#pauldronsexual activity

[pauldron-pieces]

Destrier Revel: Worth The Wait

Fandom: Dungeons And Dragons (5E)

Pairing: Destrier Revel/Illeria Stennas (F!NPC)

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: This is a hypothetical narrative scenario featuring original characters in a world created by my Dungeon Master. As usual, this is non-canon and I own nothing aside from intellectual properties specifically attached to Destrier Revel. This installment is mechanically unsound in a multitude of ways and ignores certain important lore facets.

Trigger warnings are listed inside. Enjoy!

Taglist: @sporadic-fics and @cookiethewriter!

Inspired By: Josh Groban: When You Say You Love Me and Michael Shynes: The Slowdown

Destrier Revel’s Backstory: Burn The Wicked

For Leofore

Light And Home

So Little Time

A Choice

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains body dysmorphia, pregnancy, emotional duress, triggering terminology and sexual acts between two consenting adults. Stay safe!]

It had been two months. 

  Technically, sixty-four days. 

  Sixty-four days since Destrier and the rest of the King's Elite had departed on what the king claimed was, ' the last hurrah .'

  Sixty-four days since Knight-Captain Destrier Revel had promised her with an easy, confident grin that he would be back.

  Sixty-four days since Illeria had desperately tried to convince Leofore to let Destrier stay behind. She had gone before the stern senior paladin, refusing to be cowed or to resort to an emotional outburst even as her hands trembled. 

  Knight-Commander Leofore had set his jaw, the lines in his face deepening while she explained her current situation. " I understand that you are his wife, Illeria, but I cannot show favoritism among my men. The amount of spouses and partners that have thrown themselves at my feet to beg for leniency over the course of this war… " he had trailed off, turning Illeria's fragile hope to dust that clogged her throat.

  " He does not know, Knight-Commander. I did not believe it would be fair to tell him and distract him further ." She managed to say. 

  Leofore had looked surprised, then grateful. " You are a strong woman, Illeria. You have made my former charge the happiest man alive, and I thank you for that. Should anything occur to Destrier, I will personally see to it that you are well taken care of. "

  " With all due respect, Knight-Commander, " Illeria had replied, perhaps a bit more tartly than was proper, " that is my husband's responsibility ."

  It had been simpler then, like putting on a performance. But her life had become so deathly quiet in the absence of the bright beacon that was Destrier. It was as if winter had descended over the land early, sapping the color from everything and leaving it lifeless and dull.

  More than once she succumbed to weeping, cupping her abdomen as if to shelter the innocent life that currently grew within her. The midwife had told her that her emotions would run high, that she would be sick and changeable. Destrier hadn't seemed to notice before he left, his easygoing nature more than able to adapt when she snapped at him. 

  Illeria smiled sadly down at the shirt she was mending. Truly, the man could be so incredibly oblivious when he was off the battlefield. 

  The ring he had given her caught the light of the fire in the hearth, the recessed stone seeming to glow in the amber illumination. Illeria hadn't removed the ring since Destrier had presented it to her, and often found herself absently toying with it during quiet evenings as her mind wandered. This was apparently one such evening. 

  "All I can do," the woman sighed aloud, "is simply continue to hope and pray for his safe return."

  /x\

  Destrier was wracked with impatience to the highest degree. He knew that it was not prudent to urge their remaining troops to march home any quicker, but his mind was ablaze with concern for his wife. 

  His pregnant wife.

  "I still cannot believe she didn't tell me." He huffed at Leofore for possibly the hundredth time. 

  And for the hundredth time Leofore replied, "she did not wish to seem as though she was using the child to barter, Revel. Indeed, had you not been so reckless, you would still be unawares!" The older paladin knocked a gauntlet into Destrier's right elbow teasingly, making the younger man wince. 

  Destrier's right arm was bandaged to the shoulder and rested in a ramshackle sling against his chest. A Kull laying in wait to ambush them had nearly ripped the limb from his body when it had hurled him through the air; even their most skilled healers had their hands full with repairing such a wound. Mainly due to the young man staunchly decrying the aid, claiming that he was fine , there was work to be done! 

  It wasn't until Leofore had shouted at him, upbraiding the knight for being foolhardy, do you wish for your child to grow up fatherless, Knight Revel?! , that Destrier stopped in his tracks and permitted his wounds to be tended to. Partially out of shock, of course, but also because he knew that Leofore would not lie to him.

  Now, every second that they were away was another second he didn't have Illeria in his arms. To say he was 'startled' by his body's reaction to her absence would be a lie. He could barely contain the desire to spur his warhorse to a gallop.

  As the first scattered outlying farms of Mid Port came into view, Leofore finally took pity on the other paladin. "Go already! I'm about to crawl out of my skin just watching you!" He urged, giving Destrier a wink. "Go to her, lad. She's waited long enough to tell you."

  /x\

  As the seasons were waxing into fall, travelers were few and far between. Far better to travel during the warm summer months than to endure the raw, rainy atmosphere of the current times. 

  Illeria had decided that Maplecrest would be closed for the week to offer her the ability to properly scour the establishment clean and swap the bedding to thicker articles. Between cycling the linens, sweeping the floors, cleaning the chimney, washing the curtains, dusting the rafters...the young woman had been so busy she didn't even have time to think, which had done wonders for her emotional state. It was so much easier to cope with the uncertainty when she wasn't actively thinking about it, when she could just collapse exhausted into bed at night and sleep undisturbed.

  She was in the middle of hemming some old linens to use as cleaning rags when the sharp sound of the front door hitting the wall caught her attention.

  The awkwardly mumbled apology also caught her attention. 

  Illeria jolted, her eyes flying to the doorway where her husband stood. 

  Her husband. "Destrier!" She cried gladly. "You're back!" Heedless of the linens, she bolted from her chair by the fireplace and pitched herself into his arms.

  The large man cradled her to his chest, pressing his face into the kerchief covering her hair. She heard him inhale deeply and then Destrier gave a long, heavy sigh. " Illeria , I've...I am so…it's good to be home, my love." He suddenly sneezed violently. "I see you have been busy! You are coated with grime." The blond laughed, running a finger down the bridge of her nose and across her cheekbones as if to dust her off.

  Illeria floundered, her face going hot at his teasing and at the realization of the state she must be in. The woman took a step back to observe him and she realized suddenly that his right arm was bound to his chest in a sling. "Oh, what happened? You…" 

  "It's nothing, my love. Nothing at all." Destrier tipped her chin up and gave her a soft, tender kiss. "I'll be fine once I can get you alone once more." His words were bold, so bold, brown eyes alight with mirth as he watched her try to regain her composure. "Don't let me keep you from your work, my love."

  Illeria, still overcome with relief at his safe return, returned his kiss in a manner that was incredibly improper. Her tongue stroked his own in a lascivious echo of what she would love to do to him, right here if he wished. 

  "Iller-Illeria, please, mercy." The knight murmured against her lips, his gaze heated when he reluctantly pulled away. "Mercy, for a time. There are a few matters I must tend to, but I will return in the evening." 

  "You're leaving? Again?" Illeria's emotions roiled uncertainly, tipping between sadness and joy. 

  Destrier seemed to notice, his hand gliding over her cheek and cupping the heated skin. "Aye, only for a few hours. What is a few more hours for us, my love?" He reasoned. "I am certain we will have much to discuss!"

  Oh, if only you knew! Illeria thought mournfully, wondering if this was the last time she would be on the receiving end of his affection. Many men said they craved children, a family, but when confronted with the reality…

  Destrier had given her no reason to doubt his intent, she scolded herself. Now who was the fatalistic one? Illeria forced a melancholy little smile for him. 

  " 'What is a few more hours' , indeed. Hurry back, love." Her panic set in once the door closed after him. "Oh Goddess ," Illeria swore, "I need to bathe! " She scrambled for the door of her quarters, nervous nausea bubbling in her throat while she stripped nude.

  Her stomach was becoming more obvious by the day. Soon enough she wouldn't be able to hide it, even with her heavier homespun skirts. Illeria sighed unhappily, running a hand over the still-small bump. Perhaps...perhaps Destrier would want a family. Perhaps now, they could be simply husband and wife.

  But did she have it in her to tether him so blatantly? Despite the burden it would put on her, Illeria was loath to clip his wings. Would he grow to resent her? Hate her even, for coming between himself and his pursuit of martial superiority? 

  The young woman set her jaw firmly after a moment, willing her lower lip to cease trembling. Surely he would not have married her if he intended to flee at the first sign of their activities bearing fruit, she tried to reason with herself. The memory of their nights spent together before his most recent departure was tinged with a bittersweet melancholy, the echo of his touch haunting her in his absence. 

  The realization that she may still have such a lonely life ahead of her left Illeria clinging to the washstand for support. 

  It was a long time before she could rouse herself to continue to prepare for her husband's return.

  /x\

  "She does not know that you know? Why did you not tell her you knew?!" 

  Destrier blinked, absently nodding his thanks to the young cleric who had tended to his arm. The appendage still ached, but at least he could move his fingers once more. "I...If it is her news to give me, Knight-Commander Leof-"

  " Lad , you vex me endlessly!" The older paladin cut him off in exasperation, whirling on Destrier so sharply that his mantle cracked! in the still air of the throne room. "I love you like you are my own brother but gods , you are dense! This woman, your wife , has the patience to rival any saint. 'Tis bad enough that you came here instead of staying with her to allay her fears."

  "I did not wish to stand on ceremony with our monarch, Leofore. King Jonathan deserved to hear my resignation as soon as possible, that he may find a suitable replacement." Revel replied stiffly. "Illeria understands that I have a responsibility to His Majesty and His subjects."

  "She is your wife , Revel! She cannot, should not be second to your responsibilities!" Leofore retorted. 

  King Jonathan, observing the two men with more than a fair share of bemusement, nodded his head in agreement. "The knight-commander is right, Destrier. I appreciate your care in this matter and we will attempt to expedite the process as much as possible, but the eve of your return is not the time to discuss such weighty matters." The king took his wife's hand, his eyes growing distant. "You must cherish what you have, Destrier. Life is an immeasurably precious thing." With a wave of his free hand, the monarch dismissed the two paladins.

  Leofore appeared ready to seize Destrier by his gorget and haul him bodily along, the older man escorting his blond subordinate to the nearest washroom. Forty minutes later, scrubbed pink and unruly hair plastered down, Destrier Revel emerged sans armor. His ascot was untied but Leofore assured the other knight it would not be improper for him to return to his wife in such a state of undress.

  And if she was waiting for him…

  Destrier couldn't help the impatience that took hold of him, his stride lengthening to devour even more ground. Across the courtyard to the stables where his mount rested serenely, anticipating his return. "Aye, you know where we're headed." Destrier murmured to the beast once he settled into the saddle, gathering the reins in his good hand. 

  The white horse tossed its head as if to agree, taking off at a brisk trot. Truly, Destrier knew he could have simply walked; the distance was reasonably short. But this would be even quicker still.

  Illeria's belligerent plow horse didn't even look up when Destrier rode into the barn, the swaybacked animal too absorbed with its nightly feed. The knight rushed through the motions of stabling his horse clumsily, the weakness of his dominant hand making the task more challenging than it needed to be. But finally, finally , it was done.

  Destrier's boots felt impossibly light as he strode across the sodden courtyard. Gods , being apart from her was torturous. "Illeria?" He called as he opened the door, raising his hand out of habit to graze the wood carving overhead. 

  "The bedroom, love!" Her voice met him and he struggled out of his boots, certain that tracking mud across her floors would be grounds for expulsion.

  Her bedroom. Their bedroom. His heart ached. How long had Illeria known that she was with child? Keeping the secret so that he could fulfill his duties without distraction…

  He didn't deserve her selflessness.

  Destrier closed his eyes momentarily, attempting to regain his composure. Deep breath in, slow exhale out. The blow always hurts more if you're bracing into it. Relax , Revel!

  It was now or never. The blond man squared his shoulders. 

  "Illeria, we must discuss-" he began to say as he pushed open the door to their bedroom, but the words left his mind the moment he saw her. No matter how many damned times he had been graced by the sight of her nudity, Destrier still found himself a bit awed. "Ah." He finally managed to say.

  He was not so far gone that he didn't notice how pensive she seemed, the young man taking in the way her teeth worried idly at her lower lip. "You don't wish to touch your wife, Knight Revel?" Illeria teased after a moment, but an odd tension was in the air. "I have been remarkably patient, wouldn't you say?"

  "Beloved," Destrier murmured, "you are the most patient woman alive. However, be patient for a moment longer. There is an important matter we must discuss."

  "It cannot wait?"

  "Absolutely not." Destrier took her hand in his own and he was discomfited to find that she was trembling wildly. "My love, you are shaking."

  "Anticipation, that's all." Illeria attempted to brush off his concern, the young woman propping herself up on her elbows and then wrapping her arms around her knees protectively. "Well, let's hear it."

  "I...I know why you did not tell me before I departed, of course. I understand somewhat." Destrier started cautiously. "But it grieves me all the same that you had to endure such a burden of knowledge alone, to say nothing of the physical strain!" He wrapped her in a one-armed embrace, resting his cheek on her head. "You are my wife , Illeria. My partner, my equal."

  She was still for a moment, and then Destrier felt her shoulders shudder. Her hands dug into the fabric covering his back, gripping it so tightly. "I was afraid." Illeria hiccupped, her voice small.

  "Afraid? Of what?" Destrier asked, genuinely puzzled.

  "How you would react. Whether you would even wish to have a child at all. Your duties-"

  " Illeria ," Destrier interrupted her gently. "My love, I have resigned."

  "You…what?" Illeria blinked up at him, her face wet with tears. Revel used his ascot to tenderly blot them away. "B-But the kingdom-!"

  "His Majesty has already approved my request. There is the paperwork, of course. I'm certain there will be stacks, yet I feel nothing but elation." Destrier told her, sure that his smile was insufferable to behold.

  Her own smile in response was slower, tentative, until it bloomed fully and he was blinded by the radiance of it. Her laughter was like the first drops of rain that heralded the end of a drought, the build to incredulous jubilation that had her throwing herself headlong into his chest and covering his face with excited kisses.

  Gods , he had to be the luckiest man in the entire world. Destrier simply listened to the praises Illeria murmured against his skin as if she was offering prayers to some ancient, sensual deity, and he felt more alive than he ever had on the battlefield.  

  Abruptly Illeria leaned her weight on his injured arm and despite his best efforts, Destrier couldn't conceal his wince. She pulled back, her brow furrowed and mouth opening to say something. No doubt she was attempting to apologize. Destrier shifted his body, his lips meeting her own hungrily once more before he settled onto his back. "I'm afraid I am too weary to fully solve this problem myself tonight." He said with a contrite grimace, gesturing at his arm. "If you would be kind enough to help me disrobe, I will pay you back in the morn."

  /x\

  "Are you certain? If you are not... able , I would not ask anything from you." Illeria protested, heat surging in her face from the implication behind his verbiage.

  Destrier caught her hand, bringing it to his lips so he could kiss her knuckles softly. "I need you tonight, beloved. I am a greedy man, craving the warmth of your body." He murmured, his honest words sending a frisson of delight down her back. "My life has been fraught with sharp edges and the weight of hundreds of lives on my shoulders, please , let me find peace with you." 

  His eyes had gone distant, dark even in the orange glow of the fire, and Illeria watched silently as he pressed a final kiss to her palm and then rested their joined fingers over the curve of her stomach.

  "What we have created...what you have nurtured faithfully in my absence…" the knight whispered, words trailing off as his voice broke. 

  "I should have been honest with you." Illeria blurted out. "I just didn't wish to pin you down. I see now that it was foolish of me to fear your reaction."

  "I love you, Illeria." Destrier assured her while she began to unbutton the placket on his breeches. "You don't ever need to fear me, beloved. I would never willfully cause you harm, but I beg you to be plain with me from this point onward. Do not suffer in silence. Will you promise me that?"

  Illeria rested her forehead against his, smiling at him. "Of course, my love."

  Through her efforts, she managed to successfully unbutton his shirt and wrestle his breeches down over his knees, his smallclothes soon following suit. Destrier groaned low in his throat, his good arm slung over his eyes as if he was attempting to hide his reaction to her touch. But the flush that no doubt reddened his face also extended down his chest, his unbuttoned shirt exposing him thoroughly. Nevermind his cock, already hard and weeping on his stomach. 

  It jumped when Illeria stroked her index over the tip and Destrier exhaled a ragged gasp. "So eager, my love! Surely it is enough that you already have me with child?" Illeria teased. 

  "Illeria, if it is you, it is never enough." He answered her bluntly. "Rend my completion from me a thousand times and it will never be enough, beloved."

  The low timbre of his voice burrowed beneath her skin, setting her body alight. Illeria straddled his thighs, her hand gripping the base of his cock to steady him. She tapped his hip bone sharply, and Destrier's eyes flew up to meet her own. "Please don't move until I permit you to. Give me a moment to adjust." The woman requested, relieved when her husband nodded rapidly. Destrier could be overeager and, while he did his best, he still was a bit hazy on the intersection of his own strength and her bodily limitations.

  Illeria rose up on her knees and sank slowly down onto his cock, a whine escaping her at the slide of his length into her body. Destrier's weakened hand was fisted so tightly that his knuckles had gone as white as the bedding, his other hand tangled desperately in the blankets. "Ille-" He tried to speak, but she settled down on his hips and he made a strangled noise instead. 

  Illeria widened her stance slightly, doing her best to take him as deep as she could. He filled her so well, stretching her nearly to her limits as she rutted her mound against his pelvis. The woman took a selfish moment to minister to her own needs, her hands cupping her breasts to stimulate herself as she rocked back and forth on her husband's cock. Destrier bore it all while echoing her own moans, his teeth gritted.

  "You're so good to me, Desty." Illeria managed to say, her hips moving of their own accord in the age-old rhythm of copulation. "So good, so patient-"

  "You're killing me, you're killing me, gods let me move ," Destrier pleaded. "Let me love you, let me touch you-"

  "You may move, love." No sooner had she given his permission than Illeria found his hand grappling at the small of her back, the knight urging her down to lay nearly prone on his chest. He then began thrusting upwards into her fiercely, punching the breath out of her with the depth of his motion. Illeria whimpered, the sound seeming to drive him into a frenzy as his movements became erratic.

  " Gods , I-" Destrier choked out, " cannot last, damn it --"

  "Come inside me, love." Illeria commanded him breathlessly, loving the way his entire body shuddered at the order. 

  "Gods yes, gods yes, as many times as you want, fuck -" The blond swore, his hand splayed on the small of her back pressing her firmly down on his length as he came inside her. 

  Illeria laid on top of him for several long moments while the two of them tried to catch their breath, her ear pressed to his chest so she could hear his heart's wild tempo. "I've missed you, love." She whispered, surprised when he dropped a clumsy kiss on the top of her head. 

  "Did you come?" Destrier asked bluntly, grimacing when she shook her head. "I apologize, I'm afraid my eagerness overwhelmed my consideration. I will not send you to sleep without your release." He promised, his smile a bit crooked. "I just need a moment to regain my composure."

  Illeria put her palms on his chest, leveraging herself upright. Destrier groaned when his cock slipped free of her body, a muttered oath issuing into the heated air between them. Illeria, for her part, smiled down at him and then sat back on his hips. Her husband's still half-hard cock slotted smoothly between the folds of her cunt, and she shivered when the blunt head of it pushed hot and slick against her clit.

  "Illeria?" Destrier called her name, his tone bordering on curiosity. "Does it...is that satisfactory to you?" 

  "Very much so, love." Illeria assured him, and his hand found her left breast. Large, calloused fingers cupped her, his touch almost reverent in its delicacy. 

  "I doubt you will wish for me to touch you in this manner once you are truly heavy with child." Destrier remarked, his expression distant once more. "But it is already more than I deserve to witness you like this."

  Illeria bent down to press her forehead to his own, the woman forcing him to look at her, really look at her as she stroked herself over his member like some wanton, feral thing. "Destrier," she whimpered, feeling the way his cock leapt at her voice alone. "I never wish for you to stop touching me. I love you so much."

  "And I you, beloved." Destrier kissed her eagerly, only breaking away to tilt his head back and gasp for air. " Gods Illeria, you urge me to expedite my recovery!" He huffed, chuckling ruefully. "Soon enough I will be able to give you what you crave. Forgive my momentary incapacitation."

  "Don't rush yourself, my love. I rather enjoy having you at my mercy." Illeria replied playfully, loving the way his eyes lit up at her words.

  "You would!" He retorted, sounding absolutely delighted. "But you know you need only ask. The very breath in my chest is already yours, beloved." Destrier reached up again, taking her chin and kissing her sweetly. "Anything you desire, anything in my power to give." He murmured into her mouth.

  "All I ask for is your love, Destrier." Illeria answered, tenderly sweeping the hair stuck to his forehead out of his eyes. 

  "All that she asks for is all that I have to give." Destrier sighed, "it is all my heart beats for, beloved. For you, and…" he paused, laying his hand on her stomach while he gazed up at her lovingly. "For the little one."

  Illeria bit her lip, warding off the tears that threatened to spill over. "Show me, my love."

  /x\

  When she woke in the gray light of dawn, it was to the hot, wet sensation of her husband's hard cock sliding back into her cunt from behind. Barely awake, all Illeria could do was keen and whimper while he sank deep. Destrier's mouth pressed against her ear, his long, low growl of satisfaction sending a searing wave through her body.

  "How are you always so tight for me?" He muttered, filthy words that had the woman burying her face in the pillow even as she arched her hips up to greet him. Destrier grunted, shifting his weight slightly and reaching around to brush over her clit. 

  Illeria sobbed out a breath, too spent from their night of debauchery to do much of anything aside from angle her pelvis downwards against his fingers. Destrier let her struggle for a moment before he tapped the top of her shoulder, easing her back down until she was prone yet again. He didn't appear to care overmuch that he had trapped his good hand beneath her, the fingers of his other hand twining through her own as he lowered himself down with her. 

  Illeria's cunt throbbed with want around his length, the peaks of her breasts teased by the rough homespun blanket beneath her. She could have come just from that little stimuli alone, already so sensitive and alight from prolonged desire. But Destrier was thorough and patient, soothing her halfway back to sleep as he slowly rocked her between the searing embrace of his body and the warm, calloused touch of his fingers. 

  "Shh, it's only a dream, my wife." He teased her breathlessly as she cried out his name into the pillow. "I know, I know, I am a cruel and pitiless man to deprive you of the rest you need so dearly. Permit me a moment of selfishness." Destrier whispered, his pelvis seated firmly against her rear. "Just a moment, and then we shall sleep until noon."

  "Fill me up, Destrier, make me come-!" Illeria begged, her voice cracking with desperation. 

  Destrier made a strange noise behind her, half-pained, his fingers spreading her folds so she could grind herself into the heel of his hand. It was barely a breath before she was coming, every inch of bare skin tingling in the frenzied glow of her aftermath. 

  Destrier's skin slapped against her own as he lost the fight with his patience, the young man grabbing her hips and thrusting into her as deeply as he could. "Gods, I love it when you come for me." He muttered through his teeth, almost as if he was speaking to himself. "So wet , warm, need you, gods what have you done to me--"

  "P-- lease ," Illeria moaned, her breath hitching from the vigor of his motions. "Oh, please Destrier…"

  " Yes ." Destrier's voice lowered to a strange, rich register as he found his completion, the man effectively pinning her down to the bed with the weight of his body while he came. Illeria felt his grip on her hand twitch with every throb, unconsciously echoing his release. " Gods , there. There. Now we can go back to sleep." He gasped after a moment, dragging himself up onto his elbows and rolling to his side.

  Illeria, too tired to even think about moving, vaguely felt his weight leave the bed. After a moment, a warmed washcloth grazed her quivering cunt and she couldn't help the whine she let out, her hands clutching at the bedspread. 

  Destrier urged her legs apart and his fingers plunged into her, the man mercilessly stroking down against the sweet spot on the inner wall of her stomach. Illeria, though exhausted, felt yet another orgasm begin to curl in anticipatory preparation as her husband worked her over with practised, circular strokes. "One more for me? I am so greedy for you, beloved, please." He implored sweetly, like he wasn't the devil incarnate who had already kept her up half the night with his lovemaking. 

  Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes and, thoroughly overwhelmed, Illeria had no choice but to surrender to the burgeoning arousal that Destrier had coaxed to the surface. The way he moved, the expertise of his touch...she had never had a chance in the first place. Her husband, Destrier Revel, always brought her to such lofty heights and took his blessed time returning from them. He savored every moment with her after their first coupling, drawing the pleasure out until it lingered bright and sharp, wavering on pain. 

  Such was his love for her, and such was her love for him. Brilliant as starfire, soft as moonlight, endless as the very cosmos.

  /x\

  "What shall we name them?" Illeria mumbled sleepily to Destrier after he had cleaned her off. He was not quite as comfortable with his prestidigitation as he would like to be and besides, there was something achingly intimate about tending to her in a practical fashion. "The baby," she clarified needlessly.

  Destrier froze midway through the motion of tugging the blanket up to shield them from the (comparatively) chillier air in the room. The baby . Gods, they were having a baby. He would be a father . Overtaken by emotion, he kissed her forehead softly. "It can wait, beloved. We shall have months for you to decide."

  "No," his wife slurred in protest, clinging to his hand and blinking blearily up at him. "You decide. Pick a name."

  "I...Illeria, you cannot expect me to name them. We know not whether they shall be a boy or a girl!" Destrier reasoned. 

  Truthfully, he was fearful to name a child as he had named himself . Gods only knew what his birth name actually was. Leofore had never questioned the validity of his identity, the dark-haired paladin unaware that the orphan had simply blurted out the first thing he could think of after Leofore had dragged him out of the muck of the barracks stable. It was truly a miracle that Destrier had managed to get so far in life with a moniker that reduced him to nothing but a warhorse.

  The blond man's brow furrowed and he rotated his previously-injured arm, wincing a bit when it twinged slightly. He was on the mend, if only just. Perhaps he was aggressively foolhardy for being so active , but with a wife that was as eager and affectionate as Illeria…

  Well, any man would be hard-pressed to consider their wounds under such pleasurable duress.

  Illeria grumbled and grudgingly let him sink down onto the bed beside her. Soon enough she pressed against his ribs, her cheek resting on his chest as she hummed wearily and he stroked her hair. "It will be a boy." She murmured, sounding nearly asleep. 

  "Oh aye? You are sure of that?" Destrier teased. 

  "I am." His wife insisted, rubbing her nose against his chest. "I can tell."

  "Very well. I shall not poke fun at your maternal intuition." Destrier promised solemnly, earning himself a one-eyed glare. "However I will reiterate my previous counsel, beloved. Rest . When you wake, then we may discuss further." He gestured out the window at the grey twilight, "the weather promises to be rainy, and if there is no reason for us to leave this bed…" the blond man trailed off pointedly.

  Illeria still put up an admirable fight, lasting an entire seven seconds before she was sound asleep on his chest. 

  The former Knight-Captain Destrier Revel smiled, his finger delicately tracing the bridge of Illeria's nose. "I am so glad to have you by my side," he whispered to her, blinking away the grateful tears misting his eyes when she snuggled a bit closer to him, " my wife ."

Part Seven: The Most Important Part

[concussed-to-pieces]

Her Dove, His Falcon, Their Shield Part One

Fandom: Game Of Thrones

Pairing: Eventual Oberyn/Reader/Ellaria

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Disclaimer for Game Of Thrones writing here! This installment contains a reader that is a ruff tuff cheeto puff, a damn juggernaut. STRONK. I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to culturalrebel and hulia for recommending me compilation videos, as well as to @zeldasayer for inspiring me to write a hella buff reader. This is peak indulgence, pauldronsexual hours bois. I wax poetic about Ellaria, it’s a great time. I'll see you all with part two on Monday. Enjoy!

Tag List: @culturalrebel @huliabitch @absurdthirst @helplessly-nonstop

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains depictions of canon-typical violence, allusions to canon-typical abuse, depictions of sexual activities with a pregnant party and vague allusions to breeding kink. Stay safe!] 

You were sure your fingers were broken.

The pain flickered sunlight-bright behind your eyes every time you had tried to move your pinky or your index, your entire right hand so gristly you didn't dare to look at it after you had bound it up as best as you could.

You clutched your hand to your chest, forcing yourself to focus. The wharf. You had to reach the docks. That had been your plan this morning, before everything had gone so terribly wrong. 

You crept through the shadows, dashing away your tears with your threadbare shawl. Your weeping would only be a sign of weakness, urging the vultures to circle on your corpse before it was even cold.

The creak of timbers heralded your arrival to the waterfront and a soft sigh of relief left your mouth when you spotted who you were looking for. The sailor that had promised you passage was there, leaned against the wall of the nearby harbormaster's quarters. He glanced up at the sound of your voice when you hailed him, tipping his head.

"Well well, look what the cat dragged in." He chuckled, wandering hands already tugging at your shawl. "Have you brought the payment, my dear?"

You pulled forth a small purse of coins. "I know it is less than what we promised, but I was unable to-" The man clicked his tongue, obviously disappointed. "I-I am certain we can come to an agreement, please." You begged desperately. You were so close to your escape!

"Darling, we had a deal." The sailor chided, sounding like he was scolding a child. "You bring me the payment, and I convince my captain that having a woman on board our vessel isn't bad luck. Now, at the eleventh hour, you decide you want to bargain?" The man crowded you back against the wall, his face inches from yours when he muttered, "I don't barter with whores." The blow caught you unawares, the back of his hand connecting with your cheek. You shut your eyes when he raised his hand again, gritting your teeth in anticipation of stifling your noise. 

Gods, you were so tired of this.

"What are you doing to that girl?" A man's voice demanded, his distinctive Dornish accent thick with either drink or weariness. "Get away from her or I will cut you down where you stand, you cur." 

"She is hurt, lover." That voice was lilting, intrigued, a woman's voice. "Look at her hand, and the way her face is turned. She has been struck."

You abruptly felt the sailor's weight removed from your body, the sudden action making you cringe back against the wall. Large, trembling fingers eased your wounded hand away from where you had it protectively curled into your chest. "What has happened to you, sweetling?" You didn't dare to open your eyes and the man tsked after a moment, relinquishing your hand. 

"Lover, we must get you onboard, your wounds-" 

"A moment, Ellaria. This…" A hand touched your cheek, making you start and open your eyes. Dark, textured leather armor met your gaze, the surface spattered rusty with blood. Your breathing stuttered. You didn't dare to look up at the man who wore the armor, staring at his chest as hard as you could manage.

The hand slid beneath your chin, tugging your eyes reluctantly upwards as your shawl slid off of your head. You gasped when you caught sight of his face. The man appeared battered, the sides of his head badly bruised at the temples and cheeks. There were livid contusions that looked suspiciously like large handprints, as if someone had attempted to crush his skull with their bare hands. His left eye was bloodied, laced with spiderwebbed veins and swollen half-shut. The fingers that touched your face were still shaking, his other hand pressed to a dressing that wrapped around his left elbow.

"Not a girl, I see. A woman." The Dornishman said quietly after enduring a moment of your impolite gawking. "And as such, I cannot make this choice for you."

You swallowed hard. You had heard stories about the people of Dorne, about Sunspear and the supposed depravity that took place there. True, you had been hoping to get aboard a ship and go somewhere, anywhere, as far away as you could manage. And with that sailor denying you passage...

The man's deep brown eyes saddened at your silence. "Would you stay here and endure this mistreatment from men like him, simply because it is familiar?"

You shook your head, fleetingly meeting his gaze and opening your mouth. "I have never been on a ship before, m-my lord." You attempted a belated curtsey. You had no idea who this man was, but it was best to err on the side of caution that he was of a higher social ranking than you. Most people were.

He seemed amused if anything, a pained smile crossing his haggard features. "You will soon grow to love it, little dove."

"If it pleases you, my lord." You demurred in a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. Were you trading one cruel man for another? They often hid their true intentions until their audience was gone. But the woman at his side...she didn't seem fearful. "I have naught to offer for my passage but this, my lord." The small purse of coins jingled softly as you extended it to the man in front of you. "I am uncertain how much distance it will buy me, but I am not afraid of hard work."

The man waved it off, cupping your hand around the purse. "Do not trouble yourself with such things, my dove. Our time grows short." 

…

You had been warned of the sea illness, but you appeared to be able to ward off the heaves if you stayed above decks. The fresh salt air stung your cheeks, yet you refused to move from your spot by the railing. You made yourself scarce beside a pile of coiled rope, staying out of the way of the sailors bustling about and watching everything with wide eyes. Your injured hand was still cradled to your chest, but you had no attention for it as you hungrily devoured your surroundings.

King's Landing had been an area tinged gray, dour with gilded suffering. The golden sunsets that would pour through the high windows of your barren room paled in comparison to the sunset you were witnessing now. It was as if the horizon itself was ablaze, a cacophony of reds and oranges that turned the ocean brilliant. You had never seen such a sunset in all your years, and you prayed that it was a good omen. 

The sailors sang as they worked, all of them settling into a rhythm in order to keep everything running smoothly. It was fascinating to watch men pulling lines taut and tacking the mighty vessel into the wind, the ship nimble enough to respond to such rapid adjustments.

"There you are, little dove." Ellaria swayed easily with the motion of the craft, one hand resting on the shrouds to keep her balance. You started in surprise, having not noticed her approach. "You enjoy watching the sailors?"

"They are incredible, my lady." You replied honestly, cocking your head to the side. "I know very little about sailing, but surely their skill is unmatched? You must be immensely proud."

Her laughter was a beautiful noise, just as beautiful as she was. "My lover will be pleased to hear such flattery from your lips! He takes great delight in sailing. Now come with me, flattering dove. We must have the healer tend to your hand." 

You shakily climbed upright, gripping the bannister with your good hand as if your life depended on it. The journey back to the elaborate cabin was fraught with peril for you, and you envied Ellaria's gauzy, simplistic garb every time your heavy skirts got caught on the various cleats and belaying pins. 

Ellaria opened the cabin door and ushered you into the darker environment, tutting between her teeth. "Lover, you should not be upright." She scolded.

The wounded man (now heavily bandaged), shot her a lazy smile from his place at a desk, quill resting on a half-used sheet of vellum. "I know, Ellaria. She tried her best to tell me so as well."

An older woman (the healer, judging from her no-nonsense expression) rolled her eyes and dusted off her hands, approaching you rapidly. You flinched back and she slowed, her gaze flicking to Ellaria in question.

"We encountered this sweet dove on the docks. It is her hand, Ael." Ellaria said quietly, taking your arm. "Come, sit. Ael will not harm you."

You were settled onto a soft cushion and the healer slid your hand into her own, her touch light and careful while she unwrapped your bruised fingers. "How?" She asked, her voice just as quiet as Ellaria's.

You squeezed your eyes shut against the memory, biting your lip. "It was an accident, I didn't mean...I upset him."

"Him?" The man asked, leaning forward and then grimacing in pain. "That man on the docks?"

"N-No, my master. I am...well, I suppose I was, a-a helpmate of sorts. Shield-maiden. I...helped him to don and doff his armor, and I," you hesitated, "well, did whatever was asked of me."

Ellaria made a noise in her throat. "So what crime did you commit, to earn such punishment that would render you useless for your primary task?"

"I...I broke two of his fingers." You extended your uninjured hand in a gesture to allay concern. "I did not mean to! It was an a-accident, he had a trial to prepare for today with a fearsome opponent. His mind was elsewhere, and when I went to slide his gauntlet on-"

"What was your master's name, little dove?" The man interrupted you, his expression thoughtful. 

"His name is Ser Gregor Clegane, my lord. An enormous man who has been dubbed The Mountain." 

"You mentioned a fearsome opponent. But with a master such as that, who was this fearsome opponent?" 

"A prince of Dorne, my lord, one of your own! Can you even imagine?" You sighed dreamily, vaguely aware that Ael was giving you an odd look. She probably thought you childish, still swooning over faceless royalty. "I was told that he was an immensely fierce and clever man, though not in such forgiving language." Then, forgetting your place, you muttered, "I hope that he roundly trounced Ser Clegane."

The man burst out laughing, but winced and held his jaw as Ael fixed him a stern glare. You were certain your confusion was quite bare on your face. "Apologies, I do not laugh at your misfortune, little dove. Rather, at the providence of it all." He explained, still chuckling. "You are to thank for his terrible temper and sloppy work at the trial, then?"

"Oh, you witnessed the duel? What happened?" You asked excitedly, rocking on your seat in anticipation. 

"Oberyn, stop teasing." Ellaria murmured, sounding almost like she was chiding him. 

Oberyn. 

Your heart leaped into your throat as the man tossed you a pained smirk, moving to the pile of cushions and blankets on the floor. "Y...You? You are-?" Your voice failed you.

"Prince Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, a fierce and clever man among many other virtues?" He drawled, looking like the cat that ate the canary as he gingerly reclined on his soft throne. "None other than, sweet dove."

"They are so deliciously genuine, lover." Ellaria crooned to him while you felt your skin flush hot with embarrassment. "They had nothing but lovely things to say about your crew, and now this? Such courtesy."

"Truly?" Oberyn (Prince Oberyn! your mind shrieked in horror) asked, his tone bordering on surprised. "And all of that, without even knowing who you spoke to? Rare courtesy indeed." 

"I...I am so sorry if I've offended you, your highness." You whispered, "I know there is no excuse for my ignorance."

"Nonsense! I owe you a debt, it seems!" Oberyn replied cheerily. You dared to look up, finding him with a hand pressed to the side of his well-bandaged jaw. "Ser Gregor sought to crush my skull after I had run him through. Clearly, it is thanks to you that he could not maintain his grip and I escaped with this colorful bruising."

"So you killed him?" You asked, knowing full-well that the hope in your voice was unbecoming.

"If he is not dead yet, he will be soon." Oberyn seemed outrageously pleased with himself, though his eyes were strangely melancholy. "Justice has been served. I only wish that I could have stayed to witness him breathe his filthy last, but it seemed that the royal family had other plans regarding the outcome of the trial. I thought it better to take my leave before they decided to finish what Ser Gregor began."

You ducked your face into your elbow, trying to quickly hide your tears. Ellaria caught your chin though, her confusion evident. "Why do you weep, little dove?"

"P-Please forgive my loss of composure! I w-weep for myself, my lady." You hiccupped, the words spilling out of you. "I suffered much by the hand of that man. To know that Ser Clegane is in agony or already perished…it feels like a precious gift, yet I should take no joy in the knowledge. To luxuriate in his demise makes me no better than him."

"You are alive and he is not. Luxuriate in that, if you will not give yourself the satisfaction of indulging in vicarious revenge." Oberyn murmured, his tone troubled. "Did he shame you, little dove?" 

You raised your eyes to his and he must have seen the truth there, even though you said softly that you had heard of him doing far worse than what had ever been done to you. "I believe I was one of the luckier ones, your highness."

The prince cursed under his breath, rubbing his temples. "I will be overjoyed to be back in Dorne once again. King's Landing is fraught with madness. A wonder that it still fills me with fury! I am half-dead." He muttered. 

"Indeed you are, lover. You ought to be resting." Ellaria chastised him, her tone fondly concerned.

"Yes, my love. I am immensely weary. But council me before I slumber. What shall I do with this unforeseen ally?" The prince asked, waving a hand in your direction. "They spake so sweetly to me, and I could have been the lowest man in all of Dorne. Such honesty deserves reward."

"Not to mention that without their aid, your head would have been crushed." Ellaria pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "And I would not be able to do this."

"You graciously offered me passage, your highness. That is more than enough-" You began to protest, wincing when Ael tightly bound your fingers together once again. 

Oberyn dismissed your reasoning with naught but a slow flick of his wrist, yawning widely. "Ellaria, the weariness has ensnared me. Do with them what you wish, my love." He mumbled, sinking down into the nest of blankets. Ellaria studied you for a time as you sat silently, letting Ael tend to your hand. You didn't dare to meet her eyes, so frightened that she might view you as defiant. 

"I know you must be used to making yourself small, little dove." She finally spoke softly. "Take heart, the people of Dorne are not so cruel as those you have encountered." Ael had finished wrapping your fingers and Ellaria encircled your wrists, the other woman searching your eyes. "Men use such pretty terms to describe the anguish their counterparts inflict upon us. Shamed, as if you were a naughty child." She shook her head unhappily. "I would promise you your heart's desire, for it is because of you that my beloved still breathes. Anything you wish, you need only ask."

You stared at her dumbly, trying in vain to blink back the fresh tears that rose at her practical words. 

Ellaria tutted, her hand rising to smooth over your tangled hair in a maternal fashion while the tears spilled down your cheeks. "You are exhausted, little dove." She soothed, a gossamer sleeve catching your tears and patting your face dry. "Sleep now. I will ask you in the morning."

...

You woke to someone gently brushing your hair, the groan of timber and faint sounds of water all around you. Certain that you were dreaming, you hummed and shifted your weight, snuggling a little closer to the lap your head rested in.

"Dove, are you awake?" Ellaria. You nodded sleepily, trying to remember who that name belonged to. "I had hoped to be done before you woke." She sighed. "Try to stay still for me, sweet. I will be finished in a few moments." 

As you felt her begin to plait your hair, your mind slowly seemed to shake off the warm haze of sleep. The Mountain. Your hand. Prince Oberyn--

Gods, Prince Oberyn! You flinched, wide awake now. Ellaria patted the top of your head, obviously satisfied with her handiwork. "There! Beautiful." She said decisively. "You slept so soundly, my little dove! You needed the rest, I imagine."

"My lady…" Right back to where you had started, you nearly wept all over again. Your life had been devoid of tenderness for so long, cut off from any warmth or care. Now here was a small smattering, a ray of sunlight through the clouds, and you were utterly in a shambles. "I apologize for my turbulent emotions." You breathed. "I am at a loss."

"Hush, little dove." The woman murmured, a finger tucking beneath your chin to tilt your face up. "You are so pensive! I would see you smile. Breakfast, perhaps?"

You hesitated, your stomach knotting uncertainly. "I do not know if I will be able to, my lady. The ship...I am unused to its motion." 

Ellaria smiled at you, a genuine, soft smile that wrapped around your soul like a secret. "We shall eat above decks, my dove. Something light, to baby that green belly of yours."

Gods, was she teasing you? You had no idea what to think as she got to her feet and extended a hand to you. The light played across her golden skin when she helped you rise, even more of her body on display in today's garb. You felt like a drab sparrow beside a brilliant goldfinch, trying vainly to smooth the wrinkles out of your skirts as you followed behind her.

The sky was blue overhead, the sun just slightly above the horizon. It was still early, though normally you would be going to sleep at this hour.

Your shudder had nothing to do with the brisk sea wind.

"Beautiful, is it not?" Ellaria said gladly, tilting her head at you. Her brown eyes fairly danced with good humor, like she was sharing a joke. 

Your heart clenched in your chest and you swallowed roughly. When you agreed with her, you were unsure of whether you spoke of the sky or the woman beside you. 

After a light breakfast, Ellaria left you to your own devices. You continued to watch the sailors with awe, thankful that they all seemed perfectly content to ignore you.

It did not take long for the prince to grow bored in his confinement, his complaints growing louder and louder until he emerged onto the deck. Half-dressed, Ellaria following after him bearing a light golden wrapper, Oberyn stalked to the railing and stared moodily across the water at the other ship that had departed alongside his at King's Landing. 

"Had I not promised Cersei that I would bring that miserable pile of driftwood to her child, I would scuttle the whole affair." He muttered, stroking his facial hair. Ellaria attempted to drape the dressing gown around him, beckoning for you to come assist her. "Even after all the harm she's done, I will not cause undue grief to...ah, my dove!" The sight of you seemed to shake him from his doleful contemplation, and you couldn't help your flush when the prince idly brushed his fingers over your cheek after you had succeeded in helping Ellaria. "Have you decided what you might ask of me, little dove?" Inhaling a bracing gulp of air, you nodded. The prince inclined his head, tucking Ellaria into his side and then raising his eyebrows at you in silent query. 

"I ask...I-I ask two things of you, your highness." You winced when your voice squeaked nervously. "First, I humbly request that you hear me until the end. What I will ask...I know that it is laughable." The prince frowned, but nodded. "I was trained for much of my years in the manner of a soldier, as my mother bore my father no sons. That is how Gregor found me." You steeled yourself. "I would like to continue my tutelage and, once I have become a full-fledged warrior, I would ask to join your soldiers and fight under the flag of Martell."

"Why...Why would you ask for that?" Oberyn queried, his tone one of immense confusion. Ellaria looked bewildered as well.

"After everything that has...happened, to me, everything that has been done to me, I am no longer fit to marry." You explained, doing your best to be ginger with your speech. "Yet, I would serve the man who slew Gregor with my very life. All I can ask for is the chance."

The prince lifted his hand, laying it across the back of your neck and tugging you to lean close. He pressed his forehead to your own, his eyes searching yours. "Not a dove at all." He murmured finally. "A falcon. You will have your wish and one better, my falcon. I will not see you amongst the rank and file of soldiers in my brother's army. You shall train as a knight." His hand clapped your shoulder warmly. "A knight of House Martell. It will be difficult! But I know you would not expect ease after the life you have endured." He glanced at Ellaria. "What say you, my love?"

Ellaria's smile was soft and a bit sad. She cupped your face, touching her forehead to your own as well. "Elia would have loved the spirit of this one."

Elia Martell. You had heard the stories, of course, but the depth of the anguish you saw in Oberyn's gaze took your breath away. 

The prince nodded sorrowfully after a moment, kissing Ellaria's knuckles. "Aye, she would have. But she can rest easy now, my love, and that is all that matters."

…

"Again!" The battlemaster shouted, his hand extended to direct. "First form!"

You had flourished under the watchful eye of the head warriors of House Martell, training alongside several of Oberyn's own daughters. The strength you had built through your prior training with heavy plate and shield made you unexpectedly hardy, especially when clad in the much lighter leather and chain mail that the Dornish warriors wore. 

You were able to wield a pike on foot with relative ease, and Oberyn saw to it personally that you were granted a larger shield. "If you are to be drawing the enemy's attention, I would rather you are shielded…"

You assumed the first stance, your form wavering ever so slightly when Oberyn and Ellaria emerged from a nearby hallway to observe the training. 

The prince was well on the mend from his grisly ordeal with Gregor, only bearing a slight tenderness in his left elbow during poor weather. He was a truly lucky man. Ellaria was in good spirits this afternoon, her smile radiant as she waved to you. You bowed, panting a little from the exertion of your training. The battlemaster dismissed you with a grin, overused to such royal interruptions. 

Oberyn's younger daughters flung themselves at you in their typical fashion the second they were permitted, all of them piling onto you in an effort to take you to the ground. You struggled valiantly against the assault as Oberyn laughed, the man wading into the mass of bodies after a moment to pluck Loreza from your back. "Such violence from my beautiful children! You are your mother's daughters." He teased with a broad smile, rubbing his nose against Loreza's. 

Dorea danced around her mother, tugging at her hands. "May we go to the water gardens, mama?" She asked, pausing to meticulously straighten her petite bracers. Dorea took the training very seriously. 

Ellaria nodded, patting her on the head. "Alright my little snakes, rise from the sand and go play." She urged, "You have all done so well in your training today! I am very proud." Elia rolled her eyes, shaking her head when Obella and Dorea shrieked their delight. She was, of course, too old to let such maternal praise cloud her impressions of how her training had actually gone. 

You wished you didn't light up as bright as the children whenever the prince and his paramour praised them. You knew that it was foolish. 

"We are both impressed with your progress. It has only been five months and yet, you fight as if you were of Dorne yourself." Oberyn observed after his children had departed, his hand resting at the small of Ellaria's back. 

You went hot at the praise, bowing and stammering, "a-all due to your faith in me, your highness!"

"How many times must I insist that you simply call me Oberyn?" He asked, the grin he shot you making your knees weak. "After all, unwittingly or not, we conspired together as equals!"

"Do not tease her so, lover!" Ellaria chided him. "We had something to tell her, remember?"

"Apologies, my love." Oberyn cleared his throat, and his face grew incredibly serious. "My falcon, we come bearing wonderful news. My paramour is pregnant once again." He announced, "A new Sand Snake will be born in but six months time."

You gaped at him, then at Ellaria, who was beaming. "Oh, that is...good?" You half-questioned. True, the people of Dorne had radically different viewpoints from the rest of the world when it came to bastards, carnal acts and indeed, their sexuality in general. You were still adjusting to such broad views.

Ellaria nodded, thankfully not visibly offended by your hesitation. "In Dorne, children are a treasured blessing, not the death knell that so many seem to see them as." She rested her hands on the nearly imperceptible swell of her belly. "Oberyn wished to ask you to become my sworn knight, to defend me from such trials that pregnancy brings." Her eyes were dancing again; she was joking with you. 

You chuckled nervously, dusting the knees of your breeches off. "I fear I would do more harm than good in that department, my lady." Despite her insistence that she was but a bastard, you always referred to her as 'my lady', just as you always referred to Oberyn by archaic honorifics. 

"Are you greatly concerned with the skirmish I am sending you to, my falcon?" Oberyn asked bluntly. 

You shook your head. "Not at all, your highness. I have faith in my skill, as well as the competence of Prince Doran's military."

"I will be there as well, though only advising in my elder brother's stead." Oberyn sighed wistfully. "You must be twice as fierce on the battlefield, my falcon! Fill my place in the ranks."

"I must be at least six times as fierce if I were to try and match you, your highness!" You protested.

"The genuine nature of your flattery never ceases to raise my spirits, my falcon! Dorne will need your strength." The prince grinned sharply, "And your ferocity. I assume we can expect great things from you?" He extended his forearm and you clasped it, feeling the coil of muscle that lurked beneath the sleeve of his brocade robe.

"You may depend on me, Prince Oberyn." You replied firmly.

...

It was to be a simple pincer attack, your small battalion held in reserve to strike at the most opportune moment. Everything always seemed so straightforward when in the map room.

Now, in the muddy chaos of the battlefield, you planted your massive tower shield as a rallying point for the foot soldiers and warded off the attacks that poured around it like river water. Cavalry thundered past you into the fray, lances up and proud Martell trappings flapping in the breeze. You struck down Dorne's foes without mercy, attempting to do the absent Oberyn justice.

Until you caught sight of Elia, torn from her horse by a greatsword-wielding warrior. She hit the mud hard, barely rolling out of the way of the man's full swing. He landed a glancing blow on her shoulder and you heard her cry out.

You jerked your shield up out of the ground, terrified beyond measure that she would not hear your voice. You gathered your legs beneath you to brace for her weight and shouted, "Lady Elia!" Her eyes met yours for a split-second. "Ninth form!" With your shoulder and knee set into the back of your shield, you tilted the metal.

The smaller woman bolted up and onto your slanted shield, then wheeled and sprang off with her arm outstretched to grapple the warrior's neck. The man was floored by the blow, he and Elia tumbling to the ground. You thrust your spear through the offending wrist that still gripped his sword, your razor-sharp weapon piercing the weak point in his armor and pinning his hand to the ground as he screamed. 

"If any man dares to touch a Sand Snake, he shall lose his hand and his life." You seethed, raising and then crushing the edge of your shield down on his throat. Elia stared up at you, hurriedly accepting your hand when you offered it. "Are you badly injured, my lady?" You asked worriedly.

"Just winded." She jibed but winced afterwards, touching the blood blotting her armor at the shoulder. "Damn it, and perhaps my shoulder could use tending."

"Shall I escort you back to the stratagem, my lady?"

"So courteous! A true knight." She teased, laughing. "Of course, deliver me to the hands of my hen of a father, that he might chatter and squawk about how careless I was." She tossed her head haughtily. "Wonderful."

"I meant no disrespect, my lady." Elia had a rebellious streak that may have very well been the entirety of her body. Fiercely capable and cunning beyond measure, this would be a blow to her pride. But you could not very well permit her to venture on wounded and get herself killed in the bargain, so you herded her gently back towards the stratagem tents.

You were both soaked head to toe with the blood and sweat of battle, so Oberyn's gut-wrenching expression of terror upon catching sight of his daughter was to be expected. "Elia!" He cried, striding out of the tent. "Where is the wound? You would not retreat willingly, you are too stubborn."

"Hush, I am well. Your falcon saw to that." Elia retorted, gesturing at your massive shield. "She clove a man's head off with that simply for touching me."

"He did a sight more than touch you, my lady." You replied stiffly, "I merely retaliated."

Oberyn enfolded his daughter in his arms, squeezing her tightly as you stripped your helmet off. "Straight to Ael with you. You have done well." He praised her, "but this shoulder will need to be tended lest you lose feeling in your hand."

After Elia had departed, you dropped to one knee. "Forgive me, your highness. I was not fast enough to keep her from harm."

"Lightning itself is not fast enough to keep that one from being wherever she wants." Oberyn replied dryly, clapping your shoulder and urging you to stand. "You brought her to me, a task which I'm certain she did not make simple. You are…" he trailed off, staring at you. Since you had removed your helmet, you assumed you must have some mud on your face. Why else would he look at you as though he had never seen you before? Perhaps the sun was in his eyes, or maybe your hair was much more hopeless than usual.

You quickly scrubbed at your cheeks, but Oberyn remained silent. "Prince Oberyn?" You queried tentatively.

"You are capable." He managed to finish his thought after several more moments. His voice was strangely faint. "Thank you for returning her hale and whole to me."

"Are you well, your highness?"

"Quite well. Astonishingly so, given the circumstances."

...

You were knighted formally as Ser Shieldove of House Martell on the following new moon. Oberyn winked at you in playful insinuation when you and several other new knights knelt before his brother to be anointed with seven oils, nearly causing you to embarrass yourself by laughing. The younger prince had become markedly more flirtatious towards you after the skirmish, his teasing bold even for his standards. You had dismissed it though, certain that he was merely expressing his gratitude with some flattering attention directed your way.

At the feast that followed, Oberyn and Ellaria flanked you instead of taking up their usual position at the head of the table with Prince Doran. Ellaria in particular was nearly hanging off your arm as the both of them fed you from their own trenchers. His tender touch while he plied you with fruits and the brush of the pads of her fingers against your lips made your throat burn with an odd emotion that you dared not examine. The flavorful dolmas hit your tongue and turned to ash in the wake of Ellaria's beautiful smile and Oberyn's jests.

The prince was regaling anyone who would listen with the thrilling (and greatly exaggerated) tale of you and Elia in the skirmish. "-my daughter, Elia Sand, though wounded, fought valiantly against a warrior seven times her size. Ser Shieldove, thinking quickly as she always does-"

"That is a falsehood, your highness." You protested, making Oberyn and his audience laugh. "I was in a panic. I was so fearful I would not reach her in time."

"What is a skirmish if not an opportunity to embellish?" The prince teased. "As I was saying, Ser Shieldove utilized one of the many tactics she learned in her knightly training…" While Oberyn prattled on, you felt his hand rest idly on your leg. You barely kept from leaping out of your skin when he gripped down a little tighter, his fingers rubbing circles through the gossamer of your gown and the fabric of your hosiery.

"More wine?" Ellaria asked sweetly, refilling your goblet before you even had the chance to nod. 

"Thank you, my lady." You cocked your head to the side. "Are you well? I hope the babe does not grieve you."

Her lovely laughter, combined with the hypnotic press and drag of Oberyn's fingers, made you wish that you could stay where you were forever. "I have done this four times before, my falcon. Or should I say, Ser Shieldove?" She chuckled. "I am prepared for whatever discomfort this little one sees fit to inflict upon me."

You smiled at her, stating sincerely, "I am in awe of you, Lady Ellaria." 

"Of me? Whatever for?" She asked in surprise. 

"Your willingness to bear children. It is...I do not know if I would ever have the strength for such an endeavor." You admitted softly, leaning in a little. "Your joy is pure and rare, unlike anything I have ever witnessed. You are practically aglow. It makes my heart ache and sing all at once, to see you so happy."

Ellaria took your hands in her own, clasping them to her heart. "Ser Shieldove, your flattery has not lost its edge." She murmured, her eyes bright. "Though I know your duties may take you elsewhere, when you have a moment of respite, I...would be more than willing to have one of my midwives explain certain things to you. I understand that fear of the unknown keeps many in the darkness."

Your heart buckled in your chest, hope and terror at war with one another. "I know not whether I...that is, I am uncertain if I am able, Lady Ellaria." You replied in a hushed tone. 

Ellaria nodded, her expression saddened. "I know, sweet dove." After a moment, she rose to her feet. "Oberyn, lover, will you accompany Ser Shieldove and myself to the water gardens?" 

The prince immediately rose and you floundered to do the same, caught off-guard by the sudden request. "Of course, my love." Oberyn's tone was light, but you couldn't shake the notion that he had been waiting for her to say something.

His hand stayed on the small of her back the entire stroll to the gardens, and you found yourself envious of those fingers, envious of her skin. To know such gentle touch, to be able to touch so gently…

During the day the pools were alive with the sound of children of all ages, laughing and splashing about in the refreshing waters. But here and now, the only sounds were the wind stirring the water's surface and the low, inquisitive calls of the bullfrogs. Ellaria settled onto a bench, patting the stone beside her after a moment. You sank down in an unwieldy mass of delicate fabrics, longing for your armor. The dress was beautiful, but it drew so much attention.

"Speak to us, sweet dove." Ellaria implored, taking your hands in her own again. "We would know what troubles you in regards to these delicate matters, without fear of judgement or embarrassment." 

Oberyn cleared his throat, large hands framing Ellaria's shoulders. "The merrymaking of the evening cannot erase the furrow of contemplation from your brow, my falcon." 

You hesitated, staring down at Ellaria's hands wrapped around your own. Her fingers were slender, delicate. "I see the two of you, how tender you are with one another and I wonder if...I wonder whether I might ever find such companionship." You shrugged helplessly. "I am unskilled in these matters. Gregor was...the only one. I do not know if I could ever subject myself to...if I could ever…" You trailed off, biting your lip.

Oberyn muttered an oath under his breath and then quickly apologized, continuing on to say, "Brave, fierce falcon. You were dealt a terrible wound the day that monster stole you away. I had wondered why you did not accept the propositions offered to you by many of the other knights, but I merely assumed it was a difference of our cultures." 

You shook your head shyly. "No, your highness. I find their attentions flattering, yet frightening for this very reason." You were dealt a terrible wound. Oberyn regarding it as such, instead of simply as a normal occurrence for a woman to overcome, was strangely heartening. "Perhaps the wound lingers, festers beneath my skin. Perhaps I shall never be gentle again, and never know myself what such gentleness feels like." You thought aloud, voicing your worst fears. "Perhaps my life will be nothing but roughness and the whirling tumult of battle, my only chance thieved away from me."

"Oh, my sweet dove." Ellaria sounded distraught and you turned your attention to her, surprised when you saw her weeping. Her hands cupped your jaw, tugging you close enough to rest your forehead against her own. "You have such an immense capacity for love, daughter-defender. My heart breaks at the thought of you locking yourself away out of fear." 

"My lady…" Tears welled up in your own eyes and you tried to wipe them away hastily.

Oberyn shifted to the side, his arms wrapped loosely around both you and his paramour. "Do you watch us often, my dove?" He asked quietly. "Does it bring you peace to see how we exist together and with others, as easily as rising in the morning?"

Your throat ached with your tears. "The way that you touch her, your highness-"

"My body was designed solely for the pleasure of my lovers, sweet dove." Oberyn informed you, his deep brown eyes unbearably soft in the dim light of the lanterns. "It is a weapon on the battlefield, but never in the bedroom. Even if I come at my lovers with passion, there is not and should not be fear."

"I am a knight of House Martell, and yet I cringe at something so mundane!" You tried to jest, tried to smile.

"Many a warrior is thrown from a horse once and refuses to ever ride again." Oberyn pointed out, his hand absently stroking over your hair in a calming motion. "If an action has only ever caused you agony, you learn to avoid it." Ellaria tugged at Oberyn's sleeve, whispering in his ear when he bent lower. The prince smiled after a moment, nodding. "Of course. Whatever you like, my love." He agreed.

"Sweet dove, at some point in the future I would like to invite you to witness us in our bed chamber," said Ellaria, the words from her mouth damning and sweet as honey. "We are comfortable with an audience and multiple partners, as you are well aware. We would be more than happy to display the way certain acts ought to be performed." She laughed after a moment. "Truly, if I get much larger I may have no recourse but to ask for assistance when my cravings grow too raw!"

You swallowed, then inhaled raggedly. How long were you planning on languishing in this manner? Ignoring your desires out of fear and anxiety over what had transpired? Though Oberyn had assuaged your feelings of inadequacy, you no longer wanted to be the warrior thrown from your horse. You were a knight of House Martell, in soul and now in title. "I would be honored to witness such a thing, my lady." You croaked out, wincing and clearing your throat awkwardly. 

Oberyn's smile was a fond one, the man placing a kiss on his paramour's forehead. "Never fear, falcon. We shall not push you further than you can go."

…

Some weeks later, the battlemaster woke you out of a sound sleep, his tone one of long suffering. "Prince Oberyn seeks your council, Ser Shieldove. He bade you wear your armor, but bring no weapons."

Your mind whirled. Had something happened? Gods, Ellaria-

You weren't certain if you had ever donned your armor faster. It was scarcely ten minutes before you were striding through the airy halls, your tunic rustling beneath your light armor and mail. No weapons, he had said. What manner of exercise could this possibly be?

The prince flung open the doors of his chambers when you approached, his expression tight yet grateful. "I apologize for rousing you at such a late hour, my falcon." 

You dropped to a knee in typical salute. "What has transpired, Prince Oberyn?"

"Ellaria believed that tonight would be a good night for you to...witness. That being said, she wished for your assistance." The man said delicately. "My love is--ah, how to say this without being crass. She is swollen with child, and yet she craves a certain position." Oberyn raised his eyes to your own. "She reasoned that your strength would be sufficient to keep her balance while she indulges."

Your mouth went dry. "M-My strength?" You stammered. He nodded, studying you intently. His heavy gaze alone had you smoldering, had you nodding without thinking twice. He gestured you onwards into their private chambers, closing the doors after you.

Ellaria, her form barely concealed by the thin curtains of their bed, called your name so sweetly. Like a sinner to judgement you crept close, eyes averted from her nudity. "My dove, there is no shame here." She crooned, one finger beneath your chin urging your attentions to her body. Her kiss to your forehead was gentle, her heavy breasts pressed against your armor with her closeness. 

"Lady Ellaria." you breathed, wanting more than anything to greedily embrace her in your arms, shield her from the world. No one deserved to even look at her, no one--

Except Oberyn, of course. The prince was leaning easily against one of the banisters, one ankle tucked over the other while he observed his paramour with a blissful expression. Only Oberyn. Your heart ached, full enough to burst with your unspoken affection for the prince and his beloved. 

"The prince said you requested my presence, my lady?"

"I want you to see us, my dove." Ellaria said simply. "I may require your assistance, but until then…" She beckoned Oberyn closer and did not finish her sentence. 

The prince cupped her face and kissed her passionately, his smile curved against her lips. Once he was done, however, he turned to you. The bristle of his mustache met your forehead, grazing the skin teasingly before he kissed it. "A kiss from a prince. Let us hope you do not turn into a frog!" He said with a grin.

Ellaria's fingers kneaded at his light dressing gown, spurring him to peel and discard the garment. "Come, Ser Shieldove. Sit on the side of the bed and watch us." She implored.

"Are you certain, my lady?" You asked, hesitation plain in your voice even as your fingers twined greedily into their rich bedspread. "It is not...distracting that I am here?"

"Far from it." Oberyn grunted, chucking you under the chin. "It is a rare treat, to have my devastating falcon in the same bed as my lovely paramour. I will not involve you beyond function, of course, not without your consent. You are the audience tonight, and Ellaria wishes to show you the tender acts I inflict upon her."

You did not trust your voice to reply. You knew logically that there was no possibility of Oberyn causing her harm. You watched his hands, the shift of the candlelight shadows playing across the olive skin. Oberyn was languid in nearly every aspect of his life aside from training and battle, so it was no great shock that he was slow in his approach as well. 

He trailed a single finger down between Ellaria's bare breasts, over the swell of her stomach. Your hands fisted tight enough to ache in the bedspread when Ellaria crooned to him, the sunset-hued fabric wrinkling in your grasp. You were entranced, enthralled as surely as if you had been under some spell. 

"Lover, please…" Ellaria begged, and oh! Her voice was the sweetest music, a wine heady and luxuriant. How did Oberyn resist her? How did he temper his longing, when all you wanted to do upon hearing her ask once was fall to pieces?

"She knows I will satisfy her." Oberyn said softly, as though he had read your thoughts. He lowered his mouth to her breast and her fingers found his hair, cradling him close. His hand wandered lower and lower, seeking out the wetness that had built between her thighs. 

Your gorget threatened to choke you when you swallowed convulsively at Ellaria's trembling sob of pleasure, the prince shooting you a smirk from his prime seating.

"I think our falcon has taken a shine to your mewling, my love." He informed Ellaria quietly. His hand spread her wide, fingers lewdly displaying her plush entrance slick and pink, delicious--you caught yourself leaning in and quickly jerked upright. 

Ellaria noticed your interest, if her moan was any indicator. One hand left Oberyn's hair and reached out over the blankets to you, fingers extended as far as they could go. She fell just shy inches from your arm, blindly fumbling. 

Oberyn carefully scooped her hand back up, kissing her knuckles. "We do not touch her, my love." He reminded her. "Until you need her help to take me, and even then. Our falcon, our dove, she is a warrior, not a plaything." He glanced over at you, his expression mischievous. "It is enough that she wishes to touch you already, my love." His fingers plunged into her cunt and gods, she was wet enough to hear. 

Your thighs clenched and you felt shameful, like an intruder, but Oberyn hummed as if to draw your averted gaze to where his fingers plundered her slick folds. 

"She is much more sensitive when she is bearing." He sounded a little breathless, his dark eyes nearly black in the dimmed lighting. "I can wring two or three from her with ease, just my fingers. No pain."

"Two or three?" You echoed him in doubt, your voice rasping in your throat when Ellaria's back arched off the bed. She cried out and Oberyn moaned with her, his own enthusiasm evident in the way he claimed her mouth with his. She was beautiful, skin flushed and damp with sweat, and he was so gentle with her.

"I need you now, lover. I cannot wait, please, please-" Ellaria implored against his lips, and the tender way he soothed her hair back from her forehead made your chest ache. "I have missed you beneath me, my sweet Oberyn."

"And I have missed you, my divine Ellaria." Oberyn helped her kneel, then gestured you closer. "If you wrap your arms around her midsection--"

"Is that safe?" You interrupted warily, concern destroying your propriety. Oberyn just chuckled, rolling off of the bed to divest himself of his pants. You fought the urge to bury your face in Ellaria's neck out of embarrassment.

"Sweet dove," Ellaria's hand cupped your burning cheek. "If this is not to your liking…"

"Of course it--I mean, if-if I...what if I do something wrong? What if I hurt you?" You mumbled. "Men act as though we are unreasonably delicate for expecting an ounce of caution, yet we endure so much at their whim."

Ellaria interlaced her fingers with your own, bringing your palms to her defined hips. "I will not break, my gentle dove." She stated, a defiant toss of her head serving to drive her words home. She was the devoted paramour of Prince Oberyn, after all! Already mother to four of his children, soon to be five. 

Oberyn knelt on the bed and you couldn't help the way your eyes devoured him. His hair tousled, mouth still red from hungry kisses, lean body on full display. The member that hung between his legs had your breath hitching with a mixture of vague apprehension and arousal, how-

You tore your eyes away, tucking your nose in the thick waves of Ellaria's hair as your thighs flexed yet again. She smelled of comfort, of citrus and the spiced strongwine from their evening meal. Ellaria sighed, relaxing her weight back into your arms. "You are so warm, sweet dove."

Oberyn's hand stroked your cheek and you were unable to conceal your flinch. "Do not fear me, gentle dove. I would never harm in the bedroom; here, I am no longer the Red Viper." His tone was grave, and you saw sorrow in his eyes when you dared to look up. "I am simply a man hopelessly in love." His hands covered your own, tightening your grip on Ellaria's hips. "Now, help my paramour to rend me as she sees fit."

You did as you were asked, feeling the anticipatory tremor that ran through Ellaria's body. She wanted him. She yearned for him, canting her hips as far as she could to draw him close. But Oberyn was thorough, coaxing her thighs apart inch by inch and laving her hot skin with thousands upon thousands of adoring kisses. She was on the verge of collapse before he even deigned to lay down beneath her, and now you understood your place in their endeavor. 

She sank down onto his cock without hesitation, a breathless whine of delight leaving her lips while her head lolled back against your shoulder. Oberyn's cry in response was low, wanting, the prince's chest heaving as he thrust up into her. "Ellaria, you beautiful fucking woman." He seethed through his teeth, "Help her take me, my falcon, hold her steady while she tears me apart."

"Oberyn!" Ellaria sobbed, clinging to your arms while he urged her hips forward and back to ride his cock.

"If she wishes for another child, she entices me by laying on her stomach and beckoning me near." Oberyn informed you lazily between arching his hips up to meet his paramour. "When she does I am but her willing stud horse, lost to breed. Her hips fit perfectly in my hands and she begs me so sweetly for another babe, another little one to bring to her breast and nourish. My Ellaria, my beautiful, precious Ellaria." 

Oberyn reached up, his eyes so warm and fond as he cradled Ellaria's face in his large palms. You buried your face in Ellaria's hair again, not wanting either of them to notice the tears threatening to spill over. 

Ellaria nuzzled against his fingers, coaxing a ragged groan out of Oberyn. "Lover, you always know what to do to make my body sing for you." She breathed, planting her hands on his chest and circling her hips. Oberyn swore and gritted his teeth, his head falling back against the pillows. "But I would much rather you sing for me instead."

The prince's voice broke wordlessly in his throat, the noise sharp with longing. Your eyes widened and your whole body tensed at the sound, warmth coating the worn trews between your legs. What…? You had never experienced such a rapid reaction, and all it had been was a simple groan! Your grip on Ellaria tightened unconsciously and she moaned your name, her body pushing back against your armored chest as she rose up onto her knees. 

Oberyn fairly growled at her, one hand clutching at her thigh while the other delved between her legs. She cried out and you could feel her body spasm when he found her center, hips undulating hard to grind herself against his palm. "Come for me, my love, drench me." Oberyn encouraged softly. "Tear my seed from my body, milk me with that divine cunt of yours."

His heated words made you feel like your heart would beat out of your chest. Ellaria tilted her face into your neck, her panting, breathy cries whispering over your skin and making you wish more than anything that you were the one causing them-

She went taut in your hold and you watched Oberyn watch her come with the same blissful expression on his face that he had sported earlier. It was as if his own release was an afterthought, the prince humming to echo Ellaria's incoherent whimpering while he shifted his hips restlessly beneath her. "Keep gripping me, my love, keep-" Oberyn bucked up hard, hands covering your own on her hips to keep her still when he buried himself in her again. His shoulders tensed, thighs trembling as he came with a shuddering gasp of her name. 

Gods, you wished it was your name he spoke with such passion!

Ellaria nearly collapsed, your arms around her the only thing keeping her upright. "I have you." You breathed, cradling her back against your chest. "I have you."

The other woman blinked up at you sleepily, one shaking hand raising to stroke over your hair. "Thank you, Ser Shieldove." She whispered. Oberyn clapped her thigh, carefully tilting her hips and closing her legs once he slipped out from beneath her. 

"Steady, I need to fetch a cloth." He instructed you, nearly staggering when he rose from the bed. "Gods, Ellaria, you will make me swoon one of these days." Oberyn continued, half-laughing and shaking his head. He wrapped his light robe back around his body, looping the belt once and then abandoning it.

You hid your face at the sight of him stretching languidly, his lithe and golden form barely covered by the haphazardly-tied dressing gown. "You can look at him, you know." Ellaria sighed in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "He loves being observed. He preens." She confided, chuckling softly. 

"What are you telling her, my love?" Oberyn called from the washbasin, shooting her a suspicious glance.

"Nothing, lover." Ellaria winked up at you, relaxing into your arms a bit more. "Nothing at all."

"Now, my falcon. Is it your turn?" Oberyn asked conversationally while he tenderly bathed Ellaria's intimate area. The other woman hadn't stopped squirming, trembling beneath his careful ministrations even as she clung to you. 

Panic seized your body at the idea of being naked, being vulnerable, exposed, and despite the hard work the both of them had done, you found yourself shaking your head violently. 

Oberyn simply laughed, dismissing his own words as a jest and easily soothing your terror. 

...

When you returned to your quarters later that evening, you could not remove your armor fast enough. Clad in only your underthings, you slumped into the chair beside your bed and put your head in your hands. 

I can wring two or three from her with ease, just my fingers. No pain.

Ellaria's wanton cries rang softly in your ears. The way she had sought him out with her body, sought to be cherished, claimed-

You are so warm, sweet dove.

You flushed hot, rubbing frantically at your eyes. Gods, the way the two of them praised each other, praised you...it hurt, it made your body throb. You bit back a sound of pain, your eyes watering. To be loved by someone, to have their love in return...well, that is what all the songs and stories of man were about! 

Yet here you sat on the outskirts of a camp you dared not approach, gazing at the raging bonfire of someone else's affection. 

And you envied, with a ferocity that made your jaw ache from how tight you clenched it.

Envied Oberyn, for being a prince, being free to do as he wished, being able to trace secret patterns over Ellaria's skin as often as he pleased. Envied Ellaria, for being brave, being so effortlessly sensual, being able to bring Oberyn to heights of ecstasy that you could not even dream of.

You felt like a child that had been happily playing pretend, only to have a bucket of cold water thrown on you.

Your fingers dug into your thighs, rubbing over the scarring there. No, you would never know, would you? You would never know the true depth of another's love. You were not destined for such things, and you had been foolish to grasp for them in the first place.

You had been greedy, overeager to voyeur on the prince and his paramour due to your deep admiration of and attraction to the couple. This was hardly behavior befitting a knight of House Martell! You would have to do better in the future, instead of taking advantage of the generosity extended to you in good faith. All Ellaria and Oberyn had wanted to do was help you, and you had turned it into some lewd fantasy. 

You shook your head at your own thoughts, thoroughly disgusted. You would tear down everything good that you ever had, just to delude yourself into believing you could be bedded by a prince of Dorne and his beautiful lady.

Part Two

[pauldron-pieces]

Destrier Revel: So Little Time

Fandom: Dungeons And Dragons (5E)

Pairing: Destrier Revel/Illeria Stennas (F!NPC)

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: This is a hypothetical narrative scenario featuring original characters in a world created by my Dungeon Master. As usual, this is non-canon and I own nothing aside from intellectual properties specifically attached to Destrier Revel. This installment is mechanically unsound in a multitude of ways and ignores certain important lore facets. Trigger warnings are listed inside. Enjoy!

Taglist: @sporadic-fics and @cookiethewriter!

Inspired By: Switchfoot: On Fire and I-Human: Give All Of Yourself

Destrier Revel’s Backstory: Burn The Wicked

For Leofore

Light And Home

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains semi-graphic depictions of sexual acts between two consenting adults, and emotional duress. Stay safe!]

Illeria always looked beautiful to him. 

  It was never a question of finding the right angle, or seeing the good through the mediocre. To Destrier, she just... was . It was as if it radiated from her, permeated her entire being. 

  She was, is, would always be lovely. 

  Were he not already serving his masters, both earthly and cosmic, she would be his divinity. Her hands, her smiles, her body...she was so tender with him, so strong when she had to be; an intoxicating duality that would not cease to awe him in its ever-present splendor. 

  Illeria, always waiting for him at the door as he left in the early hours for yet another forum with the King's Chosen, and he still couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe she would willingly spend her time with someone who could offer her so very little.

  When the choice was finally made that they must deal with the other fiendish abomination, the other lich that had encroached and sought to bring such destruction to the kingdom, both King Jonathan and Leofore counseled for expedience. The King's Chosen were to depart on the day after the 'morrow.

  There was always so little time to spend with his beloved, but Destrier bore that burden gladly. It was a small price to pay to keep her, to keep the kingdom safe. 

  Their kisses had grown steadily hungrier as of late, the two of them lingering longer and longer in the mornings. Destrier, for all of Illeria's prompting, had yet to join her in her bed in the evenings, the knight choosing instead to sprawl out across the warm hearth. 

  Not for lack of interest did he avoid her, gods no! But instead, out of an odd fear. He was a man so used to destruction, able to summon fire with a mere thought, able to strike down foes four times his size. 

  He was a man raised rough. War was all he knew, was all he had ever known. This...

  Gods, he ached to hold her, to truly touch her and know her, but he feared that his clumsy, indelicate hands would leave some mark , some grotesque stain. If he harmed her, he would never forgive himself.

  So he battled his urges, reasoning that it was far more than he deserved to even just kiss her. If that was all she wanted from him, he would be content with that.

  /x\

  His sigh sounded like it came from the earth itself and Illeria looked up to see her beloved Destrier standing in the doorway, his fingers grazing the crest above the lintel. His eyes were fixed on the fire that crackled in the common room's hearth, their brown depths equal amounts thoughtful and wistful. For being a man who wasn't particularly renowned for his intelligence, Destrier Revel certainly seemed to do a lot of thinking .

  "I come bearing news that is good, for all that it makes my heart heavy." The knight stated after a moment, his eyes flicking to her own and warming almost immediately.

  A blind man could have picked up on the knight's shyness around her years ago, Destrier's stammering the most endearing part of the whole debacle. That he had finally managed to overcome such a hurdle was a true indicator of how devastating the struggle with Leofore must have been. 

  In spite of that progress though, Destrier still seemed hesitant to go any further than his tender, drawn-out kisses. Illeria could posit easily enough that some of his hesitation was due to his military mileage, the trials he endured enough to break a lesser man. While the woman wished he would talk to her more openly about such things, she could only assume that he was doing the best that he could.

  Illeria Stennas was not some frail creature to swoon after a turn about the drawing room, however. 

  She wiped her hands off on her apron, then crossed her arms on the counter, leaning forward a bit. "What new trouble is our great king sending you and your friends to sort out this time?" Illeria asked, her tone one of playful resignation. She had learned long before their involvement that Destrier's loyalty to his master and comrades was second to none.

  "We are to do battle with a lich." Destrier looked haunted for a moment and Illeria was reminded anew of how hard the King's Chosen had to fight to reclaim Leofore from the clutches of such evil previously. "Illeria, I…" The blond man paused to close and lock the door behind him against the chill of the night air, then turned to face her again. "My love, I am to leave shortly."

  "How shortly?" Illeria queried, cursing inwardly at the sharpness of her tone. 

  "Two days, Illeria." 

  She wanted to protest, to voice her disapproval of the rapid decision, so soon? . But Destrier already appeared miserable, the large man cupping her face in his hands over the counter. "I know you have no choice." She said instead. The young woman wasn't sure if the kiss on her forehead was gratitude or apology. Maybe both. A boon for her understanding heart.

  "Illeria…" Goddess, when he breathed her name like that it was as if her knees were designed to tremble. 

  Destrier was all softness with her, but the occasional sharp edge to him was what she loved so dearly. The barest crack in his armor of propriety, painstakingly crafted over the years of knightly training. Leofore had taught him well, guarded his mind against corruptions or temptations that may have struck out in the field. His occasional slip-ups around her served as a reminder of his comfort in her, as well as a bit of an ego-stroke. 

  "Yes, Destrier?" She replied, her voice just as soft while he leaned in.

  "Forgive me for this." Destrier murmured, and then slotted their mouths together. His tongue sought hers out hungrily and Illeria found herself at a loss, her hands fumbling for purchase on his broad shoulders. He rested his forehead against hers, those eyes nearly golden in the light from the lantern. "Forgive me." He begged again, stroking over the kerchief that she had covered her hair with.

  "What terrible thing have you done, my love?" Illeria murmured.

  "Not for what I have done, beloved. For what I may do." Destrier seemed legitimately distressed and Illeria caught his hands as he struggled to articulate himself. "I have this... hunger I cannot seem to reconcile. These urges, these… base cravings I feel to see more of you. Yet I cannot call anything associated with you truly base, for you are all that I fight for." Destrier kissed her knuckles. "My beautiful Illeria, my shelter, my light, I come to you not as one of the King's Chosen, not even as a knight of the crown. I come to you simply as Destrier Revel, a man rendered insensate by his need for you."

  "What is worse," Illeria began, her head swimming pleasantly at his luxurious words, "than a man who takes what is not his to take?"

  " Nothing ." Destrier answered firmly, and if it was possible the woman fell even more in love with him even as she shook her head. 

  "Destrier, it is a man who keeps his eager lover waiting!" She teased, seizing his ascot to reel him in. A bit more serious, she added, "I feared that you did not want me." Her fingers toyed with the buttons on his shirt. "I feared that perhaps you did not have the same depth of feeling towards me that I foster for you."

  "Illeria, I might die from wanting you." Destrier replied, the bluntness of his words settling in her stomach like an ember. "The years have been brutal to me. I am not the man you deserve." 

  "You are the man that I want. I believe that is enough." Illeria twined her fingers through his, leading him around the bar. "Take me to bed, Revel."

  "Are you certain? Illeria-"

  " Desty ." The woman said the nickname in exasperation, making him chuckle. "I am much more certain than you seem willing to give me credit for!"

  "Very well, my love." Destrier acquiesced, his smile faint but still there. "Forgive my constant need for reassurance."

  She rolled her eyes, tugging him into her bedchamber. Their bedchamber. Goddess, she was really about to take this plunge with Destrier . The incorruptible paladin of the King's Chosen, Knight-Captain Revel. All the lofty titles he had accumulated and yet he was still so uncertain , so humble, that he came to her as nothing more than a man.

  They had entered this room many times before, hand in hand like they were now. Occasionally even clumsily fumbling at one another for a time before he would inevitably soothe her back against the counterpane, his expression troubled as he departed the cozy warmth of her bed and curled up in front of the fireplace. 

  He had oft left her wet and aching with his passionate, tender kisses, but she did not chide him for it. Destrier was not a hasty man, and he was also not a man lacking in emotion. Turmoil ran deep in him, the caution he displayed only fanning the flames of her ardent curiosity. What would he be like if he was truly unleashed? 

  She thought she got her answer as the door clicked shut. 

  Destrier pinned her against the wall, his hand cupping the back of her head to shield it from the impact. " Illeria ," he whispered, his voice grating slightly. "There is never enough time, my love, and yet if I do not ask now, I fear that I will be unable to again." He half-laughed sadly, resting his forehead on her own. "Every time I have ever had to leave the kingdom, every maneuver against the enemy...all I could think about was whether this would be the final time. Whether it would be the end, and I would never be able to see you again. Even if you didn't know how I felt, it seemed like it was enough just to see you, happy and safe. I told myself I could live with that, why muddy everything so?"

  Illeria dug her fingers into his hair, freeing it from the haphazard braid he had constructed at the nape of his neck. Destrier hummed at the gesture, his eyes half-lidding as he leaned into her touch.

  "After what transpired with...with the Knight-Commander, believing that we had truly lost him…I was in such a disgraceful state. It was an immense blow, one that I am aggrieved to say nearly ended me." He confessed. "I could not bear the thought of making you feel even a tenth of the pain I felt at losing Leofore, should something happen to me." His large hand tucked beneath her chin to lift her gaze to meet his own. "Should we continue down this path, my love, I fear I will cause you grief. If we need to cease our interactions here, I will understand."

  Illeria remembered well the way that he had been following Leofore's supposed death. Distant, painfully so, and no victory seemed to be enough to blunt the edge of that specific defeat. "Did you believe you would die? When you departed with the others to rescue the queen and prince?" She asked instead.

  "I do not fear death, Illeria."

  "That is not what I asked." Illeria pushed him back a step, enough to give her some room so that she didn't lose her senses. His proximity could be... overwhelming . "I asked whether you believed you would perish. Did you believe, in some corner of your heart, that your death would serve as penance for the loss of his life?"

  "I..." the guilty look Destrier sported told her all she needed to know. "You must understand, he taught me all that I ever had to offer. Unshakeable where I am brittle, strong where I am feeble, Leofore...is everything I could aspire to be. I told you before that I did not think I would survive the war, and losing someone so important--"

  "And what of your own importance, Destrier?" Illeria interrupted him fiercely. "What of the people that might grieve you, as you grieved Leofore?" What of me , she wanted to ask, what of my heart that broke every time you left? But no, she could not take that out on him. It had been her own fault for remaining silent about her affections for so long, trapped by the inadequacy she felt. He was a brave, noble knight, and she was nothing but an ordinary woman who had carved out an existence for herself. Free, and so, so lonely.

  "Every life in this kingdom, from the youngest babe to the oldest counselor, is worth my own many times over, Illeria. That is the reality of my knighthood, and a burden that I gladly accept." Destrier's tone was resigned. "My life so that others may live on in peace."

  "Do not pretend as if there is no heart in your chest, Revel." Illeria snapped. "You do yourself no great service."

  "Naero said much the same to me once." He smiled fondly at her and despite her best efforts, the woman felt her irritation wane. "When I am with you, it feels as though it is fit to leap free of my chest."

  "You leave the day after tomorrow?" Illeria waited for his nod of confirmation before drawing a shaky breath. "I suppose we must make the most of that time, then."

  "It would be wise." Destrier agreed, sounding a bit confused. "Are there any repairs to be completed? Or-"

  She caught him by the pockets of his waistcoat, pulling herself into him and kissing him hard. Destrier's startled exhale made her want to laugh for a moment, but then he was kissing her back and suddenly laughter was the furthest thing from her mind. "Destrier," Illeria sighed, pleasantly surprised by the way that he groaned in response. "I would appreciate you laying with me before you depart."

  Destrier buried his face in the junction of her neck and shoulder with another groan, this one louder. "Illeria, have mercy ." He pleaded, "I want that so badly it hurts, my love, but-"

  "What is stopping you?" Illeria pressed kisses to his throat, his ear. "Undress me, love."

  " Gods ." Destrier said through gritted teeth. "You want me? Truly?"

  " Yes , Destrier. I want all of you." Illeria hesitated, unsure if what she was about to say would be too weighty for their current situation. "I want you to know exactly why you're fighting so hard to return to me."

  Destrier's fingers dug into her back and the man held her tightly for several long moments. "I don't deserve you." He muttered, finally tugging at the laces of her corset. "I have never deserved you, and I doubt I ever will. If you will accept me as I am, who am I to question such providence?"

  Illeria covered his hands with her own, feeling him trembling as she guided him through unlacing the supportive garment. The corset slid down her body, taking her skirts with it and leaving her there in her chemise. The woman raised her hands to his shirt collar, deft fingers untying his ascot. "Are you alright, my love?" She asked gently. Destrier's eyes snapped back to her own, the man nodding hard enough to make her giggle. 

  "I am uncertain of where to look." He admitted, his expression gone sheepish. A flush had crept up his neck to dust the bridge of his aquiline nose with a sweet rosy tint. The image was utterly precious and so very Destrier that Illeria couldn't have helped her smile even if she had wanted to.

  He seemed content to just stand there and let her undo the buttons on his waistcoat, the knight shrugging out of the garment absently. "Surely you have enjoyed the company of other women?" Illeria teased. "You must have looked at them, Destrier."

  The large man fidgeted guiltily. "Well, yes."

  "And I have enjoyed the company of other men, Destrier." Illeria smiled at him. "Do not appear so pensive, my love! We are neither of us blushing virgins. There is no shame in enjoying the touch of another person."

  Destrier swore under his breath, meeting her gaze once more. "I just feel inadequate, Illeria. I bandy with the notion that you may not enjoy me, and to know that you could be trapped with me...many folk love each other without enjoying their coupling. I do not wish for you to warm my proverbial bed merely out of a sense of duty or normalcy."

  "Fatalistic! We will be fine , my love." Illeria stated firmly. "You must stop thinking of the worst possible thing, lest your forehead become hopelessly wrinkled."

  "Truly, what a terrible fate that might be." Destrier smiled reluctantly, his fingers undoing the kerchief that kept her curls in check. "Gods, I love you. I love everything about you." He said, the plainness of his words doing nothing to take the sincerity from them. "Did you know that your eyes light up when you smile?"

  Illeria blinked at him. "They do?" Being the sole caretaker of Maplecrest, she had little time to practice smiling at herself in the mirror. 

  Destrier nodded. "They take on this warm hue, I am unsure of how to describe it. I've never been of a poetic bent. Regardless, the effect is absolutely enchanting." He cradled her face, brushing their lips together but not fully kissing her. She could feel the strange burn scars that spanned both of his palms pressing into her skin, the touch familiar and grounding. "Illeria, if I do something that makes you feel uneasy or...or if I cause you pain…" he trailed off, searching her eyes. 

  "We won't ever find out if we keep going at this pace." Illeria half-scolded, half-teased, taking matters into her own hands as she grasped the hem of her chemise and stripped it off over her head. 

  She understood his concern, of course. She had wrestled with such notions herself on more than one occasion. But there was no need nor room for doubt anymore. With the same certainty that she knew she loved him, Illeria knew that Destrier would never intentionally cause her discomfort. 

  She stepped out of her underthings and stood before him, hands on her hips, naked as the day she was born. Illeria tilted her chin up to give him a playful wink. "Well, Knight Revel? Is one simple woman too great a foe for you to conquer?" 

  Destrier's reply came in the form of his eyes trailing down over her body, the paladin taking in every inch of her on display. Then, he shifted his weight, advancing on her until the backs of her knees hit the edge of her bed. 

  "I have yet to meet a foe that can best me." He sounded almost contemplative, his hand reaching out to press against her collarbone and continue to urge her back until she had no choice but to lay down. Destrier shed his shirt and unlaced his breeches while she got comfortable, and Illeria decided that she had waited long enough.

  Her own fingers began to move down her body, the woman teasing herself. "If you don't hurry, Destrier, I will certainly best you." 

  "Hmm, doubtful." Destrier murmured, his large form abruptly caging her in. "Though your confidence is not unfounded, I must insist that you yield." His fingers twined through her own, pinning them to the blankets on either side of her head. "You are wholly at my mercy, woman. However, should you request my supplication, I may be swayed to grant it."

  Had any other man said such a thing while looming over her in bed, Illeria would have made them regret being born. But Destrier saying those things, brown eyes scorching in their intensity even as a fond smile tugged at the corner of his mouth…

  She had never thought that a man teasing her could elicit such a heated reaction. Illeria felt her entire body flush. " Please , Destrier." She begged, and he smiled at her so warmly. Her thighs fell open as he tried her with his fingers, the man's breath leaving his chest in a harsh gasp when he found her slick and ready for him.

  " Gods , you want me." Destrier sounded awestruck by the confirmation of her arousal. Illeria whimpered, nodding and arching her hips up in invitation. An invitation which Destrier proceeded to accept, the blond man finally gifting her the last piece of what she had been craving for so long. 

  His hand still holding hers squeezed once when she moaned his name, her own breathing so quick to stutter when Destrier plunged deep. His pelvis ground against her, providing such delicious stimulation that she couldn't help her cry. 

  Destrier rumbled wordlessly in response, ducking his head to flick and tease at her nipples with his awful, terrible tongue. The tongue that said such sweet and pleasing things now menaced her mercilessly, feeling like a trail of fire on her sensitive skin. Illeria gripped his back after he released her hand to support his weight more fully, the large man shuddering all over when she dug her nails in. "Good?" He queried breathlessly.

  "Gods, Destrier , more-" Illeria couldn't even get the full plea out, the muscles in his back shifting before snapping taut beneath her touch as he moved to obey.

  His voice was gravelly when next he spoke, his hand stroking over her hair with such tenderness. "I never believed I would get to do this with you, my love." He looked dazed. "I feel as though I'll wake up at any moment, aching and alone, still in my tent out in the field."

  "You dreamed of me?" Illeria meant to joke with him, but his expression was so soft as he looked down at her and nodded she couldn't bring herself to. 

  "Nearly every night, it seemed." Destrier confessed, making the pit of her stomach throb sweetly with the depth of his next thrust. "I would start awake, your name on my lips, wishing more than anything that I could-" he paused for breath, glancing downwards at where their bodies were currently joined and then back up at her. His grin was pure mischief when he continued, "well, I'm certain your own imagination can fill in the blanks."

  "I have been so fearful that you saw me as a trinket, something nice to look at and do nothing with." Illeria gave him her own confession, laughing a little when he accidentally bumped his nose against hers. "I did not want to rush you, Destrier."

  "Patience is a virtue, my love, but there are worse things in life than being less virtuous." Destrier kissed her forehead. "You have waited so very long for me, and I for you, Illeria Stennas." 

  His hand slipped between their bodies, delving into the apex of her thighs to give her what she dared not ask for. Illeria clung to his shoulders, her legs framing his hips as he rutted into her until she was panting his name, over and over in time with his motions. Destrier's fingers stroked her firmly, coaxing her towards her inevitable climax in a way that no other man had ever bothered to do. 

  "Illeria..." he moaned for her and the effect was instantaneous. Every muscle in her body tensed, Illeria threw her head back and canted her hips to meet his next thrust. 

  Stars erupted across her field of vision, the lure of completion beckoning her onwards. 

  Destrier dropped his forehead against her sternum while she trembled and sobbed out his name, her entire being ablaze with aroused heat as she fell apart for him. In the haze of her post-moment, Illeria vaguely realized that Destrier had gone stock-still, quivering a little.

  "Where do you want me?" He asked through clenched teeth. "I fear I am close."

  Where do you want me?

  She bit her lip unintentionally as she thought and Destrier groaned, a tremor running through him. "Illeria," he began to protest, then grunted as she pressed her heels into the backs of his thighs, theoretically keeping him right where he was. In truth, she knew full well that he could easily remove himself from her embrace if he did not feel comfortable with such an act. 

  "Inside me, my love?" She requested softly. Illeria could have sworn the fire in the hearth behind him flared a little brighter, Destrier's brown eyes flickering like molten gold as he stared down at her. "Our first time together should be special, shouldn't it?" She reasoned, combing his hair back out of his face. 

  "You are certain? " He rasped, and there was a desperate edge to his voice that made her want to shiver. "It is not too late to change your mind, Illeria. I will not unless you truly wish for it."

  "I love you as I have never loved another, Destrier Revel." Illeria assured him. "I trust you."

  That seemed to do him in, the paladin gripping her hips nearly tight enough to bruise. "I will return to you, I swear it." He promised fervently, "Not even death itself has a chance of tearing me from you, Illeria."

  Such lofty words, spoken so sincerely. She could not help but almost believe him. The woman embraced him as he too reached his climax, cradling him against her body while he shuddered and spilled himself into her. 

  /x\

  Destrier's heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. Illeria, Illeria , his mind chanted, and she had never looked so beautiful as when she had lost herself under the caress of his fingers. 

  A thousand nights that he had awoken alone, all washed away by this one instance of lovemaking. He felt like a complete idiot, smiling at her like the lovestruck fool that he was. He was always so careful with her thick hair, knowing that one wrong move could tug it to the point of pain, but he managed to successfully lace his fingers through it so he could tilt her head. His nose being... prodigious , certain precautions had to be taken when he kissed her.

  "You are incredible." Illeria whispered against his lips, giving the man pause. He pulled back, a bit startled and confused by the strength of the affectionate look she was giving him.

  "I am?" He asked after a moment. 

  Illeria laughed, the noise carefree as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. " Yes , Destrier!"

  "I love you, you know that, right?" He hated how pitiful he sounded. "I have never felt this way before, Illeria. I have never…"

  Her hands framed his jaw, tipping his face down to gently peck his slack mouth. "Destrier, I feel the same way. It's all so…"

  "Raw." Destrier finished for her, shaking his head.

  " New ," she corrected him, "raw makes it sound as though it is painful. Are you pained, my love?"

  " Gods , no. Oh! I should move, I must be crushing you." Destrier floundered back, nearly falling over in his hasty effort to take his weight off of her. "I did not hurt you, did I?" He asked after righting himself, relieved when she shook her head.

  Her fingers traced the scarring that intersected his left eyebrow. Unbeknownst to her, those and a few more marks that his hair thankfully hid were the only indication of his abrupt departure from (and subsequent return to) the land of the living. 

  Destrier leaned into her touch, taking her hand after a moment and pressing a kiss to the still-thundering pulse in her wrist. "My beloved." He murmured, sure that he looked absolutely smitten. He certainly felt as much!

  "I know you have to leave, but…" Illeria trailed off, her brow creased with worry. 

  Destrier cleared his throat. "Not for two days." He reminded her, trying to smile. "The day after tomorrow." 

  Illeria nodded. "We won't be open tomorrow." She said decisively, her tone downright flippant . 

  "No?" Destrier cocked his head, thoroughly confused. "But...the inn?"

  " Destrier , you leave in two days ." Illeria reiterated with a wave of her hand. "If I can still walk at that point, I may consider it a personal failing on your part."

  " Illeria! " The knight sputtered, torn between laughter and embarrassment. "You are...gods, I love you." He smiled, much more fondly than their ribald conversation would call for. "I shall do my best, if you are willing." He was sure he was red from the tips of his ears to the center of his chest.

  "That is all I can ask of you, Destrier." The young woman slung her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. "If you are mine, I am willing." She sighed when they parted once more.

  " Always , beloved. Until the stars burn to ash."

  /x\

  "You had better be safe. It will be cold without you." He could recognize now that the terse tone she had taken was due to her concern for him, and his heart ached in his chest.

  Destrier took her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles. "I promised, did I not?" He tried to assure her. "I will return as fast as I can, my love."

  The soft gray fabric wound around his neck, and Illeria used it to pull him back down for another kiss. "Wear your helmet." She insisted.

  "Of course, Illeria."

  "If something happens-" Her voice choked off, the woman blinking rapidly and then looking away.

  "Illeria, you must be strong enough for the both of us." Destrier murmured, his thumb catching the tear that managed to escape. "I will not ask you to force a smile or even put on a brave face, for it would be foolish to expect such a taxing thing. All I can ask is that you do not lose hope. I will return, and when I do, I…" Destrier hesitated, then smiled thinly. "I shall put in a better effort to ensure your lack of motion."

  Illeria gave a watery snicker at that, and Knight Revel rushed to kiss her again before she could potentially say something that would send Thranrok into an absolute spasm .

Part Five: A Choice

[pauldron-pieces]

Destrier Revel: A Choice

Fandom: Dungeons And Dragons (5E)

Pairing: Destrier Revel/Illeria Stennas (F!NPC)

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: This is a hypothetical narrative scenario featuring original characters in a world created by my Dungeon Master. As usual, this is non-canon and I own nothing aside from intellectual properties specifically attached to Destrier Revel. This installment is mechanically unsound in a multitude of ways and ignores certain important lore facets.

Trigger warnings are listed inside. Enjoy!

Taglist: @sporadic-fics and @cookiethewriter!

Inspired By: As Cities Burn: Wrong Body and The Classic Crime: The Beginning (A Simple Seed)

Destrier Revel’s Backstory: Burn The Wicked

For Leofore

Light And Home

So Little Time

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains graphic depictions of gore, emotional duress, triggering terminology regarding motherhood/childbirth and sexual acts between two consenting adults. Stay safe!]

Glasha, first of the Urgals. Broodmare of the Horde. The terror of the Sunken Places, the one of the corrupted womb. Unmother .

  Through their long campaign there had been whispers of such a fiend. Naero no doubt knew more than he let on, but they had all stumbled across multitudes of crude altars, or effigies and poppets constructed to the unliving , the one who gave life without life.

  Destrier swallowed hard. Leofore was already gone, lost to that righteous rage he channeled so brightly. But the younger paladin was frozen in place, staring down this sad creature in front of him.

  Glasha wailed her wrath again and again, tears pouring down her sunken cheeks. Did she grieve the loss of such terrible children that she had been forced to bear? Or did she mourn the loss of her own autonomy? Her cries and curses in Urgal struck Destrier's ears like a physical blow, the squalling laced with a new, unfamiliar edge that threatened to rend him apart. 

  He seemed to be the only one who was paying attention to her words, the rest of the King's Elite obviously too far gone in their quest for revenge or merely dismissing it as manic babbling. 

  She screamed names, names , she had named every one of the abominations they had slain. 

  Nausea threatened hot in Destrier's throat, his thoughts skittering to Illeria without his conscious input. An image rose in his mind's eye and he tried desperately to crush it down before he could become too aware of it, but-

  Her standing in the doorway of Maplecrest, a small child balanced on her hip, pale like him or sporting her own beautiful complexion? Would they be blond, saddled with his beak of a nose, or would they be blessed with a thick head of lovely curls? A child, his child, their child...

  What if he had made her a mother when they laid together before his departure? What if he didn't survive? To leave her with a bastard, his bastard-

  As Argon roared and Leofore shouted and the lich shrieked her pain out at them both, the blond man found himself at a loss once again. Just like when they had fought Leofore, he was distracted, tangled by his foolish feelings. Agony flooded his body, the blatant longing for that imagined future so potent it cut him to the marrow. With it came the soft certainty that he must endure this, if only to return home and plead for forgiveness.

  He suddenly spotted Naero making a mad dash for a strange box half-hidden behind that altar and at that, the world snapped back into clarity for him.

  No hesitation. No mercy. She is the enemy and she must be destroyed for the sake of the kingdom. That familiar deep voice, as rich and smokey as a solstice-warmed whiskey, echoed in his ears. Burn the wicked and rule the ashes.

  Naero grabbed the box and fled further back in the sunken cathedral, the elf already yelling for Ganymethios to, " purge this damn thing! "

  Glasha gestured her hand to cast something , foul sigils flickering in the deathly still air with a tainted, fetid light. Destrier felt her attention shift to him when he foiled her spell, his shout of Garuda denies it! obviously raising her hackles. It was hardly his first time countering a spell, but the effort it took to merely keep it from completing stole his breath. She was strong . 

  They had been fools to think they would manage her so easily. They would have to hope and pray for an opening, some weakness they could grab hold of and exploit, otherwise this quest would end in a spectacular failure.

  A ripple of energy that Destrier vaguely recalled from their prior struggle with Leofore cracked the very flagstones underfoot. Leofore had been clumsy and heavy-handed with the dark magics foisted upon him, the paladin unused to wielding such methods. Glasha, in contrast, wove her spells with the frightening, chaotic intensity of an individual who had nothing left to lose. 

  Leofore, Thranrok and Argon were doing their best to keep her at bay while Naero and Ganymethios tried to destroy the box. His mind made up, Destrier finally took a firm step forward to aid his friends and a second powerful tremor shifted the earth beneath him, throwing him off balance.

  One moment Glasha was trapped behind the impregnable wall that was his allies, the next she had misty-stepped past them all. She had no physical weapon, simply raising her bony fingers and curving them into malicious talons. Black light seethed and writhed over her knuckles as she lunged forward at Destrier.

  "You, the child-killer who would waste my spells, you shall taste the wrath of the Unmother before you die!" She screamed.

  Glasha, first of the Urgals. A lost cause. A wandering soul, grief and madness given form. Gods only knew the torments she had seen. Gods only knew the vengeance she would wreak if left to her own devices.

  Destrier raised his lance at the last moment and Glasha ran herself through, shrieking in his face while she slowed to a halt. Ichor trickled down, soaking his skin via the star cut-outs in the knight's gauntlets. Somewhere, deep in his soul, Destrier knew the bonfire of Garuda roared in delight. 

  "I release you from this." Destrier breathed, radiant energy streaking up the haft of his lance and surging into her stomach. "I release you from this horrible bondage, Glasha Unmother. Find what peace you can in the knowledge that you shall not return."

  The lich was eerily silent, simply clinging to the blade of his lance as she began to disappear. Destrier stayed where he was, and thus it was only he that saw her last little smirk.

  The knight recoiled, shouting, "fan out and search the room! I do not trust such good fortune!"

  "What, why?" Gany protested, poking at the pile of ash that had been the box. "We got her phylactery already, Revel."

  "No no, he has a point. It would be unwise for us to just accept that was the phylactery." Thranrok reasoned, "we need to learn from our mistakes."

  " Your mistakes, you mean." Naero commented dryly. "None of us ever claimed to be well-read on matters of lichdom."

  While the dwarf, elf and dragonborn bickered with one another, the two paladins and the bloodhunter began to examine the subterranean cathedral. Destrier took a chance and extended a request to the starlit void, asking for guidance. And Aetros, Ad Astra, Everflame , answered in timely fashion.

  Open your eyes, faithless paladin, and look below. Beneath the cracked stones of her altar of pretend worship, you will find what you seek. 

  Destroy it.

  Knight-Captain Destrier Revel, a man not prone to questioning, gamely trotted over to the altar and started rummaging through the rubble that had once been the floor. As he heaved aside a broken flagstone slab, a small, battered box came into view. Emblazoned with the same rune that he had seen in the town's well, no less! It looked to be made out of several different types of woods or materials he could not identify in the gloomy twilight. 

  His brow furrowed, the knight reached down to tug the box free of the damp earth.

  The second his fingers grazed the moldering edge, crippling pain struck him in the stomach. It was as if his insides were being ripped to shreds, the base of his belly alight with twisting, searing agony. His mind was suddenly assaulted with memories that were not his own. Bloody and sickly flesh, the grey-green skin of Urgals and the squealing of unfed whelps clamoring for their matron. The bone-crushing exhaustion, defeat, betrayal, loss, hatred --

  Destrier dry-heaved and tore his cape free of its moorings, rushing to wrap the box with the fabric in an attempt to dull the horrific sensation. It seemed to work, at the very least ridding him of the haunting, gruesome imagery. "Knight-Commander!" He barked, his words clipped to keep his distress from showing. "I have found what we sought. We must return to the chantry at once!"

  /x\

  One hurried teleportation and a rushed, panicky interruption of the High Mass later, the phylactery was reduced to incredibly-consecrated ashes. Thranrok and Ganymethios fairly preened under the praise of High Priest Xavier, the former adventurer commending the 'intellectuals' of the King's Elite for their 'quick, decisive action'.

  Leofore caught Destrier's arm on his way past, patting his shoulder. "Argon, Naero and myself are going to Jonathan. He will be overjoyed with our triumph." The older paladin looked weary, yet still somehow peaceful. It was as if he had been struggling under some great burden, one that he could not share. Now that they had returned though, the weight was gone. 

  "I shall join you." Destrier offered, following the other man.

  Oddly, Leofore shook his head. "Nay, my friend. Your place is elsewhere. I am certain there is someone eagerly waiting for you." He remarked, a smug little grin on his face. Destrier flinched, casting his eyes down at the floor. "What troubles you, Revel?" The dark-haired paladin queried, "do you not wish to return to her?"

  "I am...unsure of myself." Destrier mumbled. "I have much to consider, Knight-Commander."

  "Aye, I suppose you do." That gilded white and gold gauntlet clapped down on his pauldron, and Destrier felt Leofore give him a gentle shake. "Do not languish for too long, Knight Revel. She at least deserves to know the truth of your turmoil." Leofore reasoned wisely. 

  Destrier nodded, giving his commander a salute. He meandered back through the cathedral, the pew he selected creaking in warning beneath the weight of his armor before Destrier lapsed into silent contemplation. Brooding , rather. 

  He should not be so confounded by this. It cast doubt upon the entirety of his military career! It was shameful that the man who held the position of knight-captain in their legion was also afflicted by such crippling doubt. He needed to be strong in the field, firm and confident. Not some tremulous dastard who was too in his head to make the difficult choices required to win a war!

  "My son, I am surprised you are still here!" High Priest Xavier's voice interrupted his reverie and Destrier glanced up, trying to force a smile for the other man. "I had thought you would be celebrating with the others. It's not every day that the King's Elite manage to rid the realm of a terrible threat." The priest continued, settling down into the pew alongside him.

  "My thoughts are more pressing than the imminent festivities, I'm afraid."

  "Aella is here, my son. He always has an open ear for the plights of his people." High Priest Xavier intoned, his expression one of sympathy.

  The knight exhaled hard. "I am certain I was not ever supposed to think about this." Destrier admitted quietly. He pressed Illeria's scarf to his lips in a gesture of contemplative reverence. "It is unbecoming, this...weakness."

  "What deep musings grieve you, Knight-Captain Revel? It is strange to see you so downtrodden."

  "I killed a mother today, High Priest Xavier. I am unsure if she wanted to be a mother, but she was a mother all the same. And I cut her down." Destrier stared at the altar. "There is a woman, who...I mean, if she is still willing , I wish to ask her to...well, be my partner in this world." 

  The fantasy of Illeria flashed into his mind again like a curse, her smiling at him in the doorway of Maplecrest with a babe on her hip. Gods, gods , he wasn't strong enough for this. The paladin rubbed his eyes hard , like he could dismiss his cheap imaginings so simply. His wishful wants mattered precious little in this world.

  Xavier began speaking to him after a moment, the high priest remarking thoughtfully, "you feel unworthy of companionship because you ended the suffering of a creature that could not decide their own fate."

  "Does that not make it even worse?" Destrier erupted, his tone sharp with desperation. "If myself and the rest of the King's Elite struck down someone who had no choice , would you truly deem that a display of mercy? I have never considered myself a man of great sympathy, but to kill a mother…" He shook his head in disgust. "I feel filthy . How can I face this woman now? How can I take her hands in my own and promise her fealty and happiness, perhaps even children should she desire them, when I have done nothing but bring destruction?"

  The priest was silent for a time. Whether in contemplation or contempt Destrier could not say. "Have you engaged the enemy for personal gain, Knight-Captain Revel?" He asked finally.

  "Gods, no . I sought nothing from battle but the protection of innocents and the reclamation of our razed and pillaged lands." Burn the wicked and rule the ashes . "A-All in service to the crown." Destrier paused, clearing his throat. "There have been times I was swallowed whole by grief, or...bloodlust, and I regret them with every ounce of my being. So noble and full of myself, yet even I was lost to such human conditions."

  "Indeed. Almost as if you are human. Made of fallible flesh like the rest of us." Xavier mused wryly, coaxing a reluctant smile from the blond man. "The path every man walks is fraught with such things, Knight Revel. I regret to inform you that you are not particularly special in that regard. However, you have a choice as I once did." Xavier then spread his arms, gesturing at the entire cathedral. "Will you wallow in your regret and self-loathing? Or will you make something of it? Will you atone for your deeds with your future actions? Will you usher a new generation into this kinder, safer world we have all fought and bled for?" The man cocked his head, fixing the speechless knight with a stern look. "If you seek a challenge, I would suggest you try the latter option."

  /x\

  It had been raining the entire evening.

  Today marked the fifteenth day since the King's Elite had set forth to do battle with the Urgal lich. Destrier felt simultaneously as if too much and not enough time had passed, the paladin meandering cloaked through the streets.

  The lights of Maplecrest twinkled in the rain like stars. Home , he caught himself thinking, and he shook his head at his slip-up. Such optimism would only sharpen the blade of his departure if she did not wish to see him.

  Knight-Captain Revel lingered in the front yard of Maplecrest for... much longer than he should have. He was soaked through by the time he finally managed to muster up the courage to enter the building. His gauntlet pressed to the crest on the lintel, offering up a silent plea for strength of resolve. This would not be simple.

  Just as he was preparing to push the door open, it swung inwards of its own accord. Illeria paused mid-motion, a bucket of dirty water in her arms as she stared up at him. A startled, "Oh?" was all she managed to get out before every noble, self-sacrificial thought in Destrier's head vanished.

  His kiss was voracious, incredibly improper, and he felt her blindly pitch the bucket past him so she could wind her arms around his neck instead. The way she clung to him, her fingers unlacing his heavy oilcloth cloak--

  Destrier backed her up inside, shoving the door closed behind him and making a clumsy, staggering beeline for her living quarters. Her beautiful form was all but molded against his body, curves dulling the edge of his armor. Gods , she was everything he was not.

  With that sobering thought he pulled back, stupidly satisfied for a moment at how dark her cheeks had grown. "Illeria, I-" he began, tilting his gaze to the fireplace and swallowing hard. "I…" 

  But his words failed him, the knight grasping at straws until he resorted to kneeling in front of her. Proud helm bowed, he begged for forgiveness. Begged her to forgive him for being so selfish during their last endeavor ( what if he had not returned? ), begged her to forgive him for his merciless slaughter of innocent once-civilians and the sad, hollow Unmother. To his utter shame, Destrier found himself teary-eyed as he confessed his wrongdoings and sought penance. This display of weakness (as with all his others) he considered a black mark on his military career. He was so damnably strong , and yet he was reduced to tears over something foolish.

  Illeria said nothing at first, the woman simply undoing the strap beneath his chin so she could pull off his helmet and place it aside. " You , Destrier Revel," she murmured, digging her fingers into his hair and lightly scratching at his scalp, "need to stop judging yourself so harshly."

  Destrier blinked up at her. 

  "You're always hellbent on carrying yourself as the knight of the kingdom, the infallible paragon of justice. But you're also just human , Desty." She waved her hand dismissively. "I care not which divine being has chosen you as their champion, it has no bearing on me. All I know is that I have missed you, and I am delighted to have you back in one piece."

  "Let me display my contrition," Destrier insisted earnestly. "I...I know not what I can do or say, but I must make amends for leaving."

  "Oh if it's amends you're making," she was teasing him again, the young woman quirking an eyebrow. "I can ask for anything?"

  "Anything." Destrier agreed, his gauntlets clenched into tight fists on his thighs. Anything, anything . "If it is within my power to give, it is already yours."

  "I'd like your mouth, my love." Destrier moved to stand, but Illeria gripped his pauldrons as if she could have kept him from rising. He halted all the same, confused. "No no, you stay right where you are and put your mouth to good use." Her voice had dipped to a husky purr and Destrier swallowed hard. "Show me just how sorry you are, Desty."

  "I-Illeria, I-" Destrier loathed the way he dissolved into stammering when he grew nervous, it was exasperating . "Should I remove my plate, or-?"

  "No, you can leave it as it is."

  He closed his mouth, shucking his gauntlets and hesitantly raising his hands to undo the lacing on the placket of her loose breeches. Illeria, for her part, resumed dragging her fingers greedily through his thoroughly-mussed hair. 

  "I've missed you, love." She murmured, repeating herself as though she knew he needed to hear it. 

  Destrier groaned, resting his forehead against her stomach as he struggled with the laces. "I've missed you as well, Illeria. So much. I never want to leave you again." He replied quietly. 

  "Mm, I may hold you to that." Illeria cupped the back of his head. "I've missed your warmth. Your smile. Maplecrest is not the same without you." She held his shoulders to steady herself as she stepped out of her breeches and Destrier flung the article of clothing away, uncaring of where it landed. Just another barrier between himself and his prize.

  "Did you truly think of me while I was gone, my love?" He asked, glancing up while tugging down her smallclothes. Arousal curled in the pit of his stomach when he saw her watching him, her brown eyes both somnolent and hungry . To think that she could crave someone like him! "Oh, you did ." The delight in his voice was juvenile and she rolled her eyes. "Did you ache for me, Illeria, as I ached for you?" 

  Destrier knew it was cruel to tease, but she was squirming and he couldn't help the way his hands smoothed over her thighs, coaxing her even closer to his face. His thumbs then spread her cunt open and he watched her tremble at the contact, the knight caught off-guard by just how slick she already was. 

  "You've been waiting for me." It wasn't really a question, yet Illeria immediately answered by nodding furiously. "Sweet woman. I don't deserve you." To think that the first time they had lain together, he had jested about her begging him for supplication. The roles appeared thoroughly reversed now, though he could not bring himself to care overmuch. 

  He buried his face in her soft, wet folds, the bridge of his nose rutting against her clit. Destrier surged forward, already drunk off the scent and taste of her on his eager tongue. The contrast of how gentle, how tender she was even as she gripped the hair at the back of his head and all but took her pleasure from his mouth-! Destrier was hard-pressed to refrain from freeing himself of his armor and ravaging her until his name was all she had breath to say. 

  Later, later. Once I know I am forgiven.

  He could feel his cock stirring behind the confines of his codpiece and he groaned against Illeria, listening to her voice cracking while she reveled in his ministrations. The blond man's large hands gripped the backs of her legs once again, effectively immobilizing her and leaving her no choice but to surrender to the pleasure he wished so desperately to grant her. Her whole body undulated in his grasp, those thighs quivering with the delicious tension that he had spent countless nights dreaming of.

  "Come for me, love." Destrier pleaded, "I need it, I need you to. Gods Illeria, forgive me, I know I am so accursedly greedy--" 

  She nearly collapsed, hunching over him and clinging to his shoulders as she gave him what he had sought. Her taste washed over his tongue and Destrier devoured her; a filthy display of wantonness that somehow managed to leave him feeling clean. Whole. Right . This was the woman he loved, the woman he would ask to marry him. This was good . 

  Illeria's abundant arousal dripped off his chin to spatter on his breastplate as he panted for breath, the knight waiting a moment or two before he dared to look up at her. "Are you...are you alright?" He rasped, awkwardly clearing his throat mid-sentence. He couldn't resist the urge to lick his lips, chasing the remnants of her taste.

  " Destrier ," Illeria sighed in bliss, finger-combing his hair.

  "Am I forgiven, my love?" The large man asked plaintively even as he leaned into her touch, wringing his hands. "Will you still accept me into your life and bed, wretched though I am?"

  He did not expect her to kneel in front of him, the woman flinging her arms around his neck in a fervent embrace. Illeria tucked her face in between his jaw and gorget, planting a kiss on the sliver of bare skin that resided there. "You were forgiven the moment you returned to me safely, my love." She breathed. 

  Destrier's fists clenched on his thighs once more, and then he made his choice. The knight pulled loose the small reticule he used in the field. It was with shaking, unsteady hands that he extended one of the rings Leofore had given him, the object cupped in his palms for fear that he might drop it otherwise. "Illeria, I..." He rested his forehead against her own in mute frustration with himself, grimacing. "Will you...I mean, would you consider --h-have you ever thought about remaining with me?" He finally managed to get the words out, his voice pitching strangely. "A-As my wife, I mean."

  "You would ask me such a question while my completion still coats your chin? You are shameless , Knight Revel!" Illeria laughed, her mirth almost making his embarrassment worthwhile. Destrier was certain he had gone a shade of red previously unknown to the realm of man, trying to stammer out an explanation for his uncouth, salacious behavior. 

  Illeria didn't give him the chance, however, the woman kissing him deeply enough to make his mind go pleasantly blank. Her tongue stroking his own made him shudder involuntarily, if only because he knew she must be able to taste herself. "I don't suppose that could be a yes?" Destrier queried hopefully when she parted from him. 

  " Yes , Desty." Even though her words were colored with exasperation, Illeria was still smiling at him. Him! He felt like the luckiest fool alive. Destrier caught her around the waist, peppering kisses across her cheeks in delight as he stumbled upright. "Now, Knight-Captain Revel, your wife requires your service in our bed." The woman continued through her giggles when his mouth inevitably tickled her.

  "Of course! I have never been a man who shirks his duty." Destrier replied playfully, nuzzling his nose beneath her chin and sighing in contentment.

  /x\

  Destrier absently traced patterns on Illeria's naked back as she laid on his chest, the woman clearly too weary to stir. The smug little flash of pride at her predicament felt suspiciously fiery.

  "Dare I ask where you found the time to fetch me such a bauble?" She murmured, moving her hand so the light of the fire caught her ring. It was a thankfully simple band, the opalescent stone recessed into it lengthwise so it wouldn't catch on anything. Destrier was touched by his knight-commander's forethought. "It is beautiful, beloved."

  "It is part of a set. Leofore gifted the bands to me on the journey to set the lich to rights." He explained, uncertain if he should mention that they were sending stones just yet. She might take it the wrong way, as if him leaving was something that was inevitable.

  Illeria cocked her head up at him, and Destrier knew he had gone red once more. "So he knows?" She queried, a shy smile on her face while she twined her fingers through his own.

  Destrier couldn't help an embarrassed chuckle. "Unfortunately, in spite of my many attempts to be discreet and surreptitious, it seems that nearly everyone knows of my affection for you. I fear you shall never know peace again." He said, pressing an apologetic kiss to her knuckles. "It bodes well for your business, though! I am certain all the local women shall be clamoring for details on how Knight Desty beds his betrothed." 

  Illeria's startled laughter was a delight. It was as if the noise had been surprised out of her. Destrier vowed to try and make it happen again and again. "Goddess, you cannot expect me to explain such an act!" She protested.

  "What? I am so magnanimous that words fail you? Be cautious, my love, lest the common room be filled with fine-bred ladies all aswoon from your tales." Destrier grinned, dutifully enduring her rumpling his hair in retaliation for his crude words.

  "Don't tempt me Revel. I'll do it." Illeria threatened, still half-laughing. "I'll tell such outrageous falsehoods about your performance that you'll have no recourse but to endure my company for the rest of your life." Her eyes were fairly dancing with mirth at their joke and Destrier's heart clenched in his chest.

  "What a heinous hand I have been dealt." He mused, smiling as he cupped her face and urged her down for a kiss. "Truly awful."

  "I love you, Destrier Revel. Even when you vex me to the point of immense grief." Illeria whispered against his lips.

  "And I love you , Illeria Stennas." Destrier paused, then grinned up at her mischievously. " However , you can still move, which means I have been remiss in my duties! I would be aggrieved if I were to disappoint--"

" Desty ."

Part Six: Worth The Wait

[pauldron-pieces]

An Introduction

Main: @kindliest-of-wrenches​

Art: @kindliest-of-doodles​

Fandom Writing: @concussed-to-pieces​

Hello all! Atlas here. Welcome to the Dungeons and Dragons writing repository for all of my probably-paladin musings.

Stories will include elements of gratuitous violence, pauldronsexual activity and the occasional introspective angst festival. All works will be posted with the express permission of the Dungeon Master responsible for the character’s world, and all triggers will be labeled to the best of my ability.

My work is not safe for minors. Please leave if you are under the age of eighteen.

A massive thank you to any and all DMs out there, I immensely appreciate the amount of time and effort you all put into your tales to give players like me a fun, challenging and memorable experience.

Enjoy!