#in this one oberyn brings home a bastard baby of his own and its his first and only son

[pettyprocrastination]

lore we have decided on for oberyn martell with @joel-mlller @thesadvampire

his only son is absolutely pathetic when it comes to physical activities. cannot throw a ball without tripping over his own two feet. Has been this way since he was a child and will be as an adult. becomes competent through years and years of training but even grown up he’ll still trip walking up stairs and thwack his head on doors. As a baby you might as well either never set him down or put that baby in armor cause that mfer is falling all over

1. is he yours? no. you (oberyns wife) never wanted to sire children and never will. but when he brings the babe home his little infant brain looks at you and goes ‘ah. that is mother’ and will outright refuse to be told otherwise. Will shriek and cry all goddamn night long until you come in and bounce him in your arms and he will finally settle. Always doing the uppy hands for you and mumbling “muh???muh???” to get your attention. Loves ellaria as second mother but YOU are prime mama despite your lack of maternal instincts you just sigh and go ‘well. i guess this is my baby now’ and are his mother. Oberyn thinks its hilarious but also seeing you motherly kinda makes his breeding kink go crazy. 

[the-great-bbe]

The children shriek with laughter as the waves roll against their legs. The sweet sound melds with the crashing of the sea, of Mellario and Ellaria gossiping about their beloveds, of Rhaella sighing and relaxing for once. All is bright and golden and warm, save for their ice-cold goblets of sangria. Elia tilts her head back against her chair and smiles. Let those bastards keep that ugly ass throne, she has all she needs right here.

Or, the sangria beach party that Elia and her loved ones deserved. A short fic to start off Summer is for Dorne!

Among his many talents, Elia’s little brother is a master of mixing drinks.

He is a viper after all, and vipers know their poisons and how to mix them. Tequila from the agave blooming across the hillsides pairs perfectly with lime juice and distilled orange blossom nectar to make a margarita. Horchata foamy and fragrant with Summer Islander cinnamon can be elevated with sugarcane rum. And there’s nothing better on the gods’ green earth than red wine—proper Dornish sweetwine, not that diabetic piss from the Arbor—left to idle in icy splendor with strong brandy and fruit. Blood oranges, black strawberries, white nectarines, even a tart green apple or two. Their cousin Manfrey picked them all fresh from his private orchards near the Water Gardens just the day before. The bounty of Dorne for Dorne and Dornishmen alone.

A pitcher of his perfect sangria rests in a bucket full of ice slurry. Already her goblet is half empty, despite her efforts to sip and savor. It tastes so rich on her tongue much abused by dull Riverlands ale and Reacher wines. There are few blood oranges to be found north of the Boneway, even for a Princess of Dorne, and Elia feels the urge to inhale her drink. She sighs and rolls her shoulders. Just another sip for now. Summer explodes on her tongue, ripe and rich and such a dear welcome home.

Elia doesn’t remember the last time she was this happy. On Dragonstone it was a constant haze of sulfur and marine fog, and Kings Landing reeks from miles away. But here, on a long stretch of beach near Saltshore, the sun burns bright and delicious above the palm trees. Not a single cloud in the sapphire sky, nor any fog to mar the turquoise seas. Elia rolls her head back against her wicker chair. Perhaps later she’ll relocate to the hammock strung between two date palms and let the balmy sea breeze lull her and her children to sleep. But for now her precious Rhaenys plays in the surf with her cousins and Viserys, and dear Aegon builds a sandcastle with Oberyn’s help.

Instead of cowering from the Mad King’s rages and simmering with hatred towards her once husband, Elia lounges in the shade. Zinc paste is cloudy white on her shoulders, nose and ears to protect her from the strongest of the sun, just like the children. But the rest of her body is resplendent with shea butter and avocado oil. Thick aloe leaves already sticky with cooling sap wait in a basket by her feet in case she must ward away a sun burn, but her skin soaks up the midmorning sun like a child returning to her mother’s embrace. Gods, but the sun! She stretches her arms above her head and nearly knocks her wide brimmed hat aside. She swears she can feel the sunlight itself like warm silk through her fingers, like a waterfall down her chest to pool in her stomach and ignite joy in her veins.

She lets her gaze fall back towards the sea. When was the last time Rhaenys laughed this loudly? When was the last time Viserys laughed at all? Poor boy, but he, his mother and his baby sister are well in hand now. Targaryens by birth they may be, but the blood of Myriah Martell and Dyanna Dayne run sevenfold in their veins. Dorne shall never turn its back on any child no matter the color of their skin, and even from her shaded refuge Elia sees the freckles blooming across Viserys’s shoulders. Good; the more sun the better. Uncle Lewyn’s eldest daughter Obara throws him headlong into the waves and he shrieks with joy, while her little sister Nym and Doran’s Arianne demand their own toss into the surf. Rhaenys and Manfrey’s daughter Sarella help Lewyn’s Tyene search for shells and crabs, giggling and kicking seaweed at each other. When they find a proper shell, they bring it to Aegon and Oberyn who add it to their castle. Aegon blows a messy kiss onto Rhaenys’s cheek and Elia’s heart runs over with sweet warmth. Her babies, alive and well and happy.

It was a terribly close thing by the end of Robert’s Rebellion. Elia’s correspondence was cut off by Aerys in his paranoia, but she was able to smuggle out a letter to Oberyn when Rhaella left for Dragonstone. He returned with his sellswords to rescue them from their imprisonment, and not a moment sooner—Elia remembers how Kings Landing burned from her view on the ship home to Dorne. To think of what would’ve happened had they stayed…they say that Aerys was cut down by his own Kingsguard, and that the royal nursery was torn to shreds by the Mountain That Rides in search of children to kill.

Elia shudders. Perish the thought, banish it to the seven hells. Rhaegar is dead, and her children are Martells now. Even Rhaella forsook the Targaryen name when they alighted in Sunspear and she was hurried into proper birthing chambers. Daenerys came to the world not as a Targaryen princess but as a Lady Martell of Dorne, with Rhaella Martell the new Lady of Planky Town. Viserys and Aegon shall not give their lives to the Wall and Rhaenys shall not be chained to a Baratheon prince. Not if Westeros intends for Dorne to remain in the Seven Kingdoms, and truth be told Elia wonders if Doran intends to leave anyway. They entered into a kingdom with a union, and perhaps they shall leave with the sundering of one…

But that’s not what matters today. What matters is refilling her goblet. Elia raises it high, and Doran shuffles over with the pitcher. Her dear older brother is shirtless, stained with sand and salt, and there is a sweet flush to his cheeks. Even his bad leg seems fine with the therapy of burning sunlight illuminating their bones from the inside out. Mellario must certainly appreciate that! Her good sister lies on a spread linen sheet on the sands with Ellaria, Oberyn’s paramour. Both of them are bronze in the sun, a silk turban around Mellario’s head and Ellaria’s curls formed into twists down her back. And its’ said that Cersei Lannister is the most beautiful in Westeros, obviously people are blind. They look up at them with mischievous grins, before bumping their heads together and giggling. Elia smirks at Doran. “Careful now, habibi. I believe you’ll be ambushed later in the night and whisked away by a mystery woman.”

He laughs and his eyes crinkle at the edges. “I’ll be sure to not fight back too much.” He plops down next to her and sips at his lemon water. The maesters forbid him from alcohol and sugar until his gout is under control, a true tragedy in Elia’s eyes as the sangria is excellent. But even more excellent is seeing how happy her brother is. Gods, to imagine him mourning her and her babies as they did for uncle Lewyn, it’s a fate she would not wish on her loved ones. She intends to live to a hundred and twenty, just to ensure he’ll always smile at her with crinkled eyes.

Elia leans against his shoulder and peers out towards the cabana higher up towards the oasis grove. “Has Rhaella returned from Saltshore yet? Dany was giving the wet nurse a bit of a hard time.”

“Missed me, have you?” Rhaella, emerged from their cabana and the platters of fruit kept safe from the sea salt there, calls down to them. It’s been only a few months, and Rhaella is unrecognizable. Elia is glad to see the plump roundness of her stomach and thighs where before she was only skin and bone. And her skin, once as pale as parchment and twice as translucent, is as dark as her great-grandmother Dyanna. It glows against her silver-gold hair and lavender eyes, and there is happiness in her face where before there was only stifled fear.

Elia waves Rhaella over to the empty wicker chair by her side. Perhaps later, when the children sleep off their lunch and the adults are properly sauced from sangrias and margaritas, they’ll return to the cabana and lounge on the day beds. Maybe even one of the cabana boys—cabana men in truth, with their strong arms and backs—can give them all shoulder massages. Rhaella has a little favorite who is always eager to help his new lady relax. Elia raises her eyebrows at her good mother and she takes a long sip of her margarita. Elia is far from judging, as Rhaella deserves whatever happiness she can grasp.

They all do. How long have they all suffered these last years? Suffering Aerys, suffering Rhaegar, suffering the war that they wrought upon Westeros. Elia still remembers the screams from Rhaella’s chambers during their terrible stays in Kings Landing, she remembers the cold silences before Harrenhal and the even colder absences after. And now those men are dead and thousands with them. All over some Northern girl, and a prophecy that probably foretold the coming of the seasons than any promised prince!

Well, fuck them. Westeros has a new king now, in that stinking castle filled with blood and shit and ghosts, and the Baratheons and Lannisters can figure it out now. Let them have the starving smallfolk ready to rebel after a harsh winter. Let them have the honor of bartering away pieces of their souls until all that remains is bleeding pride. Let them have it all. All that matters to Dorne is the rice crop, and managing citrus exports, and the wellbeing of its people. Elia plans to build a new school for smallfolk children and petty gentry in Sunspear, as she is now Princess of Sunspear. More Martell branches for a blood orange tree to bear wondrous fruit. All beneath the sun, so bright in that perfect sky…

Elia sips her sangria. Oberyn and Aegon are finished with their sandcastle, and now he’s pulled out a guitar from somewhere and tries to teach his nephew how to play. Rhaenys perches on Obara’s shoulders and pretends to joust with Arianne who is on Viserys’s. Manfrey and his Summer Islander wife Bellegara Otherys finally finish up their romantic walk up and down the shore, with Bellegara joining Mellario and Ellaria’s whisper pile and Manfrey pulling Doran away to talk drunken business. Something about making a fleet of ships to rival Nymeria’s, and selling sweetwine to Sothoryos in exchange for coconut and date liquor. Elia giggles and can’t stop. Not with the sun so warm on her skin, not with Rhaella raising her goblet and toasting the coming summer.

It’s still winter north of the Red Mountains, but not here. No, summer is here for Dorne, and it is here to stay.

The children shriek with laughter as the waves roll against their legs. The sweet sound melds with the crashing of the sea, of Mellario and Ellaria gossiping about their beloveds, of Rhaella sighing and relaxing for once. All is bright and golden and warm, save for their ice-cold goblets of sangria. Elia tilts her head back against her chair and smiles.

Let those bastards keep that ugly ass throne, she has all she needs right here.

[lipstickbisous]

the lion and her sun. (1)

YOU MUSTN’T LET THEM SEE IT.

notes: so the tywin lannister u see in here is completely different from the show, but goes on to be cruel and blah blah blah. i hope you can get the hint about who/what aurane is. and this is abt 9-10 years (seemed like a good time) before shit starts happening so oberyn wants to kill literally every person in kings landing.

this is NOT exactly like the show or books i’m going at my own pace/twist/point.

reader hates oberyn. oberyn is..well...amazing as always.

pairing: oberyn x oc!reader

summary: the youngest daughter of tywin lannister is sent to live with the ones who wish nothing but her end.

word count: 4.8k

masterlist

screams filled the hallways, painting its walls with terror and agony. the metallic stench roamed though out the palace of casterly rock, meeting anyone’s senses with a pang. there were several nurses in the lady mallery’s room as she sweat from her pores, sobbed from her throat and pushed in her torso. murmurs and whispers were passed about as a single maiden had spoke a final, “push!”

with one last ear-crushing scream, there was a high-pitched cry echoing through the room. all feel silent, even mallery herself, disregarding the faintness she began to feel all around her body. “a girl,” one nurse whispers, holding the child in her arms. mallery fell back on the birthing bed and closed her eyes. without opening them, she could hear the doors being pushed opened as tywin lannister barged into the room.

mallery could hear him shushing the quiet cries of the baby as the nurses placed her in a bath. “ty...” she whispered, clutching the blankets below her that were now soaked with blood. 

“my love,” he whispered, rushing to the lover that had been left on the bed with attention to the new princess cradled in the nurses’ arms. “my love, look at her. she’s perfect, absolutely perfect.” tywin whispered, pressing a kiss to mallery’s forehead. 

mallery was a dornish maiden who tywin had met on a small trip to sunspear. with her hazel-green eyes and chestnut-colored hair, the lannister king had fallen deeply. his wife had passed, his children were fighting, so the only thing that seemed to give him some piece of mind was this goddess woman. and now she had given him a child. 

there were more cries from the babe to be heard. “she’s a bastard,” mallery whispered. she could barely find the strength to raise her head. tywin noticed.

“bring her here,” he ordered, to which he was immediately obeyed. the child was now silent, bundled in a crimson-colored blanket. her head was as big as mallery’s palm, topped with fuzzy brown hair already. “she won’t look like the rest.”

mallery nodded. “they’ll know what she is.” she held her child in her arms, knowing it was the last time she’d be able to. even tywin could see it, silent tears tailing down his face. “they’ll hate her.”

tywin shook his head. “i won’t let them.”

“aurane,” mallery cooed, and with that, the child’s eyes opened while the mother’s closed.

―

aurane lannister had not been given the bastard she should’ve rightfully have. her royal name had upset the people of casterly rock for thirteen years until tywin lannister had spoken out. not only had aurane been hated by her people but her father had kept her away. no risks would be taken against his youngest child that he viewed as his favorite. jamie and cersei had been vile and evil towards others and tyrion had taken away tywin’s first love--not to mention he had been born a dwarf. but all three of the lannister siblings had shown nothing but affection and love to their bastard sister.

the princess had lived a perfect life in her castle, until the year her father had waged war against rhaegar targaryen and elia martell. now, aurane had been moved from her home of twenty-five years to a new place and a new castle--king’s landing. she could not deny that the city had been grand and the rooms in the castle were definitely bigger than in casterly rock, but it was not home to her.

and it might’ve been because a year after elia martell had been brutally murdered along with her children, aurane was being sent to marry her brother. oberyn martell, the red viper.

the news had struck a month before at a dinner. the loving father that aurane had knew finally disappeared into the tywin lannister cersei, jamie, and tyrion grew up with.

“you- what?” aurane asked in disbelief. her brown hair contrasted against the crowd of her siblings at the table. jamie, still dressed in his golden armor from battle sessions that day, remained quiet while cersei dropped her cutlery. 

even the eldest sister couldn’t believe it. “father...”

tywin sighed and took one long sip of wine before placing his goblet back on the table and setting his hands in his lap. “it’s settled, aurane,” he spoke sternly, looking away from her broken expression knowing that one glance would surely cause him to change his mind. “they arrive in a month. he’ll spend one night and you’ll be on your way to dorne.”

aurane shook her head with ragged breathing. “no...” she whispered.

“father, perhaps we should discuss the terms and effects of this-” cersei began, leaning forward in her seat and noticing how her twin brother remained in silence. tyrion also spoke nothing of it, but seemed more in shock of the situation than jamie had. 

their father sat back in his chair at the head. “the deal has already been settled,” he settled one hand against the edge of the table. “aurane is to wed the youngest martell sibling as a peace offering.”

aurane scoffed and stared down at the plate of food she had been enjoying no more than five minutes ago. “a peace offering? they wouldn’t need a peace offering if you hadn’t waged war!” she began to yell, enabling cersei to grab her hand underneath the table. “you-you’re selling me? to savages? as if i’m some whore?”

“to be a woman in this word, aurane, is to-”

“gods, don’t start that.” aurane spoke again. “i don’t care about your standards of this life or your beliefs, father, you can’t rightfully do this.”

there was no answer to her question, which resulted in aurane huffing and sitting back in her chair. her lips were parted and her eyes began to tear up. “father,” tyrion began to whisper. “perhaps we can reconsider who exactly it is we’re talking about here.”

tywin barked, “enough!” earning silence from each of his children. cersei’s hands met aurane’s underneath the table and gently squeezed. “i will not let you speak to me this way!”

a silence again. the servants that stood at each entrance of the dining hall didn’t even let out an audible breath. the wind outside had begun to blow as it did each night in kings landing, but it did nothing for the uncomfortable tension in the room. 

“you knew,” aurane whispered, eyes meeting her eldest brother sitting fine in his armor. “didn’t you?”

the accusation shocked both cersei and tyrion as they looked to him for a reply. his words got stuck in his throat in hesitation before cersei cleared her throat. “dorne was ready to wage war on us, aury,” earning himself a dropped jaw from aurane. “we had to do something.”

aurane threw her napkin on the table as tyrion fought back. “you think our sister is a war tactic?” 

cersei scoffed. “they will eat her up alive there, jamie,” as aurane walked away, ignoring the tears that had already fallen before leaving the room, she could hear her sister’s opinion, to which she realized was extremely true. “they’ll...they’ll beat her, rape her. they’ll do anything to get revenge for elia.”

that was exactly what aurane had believed for a month. she now stood near the edge of her window, hands on the railing and feeling the sun against her skin. she had loved the warmth of king’s landing--she could imagine how painful the blazing heat of dorne would be. if the rumors that the city spread were true, she wouldn’t burn so easily under the sunlight--if the rumors were true.

her door opened with the latching opening and closing and footsteps retreated behind her. aurane could see the four boats floating about on the sea, growing closer and closer to land with their golden-colored sails and the martell sigil. 

“you look ravishing.” tyrion’s voice spoke softly. he had always been the most understanding sibling to aurane, although she loved them all equally. 

aurane gulped. when she had awoke that morning, she had made herself a promise that she wouldn’t let out a single tear drop, unlike every other day of the month since she had been given the news. “you’re too kind to me, tyrion.”

he chuckled and she could hear him pulling up a chair beside the one behind her. “i do believe your prince is just arriving,” he spoke to make some sort of conversation, but aurane only scoffed. 

“really?” she whispered to hide the rasp in her voice. “i didn’t notice the boats arriving and the blinding colors.”

tyrion laughed. aurane finally turned to notice he had set a small table between the two chairs; on the table was a pitcher of wine and two golden cups. aurane chewed the inside of her cheek before politely smiling at the kind gesture. she sat down next to her brother and held the goblet as he poured a fair amount of the red drink for her. 

they sat in sweet silence until aurane had finished half of her drink. “i hope the wine is good there.” she sighed, placing the cup back on the table and looking down at her lap. all of a sudden, the intricate design of the fabric of her dress was so interesting.

“it’s dorne,” tyrion smiled, pouring himself another cup. he pointed to hers but she rose her hand and shook her head. “almost everything they have there is perfect.”

aurane looked up and out of her window. “i don’t want perfect,” she spoke longingly, noticing how the ships were now docking and soon enough, the passengers would be entering king’s landing. she could only imagine the hateful glances prince oberyn would send their way and the snide remarks from the savages of the sands. “i want fair. and none of this is fair.”

tyrion nodded and sipped more of his wine. it wasn’t very surprising to aurane that her brother would get drunk the day she would meet her to-be husband. “i know,” he whispered, tracing the rim of his cup with his right index finger. “i’m sorry.” 

the princess simply shook her head as a way of shooing the subject to be gone. talking of the exchange that demoralized her only made her feel worse. “is father sending you all up?” she smiled unamused. 

“next is cersei.” he took another sip. aurane reached for her cup but never touched its surface. no matter how much she longed to get drunk for the meeting, she knew that it would be unacceptable to her father. 

she bit her bottom lip and nodded. “and jamie?”

tyrion looked to his younger sister, the one he had loved so much. with the hatred of his eldest sister and father, and the on-and-off love of jamie, aurane had always been there. her childhood had been full of art sessions with tyrion, blankets forts with tyrion, garden games with tyrion. “he’s with father,” aurane sighed. “he thinks you still hate him for betraying you.”

aurane chuckled breathlessly and began to fidget with a loose thread she’d found in her dress. cersei had a fine and beautiful robe crafted to aurane’s measurements for the meeting today, but aurane loathed the time when she would have to don the painful corset. “i don’t think he betrayed me,” she smiles and shakes her head. “but he’s right about me hating him.”

with one last sip of his wine, tyrion rose from his chair and set his cup on the table. “he wanted to escort you to dorne--so you wouldn’t have to be frightened.”

“i’m not frightened,” she whispered. the tears were on the brim, and the burning threat of them falling began to hurt. “i’ve accepted it. i’ve accepted that after all these years, father sees me as some object to trade. i’ll be beaten and raped, just as cersei said. it’ll be my life.”

tyrion placed a hand on aurane’s as she smiled. he patted the inside of her palm with two fingers before leaving the room, and as he left, aurane was instantly met with cersei’s perfume. 

“i see you still haven’t put on the dress,” cersei spoke like honey dripping from its comb. the robe was a beautiful currant color with long sleeves to protect aurane from the bitter wind. it showed just the right amount of her chest, which had been unusually tan for a lannister. 

aurane stood from her chair and turned around as cersei walked closer to the windows. the younger princess followed and noticed what the blonde began to stare at. down below, below the stone walls of the castle and on the stone pathways and wooden docks that led to the city, stood a tall man with messy dark brown hair and, from the distance, what looked to be glaring eyes. he wore his lips in a thin, unamused line. aurane chuckled. 

“i suppose you should quickly slip it on,” cersei whispered without breaking her eye contact on the dornishmen exiting the ship.

aurane nodded. “i suppose so.” there wasn’t much to think about as cersei helped her younger sister enrobe the dress that complimented her skin tone and hair color. cersei let out small puffs of breath as she pulled the strings of the steel corset; it tightened around aurane’s rib cage with every second, gently pushing around her organs and the air out of her lungs. 

“s-stop,” she whispered, to which cersei immediately carried out. the strings of her corset were tied behind her bags and the dress covered up the loose ends. “how am i supposed to meet someone if i can barely speak?” she managed to wheeze out. 

cersei patted several taps onto aurane’s shoulder in some sort of comfort but aurane couldn’t find it. she couldn’t see her sister’s golden hair or the morning sunlight bleeding through the windows. she couldn’t hear the bustling throughout the castle as the dornish prince entered king’s landing or the crowds below in the city murmuring and whispering. while slipping on the shoes cersei had set out for her, she could think of one thing.

gods, i’m going to die.

there was a sigh, but not from aurane. as she was snapped out of her small daze, she noticed her sister holding out her arm, wiggling her fingers as a motion to follow her. “let me escort my lovely sister,” aurane stared at the hand held out to her and hesitantly took it. “no reason for her to be so sad. it takes away the lovely glow.”

aurane’s brown eyes met cersei’s with a sly smile. “i have every reason to be sad and you know it.” she spoke with her chin up. they walked through the halls and down the staircases; there were so many of them that aurane still couldn’t memorize them all. not that it would matter because soon, she would say goodbye to king’s landing and greet dorne as her new home.

“yes, but my sweet,” cersei spoke, pushing every door that came in their way open. there were guards at each entrance and finally they arrived to the main entrance of the castle. outside stood their father along with tyrion and jamie, and aurane could envision it. they were most likely standing in a small line, waiting for the two lannister daughters to reveal themselves inside the castle walls. “you mustn’t let them see it.”

two guards put both of their strength into opening the grand entrance. the sudden sunlight slightly burned aurane’s eyes, but she found the sight even more painful to endure. her breath hitched as cersei’s arm tightened around hers. in the front courtyard stood tywin, jamie, and tyrion lannister, each dressed in appropriate attire due to the spring weather. across from stood a line of five men dressed their own armor, but they looked completely different than the people of casterly rock or king’s landing. their skin had been a darker tan, more similar to that of aurane’s, and just like her, their hair was a deep shade of brown, unlike the family that stood across them.

and in front of the line of soldiers stood on particular man. with even darker hair and deep brown eyes, he stood valiantly in the sun, soaking it in like it was a hobby. it was clear that some sort of discussion had taken place before aurane entered the meeting.

she clenched her jaw when she noticed that cersei began to walk towards them, gently dragging along the young princess. her dress just barely dragged against the stone of the stairway that led down to the courtyard. perhaps it was just aurane, but the weather that day had been especially hot, blazing even when she met eyes with the prince.

he wore a robe that ended almost at his ankles made of some sort of stiff material aurane couldn’t recognize. on the hem and edges, the dressing had been decorated with fine golden and orange embroidery that had been delicately crafted she had no choice but to admire it. underneath the robe-- which aurane had no desire to see anything above the knee--he wore what looked to be beaten and tired leather boots. around his neck was a golden chain that must’ve been heating up underneath the sun. 

“princess aurane lannister,” tywin spoke up and cersei let go of her younger sister. there was a slight breeze that began to blow at the exact moment and aurane cursed the gods for the shiver she began to feel; it took every bone in her body to not shake at the sudden cold. 

the prince of dorne nodded and chuckling. it was something hateful and cruel, and although aurane felt nothing for anger against her brother, jamie almost sneered. “i thought she was a bastard.” oberyn stated.

his sudden comment left tywin speechless, but one single remark back and dorne could easily bite them in the ass. cersei clenched her jaw and squeezed her fingers together, leaving tyrion to look to the stone ground for comfort. aurane squinted and cocked her head. “pardon me, my prince, but i seem to remember that bastards aren’t looked upon differently in dorne.”

although aurane couldn’t see it, she felt her siblings’ smirks. much to her surprise, the prince smiled back. “well, our bastards are created from love,” his arms were folded behind his back, creating a somewhat threatening stance. “not rape.”

there it was, there it had been. aurane had waited an entire month to meet her suitor only to hear words of rumors? without knowing her mother and only hearing the truthful--although she didn’t know that--words of her father, there was no way to tell if she had been born of love or of rape. of course, it had been the former.

cersei looked to the skies, almost as if she could see the gods above them. was she begging for this moment to end? was she begging for them to go to bed that and not awake in the morning? aurane couldn’t tell. before she could even part her lips to speak, her father beat her. 

“please,” he sounded desperate, and it was not a tone that fit him very well. “let us keep it as civil as possible.”

the prince smiled again, but this time, aurane felt those same uncomfortable shivers down her spine. “of course.” the silence that followed was extremely awkward, but each person at the greeting of the dornish prince didn’t seem to mind it. 

“well,” tyrion spoke up, earning a cheerful grin from oberyn. aurane’s eyes had placed themselves on the features of her dress and had remained there until cersei wrapped her arm around her sister’s again and began to tug. “dinner?”

aurane wasn’t sure why, but every part of her body begged for her to eat something. for a month since the news, she had eaten nothing for breakfast, nothing lunch, and almost, just barely, nothing for dinner. her mind had not wanted a single piece of food, knowing that after an hour of sitting in her stomach, she would only regurgitate it from the anxiety rushing through her brain. now, out of all nights to be piggish, aurane wanted nothing more than to gobble down every piece of food in her sight. 

but she didn’t. she left her golden plate full with food as it began to turn cold, her silverware sitting exactly where the maidens had set it. the only object that had kept running on empty was her goblet of deep red wine, which she finished every two minutes to be refilled as soon as possible. aurane wasn’t totally sure on what her father had been discussing with the prince. it had been something about the nature of men, but anything would be better to listen to at the moment than her father’s beliefs on society. 

“you better eat,” cersei whispered from beside aurane, her lips parted against the edge of her cup and she took a generous sip of wine. “father will notice.”

aurane’s jaw clenched as she began to play with her fork and knife, gently clinking them together. the sound of her cutlery was better than that blathering of her father. “father never notices,” she brushes it off before raising her cup and finishing the last of her wine. 

a brow was raised from her sister before grabbing aurane’s wrist as the younger decided to fill her cup again. “yes, but the prince will.” aurane only rolled her eyes before ripping her hand away from cersei and raising it to another servant. jamie had surely noticed something because he inhaled for a release of a command against the maiden but stopped when aurane shot him a mean glare. 

“you think i give a fuck about what the prince thinks of me?” she whispers, enjoying the sound of the wine splashing about inside her goblet. in one sip, she finishes half. 

the boasting and conversation between tywin lannister and oberyn martell continued as each lannister sibling sat in silence. tyrion continued to slowly eat his food, taking small bites. jamie had already finished, but to ask to leave the table be to interrupt his father. cersei had finished half of her food, ignoring the vegetables because she had always hated the greens.

loud laughter left the throat of the man sitting at the head of the table, irritatingly grabbing aurane’s attention. perhaps she did have a bit too much wine because a sudden and tired haze fell over her. “aurane, prince oberyn tells me he enjoys the playing of a harp.”

aurane almost spit out her drink at the mention of the instrument in laughter. her father, as much as he loved his youngest daughter, never noticed a thing, just as she had told her sister. “father,” she began, sitting her cup on the table. “i haven’t played the harp in six years.”

without knowing how to respond to such words, tywin lannister let out another laugh, to which oberyn chuckled awkwardly. “well, perhaps you can learn again once you arrive at dorne.” and with that, the conversation between the two was private again, excluding everyone else at the table.

the youngest lannister shook her head and, just as she had done a month ago, threw her napkin onto the table--her father did not notice. “aurane?” cersei hissed. 

aurane grinned. “i told you he doesn’t notice.” 

she exited the great hall and ignored the pleading whispers of her sister and the stares of her brothers. she could hear her father continuing to speak but, at that point, was receiving no response to his stories at all. without even thinking of where she was in the castle, aurane roamed about each hallway and staircase, attempting to trace her steps from before of which direction her room was in. 

perhaps a left? she thought. or...no, a right and then a left...right?

aurane truly had no idea how long she walked through the halls, but after what felt like a few minutes they had all begun to look the same. she now stood in a small winding staircase unsure of whether to return to the bottom or to see what was above her. then, she had begun to hear footsteps padding against the stone of the stairs. it couldn’t have been her father, had dinner been finished already? perhaps it was cersei come to pinch her ear and drag back to the table. 

instead, it was a round woman holding a small basket of what looked like dirty linens. a maiden who, if cleaning had not been her job, what would be beautiful. “your grace!” she exclaimed, placing a hand against her chest. “you gave me a fright!”

“i apologize...” aurane trailed off.

the maiden curtsied the best away a maiden can curtsy on a lower step in a tight staircase with a load of laundry in her arms. “celesse.” she smiled.

aurane nodded. “i apologize for frightening you, celesse.” hearing her own name come from the mouth of the lannister princess must’ve brought some sort of joy to the maiden because her cheeks began to blush and a smiled creased her cheeks. “i believe i sound completely stupid, but...i can’t seem to find my way back to my room.”

celesse stood in confusion for no more than five seconds before widening her eyes and nodding. “of course, your grace!” she smiled, squeezing her past aurane and began to trail up the staircase. “definitely don’t sound stupid, your grace, these hallways do get tricky.” aurane chuckled in response and celesse began to lead her up the winding staircase to the door at the top. “i just remember like this, your grace,” she spoke with what had been considered a low-class accent. she pushed the door open the hallway that aurane could finally recognize. “your father wanted you protected. so he put your room in one of the highest hallways of the castle.”

aurane trailed down the hallway until she stood in front of her bedroom door. “gods,” she whispered, pushing it open and instantly meeting the familiar scent she had displayed. “i am thankful, celesse.” she smiled, running to her dresser and grabbing five gold coins from the bowl on top. she rushed back to the maiden waiting outside of the doorway and pressed the currency in celesse’s palms. 

the maiden’s lips parted and her eyebrows tilted in happiness. “anything, any time, your grace.” she spoke before exiting the hallway and down the stairs again.

aurane wasn’t sure how long she had remained in her room, but to remain completely unbothered for the night, she locked the door. the sun had just been setting, letting the purples and pinks and yellows and oranges of the sky drip together into one large painting when aurane had been sitting in a chair against her window, a candle lit behind her.

something about her last night in king’s landing had been frightening and yet peaceful. the city, loud as always, didn’t bother aurane that night--if anything, the sound of the people retreating to their homes, closing their markets, and saying goodbye was supportive to the weight that threatened to crush aurane. the words in her book that had been set in her lap soothed her, placing comfort over anxiety.

it had been sudden, but there was a knock at her door. a loud noise in such silence had aurane jumping her chair, immediately closing her book and placing it on the floor. stood from the seat and quietly walked closer to the door, careful that whoever was outside couldn’t hear her footsteps. “who is it?” she yelled after hours of not using her voice.

the answer was hesitant but loud and clear. “prince oberyn, your grace.” his voice sounded exceptionally different in that moment. what had once been stone-cold was now sweet and gentle. 

“and why are you at my door?” she asked, now standing five feet away from the barrier that stood in between her and her suitor. 

it almost sounded as if he chuckled before speaking again. “i noticed you were not eating at dinner,” his voice was muffled but aurane could understand some sort of kindness to it. there was also comfort in the foreign accent. “i brought you some berries i had found in the kitchens.”

berries? the prince of dorne, who hated aurane’s family more than the idea of dying, had brought her berries? this kind gesture struck shock into aurane’s heart and she couldn’t but let herself believe some of the worst thoughts that began to pop up in her head. was it poison? did the prince really think she was that stupid.

she stood there, standing in her room, gaping in disbelief. he couldn’t even wait until they were married, until she would be called a martell, to kill her and bring justice to elia? she silently scoffed. “my prince, i think i should find rest before our long journey tomorrow.” she spoke with hate and spewed her words like they were acid. 

there was a beat of silence, and a for a split second, aurane felt bad. that was, until he spoke again. “of course, your grace.” aurane then threw herself on the bed and thought of every reason why she hated oberyn martell.

but behind that door, the prince of dorne had stood with a clay bowl of berries in his hands, the bowl being a gift he had brought for her from dorne.

tags: @absurdthirst @zeldasayer @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @pedropascalito @qveenbvtch @heavenbarnes @cyarikaaa @honeychicanawrites @ohpedromypedro @vintagethereal @pascalpapi @pedropascalispapi @pedropascalonline @wakalas @fleetwoodmactshirt @otherthingsinhead

[kee-writestrashh]

Guns for Hire

Ramsay Bolton x Reader

ao3

Summary:  You are the wife to the Heir of the Red Kings, Ramsay Bolton. living the undercover life of a mob wife has its perks, and you love your husband. But you find out something that seems to unfold a series of unwanted events…

Chapter 33: This is why we can’t have nice things

"So?" You asked, staring at the ceiling. You didn't want to move. Everything hurt. Like you had just spent a week straight running.

"His name is Euron Greyjoy. They call him the Reaper or some stupid shit. He's a bit of a loose cannon. Does his own thing. I've got men scouring emails and phone lines to see who we can tie him to. So far nothing. No encrypted messages to any of the big names as far as my hackers can find. Maybe he is working solo. I don't know. But now I have two Greyjoy's on my list to find." Ramsay said, pulling you into him.

You rested your head on his chest and sighed. "Please don't ever make me do that again."

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head, "No? You did a wonderful job, though."

You rolled your eyes, thankful he couldn't see.

"What of those two girls?" You asked, with a grimace as you rolled your whole body closer to your husband.

"Oberyn brought them back here. Cleaned 'em up, fed 'em, let them rest. Probably ask them a few more questions and then return them to their families. Good for them. Makes their common people see them taking action against the terror. Builds more trust. More hope. Whatever. Brings in more profit and information."

You laid there listening to him talk, trying to ignore the dull ache of your muscles as he ran his hand along your back.

"When was your last tetanus shot?" He asked suddenly.

"Uh... I don't know? Been seven.. eight years? I got my last one before I started college. Mom insisted." You said, suddenly very aware of your cut foot.

"Good."

"Why did they take my shoes?"

Ramsay huffed in false amusement, "to make sure you couldn't escape. Or at least not get very far."

"I hate them. I hate this game. It's so fucking violent." You sighed.

"That it is. But you're doing just fine."

"When are we going home?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Good."

"Thought you loved it here?"

"I do. But I miss our bed. I miss the girls."

You laid in silence for awhile. Mini vacation had gone from wonderful and relaxing to straight exhausting and trouble. You knew better than to of thought this would of been a 'fun' trip.

"Go soak up some sun and relax, baby doll. I need to speak with the Martell brothers and get the boys ready for departure this afternoon." Ramsay finally said, getting out of bed.

You simply sighed again and rolled flat on your back, staring again at the ceiling.

You blindly watched Ramsay dress and leave before finally mustering the willpower to get up yourself.

You sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled your foot up to your knee to examine it. Ramsay must have seen to your foot when he got you back here. The cut wasn't deep or an angry red. But it still hurt, with a small, deep, annoying sting.

You gingerly put weight on your foot and found that if you spread the weight evenly it didn't hurt to stand, or walk.

You ran into Tyene as you entered the bottom floor of the house.

"Hungry? I was just about to come up and ask if you needed anything." She said, looking you over.

"Something to eat would be great." You admitted with a small smile.

Tyene grabbed your hand and led you to the kitchen and sat you at a table.

"So, what happened?" She asked, pushing a bowl of fruit toward you and setting down a glass of juice.

You shrugged, grabbing a guava and star fruit; examining them both closely.

"Not much to say."

"Mmmm." Tyene hummed, crossing her arms and examining you closely with a raised brow, clearly taking in the bruise on your cheek.

"Really. Found the men, and came back."

Tyene snorted, "Okay, (y/n). But it's not healthy to hold it all in. You'd feel better if you talked about it."

You set the fruits down and sighed, "No. I'm good. Nothing worth talking about. Beach later?"

"Sure thing. Just lemme know when you're ready. Enjoy breakfast." Tyene said, leaving you alone.

You silently ate breakfast and soon found yourself sitting on the balcony in your room. You had dressed to go to the beach, but found you were just too tired. Ypur aching body had eased a bit, but damn were you exhausted.

You stared out at the beach, watching Tyene and Matt laugh, having a good time. How could they be so damn happy and carefree? They were both in this too. Tyene used her body to make men talk and obtain information. Matt sold drugs and killed people, as of last night anyways. Both of them weren't even old enough to legally drink, and there they were, criminals and murderers, laughing and carrying on in the sand.

It made you grin, remembering when Ramsay had first introduced you to the Boys.

'Doll, these are my men. The Bastard's Boys.'

He had pulled you into his lap after you set down another round of drinks. You had been in semi-casual, and yet very serious relationship with Ramsay for five weeks. He had gone above and beyond to charm you. Never pressured you into anything. Always picked up the tab. Bought you flowers. Opened doors for you. Took you to dinner every Saturday night. And Wednesdays, for whatever reason. He seemed to like Wednesdays. He never made you feel like you had to give him anything, and it surprised you when you were the one who pulled him into the backroom of the bar and stripped your clothing. That wasn't you. But something about him had made it just so easy to be yourself.

'Oh. That's a funny name for a group.'

Ramsay had laughed and gave you a look as if you were stupid. But it had meant nothing to you. You didn't keep up with the news in the city. Mafia families and street gangs had meant nothing to you. When you continued to give him a confused, blank look he dropped the laugh, took your hand, and lead you from the bar.

'The Bastard's Boys? Do you not know us?'

'Uh, no?'

'Sweetheart, do you live under a rock? My last name is Bolton.'

'Like the gun company?'

'Yes. My father owns it. Then it will go to my brother.'

You had fixed him with a long look, trying to place all the pieces together.

'So what's that have to do with your friends?'

'Friends? They aren't my friends. I could care less about any of them. They work for me. The Rampant Lions, War Stags, Red Kings... ring any bells?'

'Oh, yeah. I remember a few years ago, when we were kids, there was some drama between a couple mafia families.... wait a minute.... are you...? You don't look like a professional criminal?'

If Ramsay had ever laughed a real, genuine laugh, it had to of been then. It was heavenly and his eyes sparkled in pure, innocent amusement. That was the moment you knew you loved him, as odd as the situation was.

'I suppose that means I am good at my job then.'

"What are you doing in here?" Ramsay asked behind you, squeezing your shoulders and bringing you back from your thoughts.

You gave a small shrug, "Just never really got around to doing anything. I'm just tired, baby."

"Still mad at me?" He asked, releasing you and leaning against the rail, crossing his arms, and looking you over.

You shrugged again, "No. I was never mad to begin with, baby."

"Do you understand why I did what I did?"

"To punish me." You said quietly, turning your gaze back out to the ocean.

"But do you know why?"

You turned your eyes to him, "Because I didn't listen."

Wow, you felt like a child after being scolded for breaking a window.

He smirked, "I put you in the situation I did for many reasons. To punish you. To show you how easy you have it. To show you the game we play. To show you that you are one of us. To show you that you are a Bolton, and not just in name. I told you, I have a lot of work left to do with you. But I meant that you are becoming a god. And now you are a step closer."

You chewed your lip, watching him. You understood him no better, but gave a nod anyways. "Was your little story last night, true?"

"What do you think?" He asked, turning his back to you and lighting a cigarette.

"I don't know. I'm torn. I want to say yes, just because I felt the anger. But I want to say no, because you hated your childhood, so why would you open those wounds?"

"So?"

"Yes?"

He turned back to you, his wicked smirk in place and gave you a wink.

You rolled your eyes and rose from the chair, stepping into him, and wrapping your arms around his middle. Again, the thought to tell him about his father's threat to you crept up and again you beat the words back down as you closed your eyes and inhaled him deeply.

"You learned your lesson?"

"Yes, daddy." You said quietly, burying your face in his shirt.

"No more urges to piss me off or push me over the edge?" He said, flicking his half smoked cigarette off the balcony.

"No. I wasn't even trying to to begin with!" You said, getting defensive.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you with a laugh.

"Get off." You huffed, struggling against him, annoyed you rose to his bait.

This only made him laugh again and tighten his grip.

"You'll hurt your child." You warned, biting him on the collar bone.

"Hush, woman." he chuckled, scooping you up and biting at your neck.

"No! The beast finally got me!" You shrieked, going limp in his arms and throwing your head back, suppressing the giggles as you tried to remain 'dead', pulling a face.

"Excuse me? It was you who bit me first!" He chortled, biting at your exposed neck again.

You grinned, letting a small moan escape you as his biting turned into sensual nips and kisses.

"Don't stop." You whispered, swallowing hard as he carried you from the balcony to the bed.

"Even if I wanted to, I couldn't." He murmured in your ear as he took your ear lobe between his teeth.

His hot breath in your ear gave you chills as you worked his shirt up over his body.

He straddled you, and pulled his shirt off as you undid his belt buckle and pants button, slowly pulling his zipper down and running your finger along his waist line.

You looked up at him and gave a mischievous grin. He raised his brows at you.

"Yes?"

"Get off, please." You said politely, batting your lashes.

You sat up on the edge of the bed, and took him in. Half naked and ready to go.

"Belt." You said, holding your hand out.

Slowly, he slid his belt from his pants and placed it in your open palm.

You stood, applying pressure to your foot, making sure it didn't hurt too badly.

You stepped into your husband and yanked his pants down, and caught his lips in a quick kiss.

You walked to the door, and placed your hand on the knob.

"Want to play a game?" You asked, toying with the lock.

"Sure?" He said, watching you closely.

You wrenched the door open and stepped out into the hall. He looked slightly thunderstruck as confusion set in.

You grinned broadly, savoring the image of you being the one to catch him off guard.

"Tag. You're it." You shouted, running down the hall way. Belt in one hand, and your billowing dress scrunched up in the other as you quickly ran down the stairs.

You looked back as you slipped through the door to the patio, seeing an empty stairwell behind you.

You probably sounded like a maniac as you laughed gleefully, running across the patio toward the beach. You ignored the looks on the Martell's faces as you ran past.

You rounded the corner where Ramsay caught you by the hand and pulled you into him.

You lost your footing, falling into him completely, breathing hard and still laughing, slapping him with the belt before he wrestled it from you.

"Now the beast has got you." He growled huskily in your ear, grabbing you up and slinging you over his shoulder.

"Careful. The baby." You said through heavy breathing, pulling your hair to one side and shifting your weight, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"I can't believe you did that." He chuckled, holding you tightly and walking back across the patio.

"I honestly didn't expect you to catch me with your pants down." You giggled back.

"There's more than one way to skin a cat. Or get outside. Whatever country-ism would be appropriate to say." He said, nodding at the people on the patio as he walked past.

You gave a shy grin and small wave as you entered the house over Ramsay's shoulder.

You saw Myrcella lean into Trystane to whisper in his ear, both grinning broadly.

Ramsay set you down gently as he closed the door behind him.

He gave you one lust filled look before all but attacking you, as he pulled your clothes from you and pushed you into the bed.

You kissed him back, needingly and let your hands wander his body.

He pulled away from you, casting his gaze around the room.

"I find that ties work wonderfully when away from home." You whispered as if reading his mind.

"You know me too well." He smirked, crossing the room to retrieve a tie and shed his remaining clothing.

"Hurt me, daddy." You sighed, closing your eyes and relaxing into the bed as he grabbed your wrists and pulled them above your head.

"And what kind of hurt does my baby girl need?" He purred, tightening the tie around your wrists and kissing along your jaw.

"Something that shows me who I belong to." You hummed.

"How much freedom does that give me without hurting my child?" He asked, very uncharacteristically.

You scoffed, "oh now you are concerned for your child's saftey?"

You kneed him in the stomach. You heard him give a small grunt of discomfort and didn't even have the time to open your eyes before he gripped your hair painfully hard and rammed into you.

You let a hiss of pain escape you, as the burning sensation shot through you. You felt guilty for wanting to feel it again. Something about it so arousing and primal.

His grip in your hair tightened, as he brought his other hand to your bound wrists to keep you from moving as he moved forcefully in you again.

A deep moan escaped you as you tried to pull your wrists from his grip and arched you back.

"Harder baby." You panted, still struggling to get free of his grip. All you wanted was to grab at every part of him you could.

He made a noise in the back of his throat, but his next movement was soft.

You groaned in protest, "I said harder, you bastard."

"Look at me." He growled.

You opened you eyes and took in his flushed face.

"I can't, baby girl. So let me make you feel good."

"And why can't you?" You demanded, pushing your hips into his.

"I will not jeopardize my child's well being. No. Don't look at me like that." He gave you a hard look as you pouted and bat your lashes.

"Please, daddy? I want you to."

"Baby girl, I know. Believe me I know. I want to tear you up so badly... but, I promise once you have this child you will be fucked harder than you could even believe. I will make you scream and beg. And I cannot wait to hear it. But for now, relax. If you need pain, hurt me." He said gently, leaning in to kiss you.

"Ramsay Bolton. You will fuck me how I tell you to fuck me. You may be a beast. A mad dog. But I am a god, remember? I am a fucking queen." You hissed, biting his bottom lip until you tasted blood.

He moaned into your mouth, pushing his hips into yours.

You released his lip, pushing your head back into the bed, and heaving a deep sigh as you pushed your hips into his again.

Your core was burning and filling up fast with the hot tingle of your orgasm as he continued to rock his hips into yours and biting aggressively at your neck.

You found a firm, steady pace with him as you both panted and moaned out incoherent nothings.

"Baby..." You whimpered, body tense and quaking as you tried again to pull your wrists away from him.

"Shh, baby girl." He panted, arms beginning to tremble as he held himself up.

He pressed his sweaty forehead to yours, taking you bottom lip between his teeth and biting gently as your breath caught and high washed over you.

You arched your back, holding back the loud moan as you relaxed your body.

He gave a small laugh and fell into you, biting down lightly on your neck, as he met his release upon one last thrust.

You both laid there, chests clashing with one another until his weight became uncomfortable and you gave a small push.

He rolled off of you with a sigh, and you laced your fingers in his.

"Remember when you said that if I did my job you were at my command?" You spoke, toying with his hand.

"I do." He said slowly.

"I want two things." You said, pushing yourself up on your elbow and looking down at him.

"Only two?" He asked, looking up at you and bringing his hand to your face to stroke your lightly bruised cheek and lip.

"I want you to replace every pair of underwear you took from me. And, I want to kill Euron Greyjoy." You said, a bit more emotionally than you had intended.

He gave you a long look and let a grin form.

"Which one of us is the psycho again? I think I have forgotten today." He chuckled, leaning up to kiss you.

"Still you. I just want revenge." You grinned, kissing him back.

"Revenge turns into madness, baby doll." He replied.

"Then Queen of Madness, I shall be."

He smirked, "as for your damn underwear, how many annoying pieces of lace and ribbon am I buying?"

You sat up completely and shrugged, "Dunno. You're the math genius. Not me."

As you stood up Ramsay's phone rang.

You gave him a look and he sighed, "back pocket."

You snatched up his pants and pulled his phone out. You saw the name when you handed it over: Father

He frowned deeply, hit answer, speaker and dropped the phone on his chest.

"Yes, father?"

"We need to have a meeting. Tonight." Roose Bolton's voice said very curtly.

"Afraid I can't make that happen tonight." Ramsay replied, in almost a bored, unconcerned voice, biting at a nail.

You sat back on the edge of the bed, and he ran his other hand across your lower back.

"Is that so? Why not?" Roose said very dangerously.

"I'm out of the country. Brought the wife on vacation before our child is born. Won't be back until tomorrow night at the least." Ramsay said airily, still chewing on his nail.

"You will be back tonight and be straight here." Roose hissed before the line hung up.

Ramsay rolled his eyes and looked at you, "guess you better go tell your girls. I'll pack, and I guess we can catch the flight back with the Boys. Sorry baby girl."

You gave a small shrug and half smile, "it's okay baby. I'm ready to go home anyways."

You dressed comfortably and found the Martell family in a den, the two girls from the night before both with them.

They both looked very different now that they were bathed and clothed. Both very pretty with their big brown eyes, dark hair, and tanned skin.

The little girl immediately ran to you and grabbed your hand, pulling slightly for you to kneel. When you did she ran a finger over your bruised cheek and busted lip. You saw the tears well and she hugged you tightly, mumbling in words you could understand.

Obella stood behind the girl and gave you a small smile, "she says thank you. She knew the Lord would send an angel to protect her and free them. And she is sorry the White Demon hurt you and got away."

You hugged the girl back, "tell her that he will pay for what he did ten fold. I will make him suffer more than she has, and he will never hurt anyone else."

The little girl clung to you tighter and heaved a sob as Obella relayed your message.

It made you emotional.

Finally the girl released you and you stood up, clearing your throat.

"Unfortunately, work calls and we will be leaving today instead of tomorrow. I have had a wonderful time, and cannot that you enough for welcoming us here as if we were family. I will see you all back home." You said with a smile, turning to Doran, "Thank you again for everything, and I am honored to be doing buisness with this wonderful family."

"It has been our pleasure, Mrs. Bolton. I am sorry your stay has been cut short. Be safe and keep an eye on my nieces once they return." Doran said, holding out his hand.

You shook it and gave everyone else hugs as Ramsay entered with Ben, Damon, and Matt.

×××

"I'm going to ask you ladies to keep the damn giggling to a fucking minimum. I am not drunk enough for this shit." Ramsay hissed at you and Matt, who had been laughing and carrying on for most of the flight.

You saw Ben and Damon exchange quick, sly smirks.

"Of course. Sorry baby. I just didn't know how funny the kid was." You said kindly, lacing your hand in your husband's.

"Yes. Fucking hilarious." Ramsay huffed, squeezing your hand.

"Lighten up baby. We only have like thirty minutes left."

"No. You have like thirty minutes left. I still have to go to the fucking Fort." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I can come with, if that would help?" You said, offering a smile.

"No. You will go home. Matt and Alyn will take you."

Ramsay gave you a quick kiss before he handed you the house key and pulling his helmet on.

"Do be careful. And hurry home." You said, watching Ramsay climb on his bike.

Matt helped you into Alyn's car, and took his seat beside you as Alyn climbed in the front.

"Enjoy your vacation?" Alyn asked.

"Well, as always, everything about it was... unexpected." You said with a small grin.

Alyn chuckled, "don't know how you do it, to be honest. Ramsay makes me fucking tired. Got me doing all kinds of shit. It's amazing I'm even still alive."

"I understand. How are the girls?" You said, rubbing an eye.

"Miss you both like crazy. They both tried to eat me this morning when I went to feed them. Absolute monsters they are."

"Oh come on, they aren't that bad. They're sweethearts." You said, rolling your eyes.

Alyn snorted. You glanced over at Matt who was staring blankly out the window.

Darkness was falling as Alyn parked on the curb.

You were so glad to see home and you were about to throw the car door open when Alyn stopped you.

"No. Do not. Something isn't right." Alyn said, shifting in his seat to pull his gun. "Come on, kid. Let's go."

Both Matt and Alyn crept around the back of the house. You sat in the car, watching.

Nothing looked wrong? Just a dark, empty house.

No. That was the problem. Your house was never dark. Ramsay made a point of always leaving a light on. You didn't know why. Sometimes a lamp in the living room, or the light above the sink in the kitchen.

You sat in silence, clutching your purse, suddenly wishing you had Ice Cream, but you had left it under the bed, not wanting to bring it to the doctor's office.

A few moments later you saw a light flip on and then the porch light. Matt stepped out the door looking rather sullen. He opened your door and helped you out.

"What's wrong?" You asked, pulling your coat around you to keep the cold out.

Matt shook his head, unable to say anything.

You stepped through the front door and the air left you.

Everything in your house seemed to be broken, and smelled strongly of gasoline.

But your heart shattered as you saw both your dogs dead. Both beheaded and gutted. The word BASTARD written crudely in red across the wall.

"Wha... what...?" You choked, unable to get anymore out as you pulled your phone from your purse.

Would Ramsay be able to answer? He wouldn't be at his father's yet.

"(Y/n), we need to go. We have to get you to a safe house." Alyn said, sweeping through the house.

"My dogs." You said quietly. "WHO KILLED MY DOGS?!" You shouted, voice trembling.

Anger boiled under your skin as you clenched your fists.

"(Y/n), we have to go. Whoever did this, isn't far. They didn't finish. You smell that? They're waiting to set a blaze. We have to go. Now." Alyn said, shoving your gun in your hand.

You gripped it tightly, throat tight, chest full of fire.

"Where will we go?" You asked, finally tearing your eyes away from your dogs, watching Alyn take multiple pictures with his phone.

"We will go to Ben's until Ramsay gives further instructions." Alyn said, leading both you and Matt outside and back to the car.

"Where's the Nova?" You asked.

Alyn shook his head, opening your door.

"Its trashed. As well as your Mustang, and the Jeep is at the shop. Boss asked me to bring it in this morning after feeding the dogs and letting them out." Alyn said, with a slightly sympathetic look.