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darkdevasofdestruction · 1 year

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My Innocent Snowdrop ~ Oberyn Martell x Stark!Reader

Summary: The eldest Stark girl is forced to marry Oberyn Martell as a political alliance made by Cersei, but what she does not know is that the Prince of Dorne is a very loving man who easily falls in love with her and cherishes her deeply.

The wolves never strayed away from the North - Y/N told herself, staring up at the head of her father, rotting on that wretched pike. He should have rejected the spot as the Hand of the King - Look where it got him and all the men that came with them. Septa Mordane’s head was also there, staring up at the Sun... And poor Jayne Poole, being imprisoned and... Lord knows what is being done to her.

Lady was dead, Nymeria and Meria, Y/N’s direwolf, were long since away from their premises. All the Stark wolves were very much dispersed all over Westeros, with Sansa and Y/N the only unfortunate souls licking each other’s wounds in King’s Landing.

Y/N would think hard, if there was any good memory she had of this forsaken place. Perhaps the time that she saw Arya being taught how to ‘dance’ by the master. The castle, the courtyard... Maybe everything except for the flower gardens was completely awful - Just like the stench of Flea’s Bottom. A good memory would be when she cheered for Sandor Clegane during the journey for Prince Joffrey’s name day... While he was still Prince, at least. He was such a good man, despite that rough exterior he puts out - Though Sansa was afraid to even look at him, Y/N always felt safe around him. Ironically, the same could be said about Tyrion, the Lannister dwarf with that silver tongue and cheek to match him. She could could count on her fingers the amount of times he had saved her and Sansa from danger - And she wouldn’t have enough hands.

She missed the North so much. That harsh cold was soothing, and the whipping wind was a caress. She wanted to hear the lullaby of the forest and the beauty of the fauna and flora around. She wanted to feel the fluffy snow under her feet again, and see her North lights with her old friend, the bastard of Dreadfort. She was glad that her parents had no idea she would meet up with Ramsay Snow every fortnight, in the Wolf’s Woods - He might have been the craziest psychopath, she thought, but she hadn’t felt more alive than when they were running with their canine companions through the frozen forests.

“Alys, do you think we will ever see home again?” Alys Manderly was Y/N’s best friend since early childhood, they have been inseparable, just like Sansa and Jeyne. They were closer than sisters - She would call them soul-sisters, or something. She remembers Theon one time telling them to marry twins, so they would never be torn apart. For a while, they actually pondered that idea. “I hope so, Y/N. I hope so.” the dark haired girl hugged her friend dearly.

But perhaps there was room for celebration - King Joffrey’s name day approached again, and a another tourney would take place. Though Y/N encouraged Sandor to participate, he merely barked at her - One win was enough for the old dog.

This time, the festivity was even greater than before. There were many houses that wouldn’t join anymore, being at war with either Stannis or Renly - But at the same time, there were a few houses from down South that were going to arrive in grand maniere. Royal, noble houses from Dorne.

“Y/N, you are so beautiful!” Alys complimented her friend, who looked down bashfully and shook her head. “Please do not jest so. You are far more beautiful.” Y/N went to fix her friend’s hair, before they went to the the stands. Sansa was to stay next to Joffrey and the other Lannisters, unfortunately for her, but the two friends were glued to the rails of the stands. They saw many a great knights - Until Alys gasped, and blushed powerfully. “Y/N, look - That is the Prince of Dorne! Isn’t he so beautiful?!” Alys’s voice was chirped with glee - And the Prince proudly strutted by them - And then he stopped, right in front of them, with a beautiful deep pink rose into his hand, and grinning charmingly as every lady was cheering and chanting his name. Y/N didn’t dare, but Alys was almost bent over the railing, wanting to get closer to the man. “A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady.” the man said, and though Alys melted, his arm went directly past her, and in front of the Stark girl, whose eyes were wide. Her hands trembled, unable to reach out for the flower - And the man approached her, ripping the stem and putting the flower in her hair. “Much better.” his smile was so gentle and sweet, Y/N thought she would die on the spot. Instead, she reached out to the ribbon in her hair and tied it around his palm. “I pray that you will win, My Lord.” the Prince’s smile widened, and Y/N could swear that he, in that golden outfit of his, was radiating brighter than the morning Sun. “For you, I will. sweet rose.” with a wink, the Lord trotted away to end the grand finale of the tournament. “You’re SO lucky, Y/N! Prince Oberyn himself chose you!” Alys shook Y/N’s whole body, and the girl couldn’t help but let out a weak, amused exhale. “Calm yourself, Alys. It is just a flower, nothing more. He will not even remember that I exist.” the girl smiled gently at her friend, reassuring her - But she had missed the envious look in her eyes.

Just as he had promised, the Red Viper of Dorne had won the tourney - And for the remainder of the day, the Dornish retinue drank and cheered and sang songs - And many more other things that were only for adults to speak of. Y/n smiled, watching Oberyn kissing the woman she found out was named Ellaria Sand, the Prince’s paramour. She was a tall and slender lady, with sun-kissed skin, black hair like ebony, and dark, warm, kind eyes. They seemed to be very happy - And so was Y/N. A happy couple always made Y/N happy as well - It meant that there was still hope for people out there, even if she, herself, couldn’t see it.

Alys was more of a party person, whilst Y/N wanted nothing more than to run away and hide in her room, now that she knew Sansa was safe in her room, and people were actually enjoying the feast - But Alys was insistent, and she dragged her friend forcefully to the Dornish table, pushing away some of the drunker men so that her and her friend could sit down and pretend they belong there.

Lady Ellaria gave them a weird look, while the Prince seemed to be smirking in amusement - Not only for the evident desperation of the Manderly girl, but the way the Stark girl was hiding her face with her hands. “Alys - That was rude!” Y/N whisper-yelled at her friend, who outright stared at the Prince with starry eyes. “Let us return to our chambers, Alys - It is far too late for us to be out.” but Y/N’s pleas were in vain. “It is not every day that you get to meet a Prince, Y/N! Lighten up, it’s a party!” the comment made not only Y/N, but the two lovers look at her perplex. “You... Do realise that... You are in King’s Landing. And you have met two Kings, a Queen, a prince and a princess... Right? And you see them every day.” the timid lady pointed out, shocked about her friend’s absolute moment of dumbness. “Well - Yes, I know - But none of them are so exotically beautiful, are they? The Prince’s skin is sun-kissed, and that smile was painted by the Gods.” hearing these affirmations made Y/N’s head spin in vertigo. Her eyes were cast down in shame, and her cheeks were pinker than the flower in her hair. “What an interesting pair we have before us, my love. An innocent and timid little snowdrop, accompanied by a bold and fierce rose. How intriguing.” the Prince was now focused on the two new-comers, though his arms were still snaked around his lover’s waist. “We are undeserving of such compliments, Your Grace.” Y/N spoke softly - Oberyn was so used to all the strong-willed and strong women of Dorne, that he completely forgot that shy little fawns like her existed. Shy, and very much traumatised, by the looks of it. His heart was almost swelling with dear, just looking at the girl. “Don’t be rude, Y/N - The Prince is giving us compliments, you have to accept them.” Alys grunted at her friend, before turning at the Martell Prince, batting her eyelashes dearly. “I, uh... I just think that Her Grace is far more beautiful than I am.” her voice was like that of a little mouse - It amused the woman, but also, made her feel protective of her. “Ellaria Sand is my name, little one. I am no noble, just a bastard of Dorne.” the woman smiled kindly at her. “Noble or not, it does not take away from your beauty.” Y/N retorted quickly - Ellaria and Oberyn shared a look, before looking back at them with mischievous smirks. “What are your names, sweet flowers?” the woman asked them. “I am Alys Manderly - And this is Y/N Stark. It is a pleasure meeting you.” though Alys looked at the Prince with lust in her eyes, but she did not once look at Ellaria. “Beautiful names, just like the ladies having them.” Oberyn nodded. “Then, would the ladies wish to share our chambers tonight?” Y/N almost fell backwards off the bench from complete shock and fright. “A-Ah, n-n-no... W-We, uh... W-We were just, uhhh, retiring for the night! Yes -- G-Goodnight, Your Grace. My Lady.” Y/N shot up to her feet as if electrified, and though she jumped to the other side of the bench, her wrist was caught by Alys, and she was roughly pulled back on the seat. “Don’t be such a bore, Y/N! Let’s have some fun~! Lord knows, we need some distraction after everything the Crown put us through!” Alys’s mouth got slapped by the Stark girl, as she was given a warning look. Y/N was looking around for unexpected onlookers and eavesdroppers, like a skittery bunny during a hunt. “Watch your mouth, Alys. You do not know who is listening in. If you are not careful, your head will end up on a spike, next to my father’s.” Y/N had seen enough for a life time. The last thing she needed was to see her best friend being killed. There was only so many family members she could see dead, before she’d lose her mind. “Come on, Y/N, loosen up a bit!” but Y/N snatched her hand away, and rose to her feet, looking down at her friend with a simple look. “I will be seeing you tomorrow at breakfast, Alys. Sweet dreams.” Y/N spoke curtly. “May you have sweet dreams also, Prince Oberyn. Lady Ellaria.” with a quick courtesy, the terrified beauty went rushing back to the castle and hid herself in the safety of her own room.

Although, safety was a great word - Only she knew the amount of times she had escaped assassination attempts. She hated sleeping alone - Anything could happen at night, when you are sleeping - Alas, she could not share a bed with anyone, even her own sister. The rules of King’s Landing were unnecessarily strict and harsh. She wanted home already.

The next morning was unusually quiet and relaxing. The weather was fine, the Sun was warm and the breeze just right. Somehow, during this beautiful morning, even the royal stench wasn’t as awful on the senses as usual. Y/N decided to have a plate of fruit tarts and find her peace in the flower garden, alone from everyone else. It was her hiding place - A little silly, she knew, but sitting down on the soft green grass and gazing at the myriad of colourful flowers was the only thing that made Y/N smile.

“My Lady has such a beautiful smile. You put the flowers around to shame.” Y/N found herself squeaking in shock - She had been found! What a shame. She had attempted to raise to her feet and made a little courtesy, but the Prince’s hand on her shoulder stopped her - Instead, he had opted for sitting on the ground next to her, and with a leisure smile, he snatched the tart plateau and popped a small strawberry tart into his mouth. “Not bad for something done in this place.” he tilted his head to the side comically. “Your Grace --” the girl began to speak to him, but was cut off by the man, saying his name instead. “I-I dare not.” “I insist, My Lady.” his brown eyes were so warm and welcoming, like a loving embrace. “I dare not address the Prince so colloquially.” she spoke. “I am just a girl from the North.” “Your father was the Warden of the North. Your brother is the King in the North. You cannot tell me you are ‘just’ a girl.” he watched her shamefully hanging her head. “I have no achievement of significance of mine own. My sister Sansa is the beautiful one. She can embroider and seam like no other, and she sings the prettiest songs. My other sister, Arya, is a fantastic archer, and she learnt how to swordfight from a braavosi water dancer. Mother is the beauty of the Riverlands. Robb is the King in the North. Bran is... Well, was...The most capable climber... Before he got crippled... By the bad men... And Rickon is just a babe of three.” she spoke softly, yet the love and pride in her voice when addressing her family was evident. “And there, here I am. Y/N, the firstborn child of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. The family’s disappointment - Though they would never admit to it.” she let out a self-deprecating exhale. “Your Grace is kind, but there is no need to waste your precious time with the likes of me.” “I beg to differ, young lady.” Oberyn frowned for a second. “There are not many who can catch my eyes, yet you certainly did. You are underplaying your self - I wonder why. Gorgeous - You are, beyond words. And your voice is sweet as a nightingale. I’d say you are just overly modest. Is it how they teach you in this place?” he ask, reaching his hand to her hair and absent-mindedly playing with a strand of her long, luscious red hair that shone auburn like the red rose of love and passion. “I have long since heard that the people of Dorne are the happiest. That they are free, and life-loving, and very confident. I can only guess this may come as a huge surprise for you. Although... You have also seen my sister-friend Alys, and she is the complete opposite of me.” the man hummed, hearing of the other girl’s name. “Ah, yes, that one. Rather impolite and a little arrogant, after you left. The Dornish may be lax and permissive, but we still do take into high regards our courtesies.” he seemed completely unbothered, but the girl’s heart froze. “O-Oh, my -- Please forgive her , Your Grace. She has been through a lot since we have come to this place... She - She thought she could find some comfort in the arms of a temporary lover. She meant no harm or disrespect.” although Y/N apologised profusely in the girl’s stead, only to see the Prince wave his hand dismissively, as if it was nothing. “You are far too naive and innocent for your age, little one. And the look in those beautiful eyes of yours makes me realise that you are already aware of that.” his finger reached underneath his chin, raising it up just a little bit. “Forgive my language, Your Grace, but I think the right word you are searching for is much harsher and down to earth. I am an outright simple idiot.” her delicate hand was placed over his, so she could move his hand away from her face. “That will not do.” he shook his head. “I found it rather amusing that you hate this place, and its people, almost as much as I do.” his smile was perked up again, especially amused once he saw the terrified look in her place. “Fret not, sweetling - All of Dorne feels the same. I have no reason to speak out your feelings in your stead. I respect you and your boundaries - Forgive me for teasing you. I find great pleasure watching your face turn the colour of your hair.” the girl could say nothing more, but she hung her head in defeat, hoping to hide her bashfulness with her long locks. “I am undeserving of your compliments, Your Grace - Though, I am grateful for your discretion.” her sweet voice made the man want to snatch her into his arms and plant kisses all over that snow-white skin of hers. People of the North truly were so pale - Almost sickly pale. Would she end up sun-burnt often, should she end up travelling in Dorne one day? That supple neck looked and her uncovered cleavage were so inviting - How was he to resist? The birds have started to chirp a pretty song, and Y/N found herself caring naught for her worries, and she closed her eyes and inched her face up to the sky, bathing in the caressing love of late Spring. “Does this bring you joy?” the man asked, and he saw her head nodding lightly. “It is one of the very few things that I can still appreciate without being punished for. It is not much, but these few moments of bliss are enough to make me forget for a while of the woes of life spent in the capital.” she sounded more at peace now, as if she wasn’t as guarded around him. Surely, the mutual hatred of this place and the Crown must have made her feel at ease. With a soft smile, Oberyn put his hands on her shoulders, and pushed her down on the grass. “How about now?” he asked, gesturing for her to close your eyes. “I... Feel a bit... Uneasy.” she admitted, embarrassed. “Are you afraid?” she let out a small, affirmative answer. “I will protect you, so fear not.” though a bit skeptical, Y/N closed her eyes again, and rested the back of her head on her palms, and she took a deep breath. For once, she forced herself to keep a clean, empty mind, and to relax. If the Prince of Dorne said he would stay on lookout, he would. Though, perhaps that was a weird way of saying that he protected her. Oberyn was laying on his side, next to her, and he was gazing at the beautiful lady as he stroked her velvety hair. Apart from her mother, she had never, once, felt anyone taking care of her so dearly. She loved this feeling so much that she was afraid she would get used to it, and by the time the man leaves for back home, she will feel all alone. She couldn’t afford to get complacent.

The Prince, however, thought of last night - He wanted to tell her that he did not believe Alys was a good influence on her, but why would she believe a complete stranger, over her sister-friend? Would she believe the suspicions of a seasoned man, over the pleading eyes of her faux friend? Ellaria, too, was reticent, when she looked at the Manderly girl - She could smell the venom dripping from her tongue - The complete anti thesis from the innocent girl who seemed to fight so hard to remain good to the word. Was it to keep hope for her friend? Or was it that she wanted to believe humanity was not yet lost to her?

The party from Dorne had remained guest to King’s Landing for the whole week - Time in which Oberyn tried to get closer to the sweet dove, but could not, because she was always taken away by some one. Though irritating, it was to be expected. What a pity.

Or so he thought - For the Lannister Lioness herself came up with rather the interesting proposal - Claim an even more solidified alliance, through the knot of marriage between the Prince of Dorne and the firstborn daughter of the greatest House of the North. The Seven Kingdoms had to be kept tightly knit together, after all. Were it anyone else, Oberyn would have laughed in Cersei’s face, thinking she sent some lackey of hers to spy on him. Even if Y/N was forced to be a spy, he knew he could persuade her not to be afraid of the Queen Regent and her fearsome claws. For so many years, he had been opposed to marrying - He was very fine with his loving paramour and his children. He needn’t anything else. And even better, he needn’t have the wedding in this stinking city, for he could have it at his own, glorious home, in Sunspear. It was perfect. The Queen had no idea how stupid she was. Or perhaps she wanted to get rid of the elder Stark sister, and claim monopole over the younger one in her entirety? Possible, as well. Only Lions knew how many lions they could tell, in a single minute.

Once Y/N heard the knew of her leaving with the retinue all the way down South, she felt faint - It was hard enough to get used to the climate and people of the Reach, let alone the deserts and scorching heat of Dorne? And the... Very friendly people as well. She had the tiniest glimpse of that whenever Oberyn passed by her, and would reach out to cup her face or quickly caress a lock of her hair. But Y/N was lucky she had not seen the dark look in Alys’s eyes - The Prince had seen it, and he did not like it. It would be fine though - She will be leagues away from Y/N, so there was no way of bringing her harm, or to his family by being a Lannister lackey.

Y/N felt absolutely terrified of Ellaria for a quick second - She felt like an intruder in their loving relationship. Like a homewrecker. She felt like she outright destroyed the peace and harmony of the whole country of Dorne. Or perhaps, she was simply fatalistic by nature - She wasn’t yet sure. But Ellaria was the sweetest woman in the world, and she hugged her dearly to her chest and kissed the top of her head. “Sweet little flower, worrying so much over nothing. It should be yourself you should be worrying about. Being traded off like an object of political means. You needn’t apologise to me. I pity you - But fret not. Oberyn is a good man. He will take good care of you. And so will I.” she remembers tearing up and hugging the woman tighter, thanking her over and over again for being so understanding and benevolent.

The wedding was not to be properly planned until a few months to come, under the pretext that the young girl has to get used to her new environment - To truly become part of the family. Simply put, it was Oberyn’s way of keeping the pressure off the girl.

Some of his daughters seemed interesting in the new girl, while some cared little or even less about her existence. Just another woman in his life, they said. How long she would last, it was only a matter of time.

The Prince made sure to keep her at the lust Water Gardens, where the palace was cool, and she could indulge in the warm waters of the numerous pools - Maybe play around with the children of the common folk, if he felt uncomfortable with the adults. The outfits, also, were completely different from what she used to where, even in King’s Landing, where the weather was mild. Now, she was given the most luxurious silks and linens, some more sheer or revealing than the others - She felt far too outrageous to leave her room like that, so she kept with the more modest clothes, that would hide her silhouette better.

Most of the time, however, she would spend her time in her room, doing various activities, be that reading Dornish books, or practicing over and over again strategies for the card game that Oberyn had thought her. She wanted to be a worthy opponent for the man - She had to live up to the expectations of a Prince, after all. Or, at least as close as she can get. Sometimes, she would embroider some of her dresses, and even some of the tunics that the Prince may or may not have intentionally taken over to her room. He had even taught her how to paint, and brought her all kinds of paints and paper, and though it wasn’t perfect, she had a particular fondness and skill in painting the flowers she would see in the gardens.

Once in a while, she would write letters - All addressed to King’s Landing. Of course, out of respect, she had Oberyn read and approve of them. She had written her sweet sister, to make sure she is okay, and she wrote to Sandor, her most unlikely friend, to see how he fared. But the most beautiful envelope was directed to Alys. It was of rose gold colour, and inside, she had pressed various flower petals, and sprayed perfume on the letter - Which was written in cursive ink - But she had not sealed it yet. This one, especially, she would seal with a flower instead, so Alys would know who it was from, without a name being addressed.

The two sister-friends would shower each other in compliments and confessions of how much they missed each other, and would speak about the happenings of the countries they were in, or interesting rumours and gossips - Here and there, a little tricket would also be brought.

“This letter seems particularly tender, compared to the others.” Oberyn hummed, pacing around the room, pondering. “It is her birthday. In fact, it is the first birthday we spend apart. It must be hard for her, all alone in that lion pit. Who knows how Joffrey is torturing her.” she spoke lightly - Though she was still shy around the man, he cherished him deeply. Not once, did he try to pressure her - Instead, he was always gentle with her, and would never raise his voice around her, or speak foul. “Do you love women, Y/N?” he asked in the most casual tone possible. “If yes, I can have any woman of your liking brought over for you.” it only made her cheeks flare up. “N-No, nothing like that!” she denied immediately. “You needn’t be cautious with me, sweetling. Men loving men, women loving women - People loving people - It matters little, as long as the love is genuine. You can tell me. I want to know the preferences of my lovely wife.” he always knew how to make her mind spin around. “No, Oberyn - Really, it is just a letter sent in good faith, on her name’s day. This is how we used to talk, even back in the North. My sister Sansa with her friend Jeyne were the same.” the girl explained, only to stop for a moment, as the man gazed at her as if she was the most innocent thing in the world. “Does it... Sound weird?” “I think it is sweet that you can express your love this way, my dear. I just fear what would happen if any of those stuck-up idiots would get the letter instead, and accuse either of you of... Unspeakable rule breakings, in the name of the Gods... Or something ridiculous like that.” he turned to look back at Ellaria, who was leaning on the door frame. “Will I be the recipient of these sweet words one day, little flower?” “Darling - Don’t tease her like that.” Ellaria sighed, rolling her eyes and snatching the letter from his hand. She scanned it quickly with her eyes, before she let out an exhale once more, and she shook her head. “Oh, sweetling... The world is not yet ready for such a mellow heart.” the look of distraught on her face made her reconsider, however. “Although... If you keep the letter anonymous, they should have no way of tracing it. Have you used different birds like we told you too?” the girl nodded. “Then, I suppose it should be fine. But be careful who you rely on.” the woman couldn’t tell her about her suspicions she had of her so-called best friend. How could she, when Y/N looked most alive, speaking of her dear friend? “Of course! Alys wouldn’t do me any evil. We have grown up together, closer than sisters. We always covered for and took care of each other!” she exclaimed, with new-found vitality in her eyes. “I will have this sent, then. Darling, why don’t you go with Y/N to the pools? It’s evening already, they should be warmest at this hour, and mostly empty.” with a sultry smile, the woman left the chamber, leaving the two alone. The Prince stepped in front of his betrothed, and bent slightly at the waist, extending his hand for her to take. “Will you join me by the pools, sweetling?” he rejoiced in the blush that graced her features, and the delicate feeling of her hand feathering his own. She had remained quiet, feeling bashful enough as it was, walking hand in hand like that with the Prince of Dorne - But thankfully, the guards were nowhere to be seen, and they were as alone as they can be. Private and intimate, and very much away from the eyes of the onlookers.

She listened dearly to the proud and loving way in which he spoke of the Gardens, and their history, who created them and why. The loud and harmonious song of the crickets and the toads, even the rattles of the snakes. It was peaceful. The breeze was warm, and the sky was filled with thousands of colours, ranging from yellow, red, orange and pink, but purple and indigo as well - And many other hues in between. She had never been able to sit back and admire the sky like this in a while - Especially not since she’s been sent to the hell that the Red Keep is. When the day met with the night, and the stars were shyly peeking and twinkling, thought it wasn’t yet as dark as midnight - It was a breath-taking sight.

She was so lost in the sight that she didn’t realise the way the man besides her looked at her. He was gazing at her as if she was his most beloved person in the world. It was true, he held a deep love for Ellaria, and had fathered several children together - But he had never even thought about marrying her. Between the parties and the debauchery, the fun, the many men and women that shared his bed, and the amount of travels he partook in... But now, there she stood, before him, someone so completely different than anyone he’s ever met before. Different from all the treacherous people, the liars, the flatterers, the manipulators and what not.

She was so good of heart and innocent - As if she was living in a completely different world than his own. A world of complete peace and harmony, where people can do no wrong, and everyone is trustworthy and reliable. It only made him even more desperate to keep her safe from the cruel world. He wanted to keep her in this oasis, and keep the mirage of goodness for her to keep believing in. Little by little, she will find herself not only comfortable in her new home, but with them as well. With him, most specially, as he wanted her so badly.

Suddenly, a mischievous smirk played on his lips - He was so enchanted by her, that he couldn’t help himself. He threw his arms around her body and jumped into the warm water of the shallow pools. The little squeak of surprise, as she met with the water surface, made his heart beat faster. He stared down at her adorable expression, at her wet hair and the incredibly attractive way the light material of her dress revealed the shape of her body as it stuck to it so tantalizingly sweet. There was only so much the Prince could refrain himself, after the few weeks since she’s been brought to his country. His hands cupped her cheeks, and he leaned in to kiss those soft and pink flower petals of her lips. The few seconds of surprise in which she felt her body and mind frozen, completely dissipated, and Oberyn could feel her melting into the kiss. For just a moment, he let go to gaze at her awestruck look, before one of his arms snaked around her middle, holding her dearly, whilst his other hand was buried into her hair. He felt like being breathed into him - It was unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Passion and fire from Ellaria especially, but now, his heart was beating alive, and he felt tender and mellow.

At some point, he was even afraid of getting greedy - Not only did he not want to scare his sweet little fawn away, but he also was afraid of how drunk he would get if he went even further, indulging in those lips of hers, and the smell of her flower perfume... That was how she deserved to smell - The stench of King’s Landing was finally washed off for good. He was never going to let her go back to that awful place. He hated it as much as she did. Were it not for the situation of the captive sister, or that devious bitch who calls claims to be her friend, then she wouldn’t have any further worry about that disgusting city.

Now, even more than before, he would come over to her chambers and would bring her new jewellery, all of them shining gold like the Sun, with precious stones of every kind and colours, and he would steal long and tender kisses from her. If he were gifting her a necklace, he would put it around her neck from behind, admiring how it embellished her flawless snow-white cleavage, and would embrace her from behind, leaning down to tickle her with soft neck kisses - She would always giggle from those. If there were rings, he would kneel in front of her and slid them on, before kissing each of her knuckles, the back of her hand, and then he would lean his face into her touch and kiss the inside of her wrist - She would get so bashful that she would get on the ground next to him and hug him tightly to her chest, whispering the sweetest confessions of love and care. And if he were to bring he any kind of hair accessory, be it a flower crown or pearls, a golden gem tiara, or a sheer veil filled with diamonds and zircons that would make her hair shine even more, then he would ask to brush her hair and he would fix the accessory in her hair himself, then tilt her head to kiss her forehead - She would put her hand over his, and cheekily bring his hand for her to kiss.

What he wouldn’t do to keep her away from all the horrors that waited them across the borders...

During the day, the two would play the newest card and dice game that was trending all around the young people - It became a trend, as she called it - And he had to admit, it was a nice game that combined strategy and luck rather beautifully. But better than that, he loved how she would make such adorable expressions when she would lose. He didn’t even imagine there could exist one with such awful luck, but she proved him wrong, times and times again, when out of 10 dices, none of them would depict the element she needed... For multiple rounds... For multiple games.

But he knew just how to make her forget about her lost games, by either going horse riding, or for a walk by the beach - Maybe even a little swim, if they so wished to. At evening, she would sneak by the shore and dance - But it wasn’t just any type of dancing, Oberyn realised - But spear dancing. After he showed off to her multiple times when training, it seemed to have inspired the little flower to practice herself. She was fast and agile, but more than anything, she was so graceful and elegant, with her flowing skirts spinning around her slender form, and her long hair flying with every move. More than anything, however, she was having fun. Never had he seen her grinning so widely and having fun with all her heart. She looked free - As free as a bird, allowed to sing at will and fly at win - Allowed to do anything without anything restricting her in any way. She had some difficulty with the weight of the weapon, but twirling around made it feel less than a feather. And her voice - The way she would hum whatever melody she was thinking of - Some familiar to the Prince, while some, completely foreign - Oberyn felt himself completely relaxing whilst he leaned on a tree and admiring her from afar.

Then, came the night, the most honeyed part of the day. The time when he either spends the most passionate hours in the flames of excitement with Ellaria, and perhaps even other participants - Or he stays in Y/N’s room, with her cuddled into his side as he strokes her hair and he reads her a book. She was sleeping so peacefully in his embrace that he could never bring himself to return to his own chambers. It was always wonderful, waking up to such a lovely woman by his side, especially when she’d snuggle even closer to him while asleep, like a little kitten.

Though she was still very much worried about her family scattered all over the Seven Kingdoms, and the on-going war with the Crown, she at least had found the closest thing to a feeling of peace and belonging, here, in Dorne, soon to be married to Oberyn, and good friend with Ellaria, his paramour. Getting even closer to the man, the two agreed to finally plan the wedding, and everything was as great as it could get. Y/N was happy and felt at home, and Oberyn was glad that his soon to be wife was had finally found a family in him, but also Ellaria, his many daughters, and all the citizens of Sunspear.

But in Westeros there can never be a moment of respiro, and much to his dread and anger, there was a letter he received - It was for Y/N, not for him, but she had long since agreed that he should read any letter she writes or receives, for safety purposes. She hated that she was still far too naive when it came to the harsh political affairs between the more powerful houses, so she was fine with someone who could handle this better to take care of these trivial things.

He had called his paramour to read this as well - He knew the Lannisters were the scum of the earth, but to think they would find something as ridiculous and innocent as Y/N’s friendship with Alys, just to bring them pain and exploit the Stark name... It was cruel, and the Prince was getting very quickly fed up with the lions. He had not forgotten, nor forgiven, the way they treated his dear sister, Elia, and her two children. He sure as hell won’t be lenient now. He needed his sweet revenge... Dorne needed the long awaited vengeance, and somehow, he shall have it. Especially on the perpetrator of all evils... The Mountain.

But how was he to tell Y/N about the contents of this letter, without alarming her, or making her feel guilty? In a way, he wondered if Alys was also a conspirator to this ploy - Surely, she was, he thought. At first, he wanted to just throw the letter in the fire and ignore the matters from the Crown - But Ellaria had reminded him that Y/N’s own sister was helplessly caged in King’s Landing, and they could easily threaten to kill her, just as they did with their father.

That night, he had taken Y/N to bed with him, just like many other nights. Usually, he would be reading her a story, or tell her of some of his weirder adventures from his long travels - Or, on particularly sleepless nights, she would tell him about home and her interactions with her family, and how unique all of them were. This night, especially, as soon as he stepped inside her room, he saw her in one of those sheer, light pink night gowns - It was a pretty warm night, even this late - And she was at the table, painting. She was gracing a serene, happy smile on her face. As soon as she turned her head to look at her visitor, her smile widened even more, and her eyes lit up. “Ryn!” she called out his new nickname breathlessly, throwing the paint brush into the water glass and wiping her coloured hands. “What a coincidence, I was thinking of you!” she had become so much bolder and more honest with her feelings, it was very endearing. “I made this for you! I saw you liked the desert roses the most whenever we’d go through the garden - Thought I’d make something for you to hang on the wall in your room, if you like it.” quickly fanning the painting to dry faster, Oberyn went next to the table, admiring her creation. “I’m surprised, lovely, Y/N, you have become so good at this.” seeing as it had dried, he held up the long paper and admired it. “Just like the real flower - I’ll have someone hang it so I can see it every time I wake up. Thank you, sweet one.” he raised her chin slightly, before kissing her forehead.

He watched as she scurried to clean her hands properly, before taking a book and getting in bed, she motioned for him to come along faster. “I found this book that talks about the culture and history of many countries in Essos - And I have seen many a story about the Rhoynar, and the water mages and witches - I was so fascinated by it, and then I remembered, Nymeria was one of the Rhoynar, and most of the traditions from the Dorne of these days were brought by her and her people. Can you tell me more about it?” how could he ever decline a request from her, especially as she wanted to learn more about his own country? She was just so beautiful and lovely, he could not understand how could anyone wish her ill. “Of course I will, my sweet Snowdrop. Anything you wish for, I will do for you.” he sat on the bed and pulled her into a small kiss. “Before that, I have something to tell you.” he could see the anxiety form into her eyes, so he quickly brought her into an embrace, caressing her hair, reassuring her that she had nothing to fear. “We must leave for King’s Landing in three days.” Y/N looked up at him with confusion, yet he could also see the disgust she held for that place. “But... Why? I thought you said you hated that place.” “O, darling, trust me, I do. If it were after me, I would burn the whole capital to the ground, and all the people in it, beginning with the Lannisters.” he explained, and the girl nodded her head in approval - She would have done the same. “A letter had arrived from King’s Landing today, with the seal of the Crown.” the girl gulped in fright. “They had called for you to attend the trial of Alys Manderly, under the pretexts of adultery, seducing and indulging in... Unethical misconducts with at least a woman.” just like he had feared, the Queen had used their letters to accuse the Stark girl of indirectly going against the laws of the Faith of the Seven. “So... Alys is being sentenced for indulging with women... And their proof are our letters, yes?” the man nodded. “But I was in Dorne, and here it is not illegal. And they cannot prove anything from the time I was in the capital.” “If they want to, they can prove anything, with enough bribing. After all, they are not directly accusing you, but your friend, who is from a far less important family. Not to mention, if she is found guilty, by extension, so will you be, and by those stupid laws of the Church, they have every right to take you away and put you through very harsh conversion punishments, and maybe force you to renounce your family’s name and title and become a Septa, or join the Silent Sisters.” the gravity in the man’s voice made the girl feel as if her soul was sucked out from her body. “What does Cersei get out of this? If she wanted me dead, she could have done so when I was in the capital, not have me marry you, and be far away from her grasp, under your protection. Moreover, she couldn’t have known we would wait so much to legally marry. And if she wanted to threaten me, she has Sansa in her hands. Why go through all this trouble? I do not understand.” she asked, aggravated by all this mess. “The less Starks alive, the better. She did not want Sansa to marry Joffrey, but the King did, and because of that, she can’t change until someone better comes along - And there aren’t many families that can beat yours.” he explained. “Your brother is leading a rebellion, and you are allied with the region that is most likely to go against the Crown for vengeance. You could seduce me into joining your brother’s cause and take over Casterly Rock.” Y/N’s eyes went wide, and was about to protest, but got silenced by a kiss. “I know, I know, you would never do that. Surely, Alys would have told Cersei by now, and I, myself, know you would never even think of attempting something like that.” Y/N frowned and looked down, pondering and thinking deeply, and she sighed in utmost defeat. “I’m so sorry, Ryn. I shouldn’t have involved you in this. I was a stupid, naive little girl who hoped that, if I was away from them, they couldn’t lay their hand on me anymore.” her head was hung, and Oberyn could even see her eyes watering - She must have been feeling very angry and guilty. “I will go to King’s Landing by myself. You have enough on your shoulders anyway.” but the man scoffed and ruffled her hair. “Are you done speaking nonsense?” he asked, giving her a look. “I will not have my wife slandered, nor accused or prosecuted like that, especially not by that accursed family.” though he was serious, it didn’t seem to convince the girl. “I am not yet your wife, Ryn. You do not have to go that far for someone like me. I have only brought you problems since you have met me, and given you reasons for migraines. That is already far more than anyone would do for me... And I do not want to abuse your kindness.” she had tried to raise from the bed, but was pulled back by his strong hand. “You do not get it at all, do you? Or is that you do not want to understand?” he asked, putting Y/N on his lap. “It is you that I love.” Oberyn pulled the girl into a long and passionate kiss. “And I will have no one hurt the one I love.” he kept pulling her closer and closer with each kiss. The fire was suffocating her, but it also made her long for more. “I was unable to save Elia, but I will not allow those fuckers to lay their hand on you, my love.” Y/N was feeling her body and mind melting altogether in his embrace, and she was sure that, soon, she will transform into a puddle and slip between his fingers. “I am no saving Alys. I am saving you.” “Are you sure you want to go through all this troublesomeness, Ryn?” she managed to breath out, her brain almost blank, as his wet lips traced her neck veins. “I would go to the ends of the world for you, my darling. I would reach out and grab the Sun rays, to make you a shining crown, fitting for the Princess of Dorne.” the more his hands were roaming all over her skin, and underneath the sheer material of her night gown, the more she felt her blood scorching from within. “R-Ryn!” she gasped from embarrassment, the same way his compliments always overwhelmed her - In that instant, she felt herself being rolled on her back, and the only things she could see were his gorgeously chiseled visage, his sweet smile painted on those perfect lips of his, and those warm, loving dark eyes, that only ever looked at her with such deep emotion. “Hush, my love. Say no more. You are safe with me, so cease your worrying.”

Three days from then, the Dorne retinue had moved forwards towards the Capital of Westeros. Through the days, Oberyn looked seemingly unbothered, though both Y/N and Ellaria were on the edge, more or less, afraid for what was to come. No one willingly went inside the Lion’s den and thought they would get out unscathed. Still, the Martell Prince had no problem easing his two lovers, and comforting them - Even while inside the awful castle.

They had a good deal of food and wine to drink at the feast, but everyone new, the following morning at court, the Seven Hells would break loose. Y/N had told that night to both Oberyn and Ellaria about the many times she had to be held accountable at court, and how Joffrey had humiliated both her and her sister countless times. Also, she had told them how, despite Jeyne being Sansa’s best friend, she had a different treatment compared to Alys. Oberyn realised that even she suspected something was amiss, but did not stray away from wanting to save her.

This time, however, things were different. It was not inside the Castle’s court that they held the trial, but outside - Was it because of the fine weather? Or because it was far easier to have so many people outside, without too many voices echoing all at once and blending together? Y/N did not know, but she was extremely afraid. The young King was in the middle, on a large throne, and on either side of him were Cersei, and Sandor, Sansa and Tywin, and some other guards. Blasted thing, Y/N thought, Sansa was looking as awful as the day she had left her in this awful place.

“I have an awful feeling about this.” Y/N muttered, only to feel both Oberyn and Ellaria holding her hands. The Dorne envoy was somewhere up there, all on the same stand, watching the trial unfolding, as Maester Pycelle was down, speaking of the sins committed, before Alys was dragged by two guards She looked ragged and tattered, and beaten up and starved. Y/N’s breath was hitched in her throat, and she immediately shot to her feet. Oberyn realised that any suspicion she ever had of Alys was destroyed by the mere visual of her abused childhood friend, and the pity and guilt she felt for putting her through it all, because of some minor indiscretion

“As we all know, we are gathered here to judge the actions of Lady Alys Manderly, and her unethical actions that go directly against the rightful laws dictated to us by the Sept of the Seven, ancient and brought to us so long ago, by the Andals.” Oberyn could see her small hands gripping the railing so tightly, and the way her chest was heaving up and down. “Septa Nadya has discovered letters written by Lady Alys addressed to Lady Y/N Stark, in which she confesses her love for the Lady, under the pretext of being childhood friends. She has abused the kindness of her Lady through the years and continued to endanger her by association. She has committed acts of manipulation and blackmail towards her liege Lady.” Y/N wanted to hit her head against the railing - Everything they were saying was almost word for word what Oberyn had warned her. “Septa Nadya has also caught Lady Y/N Stark sneaking out at night to go sleep at Lady Manderly’s chambers, which is improper behaviour for women of marrying age.” “What a load of bullshit.” Ellaria grimaced. “Girls are girls. Let them gossip the night away, for fuck’s sake.” it was obvious even she was pissed off by the ridiculous accusations. “Your Grace, these are the accusations against Lady Alys Manderly, and by default, Lady Y/N Stark, through association.” The Maester spoke clearly, despite his old age. “So this is a trial for two traitors of the Faith, not just one!” the King rose to his feet. “Lady Stark was in Dorne when these letters were sent. The laws of Dorne are different from the ones here, so she has nothing to do with these accusations.” Tyrion was the first to stand up for the girl. “Thank you, Tyrion.” Y/N muttered under her breath - the Prince rose an interested eyebrow - So the little wolf girl actually had some allies around the Crown, even if that ally was a dwarf Lion. “That does not take away from the sneaking around at night.” the King spat back. “Your Grace, Lady Stark had gone through many assassination attempts while staying here. I had personally escorted her to Lady Manderly’s chambers, so she would not feel afraid alone.” Sandor Clegane also spoke up for her. “O, Sandor, you shouldn’t have.” Y/N gritted her teeth, suddenly afraid for a completely different friend - Whilst the Martell almost huffed in amusement - The Mountain was a ruthless piece of shit who mutilated, raped and abused to death his own sister and her children, but his younger brother was a good hearted loyal dog. How ironic. “That means all accusations against Lady Stark are null?” Cersei was the one to ask, and from the looks of it, Y/N was more or less safe. For now. “Your Grace, what punishment do you find appropriate for Lady Alys Manderly?” the Grand Maester asked. “Any crime against the Faith is a great offense directly against the Crown as well. I say - Flog her to death!” murmurs and gasps were heard throughout the court - What was with that death sentence?! Over something as ridiculous as a girl telling her friend how much she cares for her. “YOUR GRACE, PLEASE -- I BEG OF YOU!! SPARE ME! HAVE MERCY! WE ARE JUST FRIENDS -- WE DID NOT REALISE HOW DIFFERENT THINGS WERE HERE, COMPARED TO BACK HOME, WHEN WE WERE CHILDREN! PLEASE, PLEASE, SPARE ME! SPARE ME!” Alys was on the ground, weeping and imploring the King to at least give a lighter sentence. Oberyn looked up, realising Y/N’s body was trembling, and her grip on the railing was even tighter. A single tear made its way down her face. King’s Landing truly was the city of sorrow. “GUARDS! UNFOLD THE PUNISHMENT HERE, BEFORE EVERYONE’S EYES - LET HER SERVE AS AN EXAMPLE FOR EVERYONE WHO DARES BETRAY THE CROWN AND THE FAITH!” Joffrey was smirking wickedly. Tywin looked seemingly unbothered, though he realised his own grandson was almost as mad as the Mad King himself, and he did not want another situation like that. Cersei, also, was annoyed that her own child was, once again, ruining her scheming by killing the people she was using. Tyrion was disgusted by his nephew’s behaviour, Sansa was too horrified to even watch, remembering Jeyne and seeing her instead of Alys down there... And Sandor... His eyes scanned for the Stark Girl, and upon seeing her, he felt pity. Only he knew how many times he saved her from the assassins and even those stupid guards like Meryn Trant. As the very same guard stepped forward with a large wooden rod, he readied himself before using all his force to strike the girl’s back. Her screams were shrill and raw, and with each him, Y/N was jolting as if she was the recipient of those aims.

“I DEMAND TRIAL BY COMBAT!”

The whole court went quiet.

“I DEMAND TRIAL BY COMBAT!” the very same wavery voice shrieked out, her voice echoing loudly through everyone’s ears. “Your King does not allow it!” Joffrey snarled at the woman. “No one has the authority to deny an ancient right like the trial by combat... Your Grace.” Y/N spat with disgust. She snatched her arms from both Oberyn and Ellaria and ran through the crowd, all the way down to the court, where she pushed Meryn Trant away from the girl. “Three days for now - I demand a fight to determine Alys Manderly’s fate. Choose your fighter, Your Grace.” each time she used the honorifics, she spat with mocking and disgust. “You dare challenge me?!” the young King was getting angrier by the minute. “Your Grace, as the Stark Lady said, the trial by combat is irrefutable. Choose a fighter and we will prepare for the fight.” the Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister, spoke up with a solemn grace. “Fine then. Ser Gregor - Step forward. Show Lady Stark and Lady Manderly that the authority of the Faith and of the Crown are far stronger than some silly girl friendship.” thus, the monster of a man, clad in heavy plate armor from head to toe, holding a longsword that must have been taller than even Y/N herself, and he strutted in front of the Stark girl, who stood tall, and looked at him with sternly, despite her heart dropping with fear. “So it is you they send again, isn’t it, you fucking monster?” the people gasped at the unlady-like vocabulary displayed by the Lady. “Do you find pleasure in killing young ladies? Is that why you so willingly volunteer to do all the dirty deeds the Lannisters order you to?” her voice was getting louder and harsher with each word. “First, you abused and killed your own sister.” Y/N spat at him. “Then, you dared to touch Princess Elia Martell.” she continued - both Ellaria and Oberyn were now on their feet, shocked by her recklessness - But whilst Ellaria was more frightened, the Prince was proud and satisfied - His sweet flower wasn’t afraid to speak up anymore. “You raped her! You ruthlessly cut her body in half! You outright destroyed her children!” she yelled at him. “And now, you would kill two other women, for no reason -- You must be jerking off to the thought of butchering us... Mayhaps you want to rape us too, don’t you? Then cut us in half? Or do you first rape after death as well?” the challenging of the Mountain made the man raise his sword up - Though both Tyrion and Cersei yelled out for him not to hurt the Stark girl, as it would go against the Law of the Trial by Combat, Y/N was quick to dodge, with a graceful twirl - And she snatched away the heavy sword of Meryn Trant, choosing a defensive stance in front of her friend. “So you even have against your Master’s rules, don’t you, you fucking deaf beast?!” lucky her, however, Sandor leapt from the stands and caught his brother’s attention, protecting her. “LEAVE HER BE!” he roared, giving Y/N time to step away. “Is that how you rule over your guards, Your Grace?! You let them go savage and rampage everything in their path?! Where is the Rule of the Crown, then? Where is the abiding to the Faith?! Gregor Clegane is disobeying you, and you let him go! How is it any different from Alys Manderly’s case?!” Y/N yelled out, accusing the King, and by association, all the Lannisters. “IS THIS HOW IT WENT FOR ELIA MARTELL?! AND WHO KNOW HOW MANY OTHER COMPLETELY INNOCENT PEOPLE WHO HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS WAR?! HOW MANY CHILDREN WERE SLAUGHTERED AND CARVED UP, WRAPPED IN LANNISTER BLANKETS, BECAUSE OF THE HEARTLESS WHIMS OF A TYRANT LEADING A BRAINLESS MONSTER?!” “ENOUGH!!!” King Joffrey screamed - His eyes were red with anger, and if he could, he would burn everyone alive in that place. “GUARDS - BEAT HER TO DEATH, RIGHT NOW!” “Not yet, you have not the right to do that - Your Grace. Wait three days, and if my fighter loses, then by all means, my life will be yours. Until then, it is mine own, and no one else’s.” as the King had his temper tantrum, realising he couldn’t touch the woman humiliating him, Y/N made a mock curtesy bow and spun around, pacing towards Alys and roughly grabbing her by the wrist, dragging her away from there, in the castle, to her own room. “Stay here. Don’t move.” she ordered, locking the door.

Y/N’s whole body was shaking like a leaf. She had never protested, or raised her voice, or acted violent in any way. She had never mocked or humiliated anyone, let alone, tried to stand up for someone like that, even putting her own life on the line.

How stupid could she be?

Frankly, she wanted to bash her skull against a wall and end it all, but she knew she had to come up with a plan, and fast. There was no way she could fight against the Mountain, of all people. She should have known it would be him... Hell, she didn’t even want the Trial by Combat, but seeing her friend being beaten up made her mind go array. Instead, she leaned back on the wall and looked up at the ceiling of the hall, trying to clear her brain and think rationally.

Where could she go now? What can she do? She only knows Tyrion and Sandor here, in King’s Landing, and neither would prove to be too great of a help. “You! How-- HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING SO STUPID?!” a familiar voice cried out, as rapid footsteps echoed - Y/N felt herself being pushed against the wall by weak hands. Her beautiful sister Sansa was crying in her chest, shaking and sobbing tragically. “You will die! How could you do that?! Was seeing dad die not enough?! Now you will have me watch you die as well?!” “Sansa...” Y/N pulled her younger sister into a tight embrace, petting her hair dearly. “I don’t care about Alys! I don’t care about Jeyne either! I don’t care about anyone! Anyone can die - But you can’t! You can’t leave me all alone! I don’t want to be here anymore!” her voice was so broken, just like her heart. It shattered Y/N. If she could, she would kidnap Sansa and get the hell out of here, with the first opportunity. “Dorne and House Martell is known to cause problems for the Crown for hundreds of years. Might as well sneak you out and bring you back to Sunspear with your elder sister. You will see that she has taken quite a liking to the Water Gardens especially.” Oberyn’s amused voice betrayed none of his nervousness. Sansa had a glare on her face, looking at him. She saw him as the man who took her sister away from her. “Lord Martell, I would greatly appreciate it if you would not disturb my reunion with my sister, or imply such unseeming nonsense. I would not dare commit treason against the Crown and neither would Y/N.” somehow, the younger Stark child was able to keep her courtesies up. “Ahh, I see, so those pretty words run through the family, now that makes sense. You see, little flower, the truth is - Your sweet sister was happiest away from this place. I think that was obvious by what happened just moments ago.” Oberyn chuckled lightly. “Enough, you two. I am busy. I don’t have time for silly banters.” Y/N grumbled, prying her sister away from her embrace. “Busy? And with what, might I ask? Surely, you won’t go train to fight the Mountain yourself, will you?” the girl did not look at him. “Ahh, you’re playing stubborn again. Do you like me reassuring you every time, or are you willingly forgetful?” “I will not have you dying to that monster, Ryn! I won’t let him take away someone important to me.” she snapped at him strongly. “Is that your declaration of love, sweetling?” this comment made the girl groan. “And who said anything about - Dying - Anyway? Do you think me so weak as to die to that meat brain? Surely not, otherwise I would get offended.” Oberyn tut-tut’ed at the girl playfully. “I don’t want to take chances.” came her resolute reply. “You created the perfect opportunity for me to get my vengeance against that thing who took Elia away from me. Whether you want to or not, I will have my revenge.” Oberyn stepped in front of her, gently picking her chin and raising it. “On the other hand, your bold declarations of today have turned me on so bad that I will have to steal you until tomorrow. Little flower, go back to your room, your sister is safe with me.” the gallant man with the mischievous smile easily picked his soon to be wife up bridal style and brought her to his room. The look on her face was almost hilarious, that’s how bewildered and embarrassed she was by him acting so forward, in front of her sister, no less. “Now, my sweet snowdrop, how about I show my love for you? It should serve as enough of a reassurance that I will win against that thing.”

The three days passed by far too quickly, and Y/N could only watch Oberyn train, or speak to Sandor and hopefully find out whatever weakness his awful brother might have had, that they could exploit. The outside court was, once again, the place where the Trial took place, and while the Mountain was already on the fighting ground, Oberyn was kissing and embracing Y/N and watching as Ellaria polished his spear. And coated it with the deadliest poison there was.

“Ryn, please, please, please - Promise me you won’t leave me alone. I can’t bare the idea of losing you.” her wet eyes made the man smile even more as he pulled her into another loving kiss. “I won’t ever leave you, my love.” he put his forehead to her own, his hands on her cheeks. “I love you, Y/N.” “I love you, Ryn.” she held tightly onto his wrists, afraid of letting go. Still, it was thanks to Ellaria, who gathered her into her own arms, that she unclenched her fingers from around his hands, so he could get his weapon and go for the fateful fight. “Don’t worry, Y/N. Oberyn won’t lose. There is no other Red Viper in Westeros.” she petted her hair as the two watched the fight to death unfold.

Oberyn entered the fighting area by twirling around and showing off his agile and elegant moves - It almost looked as if he was dancing - Was it his way of showing Y/N that she has nothing to fear, and that the fight will be as easy as when she’d dancing around with the spear by the beach, and she’s smiling all happy and content?

He was taunting the Mountain, and parrying each and every one of his heavy blows. It was magnificent, watching the Viper mess around with his opponent, but every time Clegane would approach and hit, both Y/N and Ellaria would flinch and hug each other tighter.

The enemy was able to cut the spear in two, and even throw Oberyn to the ground - But it was the only damage he could do, as an enraged Prince impaled with ease the huge man’s torso, and even cut away at his leg’s tendons, making him kneel to the ground, before striking him even harder. The Mountain was laying flat on the ground, as Oberyn circled him, accusing him of the crimes he committed against Elia Martell, and kept ordering him to tell to the world who gave the wretched order - To prove that it was indeed Tywin Lannister.

“DON’T LOSE FOCUS!!!” Y/N shrieked at him, seeing the Mountain still twitching on the ground. Thankfully, the Viper took heed of the warning and dodged once the enemy tried to sweep him off his feet with his swinging arm. “RYN!!” it took every ounce of strength Ellaria had to keep the little flower away from the fighting ring, as Oberyn kept taunting and stabbing the Mountain, until finally, his last words became swept away into the stinking breeze of King’s Landing, and with one last defiant act, the Mountain had betrayed his former master.

“Tywin Lannister.” Gregor Clegane was dead, and so was the whole crowd, from shock. Only Y/N burst out of Ellaria’s arms once the trial was deemed finalized and the Martell Prince declared the winner, and she jumped in his arms, shamelessly peppering his whole face with kisses. Finally Dorne had received the confession and redemption of the perpetrator who committed such heinous, unforgivable acts against their beloved Princess. Now, it was only the Lannisters to bring to justice - Somehow - But all in due time. “I’m so not letting go of you tonight, my sweet Y/N.” the man couldn’t help but chuckle at the uncharacteristic display of affection from the otherwise timid and reserved lady - But it was, by far, the most endearing thing he’s felt. “Never let me go, Ryn.” how can anyone resist those sweet words, and those beautiful eyes of hers?

But Oberyn will soon learn that going against the Crown and getting revenge will prove to be far more devastating than he could ever imagine - Not for him directly, but for those dearest to him. The loss of the greatest Knight of the Lannisters must have been a huge blow, and they had to retaliate... Or that is what he thought at first... Though at the breakfast feast where only the select few members of the Royal family were invited, and the ones attending the Small Council. Everyone, but one, was shocked at what was to unfold.

They were supposed to just leave back home that day - How could things shatter so easily? Everything was under control, and they were the victors... How could the tides turn so quickly?

At the long table, King Joffrey and the Hand of the King were sitting on the opposite ends of the table. Oberyn, Y/N, Ellaria, Cersei were on one side, while Varys, Tyrion, Baelish and Grand Maester Pycelle were on the other side. There were two more chairs left vacant, one on each side. Y/N looked at Oberyn and whispered in his ear, worried - Where was Sansa? Surely, as the future Queen, she would be there? Y/N then looked at the King, further up, at Sandor, but even he seemed to know nothing. Tyrion, as well, was simply drinking wine, not bothering to raise the covering platter from his dish.

“I see my sister is running late. Is it appropriate to begin our meal without the future Queen?” Y/N asked, her hands holding each other on her lap. “Clegane, why don’t you go by Lady Sansa’s room and see how she is doing?” Tyrion ordered the Hound. “I have not been informed by her maid of any illness.” Cersei spoke, slowly reaching for her cup of wine. She shared a look with both Tyrion and her father - A look of imminent danger. They were all suspecting something was wrong. “The food will get cold if we wait any longer. Perhaps my Lady wife has lost the track of time putting on make up or doing her hair. That is what pretty girls do, don’t they?” with a wave of his hand, the people at the table had to reluctantly begin the meal, taking off the covers of their plates.

An ear-piercing shriek, followed by the loud sound of a heavy chair colliding with the cold ground. All at once, the chamber was silent, save for the loud, ragged pants of distress from the Stark girl, whose eyes were glued to the contents of the plate before her, as she stood huddled and small, like a scared little mouse, absolutely terrified.

“You have declared war with the whole North, irredeemably, and now, with the South as well. Is this how the Crown knows to keep old alliances in place? Perhaps the Mad old King Aerys wasn’t as bad as we thought.” Oberyn rose to his feet, glaring at the oldest Lannister man, who couldn’t peel his eyes from the blasted thing that ultimately sealed the end of the Lannister House.

“Sansa...” there, on Y/N’s very platter, lay her own sister’s beautiful head. Her expression was fixed, terrified, in agony. “My sweet Sansa... What have they done to you...” powerlessly crawling back to the table, Y/N reached out and gingerly grabbed her sister’s head, hugging it dearly to her chest, sobbing in her still very soft red hair. “Who did this to you, my sweet Sansa? Tell me... And I will kill them with my own two hands. Who ever it is... No matter who it is... I will make sure to avenge you.” her voice was so low and serene, that it sent shivers to most of the people present. “I assure you, this crime has nothing to do with us. We didn’t want Eddark Stark’s death, nor Sansa’s. We did not want a war with the North.” Cersei’s desperate voice seemed to make Oberyn realise that although not herself guilty, King Joffrey was the culprit. “You were Queen Regent, and still allowed her father’s death to happen. It is your fault, as well as King Joffrey’s, that the North wants you all dead.” Oberyn felt himself re-living the very same moment he learnt the news of Elia’s death. He was enraged. “I will have Varys and Lord Baelish investigate her death.” Tywin waved his hand to the two. “The same way you investigated Elia’s death? Or the same way you ordered it?” the Prince slammed his fist onto the table. “The disobedience of a subject does not fall under my jurisdiction.” the old Lannister spoke up. “A leader who cannot control his subjects is a bad one.” Oberyn refuted immediately. “What is it, Sansa...?” Y/N’s soft voice made everyone silent. “Did you say... Joffrey? The bastard born of incest? The boy-King who is crueler than Maegor, and madder than Aerys?” that seemed to anger both the mother and the child. “It is your own fault that you had to retort to killing my father to get rid of those accusations. They only made you even more guilty.” Y/N looked straight at Cersei, with piercing eyes. “Out of all the Stark children, only Arya looked like father. Us, the other five, looked just like mother. You were in the same position. You were just too dumb to realise. Now, look around you - The whole Westeros knows your secret, yet you have the stupidity to create even more enemies. The North remembers, Cersei. I have long since wished for a lion’s pelt for a carpet. Might as well have more than one.” the Queen Regent shot to her feet and stormed in front of Y/N, only to have Ellaria get in between. “I do not think you are in the right to step anywhere closer to the Princess of Dorne.” it was a warning. “And neither of you has a right to slander and threaten the Crown.” she shot back immediately. “I have every right to do whatever the fuck I want. You took my father and sister from me, for no reason. Surely, you have forgotten... That your own twin brother and lover is being held captive by my brother and mother. Let us see how long does it take my mother to take the sword herself and put Jaime Lannister’s head on a spike, once she learns that her sweet Sansa met the same fate her as beloved husband. Let us see how long it takes Robb to ally himself with Stannis. Imagine King’s Landing... Against the North... The East... The South... And, perhaps, if that does not work, than the Targaryen girl with her three dragons... She is still in Essos now, isn’t she? And Essos is so very close to Dorne... I’m sure it wouldn’t be too difficult to go in search for her and get her over to claim her throne... So many possibilities... All very tempting...” Y/N spoke, not once blinking, not once extending her gaze else where, and once she was done, she turned around to leave. “DOG, DON’T LET HER LEAVE! CAPTURE HER AND THROW HER IN JAIL!” but the Hound did nothing. “DOG!” “Fuck the king.” Clegane spat, as he threw his weapon to the ground. “I am done doing the stupid orders of a brat.” “I AM YOUR KING!” Joffrey kicked his chair in his rage. “You are no king. You are just a fucking cunt.” he was the first to punch open the doors, and he stomped away, followed by Y/N and the Martells. “Sandor. Will you come with us?” Y/N’s soft voice called out, down the corridor. “No, little fawn. I’m done with this shit. Fuck this city and all the people in it.” the man growled, and the girl agreed with a hum. “But don’t you want to avenge Sansa?” Sandor stopped in his tracks. “I know you loved her.” she continued. “She told me she wanted to run away with you. Up North, back home. Said she only ever felt safe when she saw you. We have not forgotten the many times you saved us.” she felt herself being pinned to the wall. “Avenging her won’t bring her back to life!” Sandor growled at the girl. “I know. But I’ve lost too much to let those fuckers continue to live without facing the consequences of their actions.” Y/N’s was calm... Too calm. “I have a friend in the North. He is known for flaying people alive. He had shown me, once. I think it is time I polish up those skills.” “And what would you have me do, then?” he let go of her. “You either become my guard and come to Dorne with me, or you go and join Robb in the war. Whether or not you want to fight, it is your choice, but I need someone I can trust up there. And I need to find a way to get Robb to ally himself with Stannis. He’s got a fleet. If Robb goes to attack the Westerlands again, threatening Casterly Rock, and Stannis attacks King’s Landing from Blackwater Bay... And if we attack from the South... There’s no way the Lannisters can win. We just need a good strategy, and a great many deal of people.” Oberyn had heard her speak this way for the first time. She wasn’t soft and shy anymore, nor was she erratic and desperate. Now, she was smart, collected and worst of all, grieving and war-driven. She had never been to war, but it was clear, all her trauma made her fearless. It was now that the young she-wolf was the most dangerous. “Fine. I’m going North. Your brother better not have me killed on the spot.” he scoffed, only to receive a pendant. “Robb gifted it to me before I left for the capital. It has a small letter addressed to him. He will know. Tell him I had sent you. Tell them what happened. The North never forgets.” she explained the plan. “You have changed, little fawn.” he was the last thing the man spoke to the eldest Stark girl. “I am no longer a little fawn, Sandor. Not anymore.” thus, Sandor Clegane left for his horse, Stranger, and galloped North, while Y/N and the retinue for Dorne, including Alys Manderly, set South, only stopping by a distant part of the God’s Wood to set fire to what remained of Sansa.

She was far too beautiful to rot away. Best remain ashes, and let herself be carried by the wind and travel wherever she wants to. Now, she is no longer a caged bird. Now, she is free. The days in Dorne were no better, and Y/N kept herself locked in her room, staring helplessly at the wall besides her. She was heart broken, and only revenge could quench the rageful fire in her heart. Day in and day out, she sent out letters - The first, to her brother, Robb, informing him of Sandor’s arrival, and the ideas of allying either with the greatest force on which Renly was relying on, the Tyrells, or on Stannis’s army. Then, to Ramsay, learning more of Lord Bolton’s plans, and convincing him to strive harder to become legitimized and quickly take over the Dreadfort. Lastly, she had sent a letter to Tyrion. He was the only one from King’s Landing that she did not want to kill. He had told her that he was planning a certain one’s death, after being snubbed harshly for even thinking about becoming the Heir of Casterly Rock.

Though Alys was here, she did not want to see her. In fact, save for Oberyn and Ellaria, Y/N had not allowed anyone to enter her chambers. It was clear that she could not get over the shock of losing two of her family members in such a fashion, and for the most part, the only thing she discussed with Oberyn were war strategies - Unless he wanted to help the girl sleep and dismiss her nightmares, at least for the night, and he would pamper and spoil her until she would forget even her name. His sweet words and tender caresses, those passionate kisses and the culminating sounds were all but sinful secrets that will forever remain in her chambers.

Even so, she hardly smiled - And the idea of their wedding was long since forgotten, until one evening, as she was very comfortably sitting on his lap, she found herself telling him about the preparations. “I have made you wait long enough. Everyone needs a reason to celebrate these days - Us, most of all. I wish Sansa... My family... I wish they were here. But it’s fine. You are my family, just like they are, and Dorne is my home, they same as Winterfell.” “You are still hurting, my love. There is no need for you to rush or hide your mourning. You need to heal.” his voice was so gentle and loving, Y/N felt herself melting in his touch. “I know. But I was raised with very traditional and stuck up views. I have long since broken many of those sacred laws, but by mine own selfishness, I am invoking the marriage pact so I can have you even closer to me. Will you forgive me for my unbecoming selfishness, my sweet Prince?” his chuckled breath on her skin as he was kissing her neck made her fingers dig into his shoulder as she let out a sweet mewl. “There is nothing to forgive, my love. I am sure Dorne would be filled with joy. They will see the most beautiful Princess.” he smiled, looking up to her. “And as a wedding gift, I promise you, my love, I will bring you lion pelts for carpets.” for the first time since so long, a smile appeared on her face, and life seemed to return in those beautiful eyes of hers. “Really...?” she asked, breathlessly. “I may have killed the perpetrator who did those awful crimes against Elia, but it doesn’t take away that she is still dead, while the Lannisters are thriving, and well. Now, they have made my sweet Princess suffer and they killed her family. I will have them brought to justice.” her heart was beating so fast, and she was completely charmed. She almost couldn’t breathe anymore, that’s how excited she was, imagining the dead bodies of the Lannisters. “I love you more than life itself.” without even thinking, her heart spoke out. “That’s what I love to hear, my sweet flower.” he chuckled lightly before pulling the girl into his arms once again.

The wedding was fa more spectacular than any Dornish would expect - Was it because of all the pain and suffering they had to endure? Or because the region needed all the cheering up needed? Or, simply, because Oberyn loved Y/N so much that he wanted to spoil and pamper her with every resource available in his hands, fitting for the Princess of Dorne.

Either way, it did not matter - Ellaria was the one that Y/N wanted to help dress her in all the jewellery and expensive brocades and the linen embroidered with the shiniest golden threads and sparkly zircons. Her long hair, red like the Rhoynar Sun brought by Princess Nymeria herself, was embellished with the most precious brilliants and diamonds in existence. Her make up, also, made her lips red like the blood oranges that were ripe and sweet, but her eyes were dark and seductive, making them look even more attractive and piercing than they already were.

Her dress, also, was highlighting her gorgeous silhouette and her bossom, and it was of gold and orange - Fitting for the Princess of Dorne - And Oberyn, also, was wearing his best clothes, all in the same colours of the Martell.

The songs were so joyful and fun, all the people were having a blast, everyone was dancing and drinking and were excited to celebrate the happy marriage between their beloved Prince and the kind and beautiful Stark girl.

The two lovers, despite all the woes and sorrow in their hearts, found that, together, they could move on and find reason for happiness within each other. Not once, did they break apart from each other, their hands always together, fingers always intertwined, and they were kissing so shamelessly in front of everyone, without any care in the world.

But garments were of no use at night, and their bodies spoke every words that was left unsaid. There was no need for anything else, for the passion they had for each other was enough to be understood, and their love was like no other.

For many nights, the two were the happiest people in Dorne, and even through the letters, she had received many positive news - Perhaps there was still hope for a good future for the Stark family? Perhaps, there is even promise for peace? Who knew.

There was one person, however, who was very against everything going on, and her plans all ruined. There was one last act of vengeance that she could commit.

One night, Y/N was drinking with Ellaria and Oberyn, and they were telling stories of old, and laughing about all the silliest things - Y/N especially wasn’t used to drinking so much so she was in an even gigglier disposition - But as long as she was in glee, and smiling, the two were content. A knock on the door made them raise their head, and as it opened, Alys timidly walked inside.

“Alys - So good to see you. Here, take a seat, drink some wine with us.” Y/N smiled gracefully at her friend, kicking a stool for her to sit on. Alys could see very well that Y/N wasn’t the same shy girl from up North, but someone far more refined and fitting of her title of a Princess. And the way she was cuddled up into the Prince’s side was even more of an insult. “I dare not...” the Manderly girl muttered bashfully, looking down. “Why are you acting all timid for, all of a sudden? Oh - Are you intimidated to sit with the Prince and his paramour? You were far more eager to bed them some months ago.” the Princess laughed shamelessly, making the girl keep her head even lower. “So King’s Landing was able to destroy even the most sociable of people. No surprise. Come on, you, just sit down and drink some wine with us.” Y/N sigh and rose to her feet, grabbing her wrist in an attempt to pull her on the chair - But Alys had brought her old friend into a tight embrace. “Forgive me, Y/N, I have not been able to get over what happened at the capital. I’m still shaken up that I almost died back there... And were it not for you and the Prince to save me... I am so sorry I wasn’t able to celebrate your wedding as you deserved... I am a shameful friend...” the Manderly girl sobbed into the crook of her neck, making the Stark girl sigh and roll her eyes. “Enough of that. I don’t want to hear it. You either sit down with us, or you go back to sleep. I can’t see other reason for coming here.” but then, Alys whispered into her ear. “The Lannisters send their regards -” she thought she was being sneaky, coming over at night when she was drunk - What a fool. Before she could plunge the dagger hidden in her sleeve into Y/N’s torso, the Princess had already grabbed her wrist and threw her into the stool she had kicked earlier, making her stumble to the ground, allowing Y/N to grab the hand in which she was holding the weapon and she slammed it hard onto the hand laying on the table, which was keeping her up. “First of all - Fuck the Lannisters. Second of all... Fuck you.” Y/N chuckled, seeing Alys with huge tears in her eyes, groaning from the pain. “H-How did you -- How did you know?!” the Manderly girl shrieked at her, making Y/N cringe and rub her ears. “Sheesh, so loud, calm down already.” the Princess muttered, plopping back down on the comfortable couch. “Neither Oberyn nor Ellaria trusted you, from the very beginning. Every time they warned me of you, it had come to light.” she reached towards the bowl to eat some grapes. “Also - Tyrion told me you’re Cersei’s lackey. I had been on the lookout for you for... A while now.” “T-Tyrion?! The Queen’s own brother?!” Alys’s eyes were bulged wide open. “There’s no man who wants Cersei dead more than Tyrion, trust me on that. Which reminds me... Would you now tell me why exactly do you want me dead? You were safe here, which means whatever vendetta Cersei has against me, it could have been erased... So you have something personal against me. Why?” the girl asked, her voice mocking her, as she felt Oberyn embracing her lovingly. “She is jealous of you, my love.” Oberyn spoke, taunting the girl. “From the moment I wanted to bed you, but rejected her, she has had it out for you.” he chuckled darkly. “O, so the little peasant girl wanted your wealth and status, didn’t she? How quaint.” Y/N rolled her eyes, amused, but also disgusted. “IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!” Alys yelled at her. “It should have been me...!” she started sobbing. “Cersei promised me she would marry me to you! She promised me wealth and status and everything I wanted, as long as I worked for her!” “And you were stupid enough to believe her?” Ellaria snorted in disbelief. “Why would Oberyn ever marry someone like you?” Y/N asked in amusement. “Why would he marry YOU?!” the glare on her face made her look even uglier than before. “Because I’m cute.” Y/N laughed at her, only for her lover to agree. “Cersei thought she was being smart, creating a political alliance between the Starks and the Martells - But instead, she created an alliance that would one day come to destroy the Crown. Stupid bitch.” she shrugged at her. “Cersei would have never tried to marry you to me. Your House is nothing. Your name is nothing. Cersei isn’t smart, but she’s not that stupid either. She was only lucky I had fallen for this beautiful little lady over here, otherwise, I would have declined her offer too.” Oberyn planted a sweet kiss on the girl’s temple. “Lucky me, rather. You got me out of there, and you took care of me so dearly. I owe you everything, Ryn.” she leaned forward, her arms around his neck, pulling him into another sweet kiss. “You’re a woman worth loving and pampering, my love.” the man pulled her even closer to his body. “Just you wait until the Boltons skin your cunt of a mother and poor excuse of a brother -” Y/N immediately snapped up. “The Boltons are on the side of the North.” she corrected her, but by the look on her face, she realised otherwise. “Tywin bought Roose Bolton, didn’t he?” Y/N cursed under her breath, getting up to write a letter to her brother and to her bastard friend. “Not for long.” “The Boltons aren’t the only ones who support the Crown, you stupid girl!” Alys tried to shout, but she got ignored - For the most part. “The bastard son of Roose Bolton is MY friend. He is not loyal to anyone, even his father. Once he gets legitimized, he will kill Roose and will join our cause for good.” Y/N spoke, before looking up at Alys. “Which reminded me... Ramsay had always told me that, to get proficient at flaying, one must practice hard. I suppose it is high time I put in practice his teachings. I have to find out the other families that you claim are traitors to the Starks, after all.” Alys blanched on the spot. “Riri, will you help me out with her~?” that fakely sweet smile that Y/N had on her face made Alys even more terrified. This was not her old friend, Y/N Stark. This was a completely different person. “Gladly.” Ellaria got up from the couch and roughed up the Manderly girl, dragging her to the cellars. “Surely, you can go have your fun with her later. My sweet, innocent snowdrop aroused me too much, and I couldn’t possibly continue my night peacefully without some aid from my beautiful and lovely wife.” lazily extending his arm, he grabbed the girl’s wrist and pulled her back on top of him. “Since you ask me so nicely, I suppose I can make her wait a night... Or maybe two, to take care of my sweet husband of mine.”

#game of thrones #got #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #oberyn martell #oberyn nymeros martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagine #got x reader #got imagine

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palioom · 7 months

Text

day eight - breeding kink

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 657

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; breeding kink, dirty talk, mirror sex, unprotected p in v, creampie

• kinktober 2023 masterlist •

His hands felt like fire on her skin, his soft lips on her skin like a burning trail, his beard like sharp little blades. So overwhelmed, his hand holding her chin tightly and making her look.

“You will look so gorgeous with my little viperlings inside of you.” He rasped against her ear, biting her earlobe softly. Her legs were spread wide as she knelt in front of him, giving a perfect view of his cock buried deep inside of her in the mirror Oberyn had asked to be placed at the foot of the bed. His cum was already trickling out of her, his stamina and devotion endless as he fucked up into her again and again, only taking breaks when absolutely necessary.

But never pulling out of her, his chest molded against her back.

“You’ll love that, won’t you, my dove?” He cooed, thrusting up into her again, the wet squelch borderline obscene and making her whimper. “Round and full of me? Our viperlings?”

She nodded, biting her lip. Eyes fixed only on where they were joined, where the sticky, white mess dripped onto the sheets.

“Yes, Oberyn.” Her voice was barely a whisper, exhausted but so determined to make this work. Sweat covering her skin, her hair sticking to her forehead. “Fuck me full of you, breed me, give me a child.”

Desperate for one, she had done everything possible to prepare her womb for a child. Oberyn was adamant to fulfill her wish, wanting a little baby as well, and he wouldn’t stop until they had it.

“I will, my sweet.” His free hand cupped her breast, tan and veiny, with thick and strong fingers, his other keeping her head in place as she moved to rest it against his shoulder. He needed her to watch, his own eyes flicking back and forth between the wanton expression on her face and her swollen, wet pussy stuffed full of him and him only. “Make you so round, I cannot wait to see your breasts grow heavy.”

She nodded, just about ready to collapse, the intense feeling of another orgasm welling up, still sensitive and aching from the previous ones.

“I want them so much, I want your seed.” Tears welled up in her eyes, her hands holding onto his, onto his body. So desperate and whiny. “You will keep me pregnant? Give me more and more?”

Oberyn’s tongue danced over the shell of her ear, pulling her closer against him. Hips stuttering at her begging for him to keep her pregnant, to fill her with his seed again and again. The thought of it would drive him insane, to keep breeding her, just like she said.

“Nothing would excite me more than fuck my seed into you until it takes.” He groaned, his hand on her breast moving in between her legs, finding her swollen and overly sensitive clit. She whined and tried to shy away from him, everything too much. Wanting nothing more than to carry his children. “Oh, my sweet, to hear you begging for me to give you a child - you do not know what you just unleashed.”

She convulsed around him again, her body weak in his arms, eyes still on the cum that ran down his cock and onto his heavy balls, dripping onto the sheets. Barely noticing as he added more with a deep groan, his fingers only slowing down when his hips had stilled inside of her.

Oberyn guided her down onto the sheets, knowing she had been thoroughly worn out, never slipping from her.

“I will give you all the viperlings you wish for, my dove.” He whispered into her ear, brushing the hair from her face. “I will give you my seed as often as you wish for it.”

She hummed, feeling so full and warm and spent. Slipping into dreams of his strong hand on her swollen belly.

Again and again and again.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell x f!reader #prince oberyn #oberyn martell imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #kinktober 2023 #my writing

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absurdthirst · 6 months

Text

Kinktober 2023: October 23rd

Day 23: Breeding/Impregnation, Fancy Dress, Frottage

Oberyn Martell x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Mentions of bastards, sex work, breeding, pregnancy, vaginal sex

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Perfect.” His hands slide over your skin, making you shiver as he continues to stare at you. His dark eyes assess you. Stepping back and raking them up and down your body when he tilts his head and reaches out to cup both of your breasts. Weighing them in his hands and you bite your lip to keep from moaning softly.

Then those hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them, measuring them. “Yes. Nice hips.” He smirks, obviously thinking of something as you stand in front of him, completely nude. “Wide enough for my plans.”

You’ve slept with him before. Fucked him everytime that he has come through your city. Preferring your bed over the brothels, but tonight he was acting differently. HIs kisses had been more urgent, sharper. His hands were more insistent as he had stripped you down.

“Plans?” Your brows arch up, unsure of what the fuck he was talking about. You know that lords get away with anything. They were never held to the same standards as their lessers, allowed to speak and act as they chose as long as it wasn’t to anyone above them. For most, that was the King. For Oberyn, that was seemingly no man.

For a second son, Prince Oberyn did not act like others. He was rash, reckless. Spreading his pleasure all over Westeros. Having already been banished by his brother for killing another lord in a fight after being found in bed with the man’s wife and his mistress. It’s said he was father to two bastard daughters. He claimed them. He acknowledged them and brought them to Sunspear. Not hidden away like sordid secrets.

Oberyn hums, pursing his lips and trailing his fingers back up your body to slide up your neck. The ring on his finger is warm from his body and he taps it against your chin. “You will look magnificent dripping my seed.”

That is not something that is unusual, Oberyn is a very sensual, adventurous lover. He often wants what he wants, but he’s not one to deny you pleasure. All of your time together is spent in different positions, different experiences.

“Then I will prepare my tea.” You hum, surprised when he shakes his head.

“No.” He decides, “no tea.”

“My prince….” You are at a loss for words, unable to understand what exactly he means by this. You are aware that the prince is unmarried, you had asked that before you had ever allowed him in your bed. You do not wish to bed a married man. It’s not like you are ever the type of woman the Prince of Dorne would be allowed to marry. You don’t have that kind of influence. “If I don’t-” “You might have my bastard.” Oberyn hums easily, almost slippery. As if it is something that he has already thought of and dismissed as inconsequential. “You might be barren.”

You frown at his comment. “I have my monthly.” You protest but he shrugs.

“Sometimes a healthy woman cannot bear a child despite that.” He tells you, reminding you that he had spent a few years training as a maester. He smirks, “however I feel as if you will easily take my seed and grow a child.”

“Why?” You can’t understand why Oberyn would want you to carry his child. Especially when he obviously does not want a wife, nor need a legitimate heir.

He growls, a deep sound vibrating through his chest as he slides his hand down to your stomach. Hold your womb. “I want to fill your belly with my bastard. To see you grow with my child and know that it is resting in your womb.” He groans, shuffling closer and pressing the throbbing evidence of his desire against your bare hip. “It excites me. Makes me want to bend you over right now and fuck you full of my seed.”

You moan, his filthy words making your cunt clench and drip with desire. You don’t know why it sounds so intriguing. You had never thought about carrying a babe, studiously taking your tea when you were with a lover. “And what of the child?” You ask. Plenty of nobles had no issue creating the bastards they had. They just had no use for them once their interest in their mother waned. “What of me?”

Oberyn looks insulted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he contemplates your question. As if he were deciding if he should be insulted by them. Only for his brows to unknit a moment later. “The babe lives with me.” He tells you. “As the mother, you would also be allowed to live in Sunspear.”

Even as Oberyn moves you back, guiding you back towards the bed that has been adorned with fresh linens for his visit, you mull over his words. He wants you to carry his babe. To knowingly get pregnant with a bastard. To be a mother to one of his children. “And after the babe?” You ask seriously. “Then what?”

Oberyn snorts, his robe on the floor and he pulls his thin shirt over his head to toss it down as well. Stripping himself as bare as you are. “Then I will fill you again.” He groans, the front of his breeches twitching again. “We fuck every day, all day, until you are full again. Another babe.” He hisses. “And I’ll let any man or woman lick your cunt while you are round and full. But no man fucks you but me while you are carrying my child.”

His fingers untie his breeches, opening them and pushing them down his hips. His boots had been discarded earlier, when he had entered your house, so now he is standing in front of you. His hard cock bobbing proudly in front of you.

“So I would be your broodmare?” You ask quietly, still not understanding why the prince wanted you to carry his bastards. Why he wanted to purposefully breed them on you. “To have your babies?”

His cock twitches and he wraps his hand around his cock with a groan. “I will breed you, yes. You will carry my bastards, yes. You will have anything you wish. Any lover. We will fuck them together. Men, women, every brothel we wish to seek out or a person who catches our eyes.”

You had heard of Oberyn’s indulgences. Of his generosity with lovers and how free he could be with his cock and his purse at times. This doesn’t feel like he’s trying to talk you into just having his baby. It’s more like it’s a commitment to him. As committed as you could be to a man who had vowed to never marry.

“Except when I am carrying your bastards?” You just want to clarify, make sure you understand. You have been so used to living however you choose, so you want to make sure you know what you are getting into.

“I would let any tongue pleasure your cunt, any fingers bury themselves in your warmth, but only my cock would fuck your womb full. While the babe is resting inside. Then, after, you could have fifteen cocks inside your holes and I would watch while a mouth is around my cock.” He chuckles. “Then after you recover from that, I will plant my seed in your womb again.”

“How many?” You ask, curious if Oberyn is planning on breeding a bastard army. He hums, kneeling on the bed and pulling your legs apart to shuffle between them. Eager to bury himself in your cunt while he talks of making a child with you. He had never known of his first two bastards until they were older. This time, he wants to be involved. To know that you are carrying his seed and keeping you nailed to the bed with his cock while you are.

“As many as you will bear.” He groans, twitching as he guides himself to your entrance and sliding deep. He has a need to breed you, to plant his seed inside your womb and he will make sure that you are cared for. He would care for you. His lips fall on yours with a groan of your name and he starts to rock his hips. Determined to see you drip his cum and push it back inside your perfect cunt. “As many as we can have.”

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober #oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x f!reader #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn nymeros martell

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

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𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 — 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

summary: With the Great Hall empty, you take an opportunity to gaze upon the Iron Throne without its ruler. You can't help but wonder what kind of monarch Oberyn would make. The King is dead, long live The King.

pairing: Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: 3k

content: 18+ MDNI. SPOILERS FOR GOT, (In order) Reference to death and vague mentions of gore, celebration of said death (Nasty character go bye bye), fingering, PIV sex. This is a @beskarbabs remaster — original post date 2021.

➛ oberyn masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

Summer sunshine bathes the throne room in a golden glow yet does nothing to dispel the cold, unnerving energy that reverberates inside the stone walls. Red refractions from the stained glass sun at the window at the head of the room leak across the floor. You can’t help but consider the stone flags are often streaked with that colour. That those who have paced the stone flags, their footsteps ringing out in the Great Hall, have given the order to paint the Seven Kingdoms that same crimson shade.

Standing before the steps, you consider the Iron Throne seated upon them, its bleak colours contrasting the warm hues in which the sunlight drowns the room. The Throne surprisingly does not live up to your expectations. You had heard so many stories, forged of a thousand surrendered swords at the conquest of Aegon The Conqueror. Now it stands before you; you can hazard a guess that there are less than two hundred.

Its symbolism is not lost on you. It had seated some of the evilest men, who had brought terror and despair across the Seven Kingdoms and its people. When you had arrived at King’s Landing and entered the Red Keep before the wedding, you had expected to see arguably the worst of them all, King Joffrey, stare back at you.

Now it was empty.

The crimson that daubs the floor in splotches reminds you of the events just hours before. Reminds you of the lifeblood that leaked from the young king’s nose and slipped down his pale, blotched cheeks, dripping into the golden collar of his robes at his neck. Reminds you of the bloodshot colour of the whites of his blue eyes and the way they seemed to almost threaten to bulge out of his sockets. A gruesome death for a gruesome king.

You hoped that his mother’s screams, ex-queen regent Cercei Lannister, mirrored those of the countless he had killed in these halls so brutally. Hoped it would bring those dead some peace. That it please the Old Gods and the New so that the kingdom could find peace and crown a more considerate, less destructive sovereign.

The Great Hall was quiet. With no king to keep the Iron Throne warm, there was no requirement for anyone to be here. With this knowledge, you slowly make your way up the steps, the sound of your soles scuffing the stone floor ringing out in the vacant room. This close, you could regard the details. The ridges of the sword handles catch your eye, and the hilts of the weapons all ensigned with symbols that represented their owners long gone. While it didn’t meet your expectations, it was undoubtedly a throne for a king.

You cast your eyes over the armrests, reaching out to touch them. They seemed so uncomforta-

“It’s underwhelming, is it not?”

You snatch your hand back from the Throne with a gasp, like it had scalded you, eyes wide as your head whips around to look at the source of the sound.

Oberyn smirks, standing in the centre of the large floor before you. His warm energy radiates despite the distance between you, and the golden robes he wears provide some much-needed colour to your bleak, almost desolate surroundings. You had asked him to wear those patterns for the ceremony, confessing they reminded you of the sun-kissed beaches of home. Oberyn agreed, delighted to represent Dorne this way.

“You startled me, my prince!” You exclaim, pressing your palm to your chest in an effort to steady yourself. Your Viper had always been stealthy.

“Apologies, My Sun, but you were so lost in thought that I fear I would have startled you regardless,” he muses, slowly crossing the floor. He looks so at ease in these four walls, sauntering as though he owns them. In honesty, this is how Oberyn always acts, but he is expected to uphold respect in the Red Keep and appear humble. He certainly didn’t seem to care much for that expectation now.

Despite this, he regards you with a whisper of concern.

“Are you well? What you saw back there… It wasn’t pleasant,” he treads carefully, uncertain how you had handled the events of the wedding, given he had sent you away from the gruesome scene. But, much to your surprise, the only thing that you happened to find grim were Cercei’s pitiful cries of “take him!” You swore they still rang in your ears like the screams of squealing pigs.

“Just fine, my prince,” you promise him, dropping your hand to your side. You were fine, honestly. While you weren’t often exposed to atrocities in Dorne, you had certainly seen your fair share of them. Choking to death paled in comparison.

Finally, he steps upwards, making his way slowly up the levels to stand before you. You’re taller than him on the top step, so he cranes his neck to look into your eyes. There is a glimmer in the blackness of his pupils - vindication.

“And so the boy dies,” he says, voice quiet as he reaches for your waist. He slowly brushes his palm up the curve of your waist.

“He was a Baratheon, Oberyn,” you remind him, watching how his eyes trace the neckline of your dress. A knowing smirk flickers across Oberyn’s usually measured expression. He knows something you don’t.

“So they say,” he appears to pick his words carefully, despite your isolation. The walls of the Red Keep have ears, and unsavoury words often come back to haunt the utterer. “I fear his pedigree has come into question.”

A frown pulls at your eyebrows, searching Oberyn’s guileful countenance for an answer to your unspoken query of ‘why?’

“You saw how that wretched boy acted. Are you to tell me he isn’t a Lannister?” He questions you, holding your gaze. His usually warm brown eyes have that very same intense look he aimed at Cercei and Tywin at the dinner. Abhorrence. How were you to deny what he saw, what you saw? Joffrey was a monster, the kind of cruelty he dealt only shared with one family- lion’s jaws would easily maul a stag. Regardless of whose blood had pumped his heart, he deserved every moment he suffered.

“Well,” you sigh softly, agreeing with your lover, “I suppose if the shoe were to fit….”

“It does,” he speaks, dismissing any question of the legitimacy of his opinion, “This is a triumph.” You nod firmly, the two of you acquiescing unanimously to this fact. It was of no consequence who Joffrey truly was. The most imperative truth was that his death had devastated the Lannister family, precisely what Oberyn had set out to do. While he couldn’t claim responsibility, it certainly didn’t diminish his appreciation in seeing the panic amongst the blonde-headed savages - the infighting.

Oberyn’s hand creeps from your waist and down the small of your back, taking hold of your ass and gently squeezing it. His eyes are hooded as you look down at him, iris’ hidden as he gazes down the neckline of your dress.

“This could be your chance to become king,” you muse, smiling playfully as his eyes snap up to your face, disgust evident if only briefly.

“Live here in King’s Landing? As sovereign? I would rather be abstinent,” he muses with his own knowing smirk, “not even your bewitching looks could implore me to rule the Seven Kingdoms.”

You huff, acting disappointed as you cross your arms across your chest in apparent dismay. Oberyn simply arches an eyebrow, the edges of his lips lifting up in intrigue at your little display of audaciousness.

“What is it, My Sun?” He asks you, clearly amused. You purse your lips slightly, playing coy as you reach for the collar of his golden robes and brush your fingertips over the silk, moving them down slowly until you hook them into the leather belt that sits loosely on his waist. You tug harshly, catching him off-guard and forcing him to move up onto the top step beside you.

“Oberyn, play the game with me. We’re celebrating, remember?” You whisper, looking deep into his eyes. They always reminded you of the bark of the blood orange trees that grew in the orchards in Dorne, the wood a deep brown colour that lightened with flecks of gold in the light. His tan reminds you of the sunshine, his sigil, the very name he affectionately calls you. Everything about him reminds you of home.

He regards you for a moment, knowing exactly what you want. You want him to imagine what it would be like if he was king- just for a moment.

“Anything for you,” he murmurs, allowing you this happiness. You grin, launching into questions as you smooth your hands down his chest again, ignoring how his voice dips an octave.

“What would you wear, My King?” You ask, smiling wide as he places his large hands on your hips. His palms practically eclipse you, which always makes you feel safe, even in King’s Landing.

“I would wear golden silk,” he muses, turning you ever so slowly until he stands between you and the Iron Throne, his back to it. You watch him for a moment, the deviant look in his eyes, “I would wear velvet, and I would ensure you were to dress just as remarkably.”

You allow yourself to imagine that for the two of you, always matching to ensure everyone knew you both belonged to each other.

“And what would you eat?” You ask him, finding yourself lost for words just seconds later when Oberyn takes the initiative to sit himself upon the Iron Throne. He sits back, legs spread wide, looking up at you. Your blood runs cold, and you glance around quickly for a King’s Guard. There’s still no one around.

“What would I eat?” He repeats your question, smirking as he retakes hold of your hips, “I would order that all the best foods of Dorne be delivered periodically, blood orange, pomegranates.” His palms work their way behind you as he talks, resting on your ass and pulling you forward.

“Oberyn-”

“We’d gorge upon the finest venison, the boar from the woods and wash it down with our wine,” he continues, pulling you forward until you were forced to straddle his lap, bracing yourself with your hand against the ‘head’ of the Throne, “We would want for nothing, the finest food always available to me upon my request….”

Oberyn’s hands pull your hips down gently, rolling your hips against his. He’s stiff in his tight brown pants, his body disclosing his need for you.

“And I would eat you,” he ponders cheekily, a smirk crossing his lips as he sees your surprise at his readiness to take you here, in the Grand Hall, upon the Iron Throne. You have barely a moment to snap out of your shocked stupor before he’s working at shucking your skirts upwards, fingertips grazing the inside of your thighs.

Heat sparks up your spine at the realisation- he actually wants to do this. He wants to fuck you now, here. You spring into action almost immediately, working hastily on the belt that encompasses his waist.

“As for activities, we would have magnificent feasts, drinking the night away. We’d fuck-” he punctuates with a spank to the bare skin of your inner thigh, causing you to gasp, “into the early mornings, with as many whores as you desire….” He trails off with a smirk as you slip the belt open and pull open his eggshell-coloured long coat, adorned with golden patterning to expose his bare chest under his low-cut tunic.

As you work on the ties of his pants, fingers trembling with anticipation, he slips a finger into your exposed core, causing your back to arch into his touch. Your jaw slackens, the sensation electrified when accompanied by the possibility that anyone could just walk in. The two of you could be put to death for this, as it certainly constituted a charge of treason.

“So wet for me, My Sun. Does the prospect of fucking me here excite you?” He teases unrelentingly, gazing at the needy expression on your face. You can feel him search for that spot inside you, the one he knows will have you positively dripping with anticipation.

“I-I’m the one asking questions,” you say, wanting to sound assured and confident, but you find yourself rushing the words so as to not get cut off by a moan. It made you sound ingenuine. Your lover just smirks knowingly, slowly working in a second finger. You’re already so aroused that it doesn’t take much effort.

“You are?” He murmurs, watching the way you keen for his touch, feeling your hips rock forward in search of contact with that sweet spot inside of you. If Oberyn put his mind to it, he could make you cum in seconds, but he liked to draw it out. Wants to torture you with pleasure. “Ask away.”

You let out a soft moan as his knuckle brushed your clit, fingers buried deep inside your cunt. Drunk on the building pleasure between your thighs, you allow yourself to consider for a moment what kind of king Oberyn would be. With a broken train of thought, as he focused on building your arousal, you find a half-answer of ‘compassionate and just’.

“How would you wish for your crown to look?” You finally find the strength to ask of him. You work him out of his pants slowly, easing his cock out and brushing the swollen head with your thumb. Even through your lustful haze, you could imagine all kinds of styles he would wear, but always gold.

Oberyn, though still moving his fingers, seemed to pause to contemplate this. His eyes searched your face, almost as though looking for inspiration. The silence of the Great Hall is cut only by your laboured breathing, the soft sounds of the fabric of your clothes rustling, and the wet sound of Oberyn pleasuring you.

The quiet is almost too much, and you find yourself growing anxious. Only as you turn your head over your shoulder to check for people does the Prince of Dorne take your chin in his free hand, forcing you to look back at him. He always did ask for your undivided attention.

“I ask they do not place a crown on my head,” he finally drawls in that pretty accent you had come to adore, removing his fingers from you and taking hold of the curve of your ass to lift your hips upwards and align you with him, “Just you on my cock.”

Before the words can settle into your bones, he’s sinking himself into you, using his hold on you to bring you down slowly. You both exhale shakily, the sound teetering on a moan and a whine as he stretches you out around him. He grits his teeth together, the muscles holding his jaw pulled tight as your warmth and tightness overwhelm him.

You begin to circle your hips, grinding them against him as he leans back into the Throne, gliding his hands from your knees and up your thighs, smirking at the obscenely wet sounds that come from where he fills you.

“Lift your skirts,” he murmurs, gazing up at you with hooded eyes. They are practically black, the pupils having swallowed the brown of his iris’ with need, “I want to watch myself fuck you, My Sun.” You whine softly, not in complaint but in contentment, as you bunch your skirts around your waist higher, exposing the sight to your lover.

Oberyn doesn’t allow you to put in all the work, grinding his hips upwards to meet yours each time you sink onto his cock. Your head lolls back, enjoying the trail of tingling skin he leaves as his hands brush over the skin of your waist under your dress. You always claimed that Oberyn had sunshine in his fingertips, his touch leaving a trail of warmth as it brushed your skin. You can feel it now, the gentle heat that swirls under your skin as he drags his hand over your abdomen.

And Oberyn just gazes up at you, dragging his eyes over every inch of you. He loves how your eyes roll back into your skull as he rolls his hips and hits something deep inside you that makes your toes curl. He feels the way the muscles in your thighs twitch at the sensation, and that’s how he knows he’s found it.

“Right there?” He murmurs, voice so low and smoky that it creeps down your spine and settles deep inside your cunt. You can’t manage words, your voice stolen by the throbbing in your clit, so you just nod in agreement.

Typically, he would begin to thrust harder, chase his high. But half of the reason this feels so good is the anticipation of being caught. He wants to drag it out as long as possible, so he uses the grip on your hips to slowly rock them back and forth on his cock, ensuring that each time he pushes into that spot inside you.

You’re clamping down on him, wailing quietly as he teases you. Oberyn was brutal, never settling for anything other than blinding pleasure. But this is almost acute, so strong that you could cry- you do, tears welling in your eyes as he circles your hips slowly, his tongue brushing his lower lip as he watches his dick slide in and out of you.

The sopping sounds of Oberyn’s cock continually slipping in and out of you ricochets off the ancient stone walls of the Red Keep. Your whines of bliss appear to spur him on, lighting something ablaze in him that had sparked with King Joffrey’s last breath. He’s almost delirious when he speaks but utterly sincere.

“I want you to conceive a child - here on the Iron Throne. I want you full of my seed, knowing he was born for the Throne itself.”

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#oberyn nymeros martell #oberyn martell #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x y/n #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones smut #game of thrones fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fics #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader

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eufezco · 1 year

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oberyn’s kisses are hot. he definitely knows what he’s doing. his hands are everywhere but mainly cupping your cheeks to hold your face in place and caress your skin there with his thumbs. he hums into the kiss, bites your lower lip down, sucks on your tongue. he loves teasing so before he kisses you, he gets really close to you, walking slowly in your direction while looking at you with his big brown eyes, trying to look innocent but you know what his intentions are. and when he's in front of you he waits until you can't stand it any longer, until your breaths mix, until your lips are half-open and you are on your tiptoes trying to catch his lips.

on the other hand, javier is more aggressive. his lips are dominant over yours, his hands hold your hips in place while bringing you closer to his body or he uses one of them to squeeze both of your cheeks while kissing you. he'd probably trap you against a wall using his body to keep you from escaping him. his kisses do not stop there, they always lead to more. he would take advantage of any free moment to help you jump on his desk, or hold your ass while you wrap your legs around his body, or to get you in the back of his car. his lips never leaving yours while he mumbles things against your mouth. sometimes you cannot figure out what he’s saying but just the vibration of his deep voice against your mouth is enough.

the first kisses with din were kinda difficult. your eyes were closed shut, his helmet was lifted just enough to leave his lips out. one of his hands holding his helmet and the other one around your waist. you were scared of cupping that little part of his cheeks that was showing, would that be wrong? but once he finally revealed his face to you, your hands were everywhere. against the cold armor on his chest, tugging at the root of his messy hair, squeezing his cheeks to pull him closer... and din is so hungry for your lips, his kisses are so wet because he can't get enough of them. din’s so passional because he has been repressed for a long time. and his lips always move to kiss your cheeks and your neck, tickling you with his beard, but they always come back to your lips.

joel thought he would never kiss someone again after the outbreak happened. he was not the thirty-one-year-old man that all the girls in the neighborhood were in love with, he was old now, and the idea of love was not for him. but then he met you and you touched him with such a delicacy, and your lips were always so soft compared to his chapped ones, and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands while you kiss him because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable so he waits until you place them on your hips. you can feel how confident he grows when he’s aware of how much you actually want him because his lips press harder against yours, and his fingers dig into the skin of your hips, and you can feel the warmth of his body against yours.

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 14

Day Thirteen | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Fifteen

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked

Warnings: Prostitution/sex work; canon-typical sex work; dirty talk; sub Oberyn Martell; hair pulling; restraints; orgasm control/denial; masturbation; breeding kink; oral sex; gag use; unsafe sex; creampie

Your prince coming to visit was no great surprise, but his countenance was. You gladly leaned into his lusty kiss, thrilled as he grasped at your flesh through your scant clothing. But when you drew back and searched his expression, you felt that something had changed. Your brow furrowed, and you raised a hand, smoothing gently along his cheek.

“What is it?” You murmured. He sighed through his nose, fingers flexing against your skin.

“I need something…New,” He admitted warily, “Something different.”

You tipped your head to the side, brow furrowing.

“My prince…You’re the most prolific lover in the Seven Kingdoms,” You shook your head, chuckling. “What have you not tried?”

The heat in Oberyn’s gaze made your flesh break out in goosebumps. He was a sight, bare and restrained, his wrists bound by satin, keeping him tied to one of the bed posts. His hard cock bobbed between his strong thighs, his grunts of eagerness and irritation hampered by the cloth tucked between his teeth. He drew in a ragged breath through his nose, his eyes skating over your body as you fucked your fingers even deeper into your slick pussy. You made a show of rolling your hips into your touch, giving an exaggerated, breathy sigh, then another, truer one as your palm brushed your clit.

“Do you want to join me?” You goaded. “Would you like to touch—?”

You didn’t even have the chance to finish your question before Oberyn groaned, his muscles straining as he pulled against the cloth. You shivered, smiling villainously as you shook your head, tutting at his eagerness. You had gone out on a limb when you’d proposed this change, giving the prince something other than what he was used to—getting his way. You were certain that as soon as he was released from the cloth, he would hold you down and fuck you like a mad man, but until then, you delighted in the clear, vicious lust that he watched you with.

You slipped your fingers from your pussy and got onto your hands and knees, crawling toward him. He slowed his struggling, his chest heaving as you grew closer. You reached up, trailing one of your slick fingers along the underside of his cock, and grinning when his hips twitched forward, seeking out your touch. You curled your fingers around his thick length, watching Oberyn’s eyes flutter, then slip closed. You gave him a few light strokes before you let go, sitting up. Oberyn watched you with wide eyes, groaning lowly as you climbed onto his lap.

You rolled your hips slowly, focusing in on the feeling of his cock sliding between your plump, soaked folds. His breathing ticked up, heavy breaths drawn in and out. You watched his teeth grind around the gag, his jaw clenching as you ground down against him.

“You’re perfect like this,” You sighed, gently grasping his chin. “With that mouth of yours taken care of. You should always be like this—” Your hand slid around to roughly grasp the hair at his nape and yank his head back as you sank down on his cock. “Tied down and ready for me, like a good little toy.”

Oberyn’s eyes rolled back into his head, tipping back into your touch as you took in more of his length. You smoothed your hands over his arms, squeezing and caressing the muscles, and smiling as his hands flexed and grasped at the cloth holding him back. You slipped your tongue across his lips, teasing it against the fabric of the gag before giving his lower lip a tender tug with your teeth. You rode him at a leisurely pace, chasing your own pleasure with no thought of his. You felt his chest brushing yours with each pass, felt the rise and fall of each heady breath. You rested your forehead against his, using your grip on his arms to lever yourself up and down.

“Do you want to cum, my prince?” You goaded softly, “Tucked deep in my cunt? Sire another bastard?”

Oberyn’s mouth fell open, a barely intelligible plea pushing past the gag. You smiled, shaking your head a little.

“You’re not to cum until I tell you to.”

You felt Oberyn’s head shift against yours, and turning your head, found him eyeing your defiantly. You chuckled, shaking your head again as you lightly tapping a nail against his jaw.

“If you do, not only will you have to clean up your mess, but you’ll have no others until the sun rises.” You curled your hand around his jaw again, focusing his blearing eyes on you. “Your pleasure belongs to me now.”

Oberyn shuddered, and before you could stop him, you felt his hips shiver beneath yours. You gasped softly as you felt his cock twitch and spill into you. You let out a breathless laugh, reaching down and tweaking one of his nipples in retribution before lifting off of his cock. Oberyn let out a cry like a wounded pup as you pulled away, his cock still jerking between his thighs. You stood on the bed, raising a hand to grasp the tall bedpost and lowering the other to tug the gag out from between Oberyn’s teeth. You couldn’t get a word out before Oberyn was pushing up to lick hungrily at your pussy. You gasped at the sudden heat, the snuffling eagerness and growls as you grind down against his face. You looked down, finding his fingers slack around the cloth as he honed in on your pleasure.

You gently untied the cloth from Oberyn’s wrists as he panted, his spend spread across his stomach. He watched you wondrously, his breathing calming as you took in the state of him.

You turned his forearm this way and that, eyeing the reddened and angry patches of skin where he’d pulled against his restraints.

“We ought to soak these,” You warned softly. “And air them to keep from chafing the skin any more.” You stood from the bed, glancing toward the window, at where the sun was beginning to light the streets of Dorne. You could hear chatter in the streets before—the clopping of horse hooves, the calls of good morning, the jeers directed at men that were just stumbling out of the brothel. You turned to your bedside table, taking up an abandoned goblet of wine and walking back to the bed. You watched Oberyn push himself up to meet you, taking the goblet and drinking from it thirstily as you sat beside him. You watched him, smiling as he lowered it again.

“We should clean up.”

“Mm,” He nodded, sliding his hand over your quivering thigh. “Lay with me a moment first,”

You settled down on the bed with him, nuzzling his shoulder and eyeing the cooling cum on his belly. He curled his arm around your middle, tugging you closer.

“What duties do you have to attend to today?” You asked.

“None…Save for staying in bed with you,” His lips brushed your forehead.

“Oberyn,” You chuckled softly. “All day?”

“We’ll clean and rest first, but I plan to wring every bit of pleasure from you in every way that I know how.”

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414 ; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021 ; @thatesqcrush ; @shanimallina87 ; @adarasforest ; @s-u-t ; @silversprings-mp3 ; @senawashere

Tried to tag, but tumblr didn't seem to let me? @nerdieforpedro

#Oberyn Martell x Reader #Oberyn Martell x You #Oberyn Martell/Reader #Oberyn Martell/You #Oberyn Martell fic #Oberyn Martell imagine #Kinktober #Kinktober 2023

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poisonsage808 · 1 year

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♡ Bad Days ♡

w/ sandor clegane, podrick payne, oberyn martell

♡ Sandor Clegane ♡

• One of the better things that came from living with Gregor, it made Sandor great at reading body language. You don’t need to tell him when something is wrong, he can look at you and just know

• If your mood is more obvious, and Sandor sees you crying, the first words out of his mouth will be “who did this? give me their name.” on his way over to you. He’ll look you top to bottom but when he finds no visible damage the challenge remains. He doesn’t know what to do

• Well, that’s not entirely true. Sandor’s first instinct is to get you food and water. He won’t make you eat or drink, it’s there when and if you want it. If not, it’s still bloody there and saves him a trip later on. He’ll not want to leave your side after that. Not unless you ask him to or it’s life or death (and should some unfortunate soul try to take his attention, it’ll be theirs)

• Communication will do wonders for your relationship overall. In this moment specifically, tell him what you need if you can and he’ll do it

• If not, he’ll just temporarily lock you both in the chambers and be there for you physically. Sandor doesn’t hover or dote, he’s simply nearby doing his own thing to hide the fact he’s worried. Ask him for a hug or to lay beside you and he won’t hesitate

♡ Podrick Payne ♡

• If he notices you’re acting odd he’ll break away from everyone and find somewhere private to bring you to. His chambers or yours, whoever’s is closest at the time, he’ll will get you comfortable and patiently wait until you’re ready to talk

• “Are you alright, my love? what’s happened? do you need a maester?” Pod will have questions, he desperately wants to help, if you can’t answer them he’ll somehow pick on your behalf

• Crying in front of Pod will make him internally panic however his first instinct is to hold you. He won’t hush your sobs, he’ll say “i’ve got you, love” over and over until you calm down

• Sweet, sweet Podrick will spread himself thin trying to be everywhere at once and please everyone. You though? Tyrion, Brienne— whoever it may be he’s supposed to meet, he’ll be late and duck out early when it comes to you and your needs

• To the best of his ability he’ll do his duties but you’ll be on his mind more than usual. Any chance he gets, he’ll pop in to check on you and be it wine, snacks, water or flowers, he always bring something with him

♡ Oberyn Martell ♡

• This man has a fucking sixth sense, he can feel the change in the air before it happens and prepares accordingly

• Oberyn’s very in tune with his own emotions, he knows how strong they can grip us, borderline uncontrollable if not processed in… some way. He’ll encourage you to embrace this feeling and offer you comfort or space to do so. Either way is fine as long as you’re better at the end of this

• He’ll decorate your chamber with candles you like, flowers, fruits and wine. He’ll lay comfortable outfit choices on your bed and draw a warm bath (which, if you allow him to stay, he’ll join you in said bath just to hold you and wash your hair)

• Say the word of you want to be alone. Oberyn will occupy his time somehow but he’ll be thinking of you and more ways to help from a distance

• But having him be there means Oberyn will never be far from arms reach. He’ll order everyone away and to leave you both undisturbed so he can focus on you and only you

• You need to cry? He’ll rub your back until you’re done. You need to scream or vent? You have his ears. You only want to lie down in silence? He’s beside you, he won’t say a word until you’re ready

• Oberyn will kiss the top of your head often until he feels you’re beginning to act like yourself again, then he’ll kiss your lips and smile proudly at you

#game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #sandor clegane x reader #podrick payne x reader #oberyn martel x reader #poiboidrabbles #x reader #imagine #writeblr #sandor clegane imagine #podrick payne imagine #oberyn martell imagine

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gulnarsultan · 1 year

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Yandere headcanons oberyn Martell

Oberyn will find a way to marry you with his sharp wit. Its thorny tongue teaches a lesson to anyone who comes across it. You alone are in an area safe from his barbed tongue. However, he does not hesitate to use it against you when necessary. Oberyn is a very clingy man. You can't count how many times Oberyn touches you, kisses you, hugs you during the day. He has many delusions that something will happen to you or that you will leave him. That's why you need to give him plenty of reassurance. Oberyn is a very overbearing man. He is very bullying towards those who disrespect and insult you. He is also a bully to those who distance you from him and attract your attention. He liked himself very much. He only sees himself as worthy of you. He does not hesitate to humiliate many opponents because of his smugness. He actually has a childish side to him. Sometimes he behaves like a child who wants you to tell him stories and play games with him. He is overly obsessed with you. Most of the time it's you. He manages to bring the subject to you in most conversations. It spoils you so much. He wants you to wear the Dornish symbols and the kind of clothes they wear. It marks you a lot. You will have many children. He will love and pamper them all. Like her sister, she is very afraid of losing you. It keeps you away from Lannisters and Baratheons. He will never let them get close to you. He imposes more mental and emotional punishments on you. He is overprotective of you. If you are uncomfortable, he will only be in bed with you from now on. He can never share you with anyone else. (Maybe with Doran or Elaira.) Oberyn is the best at acting to get your attention and affection. Honestly, thanks to his acting, he immediately deceives you. The moments you spend together are full of love, compassion, love, passion and lust.

#yandere game of thrones #yandere got #yandere oberyn martell #yandere oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x you #oberyn martell #oberyn martel x reader #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell fanfiction #yandere character #yandere asoiaf

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redahlia-writes · 2 years

Text

little prince. | oberyn martell x f!reader

part 2

Abstract: “He wants you, you know? I can tell,” she hummed then, biting her bottom lip.With the way she held you, you knew she’d felt the fluttering of your pulse.

“He’s your lover,” you chided, brushing her curls absentmindedly with your free hand. Ellaria simply shrugged, letting her eyes roam across your face.

“So what? He’s had other lovers - I’ve had other lovers.”

Words: 5K

Content (warnings): MINORS DNI, this is straight up smut, reader is described as having long hair, implied ellaria x reader at some point (gay rights), bantering, cursing, oberyn being oberyn, slightly sub/dom dynamic (sub!oberyn but he complains about it lovingly), face sitting, multiple orgasms, a couple of pet names, mentions of bruises, flirting. a lot, hints of power play, an attempt at dirty talk on my part, oberyn may or may not have a praise kink + a lot of descriptions, unedited

A/N: i have no justification for this. horniest thing i’ve ever written probably. shout-out to @luvpedropascal for supporting me during this mammoth's creation

also on AO3 - masterlist

The Red Viper looked at you as if he were an apex predator.

If the years in Dorne had taught you anything it was that Oberyn Martell liked to test everyone’s limits - you were not exempt from it, even in spite of your friendship with him. If anything, he seemed to be spurred on by it, knowing you would not restrain yourself to not offend the prince.

He liked it, toying with you, with your patience - and he knew that if you truly disliked it, he’d be reduced to shreds by the sharpness of your tongue, royalty and friendship forgotten. He’d seen you reduce lords to babbling messes with a single sentence.

Truth be told, he liked that kind of power. And it amused him, that layer of irreverence you reserved for most, if not all.

So he sat at the same desk as you in an empty library, leaning back in his chair while looking at you, his usual, all too familiar grin plastered on his face and his robe hanging open over his chest as always. Waiting.

And you knew you shouldn’t have taken the bait - but it was terribly difficult to focus on the book sitting in front of you when he’s just staring so openly.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” you sighed at last, forcing your gaze up. His grin grew as he met it, shifting forward in his seat.

“No, I’m perfectly fine,” he mused, voice low and collected. “Is my presence too distracting, my Lady?” he asked then, cocking his head to the side. You smiled in mock politeness, smoothing your hand across the page.

“Trust me, your Highness, it takes more than that to disrupt my peace,” it was a lie - his mere presence was enough to make your focus waver, words blurring together like a bunch of nonsense.

He scoffed lightly as you returned your gaze onto the page, an attempt at bringing your focus back onto the story - it felt close to impossible, the prince’s eyes burning on your skin, the rustle of his robes as he shifted in his seat.

“You know,” he started again, and you let your eyes flutter shut for a moment with a long sigh, then tilting your chin up to look back up at him, an eyebrow arched, “it’s usually common courtesy to strike up conversation when you’re the only other person in the room.”

“This is a library - conversation is not part of the ambience,” you retorted, leaning with your elbows onto the desk as a faux pout appeared on your mouth - his eyes fell to your lips, just for a split second. “If you so desperately crave the sound of someone’s voice perhaps you could walk outside. I’m sure there are plenty of people awaiting just a modicum of attention from their prince.”

Oberyn leaned forward, an imitation of your stance with his elbows resting on the table and one hand supporting his chin.

“Am I to assume you do not include yourself with these people?” his voice held a note of mock offense, a lazy, sultry smile bending his lips.

“But I’m receiving plenty of attention, am I not?” you mimicked his grin, resting then a hand on your chest. “I wouldn’t want to be the one keeping you from your other loyal subjects, your Highness.”

“So thoughtful,” he mused, leaning a little closer. He reached over, hooked one finger underneath the lock of hair that curled over your shoulder and across your collarbone, knuckle brushing your skin as his gaze never faltered. Slowly, he brought the silky strand up to his nose, licking his lips before inhaling deeply. “So sweet,” he murmured, his voice still low.

You looked at him, breath caught in your throat as you watched him coiling your hair around his finger, gaze dropping from your face to your hands splayed across the book. Silence fell again in the room, interrupted only by the rushing of your heartbeat you were sure he could hear.

Time stretched as he lazily played with your hair, letting his gaze wander over you - it was not the first time he did so. Even in your first encounter, before he suggested you went to Dorne for the shelter and freedom you needed, he’d never held himself back - the only difference was that you’d learned not to fluster at his attention.

It drove him insane - how you just looked at him, concealing any reaction.

“Alright,” he hummed, letting go of you and getting up, slow, motions like those of a cat. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your reading any longer, my Lady,” he lingered, fingers trailing up your arm - in his wake, goosebumps rose, but you simply tilted your head to look up at him. He leaned in, carefully, the tip of his nose brushing yours for a split second as he searched your gaze. “You ought to know, I’m a patient man.”

“Are you?” you almost mocked, his breath caressing your face. “Is that how you plan to bed me, your Highness?” you teased, voice sweetened as you arched your eyebrows to soften your gaze. He wavered - for just a moment, lust darkening his eyes before he chuckled.

“No,” he spoke slowly, hand resting to the side of your neck, thumb reaching up underneath your chin, applying just a little pressure to tip your head back. “I want you to come willingly, my lady.”

You lingered there just a moment longer, lips parted, gaze unwavering until he let go of you.

“I’ll see you around, Oberyn.”

—

Later on, sitting in Ellaria’s room with her head in your lap, you could still feel your chest burning. She was laughing, asking whatever you did to Oberyn in the afternoon.

“What makes you believe I did anything?” you retorted in a grumble. Her eyes shimmered with amusement, shifting a little so that she could meet your gaze.

“You’re the only one who gains such reactions from him,” she chuckled, eyebrows arching. You scoffed while Ellaria’s hand rose to wrap around your wrist, drawing slow circles on your wrist. “He wants you, you know? I can tell,” she hummed then, biting her bottom lip.

With the way she held you, you knew she’d felt the fluttering of your pulse.

“He’s your lover,” you chided, brushing her curls absentmindedly with your free hand. Ellaria simply shrugged, letting her eyes roam across your face.

“So what? He’s had other lovers - I’ve had other lovers,” after a moment, she moved into a seated position, turning to look at you with amusement dancing in her dark eyes. “I’ve had you,” she added, voice lowered, “more than once.”

“You asked nicely,” you responded, sweetness seeping through your voice. “He’s pestering me - and he’s vexing, presumptuous -”

“You like him,” she interrupted you, and under her hand your heart jumped again. “You like it,” she teased, the laughter still roughening her voice.

“I’d like it more if someone taught him some manners,” you hummed, and couldn’t help mimicking her own grin as she let go of your wrist to pinch your chin between her thumb and forefinger, guiding you closer.

“I thought you liked a challenge, sweet one,” she murmured, free hand inching up across your leg draped with the fabric of your dress as her smirk widened. “And it’s something I’d really like to see.”

—

You knew he’d be waiting before you even opened the door to your room.

“I used to come here often when you first arrived,” Oberyn spoke from your balcony before you could even close the door behind you. “Do you remember?”

“I remember you used to knock,” you responded, closing the door behind you and crossing the room to rest the vase of flowers you were holding after discarding the shoes by the door - you could feel his eyes on you as he leaned against the window frame, following your every movement.

“Ellaria was always here, too,” he continued, ignoring your remark and crossing his arms. “It bothered me to no end that I never seemed to get you alone.”

You laughed, quick and sharp, shaking your head as you fixed the flowers before turning to him. The sunset light shone on the side of his face, of his dark hair, reflecting in his dilated pupils. His robe was looser than usual, with no weapon on his side, and you let your gaze wander over his body.

“What happened to you being a patient man, your Highness?” you mocked, resting your hip against the desk, one hand placed on the wooden surface as you tilted your head. “To wanting me to come willingly?”

Oberyn stepped inside the room, his gaze never leaving you as he walked the short distance between you, stopping once at arm’s length.

“I have been patient,” he pointed out, eyes dropping to the neckline of your dress shamelessly. “Haven’t you been here for years now?”

“I thought you’d asked me to come to Dorne to help me,” you retorted, a hand reaching for your chest as if to feign upset. “Has this been your intention all along, prince Oberyn?”

“No, of course not,” despite the lightness of your tone, sincerity flickered in his gaze - reminding you why this was happening. Why you’d gone to Dorne. Why Oberyn’s closeness was welcomed. “But you’ve been toying with me, haven’t you?” he continued, diminishing the gap between the two of you. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Maybe,” you shrugged lightly, watching his eyes light up - ever so slowly he reached up, knuckles brushing across your jaw. “It is fun, watching you hanker.”

“I’m not,” he countered, and you couldn’t help grinning, his hand moving to cup your cheek - his palm was warm against your skin, and you reached up to take hold of his wrist, thumb stroking the heel of his hand.

“No?” you tilted your head just a little, leaning into his touch, eyebrows arching as you lowered your voice furthermore. “Then what are you doing in my room, little prince?”

The name had an effect on him straight away, breath itching in his throat as the tip of his tongue darted between his lips to wet them, hand twitching slightly while he reached through your hair - the gold ring on his thumb rested on your temple, its bite cold.

“I was just passing by,” he mumbled, voice hoarse as he almost fully closed the gap between the two of you, held back only by your hands resting on his lower abdomen. He glanced down to where your fingers curled slightly, crumpling the robe slightly.

“Thought of striking up conversation?” you offered, batting your eyelashes in a show of pretend meekness.

Oberyn knew you wouldn’t cave - that you’d stand there the whole night if needed, waiting for him to crumble under your gaze. And the thing was that he would. With your hands slowly riding up his chest, fingers barely brushing past the hem of his robe, he felt himself starting to unravel.

“No, not exactly,” he said instead, both hands now at each side of your face to bring you closer - not harsh, but demanding, crashing his mouth on yours.

You felt your knees buckle under the force of his kiss, grabbing his robe for stability as he parted his lips, tongue swiping across your bottom lip until you opened your mouth for him with a quiet moan.

The noise was enough to make him grin against you, one hand moving back to cup the nape of your neck, holding you to him as you backed him away from the desk, hand slowly moving up his exposed chest until you were grazing his throat with your nails, a delicate scratch that made him shudder.

He moved slightly back only when you were both breathless, hot pants rolling over your face as he placed his hands on your shoulders, taking hold of your dress to slide it down your arms and torso. He looked down as the fabric slipped down and rested against your hips, exposing your skin and chest to him, a choked back groan coming from his throat as he bowed his head.

Before he could latch his lips to your skin, you stopped him, the hand at his throat rising up to cup his chin, fingers gently pushing against his jaw.

“Nuh-uh,” you chastised, voice low and raspy as you squeezed his cheeks, his mouth hanging slightly open due to the pressure. “Undress yourself first.”

His pupils dilated, the clear order making his inside twist. Yet he remained still, eyes running from your face down to your half-naked body - he reached over to tug on the loose fabric hanging over your hips.

In response you gave another squeeze to his cheeks, a little harsher, pulling his face closer to yours as you moved forward - enough so that you could step your leg between his, the fabric of your dress rustling as you dragged your knee up his inner thigh - up to his growing bulge, applying a light pressure with your own thigh against it that had his eyes roll to the back of his head with another groan, barely held in check.

“Have I not made myself clear?” you whispered against his mouth, easing the hold on his face as his breath became slightly ragged, unfocused eyes searching for your own. “Undress yourself,” he let his hands drop from you, inhaling slowly as he reached for the know of his robe, meeting your gaze at last. You gave him a quick grin that he felt over his lips. “What is it, little prince? You don’t like being told what to do?”

Oberyn didn’t reply, tugging almost harshly at the knot of his robe until it came undone and he was able to slip it off, letting it fall absentmindedly to the floor. Standing bare-chested, he started kicking off his shoes as you moved back to let your gaze roam across his chiseled torso, head slightly tilted and hand moving down his throat.

“See something you like?” there was still a grin in his voice, your eyes flicking back up towards his.

You slowly let your hand travel down his chest, abdomen, fingers slipping just slightly past the waistband of his slacks, tugging him close again from there. A surprised moan escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help the small smile spreading across your face.

Oberyn’s eyes were shimmering as he leaned forward, almost tentatively, tongue darting between his lips to wet them once more before kissing you, open mouthed and deep, hands reaching to grab your hips right away. You let him stay there, his fingers kneading your sides as he stepped closer, pressing his body flush against yours.

He was warm and solid, muscles shifting at each of his movements, chest against chest as your own hands moved up across his body, shoulders, the back of his head until you were burying your fingers in his hair. When his hands moved underneath your dress, an attempt at pushing it down all the way, you tugged on his locks a little, breaking off the kiss with a groan from him.

“You’re still dressed,” you pointed out, chest heaving with the shortness of your breath. You relished in this feeling, the prince like clay in your hands, his eyes unfocused as he looked at you. “How impatient,” you chided with a mock pout.

“Ellaria never told me you were a vixen,” the laughter fell from your lips before you could stop it, your hands still buried in his hair as he went to push his slacks off. “There. Satisfied, my lady?” he was grinning, eyes still blazing as he watched you tilt your head to the side just slightly, looking down on him with a low hum.

“And what did Ellaria tell you, little prince?” dropping one hand from his head to his shoulder, you slowly traced the planes of his skin with the tip of your fingers as you stepped forward - so close he was forced to take a half step back, and then another, following your lead as you took your time exploring him, eyes back up to meet his gaze.

His cock, brushing your lower stomach, twitched at the name, a groan slipping past his lips as he hit the bed with the back of his legs. After a moment he sat down, legs spread to guide you between his thighs with his hands resting again on your hips, lightly teasing the gathered fabric of the dress.

“May I?” so unlike him, he asked, giving a light tug to the dress without having it shift. You bit your lip then, nodding as you traced the line of his jaw with your index, feeling it twitch in the wake of your touch as he pushed down your dress all the way, gaze lowered to your breasts, stomach, navel - still he did not touch you, palms ghosting your upper thighs as he shifted in his seat.

“You’re a fast learner,” with the praise, you swept your thumb across his bottom lip, slowly, from one corner to the other and back again, watching as his jaw fell slack again and he looked up at you through hooded eyes.

Oberyn wrapped his reddened lips around your finger, teeth barely grazing the pad as he sucked slowly on it, cheeks hollowing while his touch became firmer on your thighs, pushing in the flesh to guide you forward as he leaned back.

One hand placed on his shoulder for balance, you climbed on top of him, hovering his lap as he gazed up at you, lips parting when you pressed your thumb against his tongue. You felt the tip of his cock grazing your inner thigh as his hand rose slowly over your thighs.

He moved his head back, letting your finger slip from his mouth before leaning in, simultaneously spreading his hands over your back to push you closer, lips latching to your neck. With a quiet sigh and your eyes fluttering shut, you tilted your head back, granting him more space as he nibbled, bit and sucked on your skin.

When he was sure there would be a visible mark, he started trailing kisses down across your collarbones, sternum, chest, lingering for a moment to nip gently both breasts, gaining a low whimper for each, your breath quickening.

The prince was an attentive lover - kissing every inch of skin he managed to reach as he kept leaning back and back, bringing you forward until he was lying down and you were hovering his chest, hand resting over his on your thighs again.

“Want you up here, sweet one,” his voice was husky, holding an eager note as he tipped his chin slightly up, nudging you forward. With a sly grin you looked down at him, lowering yourself almost in a seated position on his chest as you cocked your head to the side. “Please,” he added, voice strained.

“See?” you hummed, shifting up until you were hovering his face, one hand coming down to brush his hair back as he turned his head a little to kiss your inner thigh. “You learn fast.”

With your knees at each side of his head, Oberyn’s arms came up to wrap around your thighs, hands slowly stroking the back of it as he kept kissing up your inner thigh, lifting his head a little to press one quick peck to your core.

You looked down at him, his eyes dark and shimmering as he pushed his fingers into the flesh of your thighs, guiding you down onto his mouth, lips parted. He pressed the flat of his tongue against your folds then, the first taste of you having him groan - it went up straight through you, making your eyes flutter shut for a moment and head fall forward.

Tugging a little onto his hair, hand still buried deep between his locks, you returned your gaze to his face, rocking your hips slowly against his mouth, following the movements of his tongue as he lapped at you like a starved man, noises muffled by your skin.

You felt it build quickly, the coil in your stomach twisting and twisting each time the tip of his nose brushed your clit, or when he moved his head to regain his breath a few instants only to return his tongue in, over, drawing small circles, low groans that shot vibrations right up into your core and spurred you on, chasing your release.

Each of your whimpers had his grip on your legs tighten, the sound making his hips buck, shifting his position and you with him for a few instants. You felt him shudder beneath you, his eyes rolling to the back of his head again and a moan rippling from his throat.

It forced you to stillness, trembling against him as you came undone on his mouth, trembling thighs at the side of his head as he kept you down on him, eyes burning into yours even as your vision swayed. Only when you let go of his hair, body spasming and a weak cry leaving your mouth did he let go, helping you off of him.

“So sweet,” he muttered, tongue darting between his lips. “And those noises you make,” his voice was hoarse as he laid you down - his mouth glistened, lips full and red as he reached one hand to stroke your side, goosebumps following the wake of his touch up to your ribcage, breasts, your chest still heaving as you regained your breath. “Could make anyone come undone,” he added, almost a growl at the back of his throat.

Grinning, you moved your own hand down his chest, his stomach, looking down on him and his own release painting his amber skin. Oberyn didn’t seem to care, simply arching towards your touch as you gathered some on the tip of your fingers.

Just as he leaned in to kiss you, lips parted, you brought your hand up, meeting his gaze - he held it, a moment longer, then slowly lowered his head to wrap his lips around your fingers, never breaking eye contact as he sucked them off.

There was a low pop when you pulled your hand back, only to push yourself up and kiss the taste of both of you off his mouth, a low moan muffled between your lips before you pushed him on his back again, allowing yourself space to kiss down his neck, his chest.

Oberyn’s hand came to rest onto the back of your head, stroking your hair slowly as he looked down onto you shifting lower and lower, drawing lazy lines with your kisses across his chest, until you reached his stomach. A hiss left his lips as you trailed your tongue over his skin, licking him clean - his hips bucked up again, hand fisting into your hair, and as he tilted his head back he caught a glimpse of your half-hidden smirk.

He gasped when you nibbled his hip, one hand resting on his thighs for support while the other reached up to stroke his still half-hard length, fingers not fully wrapped around him in a too-delicate touch for him.

“Don’t tease,” he groaned, tugging your hair a little without hurting you - just to make you look up, abandoning the red mark blooming on his side.

“Why not?” you batted your eyelashes at him, still stroking him slowly, grip firmer but still not enough for him. “I thought you enjoyed it, little prince.”

The name made him twitch in your grasp, and with an almost frustrated groan he pulled your head back, pushing you down and rolling on top of you to pin you down, eyes darkening all over again. Still, you smiled up at him, gaze momentarily lowered to where his hips pressed against your hand.

He hovered over you, and met your gaze once you looked up at him, moving your legs at each side of him. He settled between your thighs, hips shifting lightly as you guided him towards your entrance - a low sigh left your lips when you dragged the tip of his cock across your folds, rubbing then the wetness across his length.

“Still teasing,” he warned softly, lowering himself so that his lips just barely brushed yours. “You’re right, I am impatient.”

“You haven’t told me what you want yet,” though breathlessly, there was a light mocking tone in your voice, smirk not falling from your lips as you trailed your free hand up to his face, cupping his cheek. “You’ve been so good, Oberyn. What do you want?” he shifted forward, and was forced to stillness as you locked your knees at his sides. “Words.”

Had anyone ever ordered him around like this before, he wondered? If so, had he ever enjoyed it like this? He looked into your eyes and felt himself lured in by the utter power you held over him, and by how much you thrived in it.

“I want to hear those pretty sounds again,” he hummed, moving his hips back a little, the friction of your hand still wrapped loosely around him making him choke back a moan. “Want to feel you fall apart around me, sweet one,” he added, leaving an oddly delicate kiss at the corner of your mouth as your lips bent in a wider smile, knees loosening around him.

“All you had to do was ask,” you whispered, thumb stroking his cheek as you moved your head to kiss him, arching up to meet him.

“Ask nicely?” he attempted to ask it mockingly, but as he shifted his hips forward, pushing inside you achingly slowly, his voice cracked.

You would have laughed if not for the air leaving your lungs, mouth falling open as he moved forward and forward and forward, stretching you out somewhere between painful and ecstatic. Your breath coming out in short, shattered bursts spurred him on until his hips were pressed flush against yours, forehead against forehead as you both attempted to regain your breath.

He waited an heartbeat longer, one hand moving underneath your thigh to keep you up as he met your lips again for a kiss as hungry as the first one, desperately capturing each little moan, whine and mewl as he shifted.

Pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, hips snapping against yours harshly, Oberyn's own breath grew ragged - the cry falling from your mouth scratched your throat, and you gripped the back of his head, guiding his lips down to your neck.

He’d asked to hear you, and you did not hold back. Each thrust a breath, a moan, a groan, chasing your release more than his own as he kissed down your chest, now littered with marks that burned with each of his sharp breaths.

You rolled your hips to meet him halfway, causing him to still for a moment with a string of curses against the skin of your neck as he twitched somewhere deep inside of you, the grip on your hips tightening - you could already feel the bruises forming on your skin, welcomed them.

He straightened up, the air hitting your skin causing you to shiver just slightly, watching through hooded eyes as he grabbed a pillow and pushed it underneath your lifted hips, slowly easing you down before pushing fully into you once more. The knew angle had you yelping, hand wrapping around his arm as you threw your head back.

“Fuck - so good,” the praise became a soft chant of his name as he picked up the pace again, deep and fast, pushing you closer and closer to the edge at each thrust. “Oh, fuck,” keening, you placed one hand on your lower belly.

You could feel him there, moving inside of you, and when he placed his own hand over yours, pushing down gently, the pressure became so overwhelming it made you clamp your legs at his sides, fluttering around him as your eyes fluttered shut, vision swaying.

“Go on, sweet one,” his breath ragged, voice low and hoarse, Oberyn leaned in just a little, hand pushing lower and thumb ghosting the apex of your core. “Let go.”

It wasn’t a command as much as a plea, his own rhythm faltering as he rubbed quick circles over your clit, effectively pushing you into your second orgasm, the wave of it so strong it made your thighs shaking violently at his sides as you quickly grabbed his wrist with a loud cry, halting the motions of his hand.

Oberyn kept up his movements, stuttering hips as he returned both hands on your hips, keeping you steady. As you felt yourself float away, you locked your legs around him, pushing him flush against you just as he toppled over, a loud moan ripping from his throat - he twitched inside of you, warmth causing another, gentler orgasm to make you shiver.

He fell on top of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck, nuzzling into your ruffled hair as you wrapped your arms around him too - for a while, the only sound in the room was that of your ragged breaths.

“You still with me, little prince?” you murmured, turning your head to press a ridiculously chaste kiss to his temple. He nodded, muttering something unintelligible, still hidden against you. Slowly, you reached up to run your hand through his hair, soft caresses that had him melt furthermore against you.

“All I had to do was ask?” he managed to say after a few moments of quiet, just trying to recover your breaths. You chuckled, the motion causing you to tense slightly still around him before reaching for his face blindly, guiding his head up with your fingers lazily wrapped around his jaw, thumb underneath his chin.

“Such a fast learner,” you hummed, pulling him down into a kiss, slow and intense.

“I do like being told what to do,” he whispered through soft breaths then, his hand lazily tracing the curve of your collarbones, up your neck and throat. “Only when it’s you, sweet one.”

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rise-my-angel · 2 years

Text

A Poisonous Truth (Part One)

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader x Ellaria Sand

Length: 25k

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, mentions past instances of rape not related to reader, inference to past domestic abuse, sex work/prostitution, smut, m/f/f dynamics, canon divergence, semi slow burn

Notes: Follows along season 4 but the story diverts from canon more and more as it goes along. Ellaria is an active part of the romance story. There are and will be many book elements pulled into the story as opposed to strictly the show canon. I don't know what happened with the length , I'm so sorry.

Part 2 Now Posted

Cross Posted to Ao3

King’s Landing by far is the most disgusting place you had been too. Your journey, if you could call it that, traveling down south had you encountering a multitude of unfavorable conditions, and yet, the capitol was somehow the most unpleasant of them all. When the city had first come up into sight, a distant view coming into the light as the morning sun rose above the red keep. It didn’t even look good then.

The only part of the city that didn’t look jam packed was the peak where the Red Keep lay, but the presence of your ruling monarch did little to impress. The streets were packed with people, most of whom didn’t seem to have anywhere near the comforts you would have expected of the citizens of the capitol. Poverty seemed everywhere, every twist and turn protruding a foul plethora of odors, and without the brightness of the sun to shine, too busy geaning onto the delicately constructed city centre, the streets felt dark and cramped.

The only silver lining was that the Street of Silk was just a breath more attractive then the claustrophobic unkempt streets which you had been led there by. A discreet metal sign hanging from the tops of an entrance with nothing more than a mockingbird printed on it, signified the brothel to which you now had to call home.

Only one real thing could be said about where your life had now led you, a small silver lining to your new accommodations, your brothel was owned by the once titled Master of Coin Petyr Baelish. The only positive of that being that you had consistent access to proper food and clean water, a luxury you were only afforded because such amenities needed to be made for what you were told was, high quality clientele.

Though, those aren’t quite the words you would attribute to them. High quality only meant, they could afford to pay inordinate amounts of cash to do whatever they want and demand to be spoiled as much as they want. You were told before arriving that, because it was nobles, knights, men of the royal court who you would be servicing, that you would find better treatment here.

Not even close. The smaller brothel you had found refuge in, was more cramped, dark, dirty, and clean water wasn’t even a guarantee, but the clients were travellers. People in the middle of a journey, looking to find company or reprieve from the quiet monotony of travel. Sure, they weren’t all kind, but they were interesting. Loud, boisterous men, almost more concerned with being seen as strong and entertaining then with the quality of service from whomever they had paid for.

Quiet folk, wanting the companionship of intimacy to quell the long spells of nights filled with silence. Sometimes, they were simply people just looking to find a bed for the night, and being able to share one with a woman was more appealing then another night on a bedroll laid in the dirt next to the same stinky men they had travelled with for weeks. They were unique, such vast personalities not worried with how they appeared or looked because it did not matter. You remembered having nights where clients had spent more time making you laugh with their stories, then they had inside your body. Other times, they were men eager to teach you something, playful sessions showing you how to yield their weapons leading to an inevitable pin by the stronger warrior.

Kings Landing was nothing like that. These men, these nobles and knights were not kind. They were greedy, demanding, and rough. They paid high amounts of coin to have the right to use you how they saw fit. The brothel was set up this way on purpose. The loose rules of treatment Little Finger had set into place allowed these rich members of the court to come back time and time again, spending their gold on the right to use you like a doll made for their pleasure alone.

You had yet to meet the infamous weasel. You knew he was still in King's Landing, but having many cogs in motion at once he clearly felt he had better things to do than run his own business. Olyvar was currently the one in charge, well, in a sense.

He also was under Little Fingers employ, catering to men with same sex interests alone, that gave him a certain level of time to find new responsibility. Simply put, Kings Landing seemed to look down upon that kind of behaviour, clients seeking out male services being much more uncommon, but highly sought after when needed. It seemed to have given him time to learn a touch of leadership.

It was Olyvar who had been in charge the day you arrived, which honestly, was far better than meeting the infamous Lord himself. Sure he was personable and charming, most of them here were, but he also, wasn’t the one whom had made the deal to bring you here. Whatever backwater deals had been made to bring you here without any explanation, wasn’t made by him. One woman would later tell you that Baelish was dirty and manipulative, that speaking to him sometimes could feel almost humiliating. That when he held all the cards in a plan that you had no knowledge about, he would take pleasure in knowing he could control you however you wanted.

Olyvar was still human deep down, which meant that he recognized the mask you wore when you arrived, a level of fear in your eyes giving away a terror that you tried so desperately to hide in your body language. He didn’t know why obviously, no one knew why, and they never could.

You had been brought here from another brothel, so it wasn’t the fear of being forced into a position you knew nothing of, no this was a fear you intended to keep silent. The fear of a secret you were once so sure no one could guess, now in a place where someone could know. Someone who may recognize who you used to be.

Part of you recognized that it was unlikely. It had been well over a year, maybe even closer to two years since that day and you knew you looked different. Your hair, cut, styled, and dyed already hid the resemblance in your face quite well, you wore makeup now, even your body had changed. Recognizable scars that you never used to have, the way you hold yourself drastically altered due to your new profession, even your size, now softer. Weak, under fed, with no muscles to speak of, gave way to much softer, more plush skin. A plushness that lured men into your services with the promise of something to grab onto that matched your softer, quieter disposition.

Something the other girls here picked up on right away. One you had seemed to form some kind of a friendship with, Genna, had commented on that fact one evening. "Sometimes men ask for me cus they have no idea what they’re doing.”

Your own body, laying back one arm draped across your stomach while the other arched above your head, hand slipping to rest beneath the pillow, suddenly perched up onto your elbows with a raise of your eyebrows to accompany it. “So they what, ask you to teach them?”

A smug little smile stretched across her face, “More like they need someone to guide them.” Genna hops back to the bed, knees placed down on each side of your own thighs, as she starts moving her fingertips to dance over them, “Need a girl in charge, show them how it works, tell them what to do.”

Her fingers reach your stomach, and playfully pulls off the thin fabric you had lazily covered yourself with after your last client had finished with the two of you. In reaction, one of your own hands goes to grab it back, face scrunching in an unconvincing annoyed look. Genna simply jerks it back harder, only to come back with both hands and grasp your wrists holding them in place as she leans over you. “Virgins who need me to show them how to be in charge of little softies like you.”

Your face barely hid the need to laugh, pretending as if her giggles were one sided. “Oh so I’m such a little softie now, huh? Not sure that's the word big boy was just calling me 10 minutes ago.” Wiggling your eyebrows enough that both you and Genna laughed.

Releasing your hands, she finally relaxes, flops down onto the ruffled sheets beside you, both of you too lazy to detangle your legs as you both turned enough to see the other. Genna’s own hand comes up to gently move hair out of your face as she speaks. “Yeah, but I reckon that’s why they brought you here.’

You only got out a disbelieving look before she continued. “No, I'm serious. Some girls either come in here, hoping that fancy men means more money, and then leave when they aren’t dressed in golden robes bought with piles of their new riches. Those that stay, usually are normal. Here to do a job, smile at men, suck their cock and make ‘em happy. But I think you fit a specific niche.”

Turning your body to lay on its side, head propped up by your hand as Genna does the same. “Oh, and what would that be?” Part of you already knows the answer, but you want to know what the others see in you.

“Someone soft, someone gentle but not timid. Men who want a submissive girl that makes them feel like they’re really in charge. Willing quiet things who need a big dominating man to corrupt your soft little innocence, instead of just a girl following orders because she’s getting paid to.”

Her hand coming back to stroke stands of your hair, “A real fantasy of a soft sweet girl willing to do anything a big strong man needs and demands of her, simply because she just really wants it.”

Your eyes cast downward for a moment, the faint sounds of giggling and loud moans echoing from other rooms. For a brief moment, you felt like you were somewhere far from where you ended up. Flashing to the reason you were hiding, barely a whisper coming out with a small nod of your head. “Men who want to feel in charge, not just act like it.”

Genna calls your name, well, what you had told them what your name was, “You still with me? Or all that cock today finally putting you to sleep?”

And like that, you were back. Back to the name you had given them, the person you were brought here to be. Your secret locked back up, no one to ever find it. Your hand grabbing the pillow behind you and giving her a hearty smack.

Genna’s yelp only to be followed with a fight to take the pillow from you, giggling turning into loud laughter until the expected sight of two naked girls playing around in bed caught the attention of yet another faceless highborn ready to put you right back to work.

You weren’t in the building the day Peytr Baelish tuned up. Having spent the morning, up and down the streets with another girl you worked alongside, Armeca. The morning sun grew hotter and hotter, the two of you made your way to get a view of the water before returning back. It was a short reprieve from the life you had created for yourself. Looking upon the strikingly bright blue water that ran from the channel out into the Narrow Sea. An escape that felt so painfully far from your resch.

Getting lost in the striking water, you missed Armeca calling your name until she came up beside you and linked your arm into hers. “What have you never seen water before?” She laughs gently before pulling you alongside her to make the walk back. “We need to get back.”

There had been whispers around the city regarding the King as of late. It was hard to make out the details, whispers amongst the people you walked by on the streets, or fragments of conversation between the knights and nobles. Sometimes you heard things indirectly, the men assuming you weren’t listening too busy with the task at hand, or more blatantly as men had you and other girls sit in their laps as they drank and traded gossip like a couple of fish wives.

Honestly, you didn’t know much about how the war had ended, but you knew the talk grew louder after it had. Gathering as much as the North had been defeated, usually only spoken about in shrewd and disgusting mockery of what became of the Stark corpses. Learning that the North was now held by Roose Bolton, a decision no doubt decided by Tywin Lannister you could only guess. Choosing men as heartless and cruel as he to hold the Lannister influence wherever they could get their hands on.

It made your spine tingle, having a good sense of the kind of men loyal to Tywin. You knew Roose Bolton, since he had known your father. A man just as vile as the plethora of distantly related Lannisters who frequented your services. But you pushed it down. That wasn’t your life anymore.

Arriving back at the brothel, you finally met the man so mysteriously spoken of, even by those in his employ. Walking in on the tail end of a discussion with Olyvar about preparations of some kind. You stayed close to a wall, Baelish hadn’t been here since you’ve arrived, but he was the one who brought you here, paid off your previous boss to bring you all the way to King's Landing for reasons never explained to you. They were reasons only he knew, and you had a strong suspicion he had no intentions of telling you outright.

It was Armeca who spoke, bringing his gaze right in your direction. “Preparations for what?”

Did that unnerving smirk ever leave his face? “For the wedding, of course. King Joeffry’s marriage to Margaery Tyrell is soon approaching, and we’ll need to be ready.”

Baelish had begun walking towards the two of you, but slowly, and not even in a straight path. As if he was toying with you by not just coming up to you directly. “Men all over the city will be busy, worked up, in need more than ever of some close company. But more importantly, visitors. Many head of houses will be making their way to the capitol to attend the wedding, and I need every one of you,”

Finally coming up closer, he looked at you as he spoke. You hadn’t asked any question, but he answered almost to you as he invaded your personal space. “To be on alert at all times.” He looked at you, watching him with such a hard impassive face there was no mistaking you were trying to play a facade. “You never know what kind of men will walk through our doors in the upcoming weeks, you need to be prepared.”

Finally he turned away. “All of you.”

America has already left your side, but you stood there watching him as he turned his back to share some final words with Olyvar before leaving. As he faced your direction, you began to busy yourself, hoping to rush past in a display of needing to change into proper attire, but your arm was grabbed just as your body passed his.

It was unclear if the look in your eyes was fear, anger, or shock, but that smirk on Lord Baelish's own face stayed all the same. “So good to have you here, my dear. I knew bringing you all the way to the city would work out just fine. “

His eyes locked with yours, until he let his hold on you go, and walked out. The girls were right, you were better off never speaking to him directly. Making your way to your quarters you were lost, distracted with uncovering what he meant.

He couldn’t know. It was impossible. Baelish was the furthest option of anyone who could possibly recognize you, and yet, the way he looked at you, spoke to you. Spies all over the city for various individuals were commonplace in Kings Landing, but part of you wondered, how far did that network reach. Were you really brought here for this, or did he bring you here for something else entirely?

If he knew who you were, no doubt there was some plan in his mind of how to use you, and the second he was ready to do it you might be trapped forever from making any free choice of your own ever again. If everything went according to plan, you felt terrified towards whatever intentions were in store for you.

Only, no one’s plans were going to work out the way they wanted. Only one person’s plans would, and it would slowly unravel the very core of anyone you now, or will know. But, it was impossible for you to know that fate was even an option, it was a fate that would, in due time, shock everyone. But for now, you had work to do, you and the others all preparing yourself for a constant flow of brand new rich noblemen whom would continue to line Baelish’s pockets with gold.

For a while, you found yourself catering to a variety of clientele making their way into the city for the Royal Wedding. Mostly thoughtless Lords looking to take advantage of having a beautiful woman in a luxurious bed. Sometimes married men who can now do whatever they desire with you, that their wives back home have no interest in, but all of whom have little to no interest in even learning your name.

For a while, it almost felt like a kind of routine, a predictable round of clients coming in and out, so busy that only a few regular faces popping by in the business. The ones you know from multiple visits, commenting that most of the arrivals piled into the city at once, coming from nearby areas. Eager to take advantage of the festivities and attempting to schmooze their way into a closer seat to the crown during the celebration.

The influx of people was enough for a while to distract you from your encounter with Little Finger. The constant demand of your attention taking the forefront of your mind, but it wouldn’t last forever. As the families closer to Kings Landing had settled in, there was less traffic of new faces as the further the House lived, the longer in between new people you began to see.

During the early hours of the morning, sun just barely beginning to peek into the sky, pouring just enough light into your room to wake up your distracted mind, was when you had the thought. Standing by the window, a velvety sheet draped over your person, you thought of your home. A pang of nerves all set off at once, your body feeling a flow of anxiety as sharp as the strike of a match.

He wouldn’t come here, would he? The ruling class here was unarguably Lannister, and his allegiance wouldn’t be brushed off lightly. Not by the hot tempered king, rife with anger and immaturity, and not by the hand of the king. Tywin, a man who only strikes against his enemies with patience and strategy, but aims to devastate when he does. Neither man would welcome him here at the drop of a hat, only willing to switch sides right before the one he started in, lost. Afterall, you had seen almost no Northern men since arriving in King's Landing.

But it didn’t stop the fear. The growing anxiety of him finding you, how quickly he would drag you out into the streets, humiliate you for all to see. Would he draw the torture out? Bring you all the way back, just to execute you in the place and people you ran from? Or would his anger boil over and end you right there, leaving you in the dirty streets until someone had the decency to move your rotting corpse.

Either was as likely as the other. The great shame finding you alive and hiding in a brothel in the capitol, the shame it would bring upon him that he failed so badly that keeping you alive would be out of the question.

Afterall, your father was nothing but a cruel and sadistic man. Put your life on a cliifs edge when you threatened to expose the extent of his cruelness, and when that failed? When no one on your land or in the neighbouring towns could find a hint of you? He had declared you missing, and not long after that, dead.

You couldn’t be sure why he had waited to declare you dead, when you knew he would never pretend like you were still alive. Maybe to buy him some time to come up with a plausible explanation to why they knew you were dead, but no body was seen and no funeral was held. By that point, you were too far away. You were already travelling south, and what he was saying about you didn’t matter.

Did Little Finger know? Is that why he brought you here? He finds out the supposedly dead daughter of Lord is hiding with a new identity in a brothel, and brings you here to use as some kind of collateral or pawn in one of the many despicable plans he has?

Little Finger hadn’t been around for days, and you hoped the much more interesting opportunity of manipulating the many fresh nobles and court members was a better priority. To the people of this city, you were no one. Just a soft face, seen only by rich men looking to fuck, and none of them cared enough to consider your existence beyond that.

Well, no one cared, until more eyes than just the ever untrustworthy Little Finger, found yours. More eyes than had ever paid that kind of attention to you, and in ways much less sinister than those of your elusive boss.

The day he arrived, you hadn’t even been aware of his presence until he had already caused a commotion. Too preoccupied with a more senior man, lonely and requesting one of the hot water tubs which rested in a private room with a closed door for client privacy. Not too demanding of a man, just a widowed gentleman looking for a woman to sit on his cock while giving him a gentle scrub while soaking in the warm water. By the time you had made your way into the main room, a trio of men arrived in the brothel, one of which had trained his eyes upon you almost instantly.

It wasn’t uncommon as of late, for you to be placed near the entrance, welcoming the men coming in with your soft eyes and a gentle touch. You were told it helped make new visitors feel admired and wanted as they found their pick.

Their early needs were quite simple, really. Leading them to a warm room, and letting them take a seat as you begun pouring drinks. One of them, quite touchy from the beginning. The other two men, bright eyes with smug, satisfied faces made passing comments. Nothing interesting or remotely new, just a back and forth as if you couldn't hear them making lewd comments about you. What others consider regular small talk, was typically replaced with just thirst and greedy touches in places like this.

The third man has found his way behind you, one hand finding its way under the sheer, loose fabric covering your chest, while the other pulling your hips back into his own. “She’s such a gracious host isn’t she boys?” Chuckles followed, yours with a fake flattery meant to stroke an ego. “Woman like this? She definitely needs some one on one time, to thank her. Don’t you think so, sweetheart?”

So, you had found the remaining pair, two young beauties, poured their drinks, and left them to their own devices. The two girls each sat in one of their laps. The door to the next room had only just shut, the man finding his own seat nearby and beckoning you to kneel between his legs. As you worked to undress his lower half, he boasted. Lamenting what a great opportunity it was for a girl such as yourself to be on your knees in front of a Lannister.

Typical. You hadn’t the chance to meet many of them face to face since your arrival, but their presence left a smug trail anywhere they went. Proud and cocky, their family’s prominent rule on the Iron Throne no doubt left any relative in the house the desire to show off how appealing they were. The fact that you couldn’t even tell them what their names were was a big indicator of how unimportant they didnt realize they were. Not that you could ever think of saying it, but you out of all the working girls here, would be able to easily recognize someone of any actual significance.

You worked him over with your hand as he spoke, the man’s ego not able to keep quiet enough to even let you just get to work. No, he wanted to keep your mouth free still, just so you could shower him with soft, wide eyed awe of his success and skill, the prowess all such men surrounding the family held.

At first, the sound in the room next to you wasn’t enough to worry. A grunt or yell of some sorts had come from one of the men next door, not exactly tinted in something that screamed pleasure. It was enough for the both of you to cast your eyes to the door, but if there was speaking going on it was quiet enough that you couldn’t hear it through the door.

The two girls leaving the room whispering urgently to each other as they left. One turned her head to look back at the shut door they came through, only to have the other tug her away out of sight before you could figure out the situation. Another grunt of what sounded much more like pain came through again. This time alerting the both of you enough that he had stood up from his seat. Eyes trained on the door, he gestured for you to silently tuck him back in before he took a step forward.

Then a loud cry of clear agony let out, finding its way from your ears down into your heart as it began to pump with anxiety. It was more common that a girl would find herself on the end of that kind of pain, then a client. What on earth were the remaining pair doing in there?

An immediate answer found you as the two men from before came bursting through the door, one doubled over as if the other had to carry part of him out. Blood clearly spewing from his wrist and cries of pain coming out freely. Your own companion moved forward to hold onto the wound and made their way to leave, in discernible anger being muttered from one of the men as they left.

Before the door could shut, you moved to step into its threshold to see what had even taken place. Blood on the table you had just set up, and a number of people standing in the middle of the room who you didn't normally see here. You could see Olyvar at the other end of the room, by the open hall watching carefully but also surprised at whatever had occurred before leaving the room.

You recognized the sound of Tyrion Lannister, you had never seen him here for sex by the time you arrived, but there had been more than one occasion he had to come in to get the guard typically by his side. You don’t remember his name though, you think Armeca was one of his regular girls.

Then your eyes found them. How you could have possibly missed it before was beyond you, the tall pair in the middle, dressed in golds and orange standing out in the middle of the deeper, more muted colours draped around the room. One of them turning, his body now facing your view more clearly, as the woman behind him wrapping her arms around to follow.

The man's voice is what really stuck out. “You don’t partake?” You knew this accent, but it had been many years since you last heard one like it, and it didn’t quite place right away.

“Oh, I partook. Now I’m married.” Sansa Stark, right. You had heard about after her fathers execution was announced, and rumours of her being held there by the Queen like a prisoner. And whispers followed through Westeros about her being forced into a marriage. Gods, she was still here even now. Married to Tyrion Lannister in some kind of cruel joke on both of them it seems.

The man in gold, tall and broad from what you could see, with a handsome face to match, noting an angular nose framing him quite handsomely, In the moment, you weren't sure. But, clear dark eyes met yours for the briefest of seconds in the silence before Tyrion begun to speak again.

“Prince Oberyn,” A cold shiver crept its way down your spine. That’s who this was. You knew this man, or at least, you knew of him by way of reputation. It was another Martell who you actually knew, it felt like a lifetime ago now or a different life to be more accurate. “If I may, a word in private?”

There was a pause in his movements as he watched Tyrion closely, before separating from the woman behind him to follow the Lannister outside. You could only stand in your place, watching them leave. You didn’t know Tyrion, the whispers about him vary from place to place and person to person.

He was a Lannister, a member of the most powerful, yet most hated family in the Seven Kingdoms. A family deeply hated by the very man he asked to speak with. On the other hand, he also was said to be smart, very smart, but very despised by his own family. The part of you inside, the one still alive deep down, couldn’t help but wonder what’s to come of that. The old person you once were finding itself lost in wonder of what Oberyn Martell’s presence meant to the Lannisters, and what Tyrion intended to get out of him.

But, in this place, in this brothel that was not your place. Your only curiosity about the man should be if the rumours of the short Lannister’s prowess in bed was true. It should be on simply providing the Prince as quality of service as you can. Nothing more.

Though maybe, not quite just those things. You hadn’t heard Tyrion's guard leave, too distracted by pushing down your true curiosities. That’s not surprising, you were never keen on making yourself available to him. He liked the sound of his voice so much that you’re not sure he ever shut up, and insultingly enough, you suspected you just weren’t small and petite enough for his taste.

This woman in front of you, she was something else entirely. Like her lover, she was quite tall, with long curls falling down her back and the orange dress across her body soft and enticing. Her face though, was anything but soft.

Neither was her voice. “Do all the girls here like to stare, or am I just special?” A smooth yet seductive tone to her voice matched with the sharp eyes trained on your person.

Your body straightened up as you took a step further into the room, but her own feet moved faster. She hovered above you, eyes unblinking as she searched your person for something unknown. “I was going to apologize for such a mess being caused during a guest's stay, but something tells me you are used to things getting messy.”

She’s hard to read, but you wonder if she was surprised in any way, her eyebrows raised almost in question as you slipped by her, making your way to the table to gauge how much blood there would be to clean. The silky accent followed in your path as you moved. “I would put all of the blame on my dear lover, but you cannot be with someone as long as we have had each other, without becoming just a little too much like them. If not just used to his temper.”

Coming up to the table, she stood at the adjacent side and glanced down to the blood you were now moving one of the drinks away from. “This particular mess though, is Oberyn’s speciality, so in this case yes it is his fault.” She chuckled before grabbing the other drink to join the other you had moved.

“And yours?” You were closer than she expected, seeing a sly glint in your eye the more she looked into them.

“My what?” Her head tilted slightly, black curls falling over one shoulder slightly.

Your hand raised up, letting her hair slip into a gentle grasp of your fingers, before sweeping them over the skin of her shoulder to put it back into place. You didn’t look back up as you said, too preoccupied with how she felt under your fingertips. “What kind of messes does a woman such as yourself leave?”

That feeling sparked across your skin, following your veins and finding a home electrocuting your heat just a tad more, as her own hand took yours into hers. Placing it between both of hers as she turned your palm up and traced the lines laying there. “Only the kinds you could ever want.”

Eyes widening playfully, mouth opening in a mock surprise. “That I could want? Last time I checked, my services haven’t been booked by any women such as yourself at the moment.” What was it about this woman that kept you speaking in such a free way? She drew you in, but almost like she was a mystery you intended to only unravel at your leisure. Not like a client wanting to appear mysterious simply as boast.

Her head leaned into your personal space, her words lowering closer to something akin to a whisper. “And has it ever?” Your eyes squinted in question, the woman's hand coming up to trail down your cheek with the touch of a feather. “Has a woman ever had your time in such a way, little one?”

It was a fight, keeping the pounding of your heart, the thrill of the unknown coursing through your body down and masked by a smirk. Leaning closer, sealing more of the shrinking gap between you. “Not many women in a place like this, other than to drag their husbands right back out.”

Her curious smirk turned closer to a smile, “Is that why I get those stares? Because I'm usually the bad guy?”

An actual laugh was finally brought out of you, you could lie and help make the girls she had already encountered look a little more confident, but a louder part of you couldn’t help but wonder if it was the truth she wanted more. So you gave it to her. “The girls stare at you honestly because you intimidate them.” You leaned back slightly to nod at the door you knew the Lannister men had run out of. “Usually orders from paying men are the only reasons women find any pleasure in each other. Most beyond that have no interest in it beyond satisfying the ome giving the gold. It’s your interest in them that the girls find intimidating.”

Her coy but seductive gaze simmered down into one full of thought. Whatever she had been searching for in watching you earlier, had just deepened how hard she would have to look. “And what about you little one? How do you find me?”

Your answer was as honest as you had been the entire conversation, and you think that honesty surprises her. “Intriguing. I find you intriguing.”

Her hand that had traced a path on your cheek moved to run down the length of your hair, pulling a strand to her and laying it rest on your chest. Her hand kept its gentle grasp on the strands as it remained laying on you. “I expected someone as gentle and sweet looking as yourself, to be much more shy and timid. Especially with no experience with another woman.”

Your hand reached to lightly grasp onto hers, your seductive role had begun finding its end. A much more genuine curiosity though, remained in its absence. “Maybe that’s normal for most girls like me. Afterall men who want me for such gentleness, usually want me quiet and meek to go along with it.”

Both your touches on the other remained, unmoving but not at all eager to let go. “Are you?”

Softly you smiled, hoping the twinge of rushing emotion was held back, that the conflict you felt within didn’t show in your face. “Maybe if I were better at my job right now I would pretend to be.”

This time when her head leaned back into yours, you didn’t follow in. The coy flirty games no longer feeling right here. This woman seemed to almost enjoy you being more genuine, but you didn’t understand why. Her hand moving back to your hair, grazing it with her fingers as her palm slipped over to lightly cup your cheek through her hold on your hair. “I prefer smart and honest over dumb and loose. What is your name, smart girl?”

Lurching in your stomach felt so strong it almost jerked your entire body. Your real name almost bursted out of its own accord, but you forced it down. Sealing it inside you where it belonged. So told her a name, the one you had given the Madam of the previous brothel you had been to. The one where this new lie, this fake identity had taken hold. And you asked hers in return.

Her deep eyes were a trap, so full of life and emotion swirling through the gorgeous colours. Losing your gaze so quickly in their hold, it took you a few seconds to realize that not only had she answered, but that the answer didn’t actually come out of her mouth.

No, the answer had come from the same deep toned voice from before. A voice you hadn’t even realized was back in the room or even when he had returned.

“Ellaria Sand. My paramour.” Both your heads turned to see Oberyn approaching. Yellow robes, rich in colour matching that of the sun, and a chain laying down across his chest holding a symbol you could not quite make out. A strong chest leading up to broad shoulders which held themselves high.

A confidence radiated from him, but also seemed to also withhold some tension. A steeled gaze as he watches you detach your grasp from Ellaria completely. “Prince Oberyn, forgive me I was simply apologizing to the lady for such an unpleasant greeting upon your arrival.”

Oberyn Martell was a difficult man to read, while his face seemed to look impassive as he spoke, his eyes very much felt like his companions had. Deep, thoughtful and seemingly trying to figure something out which you did not know. “What unpleasantness?”

Beside you, Ellaria could be heard chuckling as Oberyn gestured to the table you stood by, “A small amount of Lannister blood spilt is nothing to feel upset about, quite the opposite in fact.”

A challenging look, eyebrows raised as he seemed to wait for your response. Gauging how such a comment would make you feel. You were in a land ruled by Lannisters, afterall. “I simply meant that it is my apologies that such a confrontation even occurred.”

You were tight, formal, polite borderlining on controlled, not quite what a regular working girl in a brothel would concern herself with, and it seems both saw right through it. Oberyn’s chuckle matched that of his lover. “I told her when one is around you long enough, it’s something you get used to.”

Their eyes spoke another language to each other, while their words said otherwise. Both had moved to you rather than returning to the others arms. Ellaria simply being closer, getting there first, this time her hand giving a deliberate show of finding a home in the strands of your hair. Oberyn mocking a betrayed gasp, “Already discussing her opinion about me?”

Her smooth hand found the bottom of your chin, bumping it up to look at her face with little force. “Or just warning her of your antics,” Her own eyes moving from that of her lovers, to a softened but introspective look watching your own face. “This one’s different, aren’t you little one?”

“You are the guest, there’s no need to flatter me. I’m the one who should be buttering you up to sway you to buy my own services.”

Ellaria’s grasp on you suddenly passed over to that of the Prince. His hold on you, quite different. Having his eyes on yours is just as appealing, but somehow holding an intensity toy had never experienced before. “It is not flattery if it is true, no?”

You opened your mouth, expression turning to the side as if to hide from his gaze, but he interrupted whatever your inevitable denial would be. “I sense there is a complicated mind behind all of this,” his hand moved to cup the side of your styled hair up in the air. “What's your name?”

Unlike Ellaria, telling Oberyn your made up name seemed to be the wrong answer. Brows furrowed with Oberyn's squint as he looked at you more closely. Saying your name out loud, as if to test whether or not it matched what stood in front of him. For now, it seemed to pass.

Oberyn moved around you, keeping his eyes trained, never leaving yours as he stood behind Ellaria, pulling her back into his chest, mouth finding her ear, “Tell me what you are thinking, my love.”

Like an attracted magnet, her arms reached to return his embrace, their eyes watching yours with thoughts you were not privy to. “I think you, my dear, are far more interesting than any of the mindless girls we were shown before.”

You shook your head, but one of her arms pulled you close, as if to bring you into her own arms. “I wouldn’t be so quick to turn them away, the girls and men here are all quite beautiful-”

Ellaria’s smile was honest but also a tad coy as she pulled you the rest of the way to stand in her personal space, her arm moving to trace down your neck and collarbones, the other still firmly in Oberyn's grasp. “Every brothel has beautiful people, that's not much of a selling point. You though, your interesting, and that’s far more unique. And like he said, my name is Ellaria, not my lady."

Footsteps approached the room as Olyvar returned. He spoke, but kept his gaze curious onto the scene in front of him rather than looking directly at the Oberyn as he spoke. “My apologies for the delay,” He seemed to slow his words as he spoke, as if trying to figure out what he was watching. “I have had all the necessary arrangements made for both of your stays, if you woul-”

Oberyn’s voice commanded out, like Ellaria, watching you while speaking to another. “I appreciate your efforts, but our plans have changed.” He said your name, and finally turned to look at Olyvar, “I presume she has other work, but I would request her company be made available to myself and Ellaria during our stay.”

Your surprise matched Olyvars. “That can be arranged, but we do have a wide variety of quite experienced girls and boys to match either of your needs.” It wasn’t meant to be insulting, you understood Olyvar’s intention. You were still new here, more soft and quiet then other girls and he likely assumed the appetite of Prince Oberyn and Ellaria would require more than what he presumed you could provide. But you still felt it, the attention so dedicated to you leaving you feel, warm. Almost like a tingle of curious excitement.

Oberyn moved from Ellaria to you, his hands grazing over her body as he stepped in front of you directly. “That won’t be necessary, my paramour and I have all we need right here don’t we?”

Ever in sync, Ellaria now moved to hold onto Oberyn's back as he did hers. “More than enough.” Turning to face Olyvar, “She will need some of her things moved into where we are staying. I have a feeling she will be spending quite a bit of her time,” Ellaria looking back at you, her tone shifting to sound almost amused. “Entertaining the two of us, won’t you, little one?”

You and Olyvar looked at each other for a moment, neither of you finding suspicion or any kind of uncertainty in the other. It seems the Dornish couple’s decisions have taken both of you by surprise. So he nodded, calling your name. “I will have some of your necessities moved to their room, if that is alright with you.”

At least Olyvar also was for hire here, so he understood the rareness of being exclusively asked for by two people for an unspecified number of days, let alone when one of them is a Prince. Both of you knew Little Finger would have simply demanded it regardless of your comfort. You knew you were okay with this arrangement, but you appreciated a small check of your concern from him. So you nodded in affirmation to him, before looking back to the man in front of you. “Who am I to deny a Prince of what he asks of me?”

He chuckled, his hand trailing down your side almost innocently, before moving to push the small of your back into Ellaria. “Show her the way, my love. We have a very exciting few days ahead of us, I imagine.”

Guided by Ellaria’s touch, more smooth and warm than the intense watchful eyes of her companion following behind. Ellaria’s arms wrapped around yours as she walked, telling you of the Dornish amenities they have brought with them, boasting of how much better quality wine and food are from Dorne than the drab and somewhat tasteless food this city can provide. The entire time, Oberyn was watching. Tickling the back of your mind the spark of doubt you had been feeling as of late. The prick of anxiety that if Oberyn didn’t seem to know who you are now, he would take great time and lengths to figure it out.

While you recognized the room they were staying in, you simply hadn’t spent much time in it. It's large, with one large bed with silky sheets and plush pillows strayed about it, deep maroons, purples, and shades of blue matching the drapes on the windows, giving it an air of dark privacy that other rooms did not normally have. It wasn’t unknown for the more wealthy of clients to be able to afford longer stays. Usually men of high houses who didn’t want to be kept in the stuffy air and watchful eyes of the Red Keep.

You knew the brothel itself held more than one person acting as spies for the various players in the city, but you assumed it was a safer gamble to bet on for a Martell than to stay in the Red Keep where almost every person inside watches some and reports to others.

There hadn’t been a guest like that in the few months you had been here, but you never expected any stay you’d have in it would be with an unbelievably beautiful woman and a Prince as her companion. Some of their things already finding a home amongst the room, you wonder how early in the day they had arrived. Clearly keeping a quiet profile at first, you had been awake since the sun had also awoken, and you never saw or heard of their arrival. That is, until the draw of confronting a Lannister drew the Viper from his Den.

While Oberyn spoke, it was Ellaria who kept an arm linked with yours, bringing you around the room with her, the other arm slinked behind your back to hold your waist as she directed you. “You are welcome to anything in this room that we also have, you are not being bought as a prisoner to us, you are free to do whatever you like. As long as it is our company that you return to, instead of whatever spoiled men tries to throw his money at you.”

Ellaria chuckled in your ear, turning your body to face the Prince as she wraps her own body around the back of yours, “He is either quite brave or quite foolish to speak about your own city men in such a way.” You could not see hers, but by the way Oberyn's own eyes glint at her with a mock offence drenched in a playful familiarity, you begin to assume she is the only one who has the bravery and freedom to tease him so openly.

“I see right through your games.” His chuckle fades into the sounds of his footsteps as he approaches. While Ellaria keeps a hold on your waist, Oberyn's own hand traces circles around your hip, before leaning into your shoulder blade to find her face. “Were she not trying to impress you, my beautiful paramour would have no qualms about telling me about how utterly foolish she thinks I am.”

While their own lips met, Ellaria’s hold on you tightened, and Oberyn's hand found a grip on your hip, the other cupping the side of your face. Separating after just a quick kiss, Oberyn tilted his head so his lips were at your ear. “You are a smart girl though, little one. If you think me foolish I expect you to come to that conclusion on your own, not by the tempting words of a manipulative woman.”

Ellaria responds by pulling you from his hold entirely, the hands on your waist, now across your torso and stomach keeping you away. “If I am the manipulative one, then what does that make you?” Leaning her lips onto the top of your head, she almost started to laugh with her words, “Oberyn is the one who demanded all of your time to himself, I would have asked before making such a request.”

Both laughed together, as your mind started to wander. You needed to remind yourself what you were here for, what they are buying you for. It had been so easy to lose yourself in their gentle touches and laughter, but they bought you for a reason.

Your eyes casting back and forth between them, before moving your hands to slip off the light and translucent fabric over your shoulders and down your arms, a pounding heartbeat conflicting with your mind telling you this is all you’re here to be. It didn’t get far, Ellaria’s hands slid to your arms, pulling the fabric back up in place as her smooth palms trail over your skin.

Oberyn stepped forward, to catch your hands, holding them in the air with an eyebrow raised, waiting for you to begin lowering your arms back down to relax before he let you go. Ellaria’s hold behind you became less possessive and playful, finding a new hold on you around your shoulders with one palm still pressed against the crease between your dress and shoulder. Oberyn tilted your head up to look at him. “I appreciate the eagerness, but this is not why we brought you here.”

The conflict in your mind started to feel silenced as the pounding of your heart grew louder and faster. “You mean, you’re not interested in-”

Fingers tracing over your cheeks, his eyes cast down to follow the path he made, the air of play in his presence giving way to something more inward and thought filled. “Oh we are, sweet girl I assure you. That is not the problem.”

Ellaria was the one to finish his thought process. “We want to spend time with you, for you to spend time with us, talking, laughing, getting to know our little world here more than just what happens between those sheets.”

Finally her body moves from yours, giving you the physical space to accompany your thoughts. “Why me though? Why choose me out of all the-”

Oberyn’s voice smaller, less demanding of attention to its tone, lowering down to a much calmer, more personable level. “They are all beautiful and eager to serve, yes. But you are interesting. You fascinate not just me, but Ellaria as well.” His hand finally cups the side of your face entirely, thumb only stroking back and forth lightly as he finds your eyes. “It’s rare to find someone who fascinates both of us so deeply. I requested all of your time, because I want the time and freedom to discover why.”

It tempted you in a way more than anyone else had ever tempted you in the year and a half you had been this new person. It had been even longer, since anyone had shown you such decency and interest as you as a human being. Maybe it was going to be a mistake, allowing yourself to get attached to two people who inevitably were going to go back to their home and their lives without once this celebration is over. Oberyn voiced one last draw to the offer. “There is nothing we will ask of you in your time with us, other than giving us the chance to strip all of this away.” He gestured around the room, gesturing to the kind of building you were in and what you were supposed to be.

He tapped the side of your head with his other hand. “What’s in here is far more endearing than what is expected of you.”

Ellaria was sat on the edge of the bed now, palms braced behind her as she watched closely, watching for the signs of hesitancy or even discomfort that Oberyn may have missed standing so close. “Anything physical with us is incidental. We don’t want you to feel pressured into performing simply because you are normally paid to fuck us. If you want to, it needs to be because you want us. Not because you think you should.”

Chest rising up and down with an audible deep breath, your mind outweighing the cons of how alone you will be back to existing once they leave, with the pros of how genuine they were speaking. So just maybe, you chose the wrong decision. You nodded.

Oberyn’s grip on your face pulled you back to look his way. “Outloud. If you are truly okay with this, I need you to tell us. Tell me. Outloud.”

Doubling down on the bad decisions, that's what you knew you were about to do, and yet, you did it anyway. You jumped into the freezing water with little knowledge of how you were going to swim to the surface. Your hand reached up and held his, your own thumb finding comfort in swiping back and forth against his own skin. “I would like that.”

Oberyn smiled, and beyond your eyesight so did Ellaria. The pounding of your heart knocking out all other noises as Oberyn leaned into your face close, only for his lips to press against your other cheek. Finally he moved, pushing the small of your back to a table near the back of the room. “Sit, sit. I will get you a drink, I don’t imagine many men in Kings Landing bother to just allow a beautiful woman the courtesy of enjoying a drink with them like an equal.”

As he begins pouring, Ellaria joins you at the table, the smile on her face light. Little emotion hidden behind it beyond a genuine content. “We have our own wines. You people have absolutely no taste, so we had Dornish wine brought in specifically.”

Goblets appear in front of your persons, as Oberyn takes the other seat, leaning back with as much a light casualness as his paramour. You tried to match, trying to feel alright with just being yourself here, but you needed time, and you had a feeling neither would rush you into it.

Oberyn watches you take your first sip, and his next words have a smile attached to them as he watches your surprised expression before eagerly taking another sip. “We have some food, our true delicacies don’t travel as well, but we certainly have enough to prove that the people in the capitol have absolutely no taste buds.”

You laugh at yourself, as Ellaria comes to your defence “Careful lover, you keep that attitude up and our little bird may start feeling offended that you’re just insulting her home.”

Oberyn found your eyes again, that squinting analytical expression returning. As if he is once again challenging what your response may be, and you still, aren’t quite sure as to why. But you give an answer that is as honest as you can compose. “I’ve only been here a few months, the food where I was born wasn't much better than here.”

Oberyn leaned back in his seat, watching you with those challenging eyes “And where would that be?” He says your name in a question as well, as if your identity was a part of it.

So you just smirked into your goblet, “If I gave everything away right away, there wouldn’t be any mystery to uncover would there?”

Ellaria chuckled beside you as she tells you she agreed. Oberyn watches for a moment, “All in good time. I have all the time I need to unravel such a mystery.” He takes another sip of his own drink, before the conversation flows in a different direction. Giving you the time to relax more into getting used to them as the hours of the afternoon begin to tick away.

With the wedding rapidly approaching, it seemed more people grew tense rather than having the growing excitement of a celebration. Perhaps it was due to the unfavourable attitude King Joffery was so infamous for, perhaps it was the growing frustration of having so much nobility all in one place trying to buy favours with the crown, but you suspected otherwise.

It was easy at first, hardly feeling like work. Oberyn and Ellaria were fascinating people with rich and wild lives, yet they also found tons of entertainment in the small, almost domestic stories you had to offer. Like the difference in scale of your lives actually made for a complimentary contrast, as opposed to highborns looking down on you for not living like they do.

Oberyn especially captured your keen eye, a man who holds himself so differently than both men here, and from your own home. He was unashamed of his honestly, and didn’t yield it like a weapon. Sure, there were darker aspects about him that shine through his sheer intensity, but you never got the sense that what he was presenting you with, was anyone other than his real self. He’s not just an act to play with those around him.

The downside was that he was also interested in pulling that real side out of you. Seeing hints of a much more reserved but polite version of what you should put out to other clients. The first time seeing the Prince without much in the way of clothes on, your guard had been so let down that your instant response was to turn and apologize immediately.

His deep chuckle only added to the embarrassment flooding your body. “While I appreciate the respect for my privacy, there’s nothing here to hide, I assure you.”

Slowly turning around, a small smile forming on your face was currently covered up poorly by your fingers casually resting on your mouth almost as cover. I-Shock and embarrassment probably isn’t the reaction you’re used to when getting walked in on, I imagine.”

As you start to walk into the room proper, you could see Ellaria where she sat clearly trying not to laugh solely at Oberyn's expense. Not fooled for a moment, the two shared a playful glare as he passed her by. Pants on, but not fully done up, giving you a teasing glint of skin and coarse hair if you looked lewdly down further. His broad size and penetrating gaze though, kept your attention.

“Embarrassed because I’m nothing like what you were expecting compared to your usuals, or shocked because I am?” He was broad and clearly strong, sure. His shoulders and arms radiated strength, but his chest and stomach were much less showy. Scars and faded marks are etched into his skin, and his stomach softer almost like a normal man not trying to show off.

Your hand reached out to trace one scar which caught your eye, and trailed down to the softer skin below. An innocent touch of curiosity, instead of a teasing path with a more direct destination in mind. “It’s just..nice.” His eyebrows raised in curiosity as you continued. “For someone everybody talks about being a feared warrior or an intimidating force, it’s just nice to know that while handsome, you still look like most normal men.”

Oberyn grasps your hand in his, while his eyes watch yours, he slides your hand down just a smidge. Your fingers touch the very edge of his pants, threatening to dip them inside, before suddenly moving it the opposite way. Up in the air until he could kiss your hand, then pulled you alongside him to where he previously stood.

Gently helping assemble his clothes should have felt like simple servant work. Oberyn though, would softly take over your task so you could move onto the next part, working in tandem. Almost feeling domestic of sorts.

As he turns to face you, you look over him to make sure everything is in place, as your palms smooth down his chest to ensure his robe sits cleanly. All you did was compliment him, saying how well the colours match him.

Oberyn threading through strands of your hair as he looks over your own dress in the same fashion. Rich and low he smiles slightly as his fingers holding your hair also trace your cheek. “One day we’ll get you clothes that look more like ours. Dorne would suit you much more than this place I'm sure.”

You brushed it off. You loved the whites, and yellows, and oranges both of them were draped in compared to the dark and muted tones so common here and further North. He didn’t mean anything more than wondering what you’d look like in them was all it was.

Eventually each night ticked closer to the day of the wedding, but you still found yourself crawling away from the warmth radiating from the couple. You had a welcome place in bed with them, and they were happy to pull you into their arms like they do each other, but once they were asleep you always slid over to be alone. They were kind, but sleeping in such an affectionate and intimate way with two people who would always have each other, and eventually forget you, kept your mind awake to wander until it inevitably got you out of bed to stand alone in thought.

The lesson you learned the quickest since arriving in King's Landing, was that most of the major players here had a wide reach of eyes and influence. It seemed every other person was some kind of watchful spy for someone else, and the growing whispers passing around gave you the sense of plotting. Like the different persons being reported to all had their own plans setting into place around such a major event. Workers in the brothel always seemed to either be writing something in secret, or scurrying off at odd hours of the day to report to somebody else.

You were pretty sure you had figured out who reported to who though, some were more obvious spies then others, but then again, a house of whores was not known for their subtlety and subterfuge.

The growing wound at the back of your head seemed to fester more every day, the anxiety of why you were brought here. A paralyzing, sleep disruptive fear that Little Finger had brought you here for a reason, and left you working and waiting until his use for you finally reached its need. If he knew who you were, then someone must have been watching you since you had at least been hiding in The Riverlands.

Too many voices floating around in your head to stay asleep. If he knew, did one of his own spies in this very building have eyes on you right now, did they know why they watched you or were they just told to do as he says?

Push it down, you thought to yourself. Focusing on this was a bad idea, the anxiety would only spread if you did. Instead your gaze remained out the window, as your mind tried to focus on watching the tiny but of morning sun reach the cramped and filthy streets below it. You knew you were being watched at this very moment, but you were fairly certain there were no malicious intents from the watcher this time.

Ellaria had a warm presence as she found her way next to you. Both in body, the heat from the warm Dorne sun must be trapped under her very skin, as the air beside you felt warm as she approached. Also though, in her very person. Her radiance was calm, unrushed, and almost cozy, as if the happenings around her did little to even attract her attention.

Her voice, muttered quietly in the early hours of the morning, felt just as calm. “If sleeping in the same bed that me and Oberyn keeps making you uncomfortable-”

Your head shook as you interrupted her. “No, no, please. You’re the guests. This is a brothel and you are lovers in a bed that you paid for. What you choose to do in it has nothing to do with me being comfortable.”

You couldn’t see if her eyes were on you or if they were watching the same drab view of the city as you were. “Does it?” That made you turn to her first, her gaze only moving to yours as you turned to face her first. “Make you uncomfortable?”

Her sharp features felt somehow soft as she watched you, eyes searching for an answer, not judging, but in a curious sense. They were intense though, consuming your focus like looking at her for too long would cause you to get lost, so you turned your head abruptly. Taking a deep breath as you pulled the thin shawl over your shoulders more. “Uncomfortable is the wrong word. I’m..not quite sure what it is. Being so close to your and Oberyn’s intense little world. As if knowing you are sharing this part of yourselves with me is a strange feeling. I don’t know. Real intimacy is just, it’s strange to me I guess. That’s all.”

Ellaria knew that was not quite as honest an answer as she wanted to hear, but it was early. Not just in hours, but in your time together. Ellaria preferred to patiently wait outside of the gates, giving you the time you need to make your way down the steps to unlock them. She wants to know you in many ways, but parts of you were closed off, and she was happy to take her time making her way past that.

Sparing a moment to turn her head, Ellaria watched her lover still laying out underthe sheets. One of the few times his intensity was nowhere to be found. Glancing back at you though, Ellaria knew Oberyn’s approach was not quite the same. Oberyn was smart, and cunning but his nature was much more aggressive. She knew what he was feeling when he declined the other offers in favour of you. So many years together they could communicate through very little, so he knew they felt the same thing. But then that brash, bold nature of his suddenly bought out your entire company for their stay rather than letting her join in on the prospects the pair had already started to seek out amongst the other workers.

She knew Oberyn well enough to tell that there was something else in his mind about you. Ellaria was more direct and simple. You were beautiful, you looked at her and spoke to her in such a genuine way she had not seen from girls in places like this, there was something about who you were behind the sultry dress and the painted features trying to force you to look just like all the other average pretty whores in here. Who you were on the inside was far more fascinating to Ellaria than the dozens of the small staured, pale girls with the same kind of boring pretty faces willing to do whatever she wanted for the money she offered.

She had been lost in thought for longer then she suspected, your continued solemn silence feeling more anxious than calming. “That still doesn’t explain why you are wide awake long before anyone else in this building has even opened their eyes.”

Her voice was far away. Were you not close enough to see her long curls loose and flowing, or the beautiful almost pastel colour of the robe she had slipped on, you would have thought there were mountains between you. “I don’t sleep well. Never have.”

You spared a glance at her, those curious eyes now deep and almost with concern, as if that small response had found something upsetting within her. You couldn’t afford that though, not today. It was too busy today, and too many people in the city to watch all at the same time. You didn’t want Ellaria and Oberyn to be watched for simply being concerned for the feelings of a meaningless whore they hired, whatever you were being watched for, you didn’t want them to be watched for it as well.

You finally turned your body to her, a small on your face not reaching your eyes, as you gently pushed her back towards the lush bed. “You should get some more rest while you can, you’ll want as much time as you can to get ready.”

Before her legs could touch the sheets, she turned back to you, cupping the side of your face with a smirk “Why is that? Because all of these highborn women will expect me to spend the kinds of hours on my look as they do theirs?”

A real laugh finally came out of you, quiet and soft, but genuine, Playfully shoving her hand off of your face you turned her around to the bed, slipping the silky robe off of her once more. “Please you could walk into this wedding right now and look better than any other woman there.”

Finally you turned to gather some of your own things, ready to take a few moments to wash away the anxiety trapped in your skin before anyone else woke up. “Getting ready is just to prepare yourself for an entire day of dull and uptight Lords all trying to look and act the most impressive.”

Ellaria laughed as she found her way onto the sheets, making your way to step out. You assuree her once more before slipping quietly out the door. “Trust me, there’s nothing more boring than listening to the Lords and men of the Crownlands all try to pretend they are the most successful House.”

Just as you shut the door, quiet as possible to not to wake the still sleeping Prince, Oberyn had quietly shifted enough to sit upright, pulling Ellaria up against his chest. Her arm reached up behind her to find a home behind his neck, “I’ve never met someone who works in a place like this honestly confess that she doesn’t understand intimacy.”

Oberyn, tracing the skin of her stomach he also nudged at the side of her neck to make a spot for himself, began to trace a path on her neck with the tip of his nose before following that same path back down with gentle presses of his lips. “It’s not that she doesn’t understand intimacy, I think she just has genuinely never experienced it.”

Ellaria’s free hand rested on the forearm across her, caressing the skin as she watched the closed door. “So, what a quiet little poor girl growing up in the Riverlands just decides to sell her body for money, something she is not comfortable with, over any of the other things she could have succeeded as?”

She didn’t know what kind of things were going through Oberyn's mind, but she suspects he seems to know something she doesn’t. He'll tell her on the way today no doubt, but his answer makes that suspension almost certain. “Her accent is Northern. Or at least, she's trying not to sound like she is. Nothing like the daughter of a Maidenpool fisherman.”

Oberyn moved his lips to the top of her head, pulling her closer into his chest, wanting to lull her back to sleep. “She’s used to telling that lie to brainless men only half listening to her long enough to get her clothes off. Usually they aren’t there long enough to care."

Turning more into his chest, Ellaria felt the pulls of sleep draw her back in. “Why lie to us though? Why not tell the truth when she knows we want to hear it?”

Oberyn was now much more awake than his paramour, it was going to be an eventful day afterall, and now he was adding a tactful plan to broach the subject to his list of ongoing affairs in this wretched city. Watching Ellaria’s eyes slip shut, breathing softening as she let sleep bring her under once more before his eyes darkened. Watching the door for how long you would take to return. “People only lie about being so unimportant when they are trying to hide, and to her? Kings Landing is the worst place to start telling the truth.”

He got no response, keeping her in his arms, feeling the rise and fall of her chest move with his, but his eyes still watching the door. As if the solution would come right through it. This early wasn't the time to start. He had been awake when he noticed you slip out of the bed, covering yourself up from a cold that did not exist, trying to hide in the material as if it would protect you from whatever you were looking for in the streets.

He would think it through more. A better plan laid out more carefully, Oberyn needed to make sure he did not scare you off before he could settle you. You would take your time getting ready for the day, and then begin to assist reading he and Ellaria for the wedding. You would not come yourself in any way, he already knew that. Ellaria likely would make a plea for her to be your escort as Oberyn is hers. He had already seen on a previous day another girl, Kayla, begged you to join her as she made a performance at the reception, even just to watch but you had adamantly refused.

Oberyn knows you would not risk being so out in the open around that many key figures. For you, that would be too risky. He would though, selfishly he knew, request you not take any of the scattered clientele that may make their way in during the day. Getting you to open up to them would not be made any easier by the constant onslaught of being poorly fucked by the uncaring brutes slinking through these doors.

What he did not plan for, was the events of the wedding itself. The events of the wedding would, in fact, drastically alter any of the set plots in motion for the people of King's Landing.

Your plans for the day had actually been quite simple. You took some time to yourself, walking through a market with more ease than there would be on a normal day. No doubt people all over were flocking to the Red Keep trying to get a glimpse of the ceremony, catching what small glimpses of the royals that they could.

You had never attended a wedding, but nothing about it seemed particularly endearing. Maybe part of it was you never quite felt comfortable in large crowds, but watching two people become bonded under the eyes of the Seven wasn’t really what you would call entertainment, and the reception didn’t seem better. Too much drinking, too much posturing to the married Lord and Lady to look impressive, and you didn’t even want to think about the bedding ceremony.

You figure someone such a the King, especially one with the attitude of Joffrey, likely wouldn’t allow that for himself, even though you had heard some pretty nasty rumours that he tried to force his own Uncle into it. For brief moments your mind wandered to Sansa Stark. She would never know it, but you and her seemed to have some things in common. Two women finding themselves trapped from ever going home, stuck in King's Landing to just be used as pawns for whatever games the biggest players had in mind for you. Though you’re not quite sure who got the worst end of the bargain.

Most of the regulars in both brothels you had worked in were content with what they did, but selling yourself for money was supposed to just be something to hide you until you got yourself together, figured out a better place to go, how to get there, who to be when you arrived. But you were stuck, being able to only make just enough gold to pay your dues, not enough to buy a new life. Then they arrived, men with swords claiming to work for House Baelish, and now you were here.

Walking through the streets of Kings Landing, living life on a cliffs edge wondering how long it will take before someone figures out who you are, and what they would do with that information. At least all of the Lord’s were at the royal wedding, at last you had that few hours to look through the market in quiet peace.

Wedding festivities are long, typically beginning in the warm afternoon and only coming to a close in the hours of the night when the wine ran dry. There weren’t many clients in the building, a few girls gone to accompany Kayla in her performance. No doubt bringing back a number of men looking to take advantage of her unique talents and whomever else they could throw their gold at.

But that’s not what happened. In fact, Kayla arrived back soon after her performance, rushing into the door in a total state. Horrified eyes wide open, panting so hard you thought she may faint. And a rushed, frantic tale, of a dead King.

We all gathered around her, listening to her talk about these, rather unfunny sounding skits making fun of the dead Starks that had won them the war, Joffrey in an unusual state of cruelty as he publicly humiliated Lord Tyrion for the entire crowd to watch. The tears came back, two of the other girls rushing to Kayla’s side, simply trying to calm her down enough to speak through the shock. Then she tells of the King drinking from his wine, and choking on it. Falling to the ground as Lady Cersei rushed to his side as, from what Kayla had claimed, his skin turned purple and bled from his face before everything stopped.

Cersei having ordered the guards take Tyrion away for the crime, on what basis you weren’t sure, Kayla was too upset. She was brought to a private room to calm down after that, and everyone broke up. Clients leaving to confirm the tale, and little groups whispering about the horrors just heard.

You and Olyvar were left standing alone in the main room. There was an air between you two, like an electric charge sparkling between you, but in a doubt. You both looked at each other for some moments, eyes far away and trying to put the pieces together, but both of you were unsure of how to say it. You took the bait first. “Why would Lord Tyrion want to make the King choke in front of all those people?”

Olyvar looked at you, and then around the room. Taking a step closer, you leaned in to match as his own voice came out in more of a whisper. “The man is bold, but not stupid. Public murder doesn’t seem like quite his taste.”

There was something neither of you were saying, something neither of you were quite brave enough to risk in front of the other. “What has Lord Baelish been so busy with, Olyvar?”

His head tilted, eyes narrowing at the question, but answered regardless. “He's been busy preparing for an extended trip out of the city.”

You didn’t move a muscle as you spoke, as if moving too quickly would spook him from this dangerous path you two were on. “Did he say where to or why?”

He didn’t move either. “No. I tell him everything, he tells me very little, and in return I get to run his business for not asking why.”

Both of you knew neither was going to say it, or ask it. It didn’t add up exactly, but there were enough questions between you two that a seed of doubt was still there. Would he risk all of his other agenda’s for it? You didn’t know. “Why did he bring me here, Olyvar?”

He didn’t answer, but his silence was an answer itself. You raised your chin, chest rising with a deep breath before nodding. Your face turning impassive and small as if your head could shake the doubt out of existence. “I will need one of the girls to join me in preparing food for the evening. I won’t presume our usual outside assistance will be available as usual.”

Olyvar’s face matched you. Impassive and forcing a professional appearance. “I’ll get one of the younger ones to help you. The King was close to their age, I imagine they could use the distraction.”

Turning to leave, you both had only made it a number of steps before you called his name out. “Since their arrival, how much have you told to Lord Baelish?” You weren’t mad about it, spying was just a part of his life now. He spies on others, and you, and in return he gets the freedom to run Baelish’s brothel instead of taking orders all day.

His answer though, surprised you. He gaze cast downwards, looking almost sheepish, unsure of himself. Sighing and looking up to you again, a kind fondness for this strange friendship between you two. “Not as much as I’m supposed to.”

Hearing approaching steps, a soft smile formed on your lips. Olyvar gave one in return before nodding as he left the room. Maybe you should be angry knowing he is spying on you, knowing that Little Finger is holding your identity hostage as he figured out what to do with you. But you can’t blame Olyvar for that, he had shown you nothing but kindness, both in kinship but also in a degree of silence.

He could have told him the extent to which you had been spending time with Oberyn Martell and his paramour, telling Baelish how suspicious it was that all the Dornish Prince had asked of you was company instead of sex. You’re not sure why he wouldn’t just tell him that, or how that knowledge figured into Baelish’s plan, but with the murder of the King, all you knew is that something was brewing in the distance.

Ellaria was the first one back, you were already in their room when she arrived. Everyone was in such a strange variety of emotions, that honestly you couldn’t handle it. You were tidying up, sweeping, cleaning dust, making sure all the sheets were fresh. Monotonous work that could distract you enough until the door opened.

If you were completely honest, you did briefly forget that she was at a wedding where a teenage boy choke to death. You had seen her off, helped her get ready, but enough hours had passed that you forgot the beauty. Her dress was long, down to her legs, covering her arms but the torso left open, shrinking in size until reaching her navel. An almost gold tinted chest covering underneath but showing off the smooth skin underneath.

Quickly you regained your senses, placing the folded sheets to be washed down onto the ground as you rushed to her. She met you halfway, both catching the other in your arms as you looked her over much closer now, “I heard what happened, the King,” you stammered off looking her over as if she were the one in danger before slowing down. Your hands raised to hold the sides of her now much more solemn face. “Are you alright, you would have been right there,”

Ellaria raised her own hands to hold onto yours, moving one off of her and bringing your hand in for a kiss, keeping it tucked against the exposed skin of her chest. “I am perfectly fine, I promise.”

You nodded, worry in your eyes starting to fade a bit, as you ushered her over to a plush seat near the window. “Sit, please.”

Continuing to flutter around her you moved your broom and cloth out of view into a small alcove where some shelves just large enough to fit such supplies sat hidden from client view.

“Wait, what about,” You looked towards the door, shut firmly and silent behind it as you made your way around to her. “Where’s Oberyn?” Ellaria grabbed your wrist, gently pulling you enough to look at her with a small shush. Though you implored her to sit back down, you didn’t remove her hand on you.

“He is perfectly fine. He sent me back as he stayed behind to..watch things.” Looking off towards nowhere, her attention moved far off, “It was quite an awful scene.” You cupped her cheek to look at you, as you knelt down just enough to look her closer in the eye. “The Lannisters were in quite a state,” looking you in the eye she relaxed a bit more. “Oberyn didn’t want me anywhere near their wrath, Lady Cersei herself was rather angry and hysterical. Losing her child like that."

You nodded, before sliding behind her. A hand stroking over the skin of her neck as you began to undo the beautiful, ornate headcovering, which you were pretty sure matched her chest covering. You took your time, making sure you didn’t snag a strand of her thick curls in with the metal. “I can only imagine. Kayla was..very distraught when she returned. We could only just get her to calm down enough to tell us he choked.”

Ellaria grabbed a hand of yours, pulling it away from her hair as she held it closer to her heart. Both of hers holding it closely, “I knew nothing about the King, I mean I know they say about him, but I had never spoken to him. But he was just a boy. A child. Maybe just a few years older than my oldest girl.” Her voice was far once more.

The other hand, finishing your work and gently lifting the headwear off to lay gently on a table, you leaned in. Wrapping your own free arm around her front as you lay your head against the side of hers. “Tell me about her.”

That got her to smile. She needed a distraction, not to think about what she saw, how close in age he was to her daughter. So getting her to tell you about her may help. “Well she belongs to Oberyn that’s for sure.” Ellaria even let out a soft breath of a laugh. “Stubborn. Such a stubborn girl. Always trying to get away with as much as possible, but she has such a soft heart under it all. I think it’s just hard for her to remember it sometimes.”

She pulled you over to her front, moving to sit you down with her. Straddling her legs so you could make sure to move her gaze onto you. “Why is that?”

Ellaria sighed. Raking a hand through your hair as she spoke. “She’d probably be able to settle more if she wasn’t still pining for her father’s attention. We named her Elia, after his sister.”

She watched you for a second, your brows furrowing as you nodded before catching her loose hand to hold in her lap. Assuming she was looking to see if you understood what that meant, she seemed to get that you knew what she was inferring too. Since his arrival in Kings Landing Oberyn had not brought it up once, and you wouldn’t either. That’s a kind of heartbreak that you never quite get over.

Ellaria at least, seemed to relax under your person a bit more. “Oberyn is a great father not even she would contest that, but I think the older Elia gets, the more of his sister he sees in her. It’s painful. To look at your daughter and be reminded of losing someone you loved so horrifically. It’s put some distance between them, Oberyn doesn’t want his hurt and anger to be taken out on her but it also means Elia wants to try that much harder to pull him back.”

It was nicer now, both of you close, just holding the other as she opened up to you. This kind of vulnerability wasn’t something you had gotten in many years. “If she’s as much like him as you say, then at least you know she will never just give up on him. She’ll always try to mend that gap.”

Nodding, Ellaria tried to loosen her hair up a bit from the tight hold it struggled to let go of. She leaned up into you close, “I think I’d like to get all of this off me if you would be so kind.” Bending her head towards the orange dress on her.

Both of you standing up, you held onto her hips and leaned close to her own mouth. “Lucky for you that’s exactly what I’m paid to be good at.”

The pair of you laughed, but Ellaria leaned in, her lips brushing against yours as she spoke. “Don’t tempt me, little one. I’ve worked very hard to get to know what's in here,” tapping at the side of your head, “before here.” Then moving her hand to brush down your chest, covered by the loose cheer material.

You smiled at her before moving to help her undress, “I can’t think of a single person I’ve seen come through here that would pay me money, not to fuck them.”

Helping her into one of her much more loose dresses, the material much more plush and soft then the sleek silk like material before it. She let you fluff her hair up, loosening it so it fell comfortably down her back. “If we wanted to just fuck you and be done with you, we wouldn’t have had to fight so hard to keep you all to ourselves. Oberyn finds your mind just as tempting as whatever these are hiding from us.” She tugs at your dress once more, before you pull away from her.

The two of you start to settle back into something much more normal but not before Ellaria gives you a specific piece of advice. “I’m not sure what kind of mood Oberyn will be in when he returns. Such an awful thing to watch mixed with spending far more time around the Lannisters than expected may leave him a bit more aggressive when he comes back.”

From your spot on the bed, you lean up with your palms supporting you, “Do you- should I..give you space, if he is? So you can,” trailing off, Ellaria still understood what you asked.

She sits next to you and nudges your chin to look at her. “I am warning you, because so far we have kept our distance. Getting to know you this way, instead of making you think you were just another passing whore to us.”

You tried to ask why, why would you be different from anyone else. But that seems to be a question that only the two of them know the answer to, that silent understanding they have with one another that you weren’t yet privy too. “Oberyn is a good man, but he can also be very impatient. He’s been careful to take his time with you, but when he is pressed, he can only hold off what he wants for so long.”

“What are you trying to tell me?”

Ellaria leaned in, not quite as close as before but enough that her breath could be felt on your own skin. “If the only reason you would fuck him or me is because you are getting paid to, then you need to tell us. Neither of us will push for something you do not truly want of your own choice. If we just wanted another body, we would have just paid any of the others in here and moved on.”

She knew you weren’t going to answer. You didn’t really know the answer yet. So much was in your heart, so many anxieties in your mind. You had also spent more time with Ellaria alone, you know the desire that grew with each interaction, but Oberyn was a much harder read. That silly little girl in you, the part of you that was supposed to stay hidden, kept telling you that you wanted to spend time with just him. Saying that you needed to spend more time alone with him as if you were still a young girl with a crush.

Conflicting with the other part of you. This fake name, this unreal identity that grew up in Maidenpool and worked in brothels because sex was just another activity to you. Oberyn wasn’t supposed to care about who you are, he was here to fuck you while he stayed in the city then leave you forever. You shouldn’t want to spend more time with him.

Standing up you found yourself moving pour yourself some wine, as if you could simply drown that stupid girl inside of you down with the taste. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you both will move on at some point regardless.” Your swallow was audible, loud and painful. It would take closer to drinking the entire jug to drown this out apparently.

You didn’t turn to face her as she spoke, you couldn’t. Not right now. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” You shut your eyes. Another sip. Drown it out. Two beautiful people show up, give you a sliver of attention and you attach yourself to them like a lech. You were entertainment to them. That’s all it was. That’s all it could be. Nothing else made sense, you were just a whore in some brothel.

So you tried again, tried playing the part they wanted. Spinning around to lean against the tale edge as you spoke, glass lifting up to your lips as you spoke. “Well the last time I checked, this city isn’t quite Sunspear is it? Your lives are a long ways away from my own.”

Ellaria didn’t answer. The door opening that moment, with Oberyn walking through. He was quite calm in fact, nothing like the unnerved distance Ellaria had returned with. You didn’t want to look at him either. You felt embarrassed, so you simply turned away, fussing with the sheets on the bed as they embraced. “You are okay, right? Everything is,” her voice trailing off. No doubt looking him over to ensure everything was in proper place.

“Everything is fine, don’t worry about me.” His voice was quieter, no doubt pulling her close to him, “And you, my love? Are you okay?” She must have nodded, you weren’t sure. All you could do was fuss with a bed that no doubt would get ruffled again in an instant. “I would have spared you the upset and gone alone had I known it was going to be that ugly.”

A kiss shared, your grip turned harder. An intimacy, a love you never had, and in this name, never will. Your growing attachment to them feels suffocating. You’re knuckles straining from the grip on whatever you picked up, why did they want to know you? They had each other, they didn’t need to know you this way. Out of all the whores in this brothel, why were you the only one they were interested in, like that?

Their talk turned to muffles, clearly wanting to keep you out of it. Maybe Olyvar kept your small little room available, you could just return there. Let them play out their desires in peace for the rest of their stay. Your heart pounded in your chest, the suffocating feeling growing tighter and tighter. Everything inside you was so loud that you couldn’t even hear them speak anymore.

It had been a long time since you had felt this kind of resentment towards this life. You didn’t even have one to go home to, that choice was taken away from you. It was either this now, or the road. At least your childish heart couldn't get attached to people alone out in the open air.

Just as it was too much, just as your heart constricted, refusing to let your lungs breathe, you fell backwards into a deep warmth. Something all encompassing, flooding your body with heat, forcing your heart to go back to normal, the tightness in your chest relaxing. Oberyn’s voice at your ears, the deep bass rich in tone, matching the rich scent always accompanying him. “You can get away with telling Ellaria that you’re fine because she doesn’t like to push people.” One by one your senses regained their ability, the warmth was his broad chest against your back, his hands reached around you, holding your own firmly as he pries your fingers open trying to take the painful strain off of them. “But this,” his palms rubbing over the top of yours, forcing out the tense hold in them as he says your name, “This is not fine. You can’t just stand away from me with tears in your eyes and tell me nothing is wrong.”

You hadn’t realized you had been crying, you weren’t sure when you started, or what train of thought even forced them out. “It’s- there's nothing to worry about. Let me just finish up he-”

Oberyn cuts you off, saying your name much more commandingly, almost angry as he grabs your hips to spin you and face him. He yanks you close to him, leaning over you, his face torn between frustration and concern. “You are only fine when you think we’re looking. The second you think no one's watching I see you trying not to fall apart.” His hands move from your hips to cradle the sides of your face. “Talk to me.”

It wasn’t what you wanted to say, but it slipped out before you could stop it. A small, cracked voice peeping out, “Why did you pick me?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t come here to waste all your time just talking, you came here to fuck. Why bother spending time with me like this?”

Voice breathless and weak, you were just tired of it all. Oberyn’s forehead came to rest on yours for a moment, both your eyes shut at the simple contact. “I am a man who always knows what he wants. I walked into this building with Ellaria, and we quickly chose whichever body attracted us the most.” As if he could feel your pull, his grip on your cheeks and jaw tightened, pulling you against him closer, your torsos almost pressed against the other. “But then there was you, and I could feel your place in my heart even then. We aren’t spending time with you because we are bored, we chose you, I chose you because the last time someone captured my attention so quickly and deeply was when I met Ellaria.”

Oberyn kept you in place as he moved slightly, his nose trailing down your own. “If I just fucked you, then you would have felt like everyone else. And I don’t want you to be everyone else here.”

They hovered over yours, like Ellaria before, you could feel his breath on your skin, but then he sealed the space. You expected a man like Oberyn to kiss you like he lived his life, fast, harsh and demanding but passionate. Passion was there, but he was much kinder than you thought.

Moving his soft lips against yours, not trying to pry you open and taste you more, just your lips moving together with a tenderness unknown to you, the feeling on your cheeks being his thumbs stroking back and forth in place. Your hands hovered over touching his waist when he pulled back ever so slightly. Your lips jutting forward to chase his, as he gave you one more, then pulled you chin up to look at him.

Brown deep eyes locking your own gaze into his. “If this part is all you want that’s okay. But I want more. And I want you to give me that chance.” He tugs your chin up more, “I need you to say what you want. Out loud.”

Finally you allowed your hands to touch at his waist, nodding first in his hold before remembering his demand. “I do, I do want that. I’m just..no one’s ever.” You sucked in a breath before the tears had a chance to water up again. “My body’s only ever been the things people are interested in. I’m not used to this.”

Oberyn pressed his lips against yours once more, pulling away as he nudged his nose against yours, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head, as he pulled your body into his chest completely. “You’ve been patient with us the past few days. Answering all our questions and stories. Now, let me repay the favour.”

The yes this time came from you leaning in to kiss him. A kiss that sparked something deeper in Oberyn's chest. His hands gripped tight, jaw clenching. “Lay on the bed.”

While you moved back, there was just enough hesitation in your eyes for Oberyn to gently rub a thumb down your cheek before taking a step back. “Not for that. Not now. I’m going to give you something I think you need.”

As you lay back, Oberyn kept his gaze locked onto you. Shedding the lushious white robe he had worn to the wedding, and pulling off the shirt covering his chest. When you raised your hands to pull the thin fabric down your shoulders, he grabbed at your hand.

Shaking his head with a look of disapproval. A better view, you could see just how broad this man really was. Tall and large, taking up your whole view, a dark chest littered with faded scars and muscle that gave way to a softer stomach below.

Lurching his body forward, Oberyn propped himself over top of you, as he grabbed your jaw, holding you in place as he kissed you. This was harsher, more demanding, much more what you had expected. His soft lips contrasting with how much he took and took, how he molded your lips to his control.

Your hands began to roam the path of his chest and back, your touch enough to jolt his body like a fire had sparked below him. Simple lips against yours turned to biting, small whines from your mouth filling into his own groans. His tongue tracing your lips and moving in at your gasp. His tongue stroked against yours, before moving back to a biting kiss. It was almost messy, but Oberyn was in full control. He moved your mouth exactly how he wanted it, and all you could do was grab at his skin, push your palms up against his stomach and whine.

One arm wrapped around your side and pulled you closer into his body before he laid down closer into you, pressing his weight more and as he began to pull his lips away, just out of reach, and then back. A few times he would do that, pull away just enough to nudge his nose against yours before recapturing your lips again.

It was almost soothing, like his lips against yours and the back under your palms forced your anxieties down. No greedy touches, groping that bordered on painful, vulgar dribble meant to do nothing more than boost the man’s own ego. Just his touch, his mouth sealed against yours. Your bodies moved together, almost grinding of their own accord but he kept his attention on your lips.

You think he mutters your name a few times, but the blood is ringing in your ears so loudly that you barely hear anything over his deep grunts and the desperate sound of trying to catch your breath anytime you remotely separate. Finally, Oberyn pulls back saying your name once more. “I want to do something for you, will you let me do that?”

Your chest heaved against his, nothing but the thin sheer material of your dress keeping your bare chest from pressing against his. You only nod, fingers pressing down harder on the skin they lay, when Oberyn grabs your jaw, tilting your head to look into his eyes. “I need you to tell me, little one. Use your words.”

High pitched and breathless, you spit it out. “Yes, please. You can touch me.” You want to shut your eyes, body buzzing from his intensity, but the hard and serious gaze towards you, a silent but unquestionable demand to look at him.

The hand on your jaw slides down, facing down on the sheets beside your head, as he moves his other arm down. Tracing the soft skin of your thigh, whatever was exposed when you lay down. His nose once again rubs against yours, before moving to your cheek, and moments later, his lips, light as a feather press against your throat. The feeling like rushing water being dumped on you, your back arching with a gasp as he chuckles. “How often do men take their time with you?”

His hand slid higher, but wasn’t greedy, a slow ascent to its peak, unphased by the warmth flowing from it the closer he got. You shook your head vigorously, “Never, they, they don’t- it’s not what they want.”

Oberyn bites down on your skin, lips and tongue following to ease the bright sting. His bites burn down the length of your neck, only to have his kiss apologise against them on his way back up. “A shame. They’re missing out on something very addicting.” Reclaiming your lips, Oberyn moved his hand up right between your legs.

Cupping your mound, he laughs into a harsh biting kiss when you gasp, hips lurching into his hand of their own accord. Thick fingers trace up and down against your entrance, gathering up whatever slickness he is given, before sliding them up to your clit.

His first touch isn’t gentle, he grasps it in his fingers when you whine loudly. Gentle shushing purrs against your mouth, as another finger once again toys against sliding inside. Oberyn's fingers rub harshly, but soaked with your own juices and lingering on whichever pattern had you pressing against him the most. One of your hands found the back of his neck, a tight hold between his skin and wanting to thread through his hair.

When the other hand found his chest, you moved your way down to the waistband of his pants, but it all stopped. His fingers pressed into your clit with an unrelenting pressure, but didn’t move. Snatching your hand from his skin he slams it down up above your head. “I-, I jus-”” you stammered, unable to find the right words between the hold on your wrist and the fire burning on your clit as he pressed down.

Oberyn bites your bottom lip, tugging it just slightly to watch it bounce back into place with gritted teeth. “This is not about me. I am touching you, not the other way around.”

Slowly he starts moving again, much more gentle circles against your clit, as the finger toying at your entrance slides in, so wet there is no resistance, he buries it as far as can reach. “Bu- But don't you want,”

His finger strokes against your walls in tandem with the rubs of your clit. He chuckles, almost a deep and threatening laugh. It would be intimidating if you didn’t know any better. “Oh I do, little one. But I won’t fuck you yet.” The second straggling finger on his hand slides sin with the first and you squirm helplessly against the fire coiling inside you. “When I fuck you, I want your heart not just your cunt.”

You can’t respond, his lips and tongue consume you. Flaming inside your mouth, and as it flows down your body like a spreading blaze, and meeting the white burning between your legs. You tense up, your body pressed against his large frame as you coil like a spring inside.

You clench against the thick fingers inside you, causing Oberyn to release your wrist, holding your hand against his now, fingers tangled with each other. “Oberyn, please," You couldn’t think, you don’t know why it was a beg, or a question, you just wanted, needed him to bring you over the cliff into the waters below.

His lips commanded you as his fingers wound you, your moans turn to whines the closer you get. But there was one final push he knew you didn’t realize you needed. “I’ve got you. Give it to me, my love.”

Your orgasm hit you with no remorse. Your body shook as it felt like everything hit you at once, pleasure, pain, burning, sting, all mixed together as you barely have enough air in your lungs left to breathe out his name.

There were a few moments that went by before he moved away from your cunt. Very slow pull of his fingers out of your warmth, as his rubs on your clit slowed to a stop, His hand once again cupping you entirely as the fog lifted. His nose rubbed against yours again, a manner almost loving and romantic. Your free hand slid down to the front of his neck against his collarbone, stroking the skin there back and forth.

His lips around your ear, a much more playful yet condescending tone you’ve come to enjoy almost mocking you. “I assume none of these men also have ever made you cum, even if they meant to, have they?”

Laughing filled the air between you. He didn’t need the answer, he already knew. Especially in a place like Kings Landing, the men here didn’t exactly emulate the aura of generosity. “Where did Ellaria go?”

Smiling with nothing but fondness, Oberyn finally moved his hand away from his spot between your legs. Flopping onto his back, he pulled you right with him, your body splayed partially on top of his chest. “I’m sure she found some kind of trouble to keep her entertained. She wanted to give us privacy.”

Trying to ask why, Oberyn leaned up enough to force you into a sitting position, putting his hand around a cheek covering your mouth with a thumb. “You’re not who you say you are.”

In an instant dread slapped you in the face, you were right. He knew. If Oberyn knew who else in the city knew? Why wouldn’t he say anything, when did he find out? Your eyes were wide, full of fear but everything else from you was silent, unmoving like stone. When you tried to shake your head, his grip got tighter.

“I’m not asking you to tell me, not right now. But I want you to think. When you are with me you are safe, no matter what, everything you tell me will not leave this room. But we do need to discuss it. When you’re ready.” Laying back against the sheets, Oberyn pulled you with him, laying your head on his chest, and your hands delicately placed near the softer stomach below. His own hands stroking the skin where he touched, fingers grazing the pulse on your wrist to feel you calm down.

“Does Ellaria know?” Your voice was small and meek, unlike anything about the person you were trying to play.

“She knows what I know.” You felt confused, trying to ask him why she wasn’t here then, but Oberyn just pulled you closer. “Having both of us in the room for this would be too much. Neither of us want you to feel pressured to talk just because we both are there.”

You felt lips at the top of your head, and for the briefest of moments, you snuggled closer into his chest, trying to shut out the fear with his touch. Nothing about today was right. It was all wrong, for everyone. Whatever the future held for you it was now stripped of any certainty, but they weren’t pressuring you. They didn't threaten you, or hurt you for it, and for that all you can say to him, “Thank you. I just..can we stay like this a while longer?”

His own head stayed against the top of yours, feeling him nod in agreement. For a while you just stayed like that, your anxiety threatening to take you over while Oberyn tried to tame it down with his touch. At some point you must have fallen asleep, because the next time you opened your eyes, a smaller dainty hand was draped across your stomach, having pulled you into Ellaria’s soft body behind. Oberyn on his side as well now, keeping you tucked in his chest while Ellaria’s lay like a guard behind you.

You just shut your eyes, when you wake up things will be a little better you hope. Evening will have fallen over the city, and you three would share a meal, then relax like usual. At least for tonight, you could pretend as if things weren’t all about to fall apart.

The quiet didn’t last long. It was only a matter of time, hours, days, for everything to come out, the instigator for the conversation though, was surprising. At the present moment, you were currently kneeled on the bed behind Ellaria who was sitting on the edge. Both of you laughed with each tug you had to make at her hair to undo the mess.

Both her and Oberyn have been much more freely touchy towards you and you felt much more natural in returning it. You’re not sure if he told her directly what happened between you, or if she just knows her paramour so well that they both knew she could tell. Either way, both of them seemed to find a way to have their hands on you or vice versa almost all the time.

It was when you went to start smoothing her hair down, that she had gotten the idea. You didn’t know much about traditional Dornish hair styling, but you had simply commented that it was nice to see her leaving her hair flow down naturally most of the time, as opposed to here. Saying that no matter what some of the girls suggested, you could never bring yourself to spend so much time on those styles, that Ellaria’s was much more like where you were from.

“They don’t like those elaborate updos in the North?” You had paused for a moment, your hands falling from her hair and splat onto her shoulders, your fingers briefly gripping the skin there. Both you and Ellaria could see Oberyn clear as day in the mirror reflection, she watched your face as you looked at Oberyns. His head nodding briefly, a calm softer smile gracing it.

A reassurance that he and Ellaria were on the same page, that you didn’t have to keep such an elaborate ruse in front of her. She was safe too. So you blinked a few times, wiping away the conflict, and simply laughed. “Northern women traditionally prefer to keep it down like this. I’m not sure if it’s solely because we see these weird Crownland styles and feel like they are obviously just to show off, or if somewhere back years ago we realized longer hair keeps your head warmer the closer to Winter we got.”

Ellaria had reached behind her and playfully tugged a strand of your own hair near her face, holding onto it almost to keep you close enough she could see you in her own field of view. “I’m glad. You look far better when your hair is free to sit however you want, and of course, when you don’t have to paint your pretty little face up with so much makeup just to impress these dogs.”

This time she had definitely looked at Oberyn, almost trying to poke at him with a smirk on her face. He had come up behind you, his large hands placing themselves on your hips as he draped his body over your back. “I would have to agree my love,” his fingers tilting your face up to look at him, as they then ran across your lips. “You’re infinitely more beautiful when you’re not just trying to impress us. Besides, I can't do this whenever I want if you colour them all day.” Leaning in to capture your lips with his.

While his tongue had taken charge of your mouth, one of his hands blindly reached up to grasp Ellaria’s shoulders around you, and pulled her to the edge of the stool she sat in, putting her back right into your hips as Oberyn's hand stroked the skin on her neck.

She hasn’t kissed you yet, even though she has touched you all morning in the same tender ways she does Oberyn. You’re not sure if she wants you to make the first move, so she knows this is what you want as well, or if she is waiting for something. When Oberyn pulled back from your lips, Ellaria took her chance, standing up and turning to hold you in her arms like Oberyn before, only hers were draped across your collarbones and the tops of your breasts.

Looking him in the eye, Oberyn glared back as if deeply offended. “He’s had enough time with you already, don’t you think?” A smile took over the facade quickly. “It’s our turn to play, little one. Come,” she patted your hip, close to the edge of your ass. “Show me one of those hairstyles I keep seeing these women around here are always doing.”

That’s how you ended up behind her, untangling the mess. It had not gone well. It was fun, and you both were laughing at how needlessly complicated it was, but neither you or Oberyn could figure out if it was just you who did a bad job, or if the style just looked terribly strange on Ellaria’s beautiful face.

The day had been full of fun but endless teasing. Oberyn’s shirt had not been put back on since it was pulled off earlier by Ellaria. They had almost taunted you in their fucking, both of them making sure you had your eyes on them at all times. Oberyn’s dark and intense as he handled her more rough the longer his eyes watched yours, and Ellaria’s consumed with desire as she watched your voyeurism. Tempting you with their sex, trying to guide you to them as if saying “This could be yours as well, just open up and let us in, and this can be you too.”

They had made a point not to hide their fucking in front of you, in fact, both putting on very deliberate shows, trying to get you off through sight alone it seemed. Tempting you to trust them with your heart before you trusted them with your body.

At the present moment, Obeyrn hadn’t been away from the room for long. You had made an offhand comment about after you were done, you would go check if their washing was dry and bring it back. The man never ceasing to be a surprise, simply waved his hand, telling you to stay as he went to do the work you know the Royals here never would consider doing the work their servants were for.

Finally done, you had just placed your feet on the ground, you were greeted by Olyvar’s entrance. Calling you over to him, a serious look trying to bask itself as simple professionalism. His voice speaking out loud seemingly for whomever may be outside the open door. “Problem with another room, I just need you to keep some left behind belongings under closer supervision.” As he handed you a simple pile of what appeared to be a man's robe, and some jewellery, neither of you looked down at the pass over.

You could feel it under your hand, right at the bottom. Paper. Small, scrunched paper being very carefully placed into your palm. “If you could, right away.” You nodded.

There had been somewhat of an understanding between you and Olyvar. How much Baelish had disclosed to him you didn’t know, but it was clear that both of you were trying to protect that secret without stepping on anyone's toes. It may be Baelish he did the spying for, but none of the spies in Kings Landing did it out of pure loyalty. It could just have easily been Lord Varys the one who he passes on to. It wasn't personal.

You moved right away. The small alcove in the room was just out of sight of the door, you would have to be right beside it to see into the darker corner. Sometimes things left behind were kept under lock and key in certain rooms to avoid theft. Most of these men wouldn’t fare well being told someone stole something they left behind in a brothel. This room was one of them.

Just as you started to walk over, Olyvar began talking with Ellaria, trying to use the conversation as a way to pull her out of your sight. As you stood in the small shelf space placing the items down, you pulled the paper out.

A note. A note much like the ones he would sneak to Baelish for information. You didn’t know how he learned this, but you knew you didn’t want to. Your heart jumped in your chest at the words.

“The Bird has flown North. The Rock shines bright in its absence.”

He knew. How could he know, how would he have found out? You couldn’t think, you couldn’t even hear. Voices were chatting away in the main room, but you were paralyzed. Staring at the ink scrawl as if it would tell you something different by sheer force. It was one thing to know Baelish brought you here knowing who you are, that was enough to leave you in fear. But this? This was something else entirely. You had to focus, act normal for now. The amount of people you can put any trust in was dwindling.

You took a few deep breaths, hidden in the darkness. You could make out both Oberyn and Ellaria’s voice, and Olyvar in response. You could handle it, it was just them. But it wasn’t. Because footsteps, loud, thundering footsteps in tandem rang through the hall and into the door.

A deep voice spoke, but far unlike Oberyns. This one, booming, full of command with no smoothness or comfort. “Prince Oberyn.”

You pressed your back up against the wall, all air leaving your lungs. “Lord Twyin.” This was all wrong, not now, it can’t be. Did he give you this note because he knew who was coming? The sounds of people leaving the room, doors shutting behind them leaving the room in a strange silence.

They didn’t say you were here. Olyvar and Ellaria walked out, they knew you were here. What was said between them all? You couldn’t come out now, you can’t make your presence be known, not to him. Everything could end right now if you do. So you stayed, pressed against the wall, unable to give whatever privacy Lord Twyin has requested.

Oberyn’s voice rang out, “Would you like to sit?” A shockingly polite no thank you came from Lord Tywin. The same politeness still, as Oberyn offers wine. You could partially see Oberyn from where you were. You couldn’t tell if he knew you were here or not, if they had said anything when leaving. Currently he wouldn’t be able to see you, but if he or Tywin moved to a closer angle, no doubt one of them would. “I’m sorry about your grandson.”

“Are you?” Were you not so utterly terrified, you may have wanted to laugh. Not everyone is as cold and unfeeling as you, you thought.

Oberyn took it with little offence. “I don’t believe a child is responsible for the sins of his father. Or his grandfather. An awful way to die.”

“Which way is that?” Why would he be asking that? What game could he be playing involving his own grandson's death? Oberyn seemed to sense whatever intent Tywin had walked in with. His cocky voice rang out, asking almost in jest if this was supposed to be an interrogation.

Twyin’s next words made little sense to you. “Some believe the King choked.”

Your eyes were stuck on a meaningless wooden panel on the floor. Believe? Why would some believe that but not others? You remembered, vividly Kayla’s horrified face as she returned, telling a horrible tale of the boy choking in the middle of the ceremony as he fell to the ground. Turning purple as the air in his lungs has no way to go. Oberyn, though, seemed to know exactly what this game was. “Some believe the sky is blue, because we live in the eye of a blue eyed giant. The king was poisoned.”

Your eyes widened, head turning to the room catching a glimpse of Oberyn on the bed, eyes watching Tywin, anticipating whatever it was he was going to say. Everyone said he choked, no one had told you otherwise, but you suppose, you didn’t ask.

“I hear you studied poisons at the citadel.” Oberyn wasn’t even phased it seemed. Confirming to the Lannister that's why he knows it was poison. What you thought or even suspected made less and less sense. Tyrion poisoning his nephew made little sense, but Oberyn’s made even less. Joffrey was a cruel boy, but his slights weren’t against Oberyn, or even Dorne.

Tywin began to speak, as if filling the gaps in for your slow mind to keep up. “Your hatred for my family is rather well known. You arrive at the Capitol, an expert in poisoning. Some days later my grandson dies. Of poisoning.”

Still on the bed, still unphased. “Rather suspicious. Why haven’t you thrown me in a dungeon?” He was never going to, that much seemed obvious.

“You spoke with Tyrion in this very brothel on the day that you arrived. What did you discuss?” You struggled. This wasn’t your game, you were never exposed to the politics, you never watched and learned the games the highborns and royals all crafted. Tywin never answered Oberyn's questions directly. And again Oberyn being utterly unphased by whatever accusations he was implying.

“You think we conspired together?” Oberyn was up, moving out of your view. Tywin simply asked again. You shouldn’t be here. You had no idea what Oberyn had discussed with Tyrion that day, it wasn’t your business or place to know.

Oberyn’s voice grew cold. Dropping whatever charade he was toying Lord Tywin with. “The death of my sister.”

“For which you blame me.” Your fingertips dug into the wall behind you, a painful strain as you desperately tried to keep grounded. You definitely should not be here.

Oberyn’s voice was quieter, you had to guess merely feet away from the Lannister. He was restrained, but a viciousness hissed behind them. “She was raped and murdered by the Mountain. The Mountain follows your orders, of course I blame you.”

Your chest heaved in desperation, trying to breathe but it felt like you were constricting again. Dumb little girl, thats what you felt. You never questioned why he was here, why he came to a land full of a family he hates. He was here for something much more.

“Well here I stand, unarmed and unguarded. Should I be concerned?” Tywin was almost condescending, as if trying to goat Oberyn into something. But neither man was a brawler, and certainly not stupid. Games you didn’t understand.

Oberyn didn’t take it. “You are unarmed and unguarded because you know me better than that. I am a man of reason. If I cut your throat today, I will be drawn and quartered tomorrow.”

Tywin wouldn’t budge if you had to guess. “Men at war commit all kinds of crimes without their superiors’ knowledge.”

“So you deny involvement in Elia’s murder.” There was a silence between them. Your bated breath listening to something unfold you had to right to, but yet, made your little fake life feel even smaller. It took a moment. Both men do doubt staring intently at the other before Tywin spoke.

“Categorically.”

Eyes shut, you had to pull it together. Neither man was fooled by the other. Both of them knew exactly what had happened, but that's how Tywin works. Passes his dirty work to others who will do the job and take the blame. No trace leading back to just his words. Your father worked exactly the same.

Oberyn came back closer into view, his tone clipped and restrained. “I would like to speak to the Mountain.” In a cruel twist, you ended up thinking exactly what Tywin said, only he was far much more condescending. That you were sure the Mountain would love that meeting.

“I could arrange for this meeting.” Confused, you watched Oberyn diligently. He knew the game Tywin was playing, but you weren’t so sure Tywin knew that.

“But you want something in return.” Tywin and your father were made for eachother, both powerful commanding men only doing things for others if he could find a benefit for himself.

“There will be a trial for my son, and as custom dictates, three judges will render a verdict. I will preside. Mace Tyrell will serve as the second judge. I would like you to be the third.”

Oberyn only asked why. Lord Tywin was granting him a strange amount of respect for the threat he poses to his person and his family. “Not long ago, the Tyrells sided with Renly Baratheon. Declared themselves enemies of the throne. Now they are our strongest allies.”

You knew the Tyrells somewhat. As a girl, you met The Lady Olenna, your mother hated her, but the woman seemed somewhat fond of you. Sometimes you wonder if the wit you developed not long after that, had influence rooted in Roses. You had also met Loras a few times since being here, though you were mostly busy trying to figure out if he was genuinely trying to hide his preference for men or if he just wasn't subtle. You could at least take some pleasure in knowing at least you were better at keeping a secret then Loras.

Oberyn’s response was dangerous. “You made the Tyrell girl a queen. Asking me to judge at your son's trial isn’t quite as tempting.”

It was only just audible. A breath of a laugh leaving you, before you could worry if Oberyn had heard you, it was too late.

“I would also invite you to sit on the Small Council.” His body turned away from Tywin, that hit something in him. Oberyn's head lifting up, a darkness masked behind a stone wall in his face. Then his eyes found you. Pressed terrified against a wall, hiding from Lord Tywin. Your eyes pleaded. You wanted to apologize, you wanted to run, but you were stuck. Tywin, unable to see the exchange continued, “To Serve as one of the new King’s principal advisors.”

Whatever running through his head, slunk back down out of sight. His head lowering just enough with his deep brown eyes soft, reassuring. Telling you not to be scared of him of all people. Then a shift, cocky and ready to play as he turned to the Lannister once more. “I never realized you had such respect for Dorne, Lord Tywin.”

“We are not the Seven Kingdoms until Dorne returns to the fold.” And which family had actively made that next to impossible? “The King is dead, the Greyjoys are in open rebellion. A wilding army marches on the wall,”

Wildings? That was news to you. “And in the East, a Targaryen girl has three dragons. Before long she will turn her eyes to Westeros. Only the Dornish managed to resist Aegon Targaryen and his dragons.”

There it was. Dorne was the only Kingdom in Westeros ever to resist the Targareyans in the past. It had nothing to do with his grandson, he just wanted to find a way to use Dorne for his own advantage.

“You’re saying you need us? That must be hard for you to admit.” Oberyn's condescending tone couldn’t even bring you out of your thoughts enough to be amused. No doubt he saw through this, right? Tywin Lannister is not a man trying to reunite Dorne with the rest of the Kingdom to work with them in equal peace.

“We need each other. You help me serve justice to the King’s assassins, and I will help you serve justice to Elia’s.” No, you thought. No he won’t, justice isn’t what he's looking for. He’s placing his own son on trial at the behest of him and his malicious sister. There was no justice here and he doesn’t care about any kind of justice for Elia Martell, or her children. Men like Tywin Lannister have no compassion.

You’re not sure how long you stood there in silence, still pressed against the wall, but slouched down. Almost as if you were about to slide to the floor under the weight of everything. The sound of the door shutting registered in the back of your mind, but did little to entice you to move. At some point your eyes slid shut, watching the words swirl in your mind.

It wasn’t until the soft sounds of footsteps came in front of you, did you open them, bringing yourself back to the present. Looking up slightly to face him, his own face lost in his own thoughts, eyes scanning you up and down for a moment. “I think there are a few things we need to talk about.”

With a deep sigh you moved yourself up and off the wall, following Oberyn’s arms gesturing to the main room. Ellaria stood near the wall, and briefly the dread built, the anxiety of angering both of them. As she moved towards you though, the feeling of your heart dropping settled as her outstretched arms pulled you into her body, soft hands finding your face. “You’re okay?” Nodding her face lightened in relief. “What happened?”

Your hands grasp her wrists, as you look down. But it was Oberyn’s voice who answered for her. “It would seem more than just Lord Baelish knows you.” Not looking up, you pulled Ellaria’s hands from your face before stepping away.

There was only so much you could see when you looked out the window, but the crowded, filthy city streets below. “I don’t know which people may or may not know. I don’t know how far South the it spread.” That growing anxiety felt too much, like it had tipped beyond its peak and now weighed you down with exhaustion. This was a ruse you didn’t think you would still be anywhere near here. If the walls were closing in on this secret, you’d rather at least be able to tell someone who you didn’t hate.

Instead of either of their warm, all encompassing embrace you’d come to know, you simply felt Oberyn’s hands on either side of your arms. His voice is quiet, almost soothing in its calmness. “Unfortunately, sweet girl, it doesn’t need to spread that far. All it takes is the wrong person to see you, and they’re already writing to whoever they’re working for.”

You think you hear Ellaria coming up beside Oberyn, and you turn in his grasp suddenly, looking up at them both. “Is that how you knew? Why you’re even bothering with me in the first place? Someone told you I’m alive, so you spend time with me, and get me to tell you who I am and use it to your own advantage?”

That wasn't a fair accusation, but you were upset and it just spilt out in anxiety.

Ellaria’s grip on Oberyn's waist tightens as Oberyn steps forward, forcing your chin up with his fingers, and for once you understand his reputation. This plotting darkness behind such rich brown eyes is seeping with intensity, though it’s not quite anger or contempt as many likely have been subjected to. “I knew who you were, because unlike the unsuspecting men who just follow your father without question, I’m not fooled by a half baked story of a Lord’s missing daughter, who unceremoniously turns up dead, yet no one ever saw a body.”

When your eyes widen, one finger under your chin climbs up, stroking lightly against your bottom lip. Oberyn then says your name, your real name. “We spend our time with you, because we wanted to know you. Both of us saw you, and knew there was more to this,” His head looking your sultry attire up and down, “then what you’re trying to convince people of. I’m not some Lord looking to take advantage of you, or a Lannister using you for leverage I don’t need, and I am not one of your father’s allies willing to sell you out just to gain favour with the despicable man you ran from.”

Finally, his gaze softened, Ellaria calmly watching his tension slip back down. “I wanted you to tell me yourself, because that meant you trusted me. Not because you’re scared of me.” Waiting until you either said yes, or nodded in understanding, Ellaria slid between you both, Oberyn's own hands going to hold her waist in return as Ellaria once again cupped one of your cheeks.

“You are safe with Oberyn. Safe with me. In this room you have us, you don’t need to keep all this building up inside. All we want from you, is to just let us in.” Your own eyes shut as you let out a breath. First feeling her forehead gently press against yours, and then the sensation of your face being pulled in.

If Oberyn’s kiss was overwhelming, Ellaria’s was intoxicating. She wasn’t commanding, but almost guiding, wanting you to just let her kiss you the way you need. Pulling away too soon, your eyes remained shut for a brief moment, fluttering open as the breath of her chuckle hit your skin. “I’m sorry. For everything today. It’s all just so much in my head, I don’t know, I wasn’t really thinking clearly.”

Oberyn’s head leaned into Ellaria’s shoulder, “Don’t apologize. Neither of us have any need for you to say sorry. Besides, I assume this was the first time you learned most of that news. That alone would be enough to overwhelm anyone.” Finally he moved away from Ellaria, and gestured to you to come over to the bed. “Come. We’ll just sit and have a drink. However much you want to tell us, you can do so at any time. If I wanted to interrogate you, I’d simply give you vague threats about your intentions being in the capitol, not fill you with wine and share your bed.”

Gods, that was something else entirely. Being in the room hiding from the one man who would have no qualms using you as a pawn for his newly secured power in the North was one thing. Listening to him come in and imply a Prince conspiring to murder a kid was another.

You found a smirk made its way to your face as Oberyn handed you a drink, feeling more yourself now that your heartbeat has stopped feeling like a constant explosion. “Well if you do, let me know. I’ll practice walking around the room shirtless with a condescending attitude.”

Before getting a word out, Ellaria pulled your legs to drape over hers. “Oh you don’t need an excuse to do that, Sweet girl. Neither of us will stop you from slipping this off.” Her finger toyed against your sleeve fabric.

For a while things were a bit calmer, but you weren’t sure what to say about anything otherwise. That trickle of worry slipping back into your head, telling you that it doesn’t matter that they want to know you, or if they like you. Reminding you that when they leave, you’re back alone in this city and no ready plans of where to go or how to escape the capitols always watchful eyes.

No one brought up Elia. None of you needed to. Oberyn wasn't here by coincidence, and neither were you. Something would snap eventually. It always does. So for now, things kept going and you could just pretend.

The lovers had a routine, your time became equally split between each of them. Oberyn’s new place on the small council kept his days busy in the Red Keep, so Ellaria had your time during the day. The woman was light, and full of life. Listening to her spin stories of the people she’s met, places she’s been, trouble she’s found herself in and it all makes you yearn for a kind of freedom you never had.

Evenings and into the night were spent with both of them usually, but Ellaria gave him the space to keep you all to himself most of the time. To them, they had spent many years together, giving up time with each other to allow them separate time with you which didn't even phase the other.

This particular evening, Ellaria had found a spot at the table away from you both, so she could write to her daughters in peace. You and Oberyn had moved to the bed, trying to let her work quietly, but the distance did nothing to deafen your laughter.

“I’m just saying, picturing you as a full Maester might be the most absurd thing I’ve ever imagined.” Your body splayed out, only your elbows holding you up slightly as Oberyn splayed over your legs, keeping you trapped from scrambling away further.

“What? You’re not turned on imagining me dressed in boring rags? Puttering around weak and feeble from like the Grandmaester Pycelle? Only getting your attention from whines and sympathy?” Making his way up so he took up the space over your chest, smile shining as he dares you to picture that.

Almost without thinking, your head leaned back in laughter, before you flopped your body back down entirely on the bed as you spoke. “He’s not as weak as he plays at. You wouldn’t believe the stories some of the girls come back with. Based on what they say he’s probably that slow because he’s constantly exhausted from the night before.”

For a moment your eyes widen, realizing you’ve spilt something the Grandmaester probably would like to keep secret. Oberyn’s fingers start toying with your dress, forcing a frown like a child, “Well if you’re so enamored with him, I’m sure he’d love to work something out.”

Slapping at his hands to shove him away, but he’s faster and more sly, tugging and pulling just enough to almost expose you.

His laugh is deep and almost adorable at your disgusted shout through laughter, “Stop, if you’re gonna be that disgusting you’re not allowed to touch me.”

All he can do is once more moving up your body more, such clearly fake sincere looks on his face. “So I’m not good enough you admit,” Nose brushing against yours as you rustle under him, “We can always roleplay if that helps.”

His smirk was too much, summoning just enough strength to shove his broad chest away from you, so you could sit up properly. “Alright , enough.” Playfully pointing at him turns into a light smack as he tries to grab at your hands. “I was amused imagining you so uniform and boring, but now I’m just horrified.”

Settling closer to your own body, he starts to tenderly push the messy pieces of hair back into place, almost without thinking. “They aren’t all boring at the Citadel,” pausing in his movements for a second he half shrugs, “Well, most of them are. I forged six links before I had enough of how incredibly bored I was. Besides, I have needs I’d prefer not to ignore.” His hand traced down your dress’s neckline before sliding his legs onto the bed properly to lay next to you, more propped up.

Laying now on your side to see him properly, your head sat upright on your palm. “Is that where you got your name? From the poisons you studied there?”

A fond smile crossed his lips, “Somewhat. It didn’t start spreading around until after I had left, when they realized I found ways to use poison with my weapons instead of replacing them. What did you think it referred to?”

Your free hand resting along your hip gestured up to his body before finding a tiny grasp on the edge of his shirt. “I always just assumed it was because everyone always said you fought and moved so fast and sleek as you fought. Viper, because that’s like how snakes move around.”

Oberyn moved to grab wine that was previously being ignored. Helping move you to sit propped up, face turned closer to his. “That’s a reasonable guess. But people simply realized that a snake’s bite is far more dangerous than how fast it moves.” His hand coming up to your lips, a tight watchful gaze behind his dark eyes as he gently pours some into your mouth. “You wouldn’t believe the ways you can hide a poison in plain sight.”

His hand pulled away, as you drew a hand up to your chest in mock horror, “I should have known. Feeding me with something to trick me into liking you. I knew a man so attractive but charismatic was just too unrealistic to not be a trick.”

You watched the muscles in his neck move as he took a sip of his own, but watching the barley held back lust pleading to be let out in your eyes. Reaching blindly behind to put it back down, he pulled your chin in with his fingers closer to whisper, that sly seductive look painted all across it. “That’s hurtful, if I slipped you anything, it would be much more likely an aphrodisiac, get you more worked up to my touch, not more brainless.”

Oberyn captured your lips in a brief kiss, just with enough force to start pulling you under his spell before he pulled away. As he leaned up so his torso sat upright, you leaned in to sit almost cross legged beside him, looking now with genuine wonder. “But really, there’s that much to learn about poisons that you can spend years on it?”

You could see his thoughts drifting, even as he looked you in the eye, for a moment he was drawn into his own plans it seemed. He returned to you almost in a blink, seemingly pushing whatever it was down for the time being. “Most of them are quite similar. But it’s those very tiny changes in your mixture that can turn it in either direction.”

His hand reached out, cupping your cheek as he lost the other part of him in your eager and intrigued expression. “For some using a tasteless and painless way to kill us preferred. Most don’t deserve to go otherwise, especially in such a spectacle.”

Grabbing the hand on your cheek, you brought it around to kiss his knuckles. Holding it to the exposed skin near your heart. “And the others?”

Oberyn knew you didn’t have any intentions asking that, you were a curious little thing after such a reserved existence. Still those thoughts flowed back to the surface. He’s not sure where you fit in with this plan, or how it will play out. Ellaria has spent years by his side to understand what she was getting herself into when coming here.

You came here under someone else’s orders, for a reason unknown to either of you, but more and more you were creeping your way into his. Mapping a way to keep you safe, without leaving you behind in the dark.

The next few days were going to determine many things for a number of people in the city, including himself. So he had to think carefully, and for now, he could only answer carefully as well.

“The other kinds are cruel. A burning pain that can leave one in such agony they want to end themselves before the poison finally does. It’s rare that someone would deserve to die like that. But they do exist, and they’ll get nothing more than what they deserve.”

Oberyn's eyes flashing dark and intense, lost in his pain, his rage. So you pushed gently at his chest to lay own, draping your body over his chest and captured his soft lips with yours to soothe the darkness away.

For now that was enough, but you felt something more again. An approaching storm you wouldn't be able to navigate alone.

A unknown that plauges you with fear.

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagine #Oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell x reader x Ellaria Sand #Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand #Oberyn Martell x you x Ellaria Sand #game of thrones fanfiction #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfiction

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 month

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freedom ~ oberyn martell;game of thrones

part one

word count: 2608

request?: a single person asked if there would be a part two so yes?

description: in which she finally gets to enjoy her freedom with the man she loves

pairing: oberyn martell x female!reader

warnings: swearing, use of y/n, lil bit of dirty talk from oberyn teehee

masterlist (one, two, three)

The sun shining in through the open window stirred her from her sleep. She wasn't sure what time it was, but judging by how groggy she felt, she had definitely been asleep for a very long time. It was the first night since the evening before Joffrey's wedding that she had slept in an actual bed.

(Y/N) and Oberyn's plan had gone way better than she was expecting. She did as Oberyn told her and packed one bag of her most essential things. Oberyn had one of his men take it to the carriage so that non of Cersei's servants would catch (Y/N) doing it. She sat through the ceremony with the best fake smile pained on her face the entire time. The second the ceremony ended, (Y/N) slipped away while Cersei was distracted and they started their journey back to Dorne immediately.

It was a long journey spanning a number of days. They only stopped to rest a handful of times as Oberyn insisted on going for as long as the horses could stand so the risk of being caught by the Lannister men that Cersei was undoubtably going to send after them. (Y/N) was tense the entire time and wasn't able to relax until they reached Dorne.

Oberyn's brother, Prince Doran, was waiting for them when their carriage arrived. Oberyn had just stepped out when Doran said, "We received a message from King's Landing about the kidnapped Lannister girl."

"I kidnapped no one," Oberyn said. "She came with me willingly because she was being terribly abused by the Queen."

"The former Queen," (Y/N) corrected as she stepped out beside Oberyn. "Now that Joffrey is wed, Cersei is no longer Queen." She turned to Doran and curtsied. "My Lord."

Doran nodded in response. "Lady (Y/N). We hoped my brother wasn't so stupid as to kidnap a Lannister the day of the young kind's wedding."

"What Oberyn says is true. I have come with him of my own free will to escape my sister. She is claiming my capture so that y ou will send me back to her and will punish Oberyn so he cannot come for me again. I do not wish to go back, not ever. I will attest to this myself to my family back in King's Landing if you wish."

Doran looked between the two of them. He took a deep breath and said, "They will come."

"I will speak to them," (Y/N) insisted. "They cannot take me by force."

"They will not take her by force," Oberyn interjected.

Doran nodded. "I pledge my full support to you. I just hope you know what you are doing, brother."

Oberyn had brought her to a room that would be her own for the time being. He had promised her they would share a bed in due time, but he would not do so until they were properly courted. She would have argued further, but she was so tired and her body was aching from the long carriage ride, so all she wanted was to lay down in a soft bed.

Now that she was waking up from such a long slumber, it took a few moment for her to remember where she was. When she did remember, she smiled to herself. She was so giddy with happiness to finally be free and not feel so stuck and trapped in Westeros anymore.

A knock came at the door. She beckoned for them to come in, thinking (or rather hoping) that it was Oberyn. she was surprised when a lady she did not recognize stepped into her room.

"I am sorry for the intrusion, my lady," the woman said, bowing to (Y/N). "My name is Kenziah. I will be your handmaiden. I was told to come prepare you for a meeting in the Prince's throne room."

"Has something happened?" (Y/N) asked.

"Your father arrived early this morning, my lady. He requested a meeting with you and both Princes."

(Y/N) was quick to get out of bed and allow Kenziah to dress her. She tried to keep a brave face as she was led to Prince Doran's throne room. Doran was sat on his own throne while Oberyn was stood next to him. A tall figure was back on to (Y/N) as she walked in, but she didn't need him to turn around to recognize who it was.

Tywin Lannister looked down at his daughter as she entered the room. "My daughter, you have caused quite a disturbance."

"So I have heard," (Y/N) said. "I apologize if I disrupted Joffrey's wedding day. That was not my plan. Truthfully, I did not think Cersei would even notice my absence."

"You severely underestimate your sister then."

(Y/N) brushed past her father to stand next to Oberyn. She held her head high as she addressed Tywin, "I know what Cersei has tried to say about my disappearance. I am saying to you, father, that I willingly left with Oberyn to come to Dorne. I am not under any sort of duress, and I will not be returning to King's Landing with you."

Tywin raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" (Y/N) nodded. "King Joffrey could order for your return."

"He would have to come take her himself," Doran cut in. "But he would have to go through the Dorne army."

"Are you threatening the king?" Tywin asked.

"No, I am protecting one of my own."

(Y/N) glanced between Tywin and Doran. Oberyn was silent beside her, but he had moved closer, protectively. For the first time in her life, (Y/N) actually felt cared for and safe.

Tywin's gaze moved to his daughter. "Is this truly your wish, my child? To stay in Dorne with the young prince?"

"I cannot go back to that palace, father. It was my prison, and I have finally escaped from it. I will not return to King's Landing willingly, and if you try to force me, I will fight back to the best of my abilities."

Tywin nodded. "I cannot force you to do anything against your will, (Y/N)."

"Will you tell Cersei that?"

To her surprise, Tywin nodded again. "If this is what you truly want, then no one else shall bother you while you're here."

(Y/N) bowed her head. "Thank you father."

Tywin paused a moment as he started to leave. (Y/N) wondered if he would say anything more. But he merely nodded to Doran and Oberyn before turning to leave the room. When he was gone, (Y/N) finally allowed her body to relax. Oberyn took her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

"You are officially free, little lion."

~~~~~~

(Y/N) was sat in front of a mirror as Kenziah braided her hair. It had been a full day since she had arrived and she was already feeling more at home than she ever had in King's Landing. Oberyn had sent Dornish clothes for her to wear, and she was currently wearing one that was a similar color to the robe Oberyn had been wearing when they first met.

Now that she had been able to properly settle in after their long journey and Twyin's visit, Oberyn had called for (Y/N) to meet him outside of Water Gardens, their palace. She had a feeling she knew what this meeting was about, and the thought alone made her very giddy.

"You are trembling, my lady," Kenziah said. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Kenziah, thank you," (Y/N) said. "I am just feeling nervous to see Oberyn is all."

"Nervous? But you seemed very fond of him before."

"I am fond of him! I guess nervous may be the wrong word. I feel a number of things about seeing him, because I know he will likely ask me to be his wife today. He said when we returned to Dorne that he would court me and make me his wife."

Kenziah smiled. "He does seem to feel very strongly for you, my lady. I see the way he looks at you."

(Y/N) smiled to herself as well. She had noticed the ways in which Oberyn looked at her, and every time it made her melt a little. She had never felt so infatuated with anyone before. The thought of being so close to him asking her to marry him made her insides feel fuzzy and warm.

When Kenziah finished braiding her hair, she placed a few flowers in the braids. "There, all finished."

(Y/N) moved to look at her hair in the mirror. She was almost surprised by the reflection looking back at her. She looked so beautiful, and she felt it, too. It was almost as if she was meant to be in Dorne, she just had to find a way to get there.

"Thank you, Kenziah," she said.

"You're welcome, my lady."

When she was sure she was ready, Kenziah brought (Y/N) to where Oberyn was waiting for her. He looked just as handsome as ever, almost glowing under the Dornish sun as he looked out at a pond below them. When she approached, he turned to her and smiled.

"You look beautiful, my little lion," he said. He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips, pressing a light kiss on her knuckles. It sent a spark through her entire body and made her hand feel like it was tingling.

"Thank you," she said. "I really love the clothes you sent for me. Dorian wear is so much nicer than what I had back in the palace."

"It suits you better, too. Like you were meant to wear it."

(Y/N) was smiling so much her cheeks were hurting. Oberyn beckoned for her to come closer. She did, moving as close to him as she could dare. She gasped when he put his hands on her hips and moved her so that she was stood right in front of him. His body was pressing against her backside, and she felt like she was weak in the knees from the feeling.

"I wanted to show you what I was looking at," he told her, his mouth dangerously close to her ear. He pointed towards the pond. "Just down there."

She was having a hard time concentrating on what it was he was trying to show her. His closeness was making her very dizzy. But she tried her best and managed to make her eyes focus on the pond. It was full of children, splashing around and laughing. She wasn't quite sure what he was trying to show her, until she spotted a familiar young girl with a head full of blonde hair.

She gasped. "Myrcella."

Myrcella was Cersei's middle child, and only daughter. Cersei adored Myrcella more than (Y/N) had seen her adore anyone in her life. When she had been sent away to Dorne to be a bride to Doran's son, Trystane, Cersei was practically inconsolable. It was the only time (Y/N) had ever seen weakness from her sister.

But Myrcella was also much different than her mother, or her older brother for that matter. She had a heart of gold and she cared very much for the people around her. That included (Y/N), much to Cersei's displeasure. (Y/N) loved her niece dearly. She had almost abandoned hope of ever seeing her again.

"She has been taken care of here," Oberyn assured (Y/N). "We will wait until she and my nephew come of age before they wed. Until then, she gets to live the life of a child."

"Why are you telling me this?" (Y/N) asked. While she was definitely glad to see her niece, this was not where she expected this conversation to go.

"She spoke very highly of you. Ever since she arrived, she has voiced how much she has missed her mother and her aunt. I can tell she is not like her mother, so I figured seeing her would be a welcome surprise."

With his hands still on her waist, Oberyn spun (Y/N) around so that she was facing him. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Their bodies were still pressed so close together. (Y/N) found herself feeling something she had never felt before; a tingling sensation between her legs. Looking up into Oberyn's eyes, she wanted nothing more than to start kissing him, and to beg for him to touch her and make the feeling go away.

She had a feeling that he would know exactly how to pleasure her, and that thought made her feel even more weak.

"I want you to be happy here," he told her.

"I am happy," she assured him. "As long as I am with you, I can't be happier. You have saved me, Oberyn. Truly."

He smiled. "And I am glad that I have."

When he lowered his head towards her, (Y/N) wasted no time in closing the space between them. She kissed him so deeply that she made herself dizzy by doing it. His hands had moved from her waist to the small of her back, holding her to him. She could've stayed like this forever if that were possible.

When he broke away, she inadvertently let out a whine. He chuckled at her desperate sound. "I will kiss you as much as you wish, my little lion. But first, I do have a promise to keep."

He stepped away from her. Her body suddenly felt cold without him so close. He held her hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes as he spoke, "I told you that when we arrived to Dorne, I would properly court you and wed you. I believe I have successfully courted you already, so that just leaves us with one last step."

"Yes," (Y/N) blurted. Oberyn was amused by her outburst. "If it was not obvious, I very much want to marry you, Oberyn."

"I had a feeling," he teased. "I spoke with my brother already to get his blessing as well. We will have the wedding in a few days time."

"Can we do it now instead?"

Oberyn shook his head, an amused smile on his face. "My dear, sweet little lion. You must have patience. You must know what it takes to put a wedding together, especially one for people of royal blood such as us. Besides, I do not think you should wish to rush into marriage this quickly."

(Y/N) furrowed her brows at him. "Why?"

He stepped closer to her again. He leaned into her ear and dropped his voice to say, "Because once we are wed, I no longer have to worry about defiling your innocence. I may keep you in my bed for many days and nights before I decide to let you have a break from me, and even then I may only decide that because you are carrying my child."

(Y/N) stumbled a little and Oberyn was quick to catch her.

"You are mistaken, my love," she told him. "That only makes me wish for us to be married much sooner."

Oberyn cupped her face and pulled her for a kiss.

"I promise, my little lion, I will make the wait worth it," he said. "For now, you will just have to settle for stolen kisses."

"I will take anything as long as it is from you."

They kissed once more, and (Y/N) finally got to revel in the fact that she was finally getting her own happy ending.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #part two #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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palioom · 7 months

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day seven - waxplay

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 514

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; fingering, probably very unsafe waxplay, some praise kink

• kinktober 2023 masterlist •

“How does it feel, my dove?” Oberyn asked, his voice soft and smooth, watching in delight as the crimson wax dripped from the tip of the candle onto her body.

Drawing stripes across her belly, pooling in the dip below her sternum. Decorating her as he saw fit.

She moaned, the hot sensation foreign but pleasant on her skin. Searing, for just a moment before it cooled and dried, leaving behind only a faint warmth, like a mark.

“It feels magnificent, my Prince.” Voice breathy, writhing below his dark gaze. Clearly he enjoyed this a great deal, a mischievous grin on his lips as his hand wandered higher. “Like it is burning me, but not hurting too much.”

Oberyn tilted the candle again, letting more liquid wax drip onto her breasts, letting it flow over one nipple and observing how her breath hitched, taking in the hum that followed. Her naked thighs squeezed together to relieve some of the throbbing pressure, to find some friction.

His free hand hovered closely over her body, not close enough to actually touch her, just to build up the anticipation.

“You look beautiful like this, my sweet.” Pairing the praise with more of the burning sensation as he covered her other nipple as well, her hands twisted into the silken sheets below her.

His hand moved further down her body, only hovering still. He could see her limbs twitch whenever he lowered it enough to brush over the fine hairs covering her skin.

So responsive to his ministrations, choking on her moan when he slipped a finger between her wet folds, paired with more wax on the valley between her breasts. Finding the sensitive bud there and applying pressure.

“How does that feel?” He inquired, smirking like a devil and dripping more hot wax over her.

Her response came in the form of a moan, his fingers dipping lower and into her, her back arching and causing some of the still liquid wax to run down her body.

Letting her writhe for a bit beneath his touch, curling his fingers before he asked again.

“I asked you how you feel, my sweet dove.” His voice was firmer, more demanding, but he didn’t stop his movements. Pumping the digits in and out of her at a rapid pace, thick and girthy. “Your Prince demands an answer.”

Another moan slipped past her lips as he paired the curl of his fingers with more wax on her, so close to her peak.

“Magnificent.” She breathed out, her orgasm crashing into her shortly after. Letting her eyes roll into the back of her head, a cry of his name rolling off her tongue.

All while he watched, his own little artwork, covered in wax and still clutching his fingers tightly.

“Good, my little dove.” He chuckled quietly, withdrawing his fingers. Admiring her flushed skin. “You look beautiful like this.”

She simply nodded, delirious from the sensations he had bestowed upon her. Warm from both the wax and his words, already excited to see what else he would want to do with her.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell x f!reader #prince oberyn #oberyn martell imagine #game of thrones #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #kinktober 2023 #my writing

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absurdthirst · 7 months

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The Dornish Sun {Oberyn Martell x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.1k

Warnings: Step Uncle/Niece relationship, slight age gap, fingering, oral sex (female and male receiving), loss of virginity, pregnancy, childbirth, angst, infidelity, heartbreak, war, murder, rape, threesomes, mff relationship, poisoning, revenge

Comments: Of course a love story with Oberyn Martell would be tumultuous. Especially when the Seven Kingdoms is in chaos and the Baratheon rebellion breaks out.

A/N: You know that scene in HOTD where Rhaenyra leaves her birthing bed to take the baby to see the Queen? That completely inspired this.

🚨🚨DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT - this story contains canonical events including murder and rape (Elia Martell)🚨🚨

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Oberyn Martell MasterList ||

Doran Martell married your mother and took you as his own daughter when you were eight years old. Carrying you away from the moldering estates you were born on and you had finished growing up in the castle at Sunspear and then later the Water Gardens when your father had grown too ill to stay in the steeply staircased fortress with his wheelchair.

The day you met Oberyn, his youngest sibling and only brother, you had fallen in love. His chiseled jaw, uncaring demeanor and his delight in allowing you to follow him around had created a painful crush for you, your cheeks heating to near flames when he had picked you up as a towering teenager of fourteen. He was your handsome red viper as you heard others call him and you had decided then and there that one day, you would marry Oberyn and become his princess.

When you were a woman grown, your crush had not waned. Growing even deeper and embedding in your heart to where no one but Oberyn would do, you argued with your papa that you should be aligned with the second born heir to House Martell, solidifying your place in the family and your own succession if Arianne did not wish to take over when your father passed. It did not help that you could tell Oberyn wanted you, his eyes following you as you went about your duties, the small smirk on his lips far from familial affection.

“Give me one reason, a good reason why I cannot marry for love?” You ask, your jaw set in stubborn determination as you look over at your father, the subject of husbands ones that you are tired of talking about. You do not want any of the men your father has suggested would make good husbands. “You married mother for love.”

Doran sighs, rubbing his cheek, “that was different. Your mother…Oberyn is your uncle.” Doran argues and you shake your head.

“We are not blood. He is my uncle in name only.” You counter. Your own lord father had passed when you were aged six, meaning your mother was eligible to marry Doran and thus you have younger half siblings.

“It will not look good to our enemies. Allowing my daughter to marry my brother…they will cry out in protest.” Doran argues and you scoff.

“Like the Lannister rumors aren’t worse?” You argue and Doran shakes his head.

“I do not care about the Lannisters. You are my daughter and you shall marry to help our alliances. A lord from the North, a Stark, has asked for your hand. You will be marrying him.”

“I do not want to leave Dorne.” You frown, unable to even imagine living in the cold north with those joyless Starks. Duty and winter coming are all they care about, you had not been impressed when you had met them two years ago when Ned Stark and another had traveled to Dorne to speak with your father. “I wish to feel the sun on my skin, the sand under my feet. I belong here.”

“You belong where I tell you that you belong. You will marry the Stark boy. You will allow our alliances to continue and you will do your duty. Seven hells, I saved you and your mother from a destitute life and you shall repay me for that.” Doran’s tone is final, no longer the loving father you’ve come to adore, no, he’s a prince. A leader.

You hiss in anger, pushing away from the table with a loud screech from your chair and rushing away. Heartbroken and angry that your father would condemn you to a fate that in your mind is worse than death. Running through the halls towards the gardens, your slippers are silent on the stone floors and your floating dress flaps behind you. You will not marry a Stark, you will not.

Oberyn is walking down the hallway when he sees you running. He reaches out to stop you, his hands on your shoulders. “My sun, why are you running? Surely my brother has not been so cruel as to make you run away from the beautiful gardens?” He coos, cupping your cheeks when you look at him, tears in your eyes.

“Father is sending me to Winterfell.” You close your eyes and the tears slip down your cheek. “I am to be wed to a Stark, to live my days in the snows of the North where the sun freezes.” You swallow and open your eyes again, looking into his dark orbs. “I - I do not want to wed into that house. I wish to stay here, with you - and father.”

The look in Oberyn's eyes is harsh, soft gaze turns to steel as he imagines you in Winterfell, belonging to another man. No, he won't allow it. Despite his brother's urges that he should find a bride, Oberyn has been unable to move on from you. You - you are his niece by name but not by blood yet the guilt of wanting you, of loving you, has never waned. However, to imagine you with another...it's more than Oberyn can take. "Come with me to my rooms, we shall drink some wine and discuss what can be done to change my brother's mind." He cups your cheek before taking your hand, eager to guide you to his chambers.

You follow him willingly and will follow him anywhere. His exile several years ago had been hard to deal with and you had often come to his chambers to sleep while he was gone, the servants finding you asleep in his bed. Now, you spend less time with him since you are a lady, your father wanting you to appear more mature for your station and years. Despite the lax nature of Dorne compared to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, you are still under scrutiny.

“Oberyn.” He squeezes your hand and you fall silent, entering the large bedchamber and watching as he lets go of your hand to walk over to the pitcher of wine that is ever present on a table along with his favored berries.

Oberyn pours you a glass, handing you the goblet before repeating the action for himself. “Sit.” He orders, pointing to the loveseat and he brings you the wine and sits down beside you. “Tell me why you do not wish to marry a Stark.” He wants to hear you say what he suspects but he won’t show his hand just yet.

Looking away, you take a sip of your wine. It would be better if you were a man and could be expected to speak plainly about such things. Even here you were not supposed to acknowledge the ache you have for a man, not while still being innocent. “Ned Stark is boring.” You whisper. “Too self righteous and I-“ you pause, glancing at your handsome uncle by marriage before you look down at your cup. “I love another.”

Oberyn isn’t dumb. He’s seen the way you look at him and he knows he should say no, that it’s foolish for you to want him…but he can’t. Not when he feels the same. He was exiled, returned home to no one but you. You talked to him, you listened to his stories and he fell in love with his niece by marriage. “Marriage is not always about love, my sun. Marriages are for alliances. Political purposes. Do you wish to put your father at a disadvantage for love? Is this love too great to ignore in favor of your duty?” He asks, having asked himself that same question many times when Doran tried to marry him off but he is far too stubborn.

“What about my duty to my own heart?” You shake your head, dismayed because you thought of all people - Oberyn would understand. “I would not be a good wife to a man I could not endure. How would I lay in his bed, under his rutting body and bear his children?” You bite your lip, sighing and lifting your cup to your lips again. “My father has other alliances, other deals he can make. My heart shouldn’t be a bartering tool.”

Oberyn’s cock twitches at the thought of you beneath him and the jealousy he feels at the thought of someone else touching you, having you. It makes his jaw clench. “You would rather have passion? A husband who wants to make you shake with pleasure? A man who will suck on your nipples until you are dripping wet, his fingers finding your bundle of nerves, making you moan until he buries his tongue deep into your cunt, working your tight heat until you nearly drown him. A man who will slide his cock into you with the aim to make you cum, make you clench around his length until your thighs are shaking, instead of purely to get you pregnant. Is that what you want, my sun?” He leans closer, his breath washing over your face.

You whimper pitifully at the vivid imagery he creates with his words. Breath hitching and you inhale the sweet scent of wine and berries from his too close mouth. Your eyes flit down, tracing the angel’s kiss on his lower lip and your tongue slides out to wet your own, having wanted to trace his lips so often that you swear you have done it before. You can barely look back up into his own dark eyes and you swear you see lust in their depths. “Yes.” You whisper, nodding and pressing your thighs together to quell the ache there. “I want y- that.”

Oberyn leans even closer, reaching for the goblet so he can set them both down on the table nearby. You exhale shakily as he moves away from you, heart pounding and you are upset he doesn’t want you, tears stinging in your eyes. Oberyn takes a moment, knowing this will change everything but he can’t hold back anymore. He wants you. He turns back, seeing the way your eyes avoid his and he tuts, surging forward to press his lips to yours but before he says “I want you, my sun.”

Melting into him, you moan into the kiss, allowing him to take over completely. Clinging to the edges of his robe, your entire body lights up with the glorious knowledge that Oberyn wants you. “Have me.” You beg when he kisses along your jaw. “I am yours.” You know you shouldn’t, that you should pull away but you don’t think about that. Too caught up in your dream coming true to act rationally.

Oberyn should pull back, he definitely shouldn't go any further than this but fuck, he has been keeping away for so long, it feels physically painful to pull back from you in this moment. His tongue slides into your mouth and he reaches for you to pull you into his lap, his breath mingling with yours as he methodically tugs on the strings that keep your robes in place.

You aren’t completely innocent. You know the reputation Oberyn has started to cultivate. It was one of the reasons why he was exiled for that dark time when you were younger. He has had lovers and yet you do not hesitate when you feel the warm air from the open windows on your skin. Your nipples are hard from need and you let him unlace your dress and strip you down with an eagerness that can’t be contained as you run your hands along his broad shoulders and slip them under the light linen brocade to touch his heated skin.

Your touch ignites something in him and he grabs your thighs, lifting you up as he stands and he throws you onto his bed. Shrugging off his robe to expose his chest and upper arms before he strides over to hover over you. “You have no idea, my sun, how many times I imagined seeing these tits.” He groans, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth.

Gasping out his name, your eyes close in pleasure. Fingers digging into the silk sheets on his bed and twisting them in your hands while he sucks at your breast. The wet heat of his mouth is deliriously good and yet you want more, your dress pooled at your hips and you want to be bare underneath him. “P-please.” You beg, arching your back to offer yourself to him.

Oberyn isn’t in a rush, especially since he knows you are innocent. “Patience.” He tuts as he lifts up to switch to your other breast, leaning down to take it into his mouth, his dark eyes focusing on you while his hands caress your waist, one coming up to squeeze the breast he just abandoned.

You whimper, biting your lip and trying to just let yourself experience his touch. To not beg for more than he is wanting to give you right now. Your legs shift, thighs pressing together and you take advantage of him without his shirt. You had spent so much of your day drooling over his practices in the courtyards while shirtless and you touch his broad shoulders and back with a happy moan while he bites down on your nipple.

Oberyn tuts, reaching for your thighs to push them apart so he can press his body against yours, his cock hardening under his robes. He kisses your clavicle, up your neck until his body covers yours. “So eager, aren’t you? You want more?” He teases, pressing feather-like kisses to your jaw while his fingers slide under your gown, caressing your thigh.

“Yes. Please, more.” You whine, enjoying the way that his chest drags against your wet breasts. Your cunt clenches at the hardness that he is slowly grinding against you. “Oberyn.” You are in heaven right now, this is what you have always imagined and your nails drag down his back and you grab his ass in the leather breeches he is wearing, suddenly bolder than an innocent virgin should be. There is no fear, only want and need right now.

Oberyn chuckles at your eagerness, his fingers sliding higher until he finds your wet cunt, covered by the curls. “Mmm. So wet.” He groans softly, sliding his fingers through your folds a couple of times until he rubs your clit. “You’re so beautiful, my sun. Always - always imagined this.” He admits, knowing he’s tugged on his cock far too many times thinking about you recently. Or had another around him while he imagined it was you.

“I love you.” Your confession slips out unprompted, but you do. It has always been Oberyn since you have laid eyes on him. It will always be him. Your eyes close again and you let out a low moan while he rubs your clit as if he had done it a thousand times before. It was not like you hadn’t touched yourself before but it was so much more pleasurable with his fingers.

Your confession makes his heart thump in his chest and he knows you didn’t say it for him to say it back, you said it because it’s true. His fingers continue working your clit and he presses his lips back to yours, sliding his hand lower so he can push a finger into your tight cunt.

Gasping in delight and pleasure, your walls stretch around him, the thick finger curling up into your cunt. Grinding down on his hand wantonly, you know that this will be perfect. He is skilled and you love him, your walls clamping down around his finger while you turn your head to nip his jaw with your teeth like you have imagined doing a thousand times. You want to mark him, claim him as your own.

Oberyn groans softly at your nip, “my little sun has fire.” He chuckles, adding another finger as he pushes the digits inside of you. He wants you to feel only pleasure so he wants you dripping down his wrist. His thumb presses against your clit while his lips find yours again.

Whimpering against his neck, your arm tightens around him while he curls his fingers up. Taken beyond what you had ever been able to do yourself, you feel your legs start to shake while that tension builds up in your core. Hips meeting the thrust of his fingers on their own, your moans are uninhibited and you don’t care who would hear you beyond his doors.

Oberyn groans when your walls clamp down on his fingers when he presses his thumb against your clit a little harder, sending you over the edge. “So good, my sun. Can’t wait to be inside of you.” He murmurs, working you through it and he is determined to taste you too before he takes your innocence.

You cry out, back arching and colors burst behind your eyelids as pleasure courses through your body. “O-Oberyn!” You cling to him, shuddering and shaking underneath his touch. He keeps curling his fingers as he works you through it until you are panting out, completely wrung out.

Oberyn groans your name, loving the way you shake and the way you are already so spent. He chuckles, kissing your jaw and he shifts to kneel between your thighs, working on removing the rest of your gown so he can see all of you. “I want to see you, my sun. I want you bare. Mind, body, and soul.”

Lifting your hips, you have no shame as Oberyn strips you down to your skin. Laying in his bed as the evening rays of light shine through the slates covering his windows, you feel like this is where you are supposed to be. Watching as he rocks back onto his knees and looks down at your nude, virginal body. “I am yours.” You whisper, meaning every word.

Oberyn offers you a soft smile, nodding in understanding, and he caresses your calf before he shifts off of the bed to push his breeches down, releasing his aching cock from its confines. He desperately wants to slide into you but he can’t, he wants to taste you first.

You had not expected his mouth. When you had seen his cock, your leg had spread in anticipation of him climbing between them. Of feeling him deep inside you. Instead you gasp when his shoulders push your legs wider, his chuckle filthy when he winks at you and lowers his mouth to your dripping cunt to lick a long stripe through your folds. “Gods!” You cry out, head tilting back and fingers tangling into the silk sheets again.

Oberyn’s tongue is eager, sliding deeper inside of you and his nose presses against your clit. His fingers dig into your thighs, pushing them back towards your stomach so his tongue can slide deeper into your cunt. “You taste so good.” He smacks his lips as he pulls back for a moment before he dives back in.

If his fingers were magical, his tongue is even more so. Curling deep inside you to make you squirm before he is pulling out and flicking it against your clit, pulling another gasp out of you. Lewdly learning your body in a way that you had heard of but never imagined would be as good as it is. Quickly feeling your stomach clenching as he lashes your clit again and again with his tongue and pushing you towards another orgasm.

Your thighs start to shake and press against his head and he knows you are close. He wants you to cum so he continues lashing your clit, sucking and licking until his jaw hurts and when you cry out, he buries his tongue into your walls, wanting to feel them flutter.

It was even better than your first orgasm. The rush of heat flooding your cunt makes him moan and you whimper at the way that he is eager to taste all of you, his tongue dipping back inside you. Your thighs try to close around his head but they can’t at his mercy until you are crying out again and shoving weakly at his shoulder to move him away.

Oberyn doesn’t move away right away, he smacks his lips, kissing your clit and chuckling at the way you whine so he backs off, kneeling between your legs and wrapping his fingers around his aching cock. “My sun, are you certain that this is what you want?” He asks, wanting to make sure you want him to take your innocence.

“I have loved you since I was a child, Oberyn.” Your eyes greedily stare at him, drinking in how perfect he looks hard and wanting you. You are not scared of his length or size, knowing that he was going to fit perfectly inside you as he slowly strokes himself. “I am sure that I want nothing more than for you to take my innocence.”

Oberyn nods, certain that he wants you, he has wanted you since your eight and ten name day, knowing you were a woman had shone a new light on you and he has wanted you ever since. “Tell me if it hurts. It will hurt to begin with but we will go slow.” He promises, shifting closer until he can notch his cock at your entrance, slowly pushing into you.

Your soft cry is mixed with tears as he fills you, but they are ones of joy. Lashes fluttering as you feel the weight of him starting to settle over your body and his cock butting up against the thin barrier of your innocence. His lips press against yours before he pushes through the thin barrier of your innocence and hums at the way your body locks up around him.

Oberyn leans closer to kiss away your tears, his heart pounding in his chest as he looks at your beautiful face. “Are you okay, my sun?” He asks, not moving while you adjust to his cock inside of you. You’re so hot, so tight, so wet, it’s hard to maintain control but he will.

“Perfect.” It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open but you want to see him. Reaching up and caressing his sharp cheek while he holds still over you. Wanting to commit this to memory since it is the perfect moment. “Move, my prince.” You beg him softly. “I want to feel every inch of you.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts to move, his dark eyes focused on you in case there’s any pain but all he sees is love in your eyes. It makes his heart twist. He shifts, resting his weight on his elbows so he can bury his face in your neck, kissing along it and breathing you in.

Every push of his hips makes you moan, your arms winding around his neck and your legs coming up to rest on his hips. He feels amazing and you don’t have any of the discomfort that you had secretly worried about with a husband. Oberyn is perfect and the love you have makes it even better. “Oh Gods, Obeyrn.” You whimper. “It’s so- so good.”

Your whimper spurs him on to make you cum. His arms sliding under you to pull you closer and his hips rock into you, hitting the back of your thighs. “So beautiful. So perfect.” His voice is raspy and he is desperate for you to cum for him one more time.

It is everything that you want, loving how he is starting to move steadily. Closing your eyes and moaning as he fills you again and again with the heavy stroke of his cock. Pushing you towards exquisite pleasure every time he touches deep inside you. “Oberyn.” You whimper softly.

“That’s it, my love. Cum for me. Please. Cum for me.” He grunts, pushing into you and dropping his hips so the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushes against your clit. You cry out and he knows he got the right angle. “Cum for me. Soak my cock, my sun.” He orders, kissing your neck as his breath is heavy in your ear.

When you go over the edge, your cry fills his ear. Giving into his order and your body shakes underneath him while you go exactly what he orders you to do. Soaking his cock in a hot rush of cum that sounds loud when he pushes through the resistance of your fluttering walls.

“Fuck.” Oberyn curses at how you soak him, gripping his cock in a vice but he can’t stop himself. He should pull out but the thought of filling you up, putting his seed inside of you and potentially his child has him falling over the edge within a half dozen thrusts. “Fuck!” He growls, pushing his cock deep as he cums, groaning your name while he paints your walls.

You whimper in delight at the warmth of his seed inside you. You know it is risky but you don’t care, moaning softly and stroking his back lightly while he continues to rock his hips as he rides out his high. Relaxing back into the bed when he is done and you can’t help but give a slight giggle, completely worn out by your new lover. “Wow.”

Oberyn chuckles at your reaction, glad you enjoyed it. He certainly did. “I love you, my sun.” He murmurs, lifting his head to look into your eyes. It’s true, he adores you, always has, and he has loved you since you blossomed into a woman. He kisses you, slow and deeply, his tongue sliding against yours.

You lean into the kiss, enjoying the intimacy of it while he licks into your mouth. Your fingers tangle into the hair at the nap of his neck and you sigh happily, knowing that you have gotten your wish and you will cherish it forever. When he pulls back you smile up at him. “Thank you, Oberyn. I love you.”

Oberyn caresses your cheek. “Let’s move you over and you can get some rest. You must be exhausted, my love.” He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone, “I love you too. Sleep. When you awaken, we will feast on fruits and cheese, I’ll send for some more wine.” He tells you, brushing your hair back.

Having sex for the first time is surprisingly exhausting. Turning over and curling up against the pillow that Oberyn sleeps on has your eyes fluttering closed within minutes. It doesn’t hurt that he is stroking your hair and shoulder, relaxing you more than you thought it would as you drift off to sleep with a smile on your face.

Oberyn caresses you until you are asleep, then he carefully, so carefully, tugs on the sheet beneath you, easing it out from under you before he redresses. Striding down the hall, he has the sheet folded up when he enters his brother’s chambers. “Oberyn? What are you doing here?” Doran asks, a weary smile on his face for his younger brother. He loves him but he is exhausting.

“Let me marry her.” He says, chin pointed in defiance as he awaits his brother’s response.

Doran sighs and runs his hand down his face, looking over to the door as if he expects you to peek around the corner like you had when you were a child. Obviously you had run to Oberyn but he was surprised that his younger brother was entertaining your notion of love. “She will wed Ned Stark.” He tells his brother. “You will choose a wife now? After all this time?” Oberyn had always scoffed at the idea of marriage, unless he was ordered to by his brother and Doran loved him enough that he hadn’t had the heart.

Oberyn nods his head, “I will choose a wife. I choose her.” He declares.

Doran sighs, “you are going to send me to an early grave, dear brother. She is promised to Ned Stark.”

Oberyn chuckles, shaking his head. “A man as noble as Ned Stark would surely want his lady wife to be pure. To not provide him with a Dornish man’s bastard.”

Doran narrows his eyes, growing suspicious. “Oberyn…what did you do?” He hisses and Oberyn takes the sheet from behind his back, opening it to display the blood on the sheets.

“Your darling daughter’s innocence…displayed on my sheets.”

“Gods be cursed!” There is a book in Doran’s lap that is quickly hurled at Oberyn, who merely ducks it. If his mobility has not seriously deteriorated over the last year, he would challenge the boy who had been the baby of the family. “You ruined her! For what? Your pride? Another conquest? You could have all the whores in the Seven Kingdom and you chose to make my daughter - your niece - your next whore?” Doran shouts, apoplectic with rage. Oberyn is not a liar, if he said he took your innocence, then that is what is staining his sheet. “Did you fill her?”

Oberyn nods, “I did. You do not wish for Ned Stark to be saddled with my bastard, do you? It will not shine well on Dorne. Dear brother, she loves me. She wants to be mine.”

Doran shakes his head, “she doesn’t know what she wants! She is a child!” Doran growls.

“She is a woman. You have to accept that. She knows her own mind, her own heart. She loves me. I - I love her. Marry her to me. No one need know of her predicament. We can protect her. A royal wedding will please the people. Brother, she is ruined if you send her north. We are ruined.”

Doran shakes his head, dismayed and yet there is truth to his words. “You will hurt her.” He predicts sadly, sighing. “Your selfishness has ruined my daughter and our chance to align with the Starks.” He turns his head and stares out the window for a moment before his shoulders slump in defeat. What’s done is done. “You will marry her before your bastard is showing in her belly.” He decides finally in a tired voice.

****

“You may now kiss your bride.” The priest tells Oberyn who grins, surging forward to kiss you while you are covered by the Martell cloak. His fingers caress your cheeks and you smile against his lips, unable to believe he is your husband. The crowd erupts in applause, the wedding pulled together quickly to account for the babe in your belly. One time was all it took to get you pregnant…perhaps. Oberyn has indulged in his betrothed many times before today. Still, you are with child. His child. So it was best to have a swift wedding. “I love you.” He murmurs when he pulls back.

“I love you, husband.” You are beaming with pride as the two of you turn to face the people gathered. Your father’s eyes are less than pleased but he plasters a smile on his face for the sake of the occasion. “Now we have nothing to worry about.” You murmur softly, aware that the raven had been sent to Winterfell concerning your engagement to Oberyn. Rumor had it that Ned Stark had already secured another bride. Catelyn Tully would be a good match for him.

Oberyn grins, pleased at his new bride, and he guides you through the crowd to the private room reserved for you both during the celebrations. “My sun, you look gorgeous. Edible. A gift from the gods.” He leans forward to press his lips to yours, pushing the cloak off of your shoulders so he can grab your ass through your beautiful sun embroidered gown.

“Husband.” You moan, delighted at being able to use that title with Oberyn now. Since that night he had taken you to bed, you’ve discovered how much you enjoy touching him, fucking him. Learning how he likes to have his cock sucked and how he delights in having you act like the sexual creature you are and not hide your lust for him. “I need you inside me.” You whimper, reaching between you to cup his hardening cock beneath his robe. “Since there is no bedding ceremony, I want to dance with you dripping your seed.”

Oberyn hisses in delight at your words. So naughty and he knows he will want to lick it out of you later. Guiding you back towards the wall, he presses you against it and slides his hand under your gown, fingers quickly finding your clit. “Did getting married make you this wet, my sun? Did it turn you on becoming my wife?” He teases and kisses along your neck.

“Yes.” You pant, closing your eyes and moaning as he slides two fingers inside your wet cunt. “I am yours.” Those words were never more true than right now, reaching into his breeches and wrapping your fingers around to him slowly start pumping him just like he taught you. “Tonight- after other are asleep, I want to suck your cock while you are seated in the grand hall.” The wedding had been performed at Sunspear, the seat of power and Oberyn often acted in your father’s stead. You want to suck his cock while he sits on the Lord’s cushion and pleasure him.

“Naughty girl.” He teases and his cock twitches in your grip, “wanting to desecrate your father’s throne because you are so hungry for cock. I love it. I love you.” Oberyn growls, leaning closer to press his lips against yours. “Wanting to please your husband. It’s beautiful. I want to please you too but right now, I want to fuck you.” He withdraws his fingers, pulling your hand from his breeches and he pulls his cock out. Pressing you up against the wall even more, he gathers your gown and lifts your leg to notch on his hip. “Gonna make my bride cum.” He promises, pushing his cock into you with a low groan.”

Your head bumps back against the wall and you moan out his name. Your condition makes you eager and sensitive. “Oh fuck, Oberyn.” You whimper, looping your arms around his neck and grinding your pelvis down as he starts to move. “Fuck your wife,” you beg, loving how that sounds. “Please make me scream your name for all the guests to hear.”

The smirk on Oberyn’s face is wicked as he attempts to follow through on that challenge. “Yeah? My beautiful bride wants to cum so hard, she lets everyone out there know she’s no longer innocent? They will know tonight you’ve experienced a cock buried deep inside of you. They will know that I’ve spilled inside of you. Our babe shall be born early according to them but we will always know that my naughty wife wanted my cock before it was deemed appropriate.” He chuckles, kissing along your neck as his hips slam against yours.

You cry out, loving how wickedly he looks at things. It’s perfect, he’s perfect. Clinging to him while he drives into you over and over again. His mouth devours yours before he kisses along your throat and nips to make you gasp and clench around him. You know about the bastards he has, both girls. You can’t help but know about them since they live here. You love them as if they were your own. “Your next babe. Maybe a son.” You whimper when his cock pushes up against that sweet little spot inside you.

“My beautiful wife is going to provide me an heir? Fulfill her duty?” He hums. You know he hates the societal standards imposed but he is playful and you know he doesn’t care about a boy or a girl. He wants a healthy child. His fingers dig into your thigh, “a beautiful son. My beautiful wife gives me a son.” He muses with panting breaths. “I want my wife to cum. Squeal so loud they all know I am inside of you.”

It’s not hard to do, Oberyn is an amazing lover and you know you are lucky to have a man be concerned with your pleasure. “Obe-Oberyn!” You cry out as he cock continues to hammer against that spot over and over again until your toes are curling and you are squealing just like he ordered you to, your cum soaking his length and dripping down his thighs.

You squeezing his cunt has him groaning, kissing along your neck, and he thrusts a few more times before he buries his cock deep. Knowing you are his, his wife, the mother of his third child, has him cumming quickly. “Fuck.” He growls, painting your walls with his seed as he presses you further into the wall.

A few moments and lazy kisses later, Oberyn is pulling back, your leg lowering to the floor and your dress falling back into place. “Always so good.” You pant quietly, giving a small giggle of happiness as you catch sight of the beautiful gold ring he had put on your finger. The chain around your neck carries the symbol of the house Martell and declares you a princess. Which you had already been before, but now it is as a wife rather than an adoptive daughter.

****

“Push, princess!” The maester orders while your hand maids wipe your sweaty brow. The baby is coming, one more push and your baby is born. Yet Oberyn is nowhere to be found. No one has been able to alert him of the birth and the labors were quick despite this being your first. You scream as you bear down, feeling like you will pass out from the pressure and the pain but a cry fills the room and you chuckle in relief. The maester quickly inspects the babe. “You have a boy, princess.”

The women set about to help you deliver the afterbirth, the maester tying off the baby’s umbilical cord and cutting it before wrapping him in a soft cloth to hand him to you. “Is there any word of my husband?” You demand, looking down and immediately falling in love with his smooshed face and crown of dark hair.

“No, my princess.” The young servant who will look after the babe as a wet nurse if you wish it, shakes her head, looking down. “None knows where he is.”

You grunt, whimpering when the afterbirth passes and the women are still cleaning you as you start to move towards the edge of your birthing bed. “Dress me.” You demand, completely naked for the birth. “I will find him.”

“Princess. I- I wouldn’t recommend - you need to rest. Spend time with your baby.” Your hand maid tells you and you shake your head.

“I have performed my duty. I wish to show my prince.” You grunt defiantly and the handmaids reluctantly dress you, trying to clean off the blood as you stand on shaking legs.

“Princess. I do not recommend-” The maester tells you but you ignore him, sliding on your shoes as you shuffle down the hall.

It hurts, your stomach still cramping with the birth and every step feels like agony, your cunt swollen and sore from pushing out the Prince’s son. Blood runs down your legs but you ignore it. Your baby is in your arms and he squeaks and settles back down when you open your loose gown and offer him your breast. Having to stop in the middle of the hall to let him root around hungrily before he latches on. Your old rooms is your destination, having an idea that he might be there since you had been in the chamber you shared with your husband.

Oberyn groans as the man takes his cock into his mouth, the woman kissing along his chest and playfully nipping on his nipple. You’ve been distant lately, not wanting him due to your discomfort of carrying the baby inside of you and he has respected that, seeking his pleasure elsewhere. He’s been in this room for gods know how long, enjoying the man and woman he paid for. You are due any day so he is seeking his pleasures before he is a father for the third time. “Fuck.” Oberyn groans, head tilting back as the man takes him down his throat and the door is swung open.

Fury boils in your eyes when you see the man and woman naked in the bed with your husband. The man quickly pulls off Oberyn’s hard cock with a wet pop and the woman gasps at your appearance. Angry that he has not spoken to you about pleasure and needs, that he just decided to do this so selfishly, your heart breaks when you realize your husband missed the birth of his son, his heir, because of his cock.

You straighten your spine, bringing you to your full height and shoot all three of them a withering glare. “My su-“ You cut Oberyn off.

“You have a son, my Prince.” You manage with as much grace as you can possibly manage, sweat still rolling down your cheeks from where you left your birthing bed. “Congratulations.” With your announcement made, you turn to start shuffling back to the rooms you have been living in with your husband.

Oberyn’s eyes widen and he scrambles to get off of the bed, reaching for his robes to dress and the man and woman watch him in confusion. “Coins are on the side.” He points at the chest of drawers and rushes down the hall, catching up with you when you are still stumbling down the hallway. “You shouldn’t be walking. My sun, you should be resting in bed.” He tuts, looking down at the babe who is suckling at your breast.

“I should be resting in bed, but I had to track my husband down.” You hiss, furious with Oberyn and he reaches for you. You jerk your arm away from him, unwilling to let him touch you with the stink of sex on him. “The servants could not find you when my time had come but they should have just followed the smell of whores.”

“You- you said you were fine with my extramarital activities.” He huffs, walking alongside you.

“Yes but not when our son was being born.” You hiss and he shakes his head.

“No one came to find me. I would have been there, my love, you know I would have. I didn’t - I didn’t know.” He argues and you shake your head.

“No one could find you because you were in the whorehouses until you brought them back here. I know you know how to not be found. You should’ve checked in first.” You argue, hissing at the way your body aches.

“Please, forgive me. I - we have a son.” He coos, looking at the baby.

“I have a son.” You are angry, disappointed and for the first time since you have been married, tears slide down your cheeks. “Go back to your pleasure, Oberyn.” You tell him hollowly. “There is none to be found here.”

Oberyn stops walking, watching as you waddle back to your chambers, and his heart breaks. He knows you need to have time to process this and he will give it to you. He knows you need to be alone and despite his desire to see his son, he walks back to your old room, deciding to write to Doran and announce the birth of his son and heir.

****

“Daughter, you need to give yourself time-“

You shake your head, your baby sleeping in your arms as you look down at the sleeping child. It has been a week since you have given birth and you have not seen Oberyn once in that time. “I have decided.” You murmur quietly, unwilling to see the disapproval in your father’s eyes. “I wish to go be with Elia. I- I need time away.” You blink back tears and shake your head. “You were right, father. He has broken my heart and I - I need to leave. Please, please send me to my aunt.” She was technically your sister in law as well, but you are begging him as his daughter and not as Oberyn’s wife.

Doran sighs, hating to see the hurt in your eyes and he wishes he could take it away but you created this. He knew his brother would break you eventually, he’d warned you, and you paid him no mind. “Very well. Go. I shall arrange for your transport. Do you wish to bid your husband goodbye before you leave?” Doran asks, wanting you to remain here in Dorne and not allow you in the grasp of the Lannisters.

You shake your head, having already packed your trunks before you ever left Sunspear because you would have hired a ship yourself if your father had not approved. “There is no need.” You straighten your spine despite your heartbreak and try to give your father an unconcerned smile. “No doubt Oberyn has not missed my presence and will have no need for drawn out goodbyes.” You feel slightly guilty for not allowing Oberyn to be around your son, but he had chosen to spend time with others rather than you, and your son was too small to be apart from you.

****

Oberyn growls as he opens another door, unable to find you or his son. When an unsuspecting servant walks past, Oberyn grabs them. “Where the fuck are my wife and son?” He demands to know and the servant shakes at the fury in his eyes.

“They - they are gone, my prince.” He answers and Oberyn narrows his eyes.

“Where the fuck have they gone?” He demands to know.

“To - to King's Landing.” He answers and Oberyn slings him across the hall, making his way to Doran’s quarters.

“You let my wife and son go into that fucking lion’s den?” He growls as he enters, no announcement other than the door slamming against the wall.

Doran looks up from the book he has been reading and sighs as he closes it. “I allowed my daughter, the princess, to go and assist her aunt with her children.” He tells his brother flatly. “To let her heal from the heartbreak of your actions.” He frowns in disapproval, knowing that Oberyn had left you to give birth alone and he was not happy with his younger brother.

“Heartbreak? She hasn’t - she hasn’t allowed me to properly meet my son. She has locked me out because I did what she knew I did. It’s not fair, brother, and now you have let her run away and to be in that cesspool with the Lannisters. It’s bad enough that you let Elia go there. Now I have to worry about my wife and son. Fuck.” Oberyn slams his fist against the wall, furious at himself for allowing this to happen, at Doran for allowing this to happen.

“Your wife suffered her birthing pains alone while you were fucking!” Doran roars, the book in his hand aimed at his brother’s head as he launches it at him. “What if she had died? Alone and calling for you? By all the gods old and new, you should think of something other than your cock!” Doran shakes his head, angry that the bastard had ducked the book. “You will not follow her.” He orders the headstrong brother. “Elia will soothe her heart and send her back when she is ready to forgive the hurt you have done.”

Oberyn glares at Doran, knowing that the order will be enforced if he tries to leave plus he knows you need time. He will write you a letter and have it sent to King's Landing, hoping you will soften and return home sooner rather than later. He hates not having you here where he knows you are safe. He loves you, he truly does, and he knows he has needs, you know this, but he shouldn't have let them interfere with his duty to you. With a sigh, Oberyn nods and makes his way back to his quarters to write his letter.

****

Tears burn your eyes and your throat is thick with emotion, eyes skimming across the ornate scrawl that Oberyn produces when he puts quill to paper. “My sun, my heart is heavy without you in Dorne, the sun in the sky does not shy as brightly as it does with your presence by my side.” You close your eyes and shake your head slightly, not wishing to say something out of bitterness as Elia rocks your son in her arms, listening as you read your husband’s letter aloud. “I was foolish, irresponsibly so and I regret that it caused you the pain and heartache you suffer. I wish to make amends. To have your smile brighten the halls of Sunspear and your laughter to ring out through the Water Gardens again.” You sigh, and lift the paper back up with a trembling hand. “Come home, my Princess. You told me that you wished to be in Dorne and she misses you. I miss you, my love.” You look over at Elia in exasperation. “Am I wrong? Should I have stayed?” You ask, knowing that she and Oberyn had been the closest out of all of them and needing her guidance. She has been a Godsend since your arrival in King’s Landing, even with the current turmoil that echoes in the palace halls.

Elia sighs, looking down at your son who has the same features as his father. “You did what you thought was right for you at the time. If I am honest, I think you should return home. You are needed there and I am certain you wish for this one to be raised in Dorne and not this…this hell.” Elia has confided that she loathes the Red Keep. It’s like a prison and she longs for the warmth of the Dornish sun. “You need to go home, my darling, but selfishly? I wish for you to stay. I barely speak to anyone here. My husband is away…the king loses more of himself every day and I long to keep our children safe…even from him. I wish you could stay but my brother needs you.” Elia smiles sadly.

“Come with me.” You reach out and take her hand, squeezing gently. “Dorne will love to have their princess back for a visit. It will do you good to visit with your brothers.”

Elia shakes her head, “I have a duty to the people as their future queen. I cannot abandon them now. My darling, stay until the end of the week and then I shall arrange travel home for you. Besides, I still have to spoil my nephew rotten.” Elia grins, cooing down at the baby in her arms. “Write to Oberyn. Tell him you shall return home soon and give him hope. Absence makes the heart grow fonder so I am certain I shall have another nephew or niece to dote on by the time I visit Dorne once more.”

****

Screams awaken you in the middle of the night, jolting you from your sleep as you immediately reach for your son in his cradle. The sounds of clashing steel and fighting can be heard in the Bailey below your window and you panicked, throwing on your robe and bundling your son against your chest as you rush out the doors of your chamber to seek Elia. The news of the Baretheon rebellion has grown steadily dire and your ship is set to sail when the sun rises.

Servants scramble in the halls, pushing past you in their haste to flee the danger. Dread pools in your belly, hearing the screams grow louder as you race towards the chambers. They are here, the rebellion has reached the keep and they are coming for all who are in line for the iron throne.

Elia screams, her children clinging to her robes when you come into her chambers. “It’s only me. What’s happening?” You ask, terrified and the baby begins to cry in your arms. “Shhhh.” You coo, rocking him.

“It’s the rebellion. They have breached the Red Keep. My - my - the King will be killed. I have to protect the children. Get into the armoire. With the children.” She orders you and her children.

“Mama!” Her daughter cries but Elia cups her cheeks once you are all inside of the closet.

“It will be alright, my love. Let’s be quiet. We need to be quiet.” She tells her children, looking over at you now that you have gotten your son to settle against your breast. Your heart pounds and you pray to the gods that you will be spared, that Elia and her children will be spared.

You know the chances of Elia and the children being spared if they kill the king are low, that you need to flee in the chaos. “Elia, we need to run. We can make it to the ship. Have them sail now.” You plead with her, knowing it will kill Oberyn and your father if something happens to their beloved sister or her children. “There is a passage.” You know of the secret tunnels. “Let us leave now!”

“I cannot. They will find us in the halls. We are safer here. My darlings, it will be okay. Just let me - let me step out if anyone should come. I may be able to reason with-” The doors are slammed open to her chambers and you squeal, shaking as you wonder who has come in. Foe or friend. The armoire doors are swung open after several moments and you shriek when a mountain of a man grabs Elia by her arm, dragging her out of the wardrobe.

“Leave her alone!” You shout as you scramble out of the wardrobe and stand in front of Elia’s kids where they are huddled in the corner, clutching your son to your chest. “She is the crowned princess!” You are terrified, certain that all of you are going to die right here in these rooms. “Leave now!” You shout. “GUARDS!”

The Mountain shuts the doors and chuckles darkly, withdrawing his sword and you back your aunt and the children towards the window. “Get the fuck out of my way.” He growls, grabbing your arm and throwing you across the room. You grunt, curling your arms around your son, scared that he’s hurt and during that moment to assure yourself that your son is okay, the Mountain grabs Elia. You place your son in the armoire, safe as you rush back towards Elia, trying to protect her but the Mountain flings you across the room once more. “Please! Spare her! They haven’t done anything!” You plead and Elia screams for the guards once more.

You turn from your crumpled position on the ground to watch as Rhaenys, precious little Rhaenys, rushes towards the giant in armor, screaming and beating on his side. Too young to cause any harm to the man, but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing the little girl and lifting the toddler up high before flinging her against the wall. Making Elia scream and clutch Aegon to her chest. “No!” You scream, crawling towards the crumpled body of your niece, unmoving on the stone floor with her neck twisted at an off angle.

Elia cries out in anguish when you try to get Rhaenys to wake up but she’s gone, eyes open and glassy. The young boy - the future king - is clinging to Elia but the mountain grabs him, lifting him up by the neck and with a squeeze of his giant hand, he breaks the boy’s neck, making Elia scream in agony when the man flings the boy down beside his sister. You are shrieking, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look at the children and that’s when horror truly makes your blood run cold.

The Mountain grabs Elia and what happens next makes you vomit. He violates her, raping her while he chokes her, strangling her until she is still and you are frozen. When he is done, he grabs his sword and you retch in horror when he slices her open, her glassy eyes turned towards you. You are shaking, certain that you are next when the mountain wipes his sword on the bed sheets. “I- please. Please.” You choke, begging for your own life and the Mountain walks right past you.

“Return to Dorne, tell those fuckers what happened here. The Lannisters send their regards.”

The Red Keep has descended into complete chaos, screaming and steel clanging all around you. You bundle your son to your chest, hurrying as fast as you can. Bare feet slipping on the bloodied steps of the palace until you finally manage to escape from one of the side doors. Rushing towards the waterfront, towards the boat Elia had arranged for you to return to your husband. Your hands are bloody, the necklace she has been wearing in your hand and you are blinded by the tears as you sob in relief, seeing the swaying masts of the ship that will bear you back to Dorne.

****

The horse’s hooves attract the attention of the palace, the servants immediately approaching the messenger who swings off of his horse and rushes into the palace. When the doors open, Doran and Oberyn look up, both of them in the middle of discussing the harvest festival celebrations when the messenger approaches and hands the letter to Doran.

Oberyn impatiently awaits his brother’s rendition of the letter but the prince pales. “Doran? What is it?” Oberyn frowns and Doran hands him the letter with a shaky hand. Oberyn frowns, taking the letter and his body goes cold when he reads the news that his sister, niece and nephew have been murdered by order of the Lannisters. Robert Baratheon is now king. “She - she’s - oh gods.” Oberyn wants to be sick and his blood boils at the murder of his family. “What about my wife? And my son? Did - there’s no news of them. Is she - is he -? Doran.” He stumbles as he stands up, “I need - I need to go to King's Landing. I need to find them.”

Doran feels sick, his heart breaking at the loss of his sister and her two babies. He knows their deaths had to have been cruel. Otherwise, why would they have put a two year old and one year old to death? “No.”

Oberyn’s head snaps towards Doran and he grits his teeth furiously. “No?” He hisses. “My sister - her children are dead! My wife and son are there.”

Doran shakes his head, knowing that if his brother goes to King’s Landing, he will start another war. “We will wait until there is more news.” He tells his brother. “We will have our maester send a raven to the citadel.”

“I cannot. I will not fucking sit here while my sun…she’s your daughter. Are you not worried? I cannot - I cannot just fucking sit here. If the Lannisters wish for war, I shall single handedly bring it to them. They will pay!” Oberyn roars, anger masking his pain.

“Now is the time for cooler heads.” Oberyn’s temperament has always been one to rush into battle when he is feeling provoked but now is not the time. “We must not make a mistake. For Dorne. I love my daughter and wish she were here safe and sound, but she is not.” He does not mention that it is because of Oberyn that you are not where you belong. “Elia’s body along with the children are being shipped back to Dorne.” He swallows thickly. “Now is the time we mourn.”

“You don’t want revenge? They killed Elia. Her children. We should be sending the fucking Dornish army to their door now. The Lannisters have concocted this scheme. We must retaliate. Now. Brother, please. Do not let them get away with it.” Oberyn pleads, needing the anger to distract him from the pain of not knowing your status.

“We would be sending our army to their deaths without proof.” Doran rationalizes. “I am angry. I am sad.” He swallows harshly and shakes his head. “Still, it is my duty to do what is best for Dorne, not just the Martells.”

“Fuck your duty. Fuck Dorne. This is our family and you, as usual, don’t do anything to avenge us. Doran, you - you disappoint me once again. I shall have my own revenge.” Oberyn promises and growls as he makes his way through the halls, staff avoiding him as he shoves open the doors to your chambers, burying his face in your pillow as he allows himself to cry, to mourn, and to pray that you and his son are safe.

****

“My Princess, we will be docking at Sunspear within the hour.” The nervous deck hand waits for you to turn your head, to give some clue that you have heard him, but you just stare at the city as it grows closer every second that ticks by.

It has been a long week. One that you can recall every second of and none at all. A shadow of yourself as you cling to your son and try to banish the images of Elia and her children’s deaths from your mind. Still wearing your nightgown that you had been wearing when you fled the Red Keep, no women’s clothes on board and what little clothing they could spare was used for your son’s nappies.

The spires of the palace loom in the distance and you wonder if Oberyn will blame you for not saving Elia, or maybe he will blame you for not dying with her.

When the horn sounds that the boat is docking with Elia and the children’s remains, Oberyn makes his way to the dock, wanting to see the caskets and he has been pulling his hair out for a week, trying to find word of your status. Whether you were alive or dead. He has to know. When he sees you stumble down the ramp of the boat, his eyes widen. “My sun!” He shouts, running towards you and he wraps you in his arms, the baby between you as he holds you close.

“Oberyn.” You gasp when you feel his arms around you, wanting to close your eyes and melt into his safe embrace but you cannot. “She’s dead, Oberyn. Elia- the kids, they are dead!” You sob, breaking down for the first time since that horrible night. “I- I could not stop him!”

“It’s okay, my love. It’s okay. You’re safe. You are both safe.” He feels relieved despite the fact that his sister is dead. He has you. He hasn’t lost you. “You’re alive.” He chokes, tears stinging in his eyes and he pulls back so he can cup your cheeks, looking into your eyes. “It’s okay. You couldn’t - there’s nothing you could do. It’s okay. You’re home.”

“I was- the baby- he lifted her and threw her against the wall-“ you babble in a near panic. “She- oh gods Oberyn, her neck- she was gone and then the sweet little one- he-“ your voice cracks. “They were gone and then he raped her! He raped her on the bodies of her children!” You shriek. “I couldn’t stop him! I couldn’t- he- he raped her and then he killed her like she was nothing!”

“Ssshhh.” Oberyn coos, bringing you into his chest, “it’s not your fault. You couldn’t do anything, my love. Let’s calm down and let me take you inside the palace. You need to be in your home.” He murmurs, kissing your hair and he leans back to look down at the baby. “Gods. He has grown.” Oberyn leans down to kiss his son’s head. Fury beats in his chest, but that will not help you heal right now, looking like you are about to expire on your feet.

You don’t understand why he is not upset, why he is not furious with you. Your sobs give way to hiccups and you let Oberyn lead you away from the ship, the caskets containing the bodies of your family slowly being raised up from the hold to be transported to the castle. You step onto the hot sands of Dorne with your bare feet and you sigh softly, happy to feel it after what has happened.

Oberyn rubs your back as he guides you back into the palace, everyone looking at you since you are still wearing your nightdress. “Obbaron is safe. You are safe, my sun. The gods have answered my prayers.” Oberyn is relieved and he is sad but selfish, happy you are safe and home…finally.

In the palace, you are stripped out of your filthy and ragged nightgown and placed in a large, lovely bath. You refuse to let your son out of your sight, making the servant tut and disappear to tell on you to Oberyn. You can’t let him go right now.

Oberyn heard of your insistence that Obbaron be in your arms in the bath and he makes his way to your chambers after he asked for some food to be sent to you. “My sun, let me take him while you bathe.” Oberyn says as he walks in, eager to see the son he barely got a chance to hold before you left for Kings Landing.

You hesitate, almost refusing but you know that Obbaron will be safe in his father’s arms. The servants have all disappeared, leaving the bathing room and you nod after a moment, letting Oberyn come and take your son from your arms. “Be careful.” You choke out before you can stop yourself, even though you know it is foolish. Watching the children being struck down in front of you has affected you, making you tear up again as you step into the large pool of water. Your husband has seen you naked before, even if he did not wish to see you that way anymore - you would not hide yourself.

Oberyn watches you get into the bath and he can’t believe how beautiful you are. Even when wrecked with grief, you are still the most gorgeous woman he has even seen. He rocks the baby, looking down at his beautiful son and he leans down to kiss his forehead, thanking the gods that you are both okay.

You groan as you sink into the water, relieved to be able to clean yourself again after a week on ship. It’s selfish, wanting something like this when your poor aunt will never take another breath. Making you close your eyes so you don’t cry again before you pick up the cake of perfumed soap to start scrubbing every inch of your body, needing to feel clean again.

“I’ve missed you.” Oberyn confesses, knowing that now he needs to be completely honest. Life is too short. He needs you. “I love you. So much. I’ve missed you every single day since you’ve been gone.” He admits, “and our beautiful son.” He looks down at Obbaron.

You snort softly, not disbelieving him completely but finding it hard to believe that he had spent the last months pining for you. “I am sure you found comfort somewhere.” You murmur softly, relaxing into the bath. “I cannot believe for a moment that my husband was celibate while I was gone.”

Oberyn snorts, “alas my cock could not get hard for anyone other than you during your absence. Perhaps your departure forced me to reconsider what is important to me and I know now that I cannot live without you. You are - you are my world and I refuse to live in a world where you do not exist. I was - if you were dead…” He trails off, unable to put the thoughts into words. “I love you. It’s always been you and I need you. More than even I thought possible.”

“You fucking other people did not upset me.” You tell him, your voice level and sure. You have had a lot of time to think about why you were so furious and heartbroken when you discovered Oberyn in your old chambers with others. “If I had not been carrying Obbaron I might have joined in.”

Oberyn frowns, knowing you had discussed sharing your bed prior to your marriage, deciding to wait until after you had given birth. “You were upset that I chose to fuck over being by your side.” He states and you nod, knowing it seems foolish now. Most men do not come to their wife’s bedside during birth. “I do not wish to share a bed unless you are involved.” He tells you, knowing he made that decision as soon as the guilt hit him. He wants to be fully invested in this marriage and your pleasure is his pleasure.

You eye him in surprise, shocked that he would say that, but Oberyn seems sincere. Your heart melts slightly and you give a small nod. “I have missed you.” You confess. “Elia had- I was due to sail for Dorne just that next morning. To return to you.” It seems important that he knows you didn’t come home just because of the rebellion and his sister’s murder. You blink back tears and swallow heavily. “I wish I had been able to return like that. Simply because I wished to.”

Oberyn's heart aches, wishing that had been the case but it's not and his entire body yearns for vengeance. "Me too." He whispers, looking down at his son once more who has fallen asleep against his chest, exposed by the gapping in his robes. "My sun...I - I haven't slept. I haven't eaten. My worry that you - I didn't know if you were alive or dead. It was destroying me to not know and yet I lived in fear of knowing in case you -" He chokes, unable to speak the words.

You shuffle to the edge, reaching for Oberyn and stroking his arm as he holds your son. “We are here, safe with you, where we belong.” Your eyes slide down to your sleeping son and you give a soft smile. “He is comfortable with you already, he knows his father.”

Oberyn smiles sadly, “you both should’ve been here the entire time. Not just - not just now. He should know his father. I don’t blame you for leaving, my sun, but I want you to know I missed you every single day you were gone. I love you. And him. I don’t wish to lose you again.”

It’s what you want to hear, all you wanted although you don’t wish to hold Oberyn in a cage. “I love you, my prince. I am willing to share you, as long as no one else comes before me.”

"For now, I wish to have my wife. Tonight, I want you. To worship you and show you how much I love you. Tomorrow, we mourn my sister and her children. In time, I will have my revenge but tonight, I want to make love to my wife." He declares, his dark eyes focused on you.

Guilt settling over you, you look away, knowing you need to be honest with your husband. You couldn’t have known that he had decided to be celibate since you had boarded a ship for King’s Landing. “I must confess something to you.” You whisper. “I have had several in my bed while I was at the Red Keep. All women.” You assure him. “I did not want to risk carrying another man’s child while I am married to you, but I found pleasure in others.”

Oberyn’s cock twitches as he thinks of you in bed with other women. He can’t blame you for it. You are doing what he did but you had left, decided to leave him and go to Elia. He cannot be angry with you. “My sun, I do not blame you for seeking pleasure. I wouldn’t have minded watching.” He chuckles before his smile falls, his eyes meeting yours. “Would you have come home? If Elia…would you have come home?”

“I was already coming home to you.” You give him a bittersweet smile. “Elia told me that selfishly she wished me to stay but that her brother needed me more than she did. Her last days were- they were as peaceful as they could be.” You assure him. “We talked of Dorne and she was making plans to come home for a visit.” You bite your lip. “I wish I had convinced her to come with me. To just leave a few days earlier.”

Oberyn swallows harshly, “it wasn’t your fault my love. It was - the Lannisters. They will pay. I vow they will pay. Elia…gods bless her soul…she was stubborn like all Martell’s so I doubt you could’ve done anything to make her leave. Do not blame yourself.”

You relax, happy that Oberyn does not blame you. You look at the babe in his arms and you wish that things are different but they are not. The only thing you can do is move forward. “Lay the baby in the cradle.” You urge him, suddenly in need of your husband. “Join me in the bath. I need to feel you.”

Oberyn nods, shifting to stand up now the baby is asleep and he gently places him in the cradle across the room before he works on removing his robes and breeches. Once he is naked, he strides over to the bathtub and you shift forward to allow him to get in behind you. As soon as he is in, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you back into his chest, groaning at the feel of you in his arms. Finally.

You moan softly, leaning back against his chest and closing your eyes. It’s the first time in over a week that you truly feel safe. Relaxing against him and letting the silence fall between you. There is much more that needs to be said, but right now you just want your husband to hold you. “I love you.” You whisper softly, knowing that it would always be that way. It would always be Oberyn.

Oberyn caresses your arms, kissing your neck and he sighs, “I love you too,” into your skin. He breathes you in, relieved to have you in his arms again and he caresses every inch he can touch, just wanting to feel you and reassure himself that you are here.

You feel his hands start to roam over your body. Caressing and squeezing you, reassuring himself that you are in his arms. Turning your head, your lips graze his jaw, pressing kisses to his thin line of a beard that frames his face. “I want you.” You murmur softly, already feeling the first pangs of arousal.

“Are you sure?” He murmurs, not wanting to push you if you aren’t ready. You’ve experienced horrors that men at war see and he doesn’t want to push you. He has lost so much, he can’t lose you too. He needs you to fucking breathe. “My sun, tell me what you want.”

“I want to feel alive.” You whimper, grabbing his hands and bringing them up to your still nursing breasts. He doesn’t squeeze harshly, but you moan when his thumbs brush over your hard nipples. “I want to banish the images in my mind and replace them with my husband fucking me.”

Oberyn understands what you mean. Some of his whoring ways are the result of the horrific memories of the battlefield. Nights spent with lovers distract from the things he had seen. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” He orders but kisses along your neck, his fingers plucking your nipples and your responsive moan has his cock twitching against your back.

“Yessss.” You moan and tilt your head back so that you are leaning against his shoulder. “Touch me Oberyn.” You beg, eyes slipping closed as you let him play your body like an instrument.

Oberyn caresses your chest, his lips tracing your neck and shoulders until his hands dip lower. Caressing your stomach that carried his child and he secretly wishes to see you round again, do it properly this time. His fingers dip lower, playing with the curls above your cunt until he finally, finally, presses his finger to your clit.

Gasping, your legs thrash in the water as Oberyn starts to rub your clit. Pressing firmly and stroking you just like you need as you groan in his arms. This is what you need, to be surrounded by him, his scent in your nose as you kiss his pulse. Mindless to everything but the way he is making you feel. “Yes, Oberyn, yess.” You pant softly.

He groans, kissing along your neck as his cock hardens against your back, his fingers rubbing your clit and he wants you to cum just like this. “I love you. My sun. My wife. My love.” He coos, “cum for me.” He murmurs, breathing you in after being apart for so long.

It doesn’t take long, just a few more minutes of his magical fingers against your clit and you are crying out. Shuddering against him while he pushes you through pleasure until your chest is heaving and you are breathless. “Inside me.” You push his hand away and turn over, wanting to ride your husband in the bath. “Need you inside me.”

His hands immediately grip your hips, dragging you close so you are hovering over him and his lips immediately around your nipple, biting and sucking while he reaches down to position himself at your entrance. “Ride my cock. I want you to make yourself cum.” He orders, cupping your cheek while he kisses up your chest.

The only thing he is wearing is his chain with the family crest. Wrapping it up on your fist, you sink down onto his cock with a moan. All the fingers in the world will never feel as good as his cock. “Fuck, Oberyn.”

He watches you, dark eyes getting even darker as he watches you sink down onto his cock, your silk walls gripping him like no one else can. You’re gorgeous and his wife. “Fuck, my love. You always feel so good. Such a tight little cunt.” He coos, gripping your chin to make you look at him.

He is the only man you have let in your body and he knows it better than anyone. His cock spearing up into your deliciously and you clench around him at the lust in his eyes. “Your cunt.” You promise, grinding down onto him and swiveling your hips to make you moan. “Fill me up Oberyn.” You plead softly, looking into his dark eyes that are reflective in the child you made together. “I want to feel you for days.”

He growls, suddenly feeling desperate after he could’ve lost you from his own stupidity. His arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you against him, his cock thrusting up into you to make the water spill off the sides of the tub. “Should have never let you go. Should’ve worshiped you so you didn’t leave.” He murmurs against your mouth.

Whimpering, you turn into his kiss, sliding your tongue into his mouth and your hand curls around the back of his neck. Moaning every time he thrusts up into you, it becomes a symphony of mewls and panted breaths as he rocks his hips up frantically.

Your breath mingles with his and his hands are everywhere, sliding down to squeeze your ass, pulling you into him to help you rock on his cock as he thrusts up into you. “Gods, I love you.” He groans, his lips attached to your neck and he sucks to leave a bruise beneath the skin.

“I love you.” You pant, closing your eyes and tangling your fingers into his hair as you rock up and down on his length. Rolling your hips faster as need builds and you know that you’re going to cum soon. “Please- oh fuck, I’m so close.”

Oberyn immediately presses his fingers to your clit, rubbing it harshly while he leans closer to press his lips to yours. “Cum for me, my sun.” He orders against your mouth, his cock twitching inside of you as his own orgasm nears.

It’s so good, blinding pleasure crashes over you as you buck in his arms. Gasping and crying out when your walls clamp down around him as you soak his already wet cock with a torrent of your juices, barely able to rock on him as your thighs shake.

Oberyn’s fingers dig deep into your ass, working you on his cock while he seeks his own climax. Your walls flutter around his cock, gripping him, and he hisses when you lean forward to bite down on his jaw. “Cum.” You plead and it sends him over the edge. His cock buried deep as he thrusts up into you, painting your walls with his hot seed.

You whine at the heat flooding your womb, leaning in and kissing him gently. “I love you so much.” You promise, pressing your lips to his between words. “My prince, my husband.”

“My princess. My world.” He vows, pulling you close and you giggle at the water that splashed onto the floor. “Leave it. It will be dried.” He tells you and kisses your nose then your forehead. “I - I shall thank the gods you have returned to me.”

****

“You are lovely.” You look in the mirror at the beautiful woman that had been assigned to be your handmaid while you are going through your second pregnancy. “What is your name?” Her fingers are still where they are braiding your hair and her dark, kohl lined eyes look up to meet yours. You know her name, but you wish to talk candidly and to ask questions is the obvious choice to begin. To show interest.

“Ellaria, my princess.” The woman smiles, her expression is soft and you instantly feel attracted to her.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” You coo and Ellaria flusters. You take her hand and bring it to your lips, kissing her palm and she inhales sharply.

“Not as beautiful as you, my princess.” She responds breathlessly.

She is perfect for your bed. You haven’t missed the way that Oberyn’s gaze followed her when she was introduced and you find her most attractive. “Tell me Ellaria,” you turn and look her in the eyes. “How would you feel about joining Oberyn and I in our chambers tonight?” You ask, smirking slightly at the idea of surprising your husband.

Ellaria’s eyes widen but she smirks, after a moment. “I would be honored to join you and the prince, my princess.” She answers, her fingers caressing your neck and shoulders and you shiver in delight. She finishes your hairstyle and leans down to kiss your cheek. “I shall count the moments until I can be in your bed.” She murmurs and you turn your head to press your lips to hers, wanting to kiss her before tonight. You are impatient.

Her lips are soft, sweet as you reach up and cup her cheek. Deepening the kiss and sliding your tongue into Ellaria’s mouth, you push up to your feet so you can stand with her and hold onto her hips as she starts to kiss you back.

Ellaria caresses your back, her tongue sliding against yours when the doors open and Oberyn strides in. His eyebrows raise and he chuckles. “Looks like my princess is being well looked after.” He grins and slides up behind you, kissing your neck. “Have you asked her, my sun?” He murmurs in your ear, his hands gripping your waist.

You pout slightly that your plans have been ruined but you turn and press your lips to his when you break the kiss from Ellaria. “I had hoped to surprise you.” You huff slightly, nodding and turning back to the servant with a smile. “As you can tell, both the prince and I are eager for you to join us.”

Ellaria flusters, a smile on her face as she leans back to look at you and your husband. “Please let me pleasure you both. I want to please my prince and princess.”

Oberyn smirks, reaching out to cup her cheek, “let us pleasure the princess. She is carrying my child and I am certain that your tongue on her clit would help her relax.”

You moan at the idea and nod, biting your lip. “Why don’t you show Ellaria how wonderful your cock is while she devours my cunt?” You suggest. “I know you have not been able to fuck me as hard as you wish and I think our girl will enjoy screaming your name.”

Oberyn’s cock twitches at the thought. You’ve already discussed him fucking others and you have given your permission for him to cum inside the ones you like. Ellaria was included in that consent. “Strip my beautiful wife out of her robes before you follow suit and show me how beautiful the female form can be. I want to worship at the altar of two gorgeous cunts.” Oberyn coos as he begins to strip off his own clothes.

You give a small, excited giggle as Ellaria moans quietly and you let her guide you toward the large round bed. “He’s got a wonderful cock and his fingers are magical.” You promise her while she pulls at the thin ties of your robes to pull them off your rounded body.

Her hands are deft, quickly undressing you and her hands caress your bump for a moment before she begins to remove her own clothes. When she’s naked, you turn back towards your husband. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? A true Dornish gem.” You coo, reaching out to cup her breast and Oberyn loves seeing you so free. “She’s perfect for us. Ellaria, lay my princess down and suck on her sore tits while I push my fingers inside of your cunt.”

It takes you a moment to get comfortable but soon you are on your back and Ellaria’s lips are pressed to your skin, kissing up your side before she wraps her lips around your nipple. “Oh!” Your back arches and you cry out in pleasure, your breasts so sensitive since your pregnancy. “Fuck, Oberyn, make her feel-feel good.” You order your husband as he kneels on the bed behind her.

Oberyn groans at the sight of Ellaria bent over as she sucks on your tits and that makes him eager to lean down and slide his tongue through her folds, making her moan out in delight around your breast. You caress her side, eyes closed as you enjoy her hot mouth and you can hear your husband’s tongue diving into her cunt.

The sounds of pleasure fill your chambers, licking and sucking accompanying muffled moans. Your fingers stroke Ellaria’s cheek and through her hair while she sucks in your breasts. “How does she taste?” You ask Oberyn, knowing that she must be delicious, kissing her had been wonderful. “My sun, she is tangy and sweet like your favorite Dornish wine.” Oberyn praises as he lifts his head to wink at you over her shoulder. “When you taste her, you will hate to pull away.”

You grin, “I can’t wait. My handmaid shall be spoiled by us. Her cunt will never be without pleasure.” You promise and Ellaria moans, kissing down your stomach, over your bump until she is between your thighs. Oberyn shifts to accommodate her and he kneels behind Ellaria, knowing she’s wet enough to take him so when her tongue slides through your folds, he pushes into her with a deep groan.

Her moan makes your entire core clench. Vibrating through you wonderfully and your fingers tangle in her hair, your eyes watching your husband’s face as she obviously clenches around him. He looks gorgeously wrecked and you don’t feel jealous, instead you are eager for him to rock into her. Ellaria’s tongue slides through your folds and flicks against your clit.

“How does her tongue feel, my love?” Oberyn asks, his hands gripping Ellaria’s waist as he rocks into her a little harder, sending her tongue deeper into your cunt. “Incredible.” You sigh, shifting to look down at Ellaria as her face is buried in your cunt and you look up to meet the eyes of your husband. “Fuck, you look gorgeous, my sun.”

The three of you work closer to orgasm together. Moaning when Oberyn thrusts into your handmaid and pushes her tongue deeper inside your cunt. You rock your hips up to meet her eager tongue and your hands cup your breasts, toying with your nipples.

Oberyn wants you to cum and Ellaria to cum before he does. Reaching over your handmaid, he presses his thumb to your clit while Ellaria’s tongue dives deep. “Cum for us, my sun.” He orders, his dark eyes meeting yours.

Your eyes slip closed and you cry out, your thighs pressing against Ellaria’s head while you come apart. Heedless to everything but your pleasure as she licks into you.

Ellaria works you through it, her head knocking against Oberyn’s hand until his thumb finds her clit, rubbing it to push her over the edge when his cock twitches inside of her, his orgasm nearing. “Cum for us, sweetness.” He coos, bending over to kiss her shoulder.

You can tell the second she starts to cum. Oberyn gently bites her shoulder and her entire body stiffens. Crying out loudly, it’s the sweetest sound you have heard mixed with Oberyn’s groan. He rocks into her faster, his hips slamming against her ass he fucks her through her high and chases his own. “Cum baby.” You order Oberyn. “Fill her up. I want to see your seed drip from her gorgeous cunt.”

Oberyn clenches his jaw, sweat beading on his brow as he rocks into Ellaria, her cunt dripping from her orgasm and it only takes a few thrusts before he is cumming, painting her walls with his seed. “Fuck.” He pants, eyes closed until he forces himself to look at you, see your expression as his cock pulses inside of your handmaid.

You smirk as you watch the two of them. Reaching out and caressing her cheek where her chin is resting on your hip. “Beautiful.” You coo softly, watching Oberyn as he watches you. “How was your first experience with the Prince?” You ask her curiously.

“Exquisite, my princess.” Ellaria declares breathlessly.

“Good. I would like you to share our bed. I will require pleasure in the lead up to birth and my husband shall require a beautiful cunt to lose himself in. Would you be interested in being that woman?” Oberyn smirks at your question, pleased to see how you own your pleasure now without embarrassment or hesitancy.

Ellaria’s eyes widen and she twists, looking back and forth between you and Oberyn, who just pulled out of her cunt and moves to settle down beside you and strokes your stomach. He arches an eyebrow at her with a smirk and she flusters. She had been days away from seeking out the brothels to work before she had been brought to the palace to be your handmaid. Now she was being presented with something beyond her wildest dreams. “I do not know what to say.” She admits quietly and you don’t want to push her, but you want her to say yes. “It is thrilling to know that you would want me that way, but if you should grow bored?” She doesn’t want to be on the streets again, worrying about what food will fill her belly.

“If that day ever comes, you would still have a place in our household.” You look over at Oberyn who nods seriously.

Ellaria bites her lip, looking at you and the prince, and it’s easy to make her decision. “Very well. I would be honored to be in your bed every night. Whatever you wish of me, it is yours.” Ellaria promises and you shake your head.

“Only what you wish, too. We will not force you to do something you do not wish to do. We are all about pleasure, aren’t we my love?” You coo at Oberyn, caressing his chest and he nods.

“Very much so. I only want pleasure. No pain.” He murmurs, his eyes meeting yours and he swears he falls for you again, unable to believe this strong woman is his wife. It’s incredible to watch after knowing you as a shy young woman.

You smile at Oberyn, unable to resist kissing him again before you reach for Ellaria. “Only pleasure. And you will be treated with respect.” You promise her, unwilling to tolerate anything else. “The prince will simply have a princess and a paramour who he can have together without there being any harsh words.”

Ellaria nods, grinning as she cannot believe how lucky she is to be able to share a bed with the prince and princess. Her birth into poverty has not held her back and she is determined to ensure she remains by your side for a long time, pleasuring you and serving you as your handmaid. “Let us wash up and we shall get some food. I want some berries then I want to fuck my wife while she makes her beautiful handmaid cum with her tongue.” Oberyn smirks, eager to fuck again.

****

“You look exquisite, my love.” You coo, reaching up and caressing Ellaria’s cheek before you adjust one of her braids. “Perfectly matched and stunning.” The deep plunging V of her dress is shocking for the women of the North, but it matches the low neckline and high slits in the skirts of your own dress. Both of you dressed to accompany Oberyn to the wedding of Joffrey.

“You are anxious, my love.” Ellaria coos, walking over to Oberyn whose back is tense as he looks out of the window to the streets of Flea Bottom. “I hate being here. With those bastards that killed my darling sister. I yearn for blood.” He growls, tensing when Ellaria’s hand touches his back.

You had refused to stay in the Red Keep, not wanting to return to the very rooms that Elia had been killed in before your eyes. Despite the years that have passed, you feel as strongly as Oberyn. You join the two of them and lean over to kiss your husband's cheek on the other side of him so that both of you flank him. “They will pay. The Lannisters may have dealt us a blow, but we will make sure their house is ground to dust and forgotten.”

Oberyn clenches his jaw, nodding in response and he hisses when he imagines getting his revenge finally. It’s been years since Elia was killed but he’s desperate for vengeance. “The Lannisters…I will kill every last one of them.” He vows and turns his head to press his lips to yours. He grabs Ellaria, dragging her closer so she can press her lips to yours too, the three of you entangled.

You moan into the kiss, your hand on your lover’s hip. Both of you will need to keep Oberyn calm and keep him from acting rashly. He was hot headed sometimes but with both of you by his side, he can be reasoned with. Together, all three of you will raze the house of golden lions to the ground.

****

The wedding was boring like all royal weddings, lengthy and tedious but when you attend the reception, Oberyn is eager to sip the wine and feast on the berries Ellaria is feeding him. You can feel eyes on you, so many are unused to seeing a prince and princess with a paramour in King's Landing where lovers remain banished to the shadows. “Lover, shall we take a stroll?” You ask Ellaria, wanting Oberyn to have a moment with the young knight who is eying him from across the way. Perhaps tonight, another shall join you in your chambers.

Smirking, you nod and lean over to press your lips to Oberyn’s lips before you stand. Moving over beside Ellaria, you link your arm through hers happily and pick up your goblet to carry with you. You had specially asked for watered down wine discreetly, not wanting Oberyn to worry about your secret for now. “Let us go make scandalous conversation with the noble ladies here.” You tease with a joyous smirk. They would not dare insult you to your face as the princess of Dorne.

Ellaria grins, happy to be beside you and support you during this time of torment, the dreaded capital, and the Lannisters. “I didn’t know the Dornish were so accommodating to their whores.” Cersei approaches and you stiffen your back, staring at the queen.

“I didn’t know the Lannisters were so accommodating to murderers.” You counter, glancing over at the Mountain who is striding past, watching over the king.

“My princess. Come, let us walk. You do not need the stress.” Ellaria says, caressing your arm and you glare at the queen before Oberyn joins you, wrapping his arm around your waist, his own jaw clenched. “Cersei. The queen mother as you are now.” He quips, narrowing his eyes when Tywin approaches behind his daughter.

Cersei’s eyes narrow back at Oberyn before she plasters a fake smile on her face. “Tell me,” she hums, turning towards you, “how do you stand the whispers as you walk around merrily with your husband’s whore. She’s birthed four? It’s it four? Bastards?”

Oberyn narrows his eyes before he chuckles, looking up at Tywin. “I suppose four bastards are better than keeping it in the family, isn’t that right, Lord Tywin?” He quips, making Cersei’s smile drop.

Tywin is cool as he responds, “you should know all about that, marrying your niece after all.” Oberyn’s hand twitches with the urge to stab the older man but your grip on his other arm has him pausing.

You give Tywin a smile that tinges on acidic. “While I might have been the Prince’s niece by marriage, at least we can be sure that there is no common blood.” You tsk and shake your head before you glance at his daughter. “It is a wonder that the King and all the Baratheon children inherited the golden locks of the Lannisters. Almost as if dear Robert’s seed was impotent.”

Cersei hisses through her teeth and the urge to slap you is great but people are watching so she maintains her composure. "Lannisters just have stronger characteristics." She counters, "but my late husband adored the golden locks of our children." She declares expertly and Oberyn scoffs.

"Perhaps those characteristics are best left in this generation. Your son has chosen a bride with whom he shares no blood relation...a blessing for the kingdoms." Oberyn stabs, making Tywin clench his jaw.

“Indeed.” You smirk as you lift your cup to your lips, nodding at the queen mother as you take a small sip. Grimacing slightly at the bitterness of the wine. “Pity that the king's wedding did not merit casks of good wine to be opened.” You cough, shaking your head slightly.

Ellaria frowns, watching you cough more and Oberyn grows concerned when you start to wheeze. "What - what is happening?" He cries, "my love. Breathe!" He orders, slapping you on the back but you continue to choke, your face contorted. "Maester. Someone get a maester. She - she is with child!" Oberyn shouts, growing more panicked by the second.

Clawing at your throat, you hear the panic and commotion around you, the cruel ring of Joffrey’s laugh as you struggle to breathe. “Dornish bitches cannot handle good wine.” He scoffs, black dots appearing in your vision as you vaguely watch as he swipes his own goblet up and takes a large gulp, as if to prove he is superior.

Oberyn catches you as you collapse, his heart pounding and he tries to tell you to breathe. He begs you to breathe but you rasp and soon enough, you go still. Oberyn shakes you, “please my love. Wake up. Breathe.” He pleads as your glassy eyes stare at him, blood dripping from your mouth and his following roar of anguish can be heard across to Flea Bottom.

Joffrey starts to sputter and choke, drawing attention away from your prone form. Grasping his throat and turning purple as he tries to breathe. Making the smirk on Cersei’s face fall as she screams, rushing from her spot standing over you to where the king has collapsed.

Oberyn doesn't give a fuck that the king is suffering the same fate. His body cradles yours as he wails in agony of losing you. You are the sun in his sky, the air he breathes. He chokes, "please, my sun, come back to me." He begs and Ellaria is kneeling beside him, cupping your cheek as she begs you to wake up too.

****

“Please, my love.” Ellaria reaches for Oberyn’s arm, trying to gently coax him away from your body. “The maester needs to close the casket so it can be loaded up onto the ship.” Her red-rimmed eyes speaks of her anguish and heartbreak as she looks down at your still form. “She wants to go home, to be buried in the sands of Dorne.”

Oberyn can’t tear himself away from you. The grief weighs him down every single step he takes. His vengeance threatens to overwhelm him but he knows he cannot risk Ellaria. He has already lost so much. He has to return home and then form a plan for his revenge. Perhaps he can meet the Targaryen he has heard whispers about, assist her with her fight for the Iron Throne. “I love you, my sun.” He whispers, leaning down to kiss your lips before he allows the maester to close the casket. “What shall we do without her, Ellaria? She is - was my entire sun. Now my days are dark.”

“We will go back and hug your babies.” Ellaria whispers softly. She knows that Oberyn loves her, just like you had loved her, but there was a special bond between you and the prince. “And plot our vengeance.”

“The baby.” Oberyn chokes, “she was - she was with child again.” He swallows harshly, barely processing how much he has lost. The love of his life and a child. His other children, twelve in total, are safe in Dorne but he mourns his loss. “I - I am not sure I can live without her. How are you- you appear to be stronger than me.”

Ellaria shakes her head. “No, I am weeping on the inside but I know she would want me to be strong for you.” She murmurs, staring at the casket as the Dornish soldiers had traveled here with you, start to carry your casket to the ship. “She had not announced she was pregnant yet, how did you know?”

Oberyn smiles wistfully, “I know her. Her breasts were sore and she came quicker than normal. She couldn’t hide it from me. I knew she was with child.” He chokes, tears in his eyes as he looks at his lover, your lover. “Let us get on this ship before I do something stupid like rush into the Red Keep and slay every Lannister I see.”

Ellaria wraps her arm around Oberyn’s waist and the two of them lead a mournful procession of Dornish soldiers as they trail behind the cart loaded down with your body.

Once they are on board, the casket is laid in place and Oberyn walks over to run his fingers along the wood. He will ensure you have a proper casket when you return to Dorne. He leans down to press a kiss where your face would be when he hears the pounding. “Gods.” He frowns, “Ellaria. Come here. Do you - can you hear that?” He asks, wondering if it’s his imagination

Sobbing, you beat against the box you are in. This was not supposed to have happened. Waking up in darkness with little room to move, you had cried out until your sore voice had given way. Certain that you are in hell and that the gods are punishing you as you continue to try to get someone’s attention. The noise of the cart and horses, the docks and the men are loud, muffling your cries for help. “I’m alive!” You scream, your voice cracking. “Open it! I’m alive in here!”

Ellaria’s eyes widen. “She’s awake! My prince, she’s awake!”

Oberyn’s eyes widen back and he waves over the guards. “Open this fucking casket now! Now!” He demands and the men rush over. They all work to pry open the box and when the lid is removed, Oberyn inhales sharply when he sees your beautiful eyes meeting his, wincing from the light. “Oh my sun. You’re alive.” Oberyn reaches out to grab you, lifting you out of the casket and into his arms, his lips kissing you all over as he sobs in relief that you are alive.

You gasp in the sweet fresh air of the docks, salty and clean. Squinting your eyes against the harsh sunlight, you feel Oberyn’s arms around you and his prayerful kisses in relief. It hadn’t been supposed to happen this way and it chills you to think that you could have been locked in that box until there was no air. You couldn’t warn Oberyn, not if it had to be believable. “It worked.” You hadn’t expected to be out for as long as you were, but you hadn’t died and that was all that mattered.

“You - you were dead. Poisoned. I- fuck- we thought we had lost you.” Ellaria comes to kneel down, wrapping her arms around you and Oberyn, her own tears wetting your gown. “You’re alive. My princess. We thought -” She chokes and Oberyn kisses your forehead. “We thought you were dead. I’m so sorry, my love. We shouldn’t - the Maester declared that you were dead.”

You reach up and caress Oberyn’s face, turning to kiss Ellaria gently. “It is okay, my loves. You did not know.” You assure them, turning and kissing Oberyn fiercely. “Tell me that it worked.” You can see his brow knit together in confusion. Looking around and lowering your voice, you whisper, “tell me a Lannister is dead. Their cups were poisoned.”

Oberyn frowns, wondering what you mean until he remembers the death of Joffrey. “My love. Joffrey…he’s dead.” He declares, “he’s dead and he - you - you took the same wine to poison it? What if - it could’ve killed you. I thought it did.” He chokes, pressing his forehead against yours. “Why did you do that?” He demands to know, not wanting to believe that you did something so stupid yet so genius.

“To avenge my dear Elia, to repay them for the anguish that they have brought to our family.” You give a small giggle, pleased that you had taken out the king - the one that would hurt their egos and house the most. “Forgive me for not telling you.” You beg, looking from Oberyn to Ellaria. “I knew you would not let me go through with it if you knew. My plan was to drink only a little and get sick so there were no doubts cast on our house. I have been exposing myself to the poison over the last few weeks to build up a tolerance.”

Oberyn pulls you even closer, “you silly woman. What - the baby - you aren’t - you aren’t with child?” He asks, confusion on his face as he wonders why you’ve been so off lately. You’ve been a genius, seeking revenge in a way that no one would know but he prays you are okay after the maester inspects you.

You shake your head gently and reach out to cup his cheek. “I would never put your child in danger.” You promise him. “My symptoms were because of the poison and the antidote I was using.” You explain. “I am sorry I worried you. I was hoping more of those bastards would drink. But at least we can know we took her son from her and her daughter prefers living in Dorne.”

Oberyn kisses your forehead, relieved that you are okay. “Do not fret, my love. We will ensure you are with child soon enough.” He chuckles, “I am just relieved you are well. I could not live without my sun. Gods…I adore you.” He vows, cupping your cheeks as he presses his lips to yours, sweet and chaste in a reminder that you are okay.

You smile, reaching out to cup your husband’s cheek and you reach out to take Ellaria’s hand with your free one. “I love you.” You murmur to them both. “They have learned that Lannisters are not the only ones who pay their debts.”

Oberyn kisses your forehead. “No, the Martells get their revenge.” He responds, unable to believe he’s married to such a formidable woman. He could never live without you, ever. You are everything to him. You always have been. You are the light of his life. His sun.

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