed out and Rhaenyra turned to you. Aegon hopped up going into the kitchen to grab some shot glasses. “Time to get fucked up!” He yelled and you laughed nervously, grabbing Rhaenyra’s hand.

“Let me talk to her for a second..we will be back.” He nodded and you pulled her into your room. “What the fuck just happened?” You asked and Rhaenyra bursted into tears. “I mentioned that I wanted you to come with us I know how nervous you were about being alone with my brother and I said it would be a good idea for you to maybe meet someone there…and that’s when she stormed out…I know I’ve been oblivious to how she’s treated you the last two years, but she’s brought you up so much lately. Starting arguments about you specifically asking why do you have to live here as if I’d kick you out for her.”

You pulled her into your chest for a hug and sighed rocking her slowly. “It’s alright she was a bitch anyway I only tolerated her, because I wanted you to be happy.” She held onto your slender waist tightly and sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve broken it off with her as soon as you told me.” You sigh humming. “I just wanted you to be happy Rhae.” She could hear your heart beating..oh how it pounded with her laying on you this way. “Maybe we should go take some shots.” You picked her up and led her to the kitchen.

Later that night you all were drunk off your asses and you and Aegon were getting rather acquainted with each other dancing and laughing together. Rhaenyra watched them closely and sulked the green with jealousy. Then you favorite song came on and she stood up to take you away from her little brother and held you from behind swaying you. You melted into her, her brother long passed out once he hit the couch. She sang to you and you smiled shivers going down your spine as she place a sweet kiss against your shoulder.

“She was right…” you look out of the corner of your eye. “What?” Her voice a soft whisper, “Lydia…she was right..I love you.” You laughed nervously “Of course I love you too, you’re my bestfriend, Rhae.” She shook her head and pulled you away into her room locking the door behind you. She called you by the nick name she had given and seemed to be fighting with herself. “No…I want you, Y/N. You don’t understand how badly I want you.” You were still dizzy from the tequila, but she said it. “But, I thought you only liked girls…what about Lydia…what about Aegon?”

She chuckled, “Fuck her and he can always find someone else. And I do mostly…but I like you too.” Her hands soft cupped you delicately chiseled face and pulled you in for a kiss. The taste of the tequila on her tongue excited you. Her hands quickly finding their way on your body. Your slender yet toned frame was surprisingly soft like that of the women she’s had before.

“Rhaenyra…” You whimpered her name and she cooed inhaling your scent. You smelled sweet like vanilla and she groaned reaching into you shorts grabbing onto your tones buttocks your hands reaching up her tank top to cup her breasts. Catching your lips again she moaned into them and bit at the soft supple flesh of your bottom lip. Your cock twitching within your shorts.

She of course had the upper hand dominating you with just a kiss. She a hand to the front of your short cupping your cock squeezing slightly you gasped causing you to leak into her hand. “You’re pathetic you know that…” She looked at you and smiled leaning in to kiss you again when you both heard a loud crash and Aegon yelling something inaudible… “Fuck..” you both hiss. “Rhaenyra opened the door and walked out first. “What the fuck have you broken now?” She groaned “Aegon, my fucking coffee table?!?!”

You laughed soon following behind her. He tried getting up to piss, in his words and fell in the coffee table. She sighed holding two fingers to the bridge of her nose and you were seeing if he was okay. The two of you carried him to her bed and then went back to clean up the mess in the living room. “Would you like to come sleep with me tonight?” By the time you two were finished you were far to exhausted to continue with what had just so instead she wrapped her arms about you and laid on your chest while you fingers slid up and down her back. She fell asleep, but you stayed awake wondering what was to happen now..

To be continued…

[xxpeppermintxx109]

The Prince of Dorne had been felled by a wingless dragon.

- qoren, chapter xiv, glbh

He gathered her into his arms, a burning sun embracing a weeping dragon, and though her grief was like water to fire, he held her ever tighter.

(Once, he had thought her to be the fire of them both—a dragon.

“We can stay here a while,” Qoren whispered into her hair. “Even if you catch fire, I’ll still hold you as long as you need. I may not be a dragon, but I’ll endure it. For you, Shaera, I’ll burn.”

But now…now her tears drowned him like the hot summer sea. How could he ever forget that first and foremost, she was of the sea. And the sea always did well to absorb the sun’s heat.)

- qoren, chapter xxxii, glbh

“But I will certainly strive to make you as happy as I can, even if it’s not half as much as you deserve.”

“I don’t deserve as much as you seem to think, my prince,” Shaera whispered with burning shame.

“Unfortunately for you, Shaera Velaryon, I believe you deserve the world and more.”

- shaera, chapter xxiv, glbh

qoren and shaera from green lies, black hearts

[dtyfp2]

Prologue

The Great War

“…they say she is a great beauty,” Theon tells Robb as they walk just outside the walls of Winterfell, watching Bran and Rickon ride their horses near by. Jon is with them, he walked alongside his brother as their four direwolves play nearby, yipping and growling as they fight over a large stick.

“Who?” Robb asks, looking away from little Rickon to glance at his friend, his brother really, Robb can’t remember a life without Theon, nor can he with Jon.

“The Princess Helen, they say she is a great beauty,” Jon repeats.

“When have you ever seen the princess?” Robb chortles, a little surprised at the turn of Theon’s questioning.

“The Realm’s delight, the face that launched a 1000 ships, isn’t that what she’s called?” Jon asks out loud.

“Well, she must be delightful if they call her that, even this far up North,” Theon says off handedly, glancing down at Greywind who had fallen into dutiful step beside his master. Robb shoos him off, encouraging him to go play and he runs off with Ghost after a squirrel.

“Well, you’ve met her before, haven’t you?” Theon asks Robb, shoving his shoulder in a teasing way after he notices the future Lord of Winterfell’s silence.

“Once, we were children. I hardly remember it,” Robb laughs as he shoves Theon back.

“Well, come on then, what do you remember?” Jon asks, laughing when Robb bumps into him.

“She had…skinny legs, a missing front tooth, and…strong opinions,” Robb answers with a sigh.

“Why do you think the King has decided to come all the way to Winterfell? He could have just as easily ordered Father to Kingslanding,” Jon wonders suddenly. Robb has admittedly wondered the same, but his parents didn’t seem worried so he couldn’t be either.

“The King hasn’t stepped North in over 10 years at least, perhaps he wants to visit his kingdom,” Robb answers, peeking back at Bran who was riding circles around Summer.

“We should get back inside before it gets dark, mother will be furious if we keep these two out any longer,” Robb decides, whistling for the remaining direwolves to follow as he promptly turns around.

”…where do you think that ship is going Helen?” Myrcella asks, pointing far off into the distance as she shakes her elder sisters arm. Helen had brought her two youngest siblings out, they sat at the boating dock to watch all the ships leave. The castle has too somber, having been that way since the Lord Jon Arryn’s death a few days ago.

“That one with the big sail? I think it’s going to Dorne, I think it’ll face ferocious pirates but will return home victorious, with barrels of delicious Dornish wine for us to drink,” Helen answers after thinking a while. The three royal siblings sit right at the edge on the stone pathway, their feet dangling over the edge. Ser Barristan Selmy and your uncle, Ser Jaime Lannister stand behind you, keeping watch as the people of Kingslanding scurry around. But they wouldn’t hurt you, no, you’ve been visiting for years now and they’ve never been anything but kind.

“What about you, Tommen? Where do you think that little one is going?” You ask your youngest brother, raising a hand to smooth out his pretty golden hair.

“I think it’s gone fishing! Perhaps we’ll eat it later tonight,” Tommen perks up.

“Perhaps we will,” you laugh, leaning back on your hands to allow the warmth of the sun to heat your face.

“Helen, I’m hungry,” Myrcella complains, the talk of fish reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since that morning.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we? Let’s go back home,” you nod, picking yourself up first before offering a hand to each of your younger siblings. Myrcella is quick to accept and get up, but Tommen crosses his arms and remains sitting.

“But I want to stay,” Tommen complains as you kneel down beside him.

“Come on, dear Tommen. We’ve had enough sun, and besides, I think our uncle and Ser Selmy must be feeling very hot having been standing in the sun with all that armour on, don’t you think?” You ask him, quietly whispering as if you were sharing a secret with him as you both peek back at the two members of the esteemed Kingsguard.

“I think our uncle Jaime is looking a little red, don’t you think?” You whisper as Tommen giggles and allows you to help him up.

Tommen runs to catch up with Myrcella, and the two are followed closely by Jaime as Ser Barristan waits for you.

“Have you enjoyed your time in the sun, princess?” A sweet older lady asks as you walk back.

“I have, thank you for allowing us to sit in the silence,” you smile at her as you pull out a few gold dragons.

“Oh, no, please, there is no need, Princess,” the lady shakes her head, refusing your gift sincerely.

“You ensured we wouldn’t be interrupted, I’m sure we’ve inconvienced you today. Please, I will not feel right unless you accept,” you insist, reaching out for her hands so you could place the few golden coins into her hands. You think Ser Selmy flinches a little at your action, but he doesn’t do anything.

“To serve you, princess, is never an inconvience. I was happy to do it,” she smiles as you continue to hold her hands in your own. You pay no mind to dirt on her fingers, was she handling fish before this?

“I will not forget this, thank you,” you smile as you offer her a polite curtesy, allowing for Ser Selmy to lead you back to the castle, after your little brother and sister.

He offers you a tissue as you walk, and you accept it with thanks, quickly wiping the smell of fish from your hands.

As you walk the path back to the Red Keep, the common men and women bow politely as you pass. It never ceases to amaze Ser Selmy, how beloved you were by the people. It almost reminds him of the times he walked with Rhaegar Targaryen all those years ago, but it was different. Rhaegar was beloved because he was meant to be King after his father, he was a beacon of hope amongst his fathers horrid reign. You, on the otherhand, were not meant to be Queen. The people loved you because you were kind, because you walked amongst them as an equal. Ser Selmy wholeheartedly believes that if you could walk through Kingslanding naked, with a basket of gold upon your head, and you’d remain unharmed. The people would rally around you and ensure your safety, delivering you home with all the gold and your maidenhood intact.

“Does my father still sit with the Lord Jon Arryn?” You ask Ser Borros Blount as you pass him outside the room Jon Arryn’s body rests. You frown as you glance at the door, he’s been inside all day, since before you woke until now, even after the sun begins to set.

“He has asked for no one to bother him, princess,” Ser Borros warns you. Your father had been in a foul mood since the death of his greatest mentor. Your father was known to have a temper, but never towards you. Never ever towards you.

“No worries, Ser Borros, it is only I,” you smile at him before entering.

“Leave me alone!” Your father bellows, so loudly it was a reminiscent of the mighty warrior he once was. Anyone else would have left immediantly, but you do not.

“It’s only me, father,” you hum as you kneel beside him.

“You smell like fish,” your father grumbles as you wrap your arm around him and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I took Myrcella and Tommen to the docks to watch the ships. It was nice outside, you should get some sun too, father,” you answer as you sigh.

“The Lord Jon Arryn will not go anywhere, father. Come eat with me, bathe, and have a good nights rest. It will make you feel better,” you promise him as your father raises a hand to rest on your own.

“He was like a father to me,” your father says quietly, shame evident in his tone.

“He was certainly a good man, among the best if you ask me. Very smart too,” you agree as you rub your fathers back.

“You became King of the Seven Kingdoms under his tutledge, father. You have brought peace and stability after the reign of the Mad King. You are a good father, proud, and a mighty warrior. He was very proud of you, he told me himself,” you tell him softly.

“He said that?” Your father asks surprisedly.

“He did, well technically he said that the greatest thing you’ve ever done is be one half of the whole that made me. But that’s neither here nor there,” you joke, forcing a laugh from your father for the first time since Lord Arryn’s death.

“I jest, the Lord Arryn was very proud. I am sure he rests well, knowing the boy he watched grow into a man, grow into a King, will ensure peace within the Kingdom’s for generations to come,” you tell your father.

“I have to pick a new hand now, who could possibly live up to Jon?” Your father asks rhetorically.

“Your mother would have me place your grandfather there, I imagine,” he grumbles.

“Who would you like to have, father?” You ask him, ignoring the slight he made against your grandfather. Your father thinks for a moment with a sigh.

“Perhaps I’ll ask Ned Stark. He’s a good man, an honourable man, I trust him,” your father confides in you.

“I think the Lord Stark would be an excellent choice father. What better choice is there than the man you grew up alongside under the Lord Jon Arryn’s watchful eye?” You agree.

“I shall have to call him down to Kingslanding soon then,” your father plans. You look down at your father, a beaten and broken man. Nothing like the King and father you have known him to be.

“Why don’t we go North, father? Let the people up North see you, you are their king, after all. It’ll be nice to get some fresh air away from Kingslanding, don’t you think?” You ask. He doesn’t answer right away, but you know he’s considering your thoughts. The thought of seeing Ned Stark again seems to brighten your fathers spirits a little.

But you don’t want him to think too hard now. Your father needs some rest before making any serious decision, especially one so consequential like chosing his Hand.

“Come eat with me and breathe some fresh air, I’m starving and I’m sure you are too having been in here all day. Someone else can come sit with our Lord Hand, perhaps Lysa will come,” you encourage as you get up, offering a hand for your father.

“Alright,” he sighs as he picks himself up. You link your arm with your father as you both walk out. Ser Borros and Ser Barristan were still waiting, and seemingly stand a bit taller when you (to their surprise) walk out with the King.

“Come, father, I hear the recent fishing trips have been bountiful, perhaps they have something grilled for us waiting,” you suggest.

“I don’t want fish, I want boar,” he grumbles.

“Then we shall have boar father,” you laugh, pulling the King along faster than he would have liked to walk. But he bears no mind, the sound of your laughter is a welcome repreieve from the pain he felt in his heart.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Quarters of King's Landing

Vast swathes of empty land outside of King's Landing were separated and converted into Quarters. Each Quarter is set aside for lords, ladies, and anyone from a particular kingdom within Westeros. A sheriff is appointed to each Quarter, to maintain law and order. These Quarters came into being after the conquest, with the Dornish Quarter being the last of them. They do not just serve as a place of residence for those wanting to spend time in the Crown Lands. They are also places where one could find specialties from each region.

The Northern Quarter: Lumber, furs and pelts, fine wool and yarn, cured salmon and salt-cured sturgeon roe, true green and blue dyes obtained from winter roses and their leaves, and a rare, costly perfume that can only be made from winter roses are the most sought after goods. Some of the best hunters and trackers can be found in the Northern Quarter, along with some of the best boxers and wrestlers. Their seers are revered, and people from all over come to them for guidance on future decisions. Festivals sacred to the Old Gods are celebrated here.

The Vale Quarter: Weapons and armor. Some of the best plate and swords and mail can be found here, along with the best war horses. The best place to look for a master-at-arms would be in the Vale Quarter. Some of the finest sculptors for marble and stone can be found here. Equestrian events are the order of the day in the Vale Quarter.

The Stormlands Quarter: Some of the best shipwrights, boatbuilders, and sailors can be found here. There is even a hall for their fighters to put on boxing matches. Fighters from all over Westeros and beyond come to compete and wagers have reached record-breaking numbers in some instances.

The Dornish Quarter: Dates, Camels, and Sand Steeds can be found here, along with the finest linen and cotton, and lightweight hauberks suited for exceedingly hot weather. True red dye, one obtained from tiny insects that live only in Dorne, is sold in the Dornish quarter. A racing track can be found here, for horse and camel races.

The Reach Quarter: All manner of perfumes and oils, rare vintages and the finest silk. Their shipwrights are as good as those found in the Stormlands Quarter. Books of all kinds can be found here. Whenever the weather is fine, there are poetry and storytelling evenings.

The Westerlands Quarter: The best smiths and jewelers and glassmakers from in and around Lannisport come here. Gold and silver and platinum jewelry can be found here, as is beautiful hand-blown glass. Here one can find acrobats and ribbon dancers and tightrope walkers performing if the weather is clear.

The Riverlands Quarter: The best boatmakers and archers. Trackers from the Riverlands Quarter are as good as those found in the Northern Quarter. The nobles in this Quarter organize boat races along the Black Water Rush during late spring and summer.

The Iron Islands Quarter: Whale meat and whale oil can be found here, as well as shipwrights, sailors and whalers looking to ply their trade. Finger dancers and fire dances are held here and attract quite a crowd.

[boyanabela]

The Dragon Prince & The Sun Pruncess

Prologue

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Warnings: nothing for the prologue

Summary: It follows the reign of Viserys I Targaryen, in the most peaceful period in Westeros, for a time, but most importantly, Aemond'One-Eye'Targaryens and his lovers', (Y/N) Martells, greatest love story through the ages.

300 AC, Dorne

It is the most humid of days, with the Sun beating down with its harsh rays, that did little to calm down the Princess, who had just received news of her dear uncle's death.

Her fury knew no bounds. Her blood is hot like the summer Sun, coursing through her veins. She heard all about the man responsible for her uncle's death and the only thing on her mind-vengeance, but she had to control herself.

Arienne Nymeros Martell liked to think of herself as a woman of cunning, and she was. For all her many talents she was quite charming, and could easily get people on her side. She was sitting in her chambers, when she heard a knock at her door. Little Myrcella Baratheon, had come to join her, must be her boredom that brought her to me, she thought.

Myrcella walked in with her golden curls bouncing around her like the Sun's rays. Her pale pink dress did little to hide her nervous hands playing together. Arienne stood up, her emerald skirt swinging on the golden stone floor.

Little Queen, you've come to me for some delightful conversation? She asked the young girl, offering her a small smile, even though beneath it all she didn't feel like it.

Myrcella gave her a look of pity, her round green eyes full with unshed tears. I came here to offer my condolences. I've heard you lost someone.  The child let out with a shaky breath. Arienne didn't let the girl stay in that poor state, opting to instead cheer her. Thank you, little Queen. She grabbed the child by her arms, entirely engulfing her if it weren't for her short stature.

I won't be Queen. The Baratheon child insisted, slightly pouting. My brother is the King. She whispered, sitting on the wooden chair by the balcony overlooking the grand sea.

 Have you heard about the story of The Dragon Prince & The Sun Princess? Arienne asked Myrcella, standing near the table, a few books on top of it. No… the golden-haired girl answered sadly.

Come. She beckoned the child next to her. Let me tell you about a Princess turned Queen. She sat down on the bed, the smooth sheets wrinkling underneath her. Myrcella gives her undivided attention.

The story begins with the impressive reign of the Targaryens, some would say, but most importantly the second son of Viserys I, Aemond Targaryen, and our very own Princess of Dorne. Her name was (Y/N) Nymeros Martell.