#margaery x oc

[gcldensnitch]

a game of thrones/asoiaf oc: eira baratheon.

She was the firstborn daughter of Lord Stannis Baratheon and Lady Selyse Florent. Being born into one of the great houses of Westeros was definitely not something Eira felt happy about. Her mother did not show love toward her and she barely met her father. Her only joy was her baby sister, Shireen. During her sixth nameday, her father made an agreement with his younger brother. Princess Eira got engaged to her uncle, Lord Renly Baratheon. He promised to take Eira as his wife once Eira is old enough. After that, her family sent her to Highgarden to keep her safe. That’s where she met and got close to Margaery Tyrell. 

#asoiaf oc #game of thrones oc #got oc #eira baratheon #house baratheon #margaery x oc #well yeah #i know it's very out of canon #but let me be delusional #it's not that deep alright? lol #*edits #*gifs

[wardenparker]

The Viper's Bride - Epilogue

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

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

Rating: T, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid. This is a MMFFF polycule, folx. Get on board or don't click to keep reading. Pregnancy!* Childhood illness, vague descriptions of surgery, child in pain, pregnancy. Epilogue time is fluff time. Summary: In the years after returning to Dorne, your family grows exponentially. Notes: I'm just utterly heartbroken to say farewell to our favourite Dornish prince this week, but hopefully you all enjoyed the ride and were as glad to see this family grow as we were to tell the story 🧡🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Ch 16

The sun is not up yet when the door to your chambers pushes open, and small feet pad across the smooth floor. You had been up late last night, celebrating another pregnancy with your husband although you have long since stopped keeping track of who the father actually is. Having now born two children that deeply resemble Oberyn and two that distinctly carry Raeden’s features, it no longer matters whose offspring you bear next. This beloved little girl, though, at nine years old, is the first of your children and very definitely resembles her Sand Snake sisters. Antonia Martell, Princess of Dorne.

There is more gray in Oberyn's hair than black, his body slower to recover from nights of excess, but his eyes open as soon as a little hand touches his arm. "Princess." He rasps, opening his arms to allow her to climb into the large bed. She knows that there might be times when others are there as well and has never questioned it yet. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Antonia shakes her head fiercely and her lip trembles as she snuggles in next to her father. “I can’t sleep,” she whispers, round eyes wide with tears as she tries not to wake her mother.

"What is wrong, my little date cake?" His eyes are brighter, clear and focused on his daughter as she grimaces. He had nicknamed her that after all the date cakes you had stuffed yourself with, lovingly provided by your half brother.

The sound of one of your children will always wake you, and even if you are a bit groggy you make sure to be able to focus on them. Right now, Antonia pulls that focus. “Did Kira keep you up, sweetheart?” At only six years old, little Kira often crawls into her older sister’s bed in the nursery, wondering out loud until all hours of the night or begging Antonia to tell her a story even though you and Oberyn take turns reading to them every night.

“No, Mama.” Even if she had, Antonia wouldn’t tattle on her sister. Her pout grows fiercer and she points to her side with a great sob. “It hurts.”

"What hurts?" Oberyn is sitting up instantly, reaching for his little girl to pull onto his lap. "Star, light the candles." Even though it could just be a stomach ache from too many sweets, Antonia isn't one to complain too much.

In a flash you are out of bed, grabbing a candelabra from the nearby table and bringing it close to the bed with care once it is lit. “Show us, sweetheart.”

Antonia is careful, pointing to her side without touching herself at all, and for the first time you notice her nose is a bit runny and her skin is damp with a thin sheen of sweat. “My tummy hurts,” she tells you both, chin trembling terribly.

“My poor little date cake.” Oberyn keeps his voice soothing, wanting to comfort her as he slowly presses his hand to her side, hating that she cries out in pain. “We need the maester.” He grunts, pulling his hand away and stroking her hair. “Sorry my love, I didn’t mean to cause you more pain. Papa would never want to cause you pain.” Instead of calling for Cal or Leyth, knowing they are still abed, Oberyn stands with his daughter in his arms. “Come, sweetheart.”

"Go, my love. I will look in on the others." If Antonia has gotten sick there is a chance that she will spread it to the others or even their nurse. If you are going to have four sick children, you would rather know sooner than later. You wrap yourself in a thin robe and pick up a single candle to walk with, moving swiftly down the hall toward the nursery.

He doesn’t hesitate. Striding naked through the halls of the Water Gardens since the family had moved there after the death of his brother, Doran. Once he gets out of the family wing, he starts to bellow for the maester to get his ass out of the bed and ready his tonics and cures.

Maester Strode is a relatively young man with a jolly disposition and warm countenance, but when he hears the prince shouting he leaps from his bed and lights the nearest lamp. "What is wrong, your Grace?" He asks, appearing at the end of the hallway with the light held high.

“The Princess is feverish and she is complaining about her side hurting.” Oberyn is grateful for the younger maester, eager to learn and he had taken well to the atmosphere of Dorne.

"Bring her inside at once." Strode knows that the Prince and Princess take the welfare of their children very seriously and moves to follow Prince Oberyn as he carries his heir through to the main room of his chamber. There is an examination table there, for the sick, and he lays Princess Antonia on it with a pillow for her head. "Does anything hurt other than your side, princess?" He asks, moving to a stand against the wall where he can wash off his hands before examining the child.

“No.” She sobs out, a pitiful sound. “It just really hurts.” She’s not sure what she’s done to cause this pain but she never wants to feel it again. Squirming slightly as she lays on the cool table with her little chin trembling.

“Alright, princess…” The Maester soothes, drying his hands before he returns to her side. “Your Grace, if you would hold the light over her?” He motions for Oberyn to stay close during the examination. “Do you feel sick, princess? Warm? Or dizzy, perhaps?”

“I’m cold.” She pouts, even though she is covered in sweat. “And my head feels yucky. Like I drank too much of Papa’s wine again.”

Bracing himself so he does not frown and upset the little girl, the Maester nods and holds up his hand. “May I touch your side, princess? So I can feel where exactly you are hurting?” There are any number of things that could cause these symptoms in the child, but if the pain is specific - if it is one precise thing that he fears - then time is of the essence.

“Careful.” Oberyn warns. “She screamed when I touched her skin.” He tells the maester, his own mind racing with what kind of poison could have possibly caused this. He has kept the younger children away from the chamber where they are stored; but children, especially his, are curious.

“Of course, your Grace.” When the little girl sets her face in a fierce imitation of her father and nods, only then does Strode gently prod the lower right side of her abdomen. When she screams outright he backs away immediately and nods. “How long have you felt this pain, princess?” If the pain is moving quickly, he will have to act fast.

“Just when I woke up.” She complains. “I didn’t sneak sweets, Papa, I swear.” She promises her father. She and her siblings have been known to raid the kitchens for treats. Especially the special tarts that Salin makes.

“Sweets would not cause this.” The maester tells Oberyn with certainty. While it is good that the little girl has only felt pain for a short time, the fact that it is so intense does not bode well. “Your daughter’s side is swollen, your Grace. It is possible that she will worsen quickly.”

“What kind of poison would cause this?” Oberyn demands. “I did not see a bite wound from a viper.”

"It was no poison. She was not attacked." The younger man shakes his head solemnly as he moves to the shelf that holds his most potent remedies. The princess will need something for her pain, and then he will talk to her father. "Could you drink something, princess? If I gave you something to help soothe the pain?" He asks, already reaching for the bottles that will help her temporarily.

Oberyn watches the maester carefully, not because he does not trust the man, he has delivered the last three of your babies, but because he wants to know what he gives her. “Drink up, my little date cake.” Oberyn urges.

The princess bravely manages the small amount of liquid that the maester administers and whimpers but stops cradling her side within just a few minutes. Reassured that his theory is correct, the maester brushes Antonia's curls from her face and assures her that she will start to feel better quickly before he nods for Prince Oberyn to step aside with him. "She is ill, but I believe I can help her," Strode tells him.

"What is wrong with my daughter?" Oberyn demands, now wearing a pair of breeches that a servant had thoughtfully slipped into his hands as he had watched his daughter carefully. "What illness does she have? Will it affect the other children?" Beyond the younger three, there are also Margarey and Raeden's children to worry about. Their third child was Oberyn's for certain and it was questionable if the fourth was Raeden's or Cal's.

“No, your Grace. The others are safe.” It would be far too painful to think of all the babes he had delivered for Houses Martell and Sunstone being gravely ill, and the maester shakes that idea from his head. “There is an organ, just here, in a person’s side,” he explains quietly, trying to let the young princess rest. “As far as I have studied, maesters and doctors have never been able to divine its purpose, but it is always there. Sometimes it swells, causing great pain and other discomforts, and in the worst of these cases it sometimes bursts. When it bursts, it nearly always claims the life of the ill party.”

His heart stops the moment he hears he could lose his daughter. He's fought, he's killed, he's loved and lost, but he would not survive the loss of any of his children - let alone his precious Antonia. She might be the most like him of all of his daughters and his jaw clenches. "Is there anything to be done?" He demands. "Tell me you can save her."

"It is...not often done." Strode admits, wondering how insistent the prince would be about attempting a rarely tried treatment. "Removing the organ before it bursts will keep her safe. But a child recovering from such a wound is still in danger in other ways. She would be in bed for weeks afterward."

"Re–removing the organ." Oberyn repeats. "Cut her open? Can she live without it?"

"Yes. And yes, she can." The younger man nods. "If you wish to consult with her mother before a decision is made, I advise you to speak to your wife quickly. She is already in immense pain and the tonic that I gave her will not outlast a burst."

Oberyn nods seriously and frowns as he looks back at his daughter as her eyes slip closed now that the pain is gone. Drifting off to sleep. He doesn't want to leave her, but he doesn't want her to be in danger of this organ bursting and causing even more problems. "I will bring the Princess back for you to explain to her." He decides. "I will be back in moments."

"I will stay by her side." Strode promises, nodding as the prince hurries back out of his chambers and down the hall.

Oberyn finds you closing the door on the nursery chambers. All the other children are fast asleep and comfortable. He rushes up to you and takes your arm. "Come." He grunts, tugging you away from the door. "Strode needs to talk to you. Now."

"What is wrong?" The only thing you know is that your oldest child is in pain and your husband looks terrified, and those two facts do not combine well so you run swiftly after him.

"She is ill. There's something Strode needs to cut out of our daughter, Star." Oberyn explains as the two of you race back towards the Maester's chambers.

"Cut out?" The panic rises in your voice and you cling to his hand all the harder as terror twists in your belly.

"He can explain it better than I can." There had been a moment when he had stopped listening, he couldn't. Not when he could hear the blood rushinging in his ears and his heart was pounding in fear so loudly that he couldn't think over the sound.

The maester is standing by his examination table when the prince and princess appear in his doorway and he motions for them to be quiet when it looks as though you might explode with concern. "This way," he insists, motioning for you to join him on the other side of the room despite never taking his eyes off of the sick little girl that was brought to him. "She is sleeping, thank the gods. I do not want to disturb her while it lasts."

"Tell my wife what you told me." Oberyn demands, his eyes don't move from his daughter, foolishly afraid that she might disappear if he stopped watching her. Your breathing is shallow and rapid, both from the run and from fear. "Remember the babe," he reminds you, squeezing your hand.

Maester Strode recounts everything he had told Oberyn previously, stressing that there is danger in waiting and that if all goes well with the - admittedly unconventional - procedure, the little princess will be just fine afterward. "Have you done it before?" You ask, running one soothing hand over the side of your belly to remind yourself that panic will not help you or your unborn child, let alone Antonia.

Strode shakes his head regretfully, but puts out his hands to reassure the couple while the prince looks ready to mutiny. "I have been present for it. I assisted. So I am far better prepared than any other maester in Dorne."

"You haven't done this before!" Oberyn hisses angrily. Feeling helpless because he cannot fix this. There is nothing that he can do.

"I assisted Maester Rhodestone with a nearly identical situation while I was still at the Citadel," Strode tells you, hoping the mention of his mentor's name will help to soothe the prince. He knows that Prince Oberyn had also studied under the recently passed maester's tutelage. "He was the first to theorize that it would work, and he was correct. The little boy recovered completely with only a scar to remember the pain by."

Wiping his hand over his eyes, the prince sighs before he looks at you. “Star?” He asks softly. There’s not a choice, but he wants to be sure that you agree with the risks.

"What choice do we have?" As scared as you may be for your daughter, the path is obvious. If you do nothing, the risk is losing Antonia altogether. And that is a risk you are absolutely not willing to take.

“Leave it to the gods.” Oberyn isn’t happy with that idea at all, but that is the choice if he does not agree to this. “And I do not want to do that.”

“I will not stand by and do nothing while my baby suffers,” you insist firmly, although the idea of having to cut her open is terrifying.

“How soon can you do this?” Oberyn demands. “Will she be awake? Feel anything?”

“There is a way I can induce sleep in her. Keep her from feeling the pain outright.” Strode nods. “It will be preferable for this. So she does not move while the organ is being removed.”

“That would be preferable.” Oberyn knows that she could do a lot of damage if she was awake and moving. He’s attended enough battlefield wounds to understand that. “You will use my healing mix for her as well, yes?”

“Yes, your Grace.” The Maester can agree to that easily, considering the prince’s proclivity for herbal work rivaled his abilities with poison.

“Do we need to do anything? Fetch you anything?” Oberyn demands, striding back over to Antonia to check her forehead. “Anything you need, you will have it.” Despite his words to the maester, his eyes are fixed on his precious daughter.

“Fortunately, I have everything I need.” The younger man glances out the large windows in his chambers though, and frowns. “I will keep a watchful eye on her until sunrise. The light will be better than if I worked by candlelight.”

“We will dress and return.” If you do not wish to stay, he won’t make you, but he won’t leave his daughter’s side while she goes through such a thing.

“You go first, my love.” Looking to where Antonia is sleeping, you bite your lip and almost quake with the effort not to cry. “I would hate for her to wake in pain and one of us not be here. You go and change, and I will go when you return.”

"I will be back before you can blink." He promises, pulling you in and crushing his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to calm you both down. "Tell her Papa will be back if she wakes before I can return."

Thankfully, it is past sunrise when Antonia wakes again. The maester has had time to prepare his tonics and treatments, and you have sat up with Oberyn for a few hours discussing how to handle her healing time and how to explain to her siblings that she needs to be allowed to rest and cannot play for at least a few weeks. When her little eyes open again she winces and whimpers in pain but you are both right there beside her.

"Princess." Oberyn leans down and coos as he brushes his daughter's hair back. "I know you are still in pain but Maester Strode is going to make you sleepy and then he is going to make the pain go away." He explains gently. "Will you be brave for me? You will have to be lazy for a little while, I know how much you like snuggling with Ellaria on the chaise. And you will have a scar where your stomach hurts."

“He can make it go away?” She asks warily, as if she thought that would never happen, and yet if anyone had asked her the question she would have said that her Papa could make it better.

"Yes," He leans over and kisses her little forehead softly. "I want you to be brave, my little date cake."

“It won’t h—hurt anymore?” The question falters when she wails in pain again and tears form in her eyes immediately.

"You will be sore, Princess." The maester does not believe in concealing possibilities from those seeking treatment from him, not even the younglings. "You will be stitched up and will have to be very careful how you play. But the sharp pain you have now will be gone."

Antonia is afraid, you can tell that easily, but you stroke her forehead and offer her the most maternal smile of support you possibly can. "It will be alright, sweetheart. Maester Strode is going to help you, and we will be here the entire time."

"You promise?" She asks, her voice small and scared, reaching for and clinging to your hand as she looks between you and her father.

"I promise, darling. Papa and I are going to be right here, and afterward I will carry you back to bed myself." Pregnant or otherwise, you could be on death's door and you would still insist on being the one to carry Antonia back to her rest. "Can you be a good girl for the maester now, and let him help you?"

She nods solemnly, even as she pouts when the cup of tonic that will make her sleep is brought over. "You will need to drink this, Princess." Strode urges.

The smell makes her nose wrinkle but the pain is far worse than a little bad smell, so Antonia swallows the tonic and grimaces only slightly while still keeping your hand in her tight little grip. "I hope it works fast," she mumbles with a fierce pout.

If there is a moment of lightness, this is it. Oberyn chuckles and nods in agreement. “Us too, my sweet girl.” He pets her hair as she drinks the concoction down, making an unhappy noise when it’s done.

It takes only minutes, thankfully, and the maester is satisfied that the little princess will sleep soundly through her treatment. "I will ask you both to let me work," he insists in the most polite way possible. "It will be very distressing to watch your daughter be treated in this way, so I will ask you now to consider whether or not you can remain in the room without interfering. The more swiftly I can see to her illness, the sooner I can stitch her wound and return her to her bed to heal."

Oberyn turns to you and puts his hands on your shoulders. “Star?” He asks quietly. He knows that you are fiercely protective of your children, and he wonders if you can stay.

"I will hold my tongue, but I cannot possibly leave her." Of the two of you, you know that you are the more likely to protest. But the fact is? You promised her that you would be here and you would not break that promise for all the gold and jewels in the world.

“I understand.” Cal has slipped into the room behind Ellaria, ready and willing to take any and all news back to the others. Raeden, Leyth and Margaery are watching all the other small children and keeping them safe.

"Work swiftly and true, maester." You tell Strode, not knowing what else you can do but let the man do his job. His job of saving your child.

Oberyn pulls you away from the table as he readies his tools. “It will be well.” He murmurs against your ear, holding you close. Ellaria comes closer and she wraps her arms around you and presses against your back.

"I thought it was difficult when Lina broke her arm last year." Sniffly quietly against Oberyn's chest, your hand winds around Ellaria to hold her closer to both of you. Admittedly, you had panicked last summer when your second daughter - the first you share with Raeden - had fallen from a tree and broken her arm while playing. This somehow seems worse than that. "This is unbearable. She did nothing wrong. Nothing to cause this."

“Things happen.” Oberyn reminds you gently. He rubs your arms and pushes down his own fear. You need him to be strong for you and he can almost guarantee his oldest eight had come with Ellaria and are waiting out in the hall.

"That is not a comfort, my love." You sigh deeply, knowing that it is not his fault, and wipe tears from your eyes before they can fall and cause you to sniffle. Antonia may be asleep but the sound of her mother crying should never happen near her unless it is weeping for joy. "Thank you for coming, El."

“Where else would I be?” Your lover and Oberyn’s soulmate huffs, knowing you need everyone you can have right now. “Rae and Margaery would be here, but they are keeping the little ones from storming the castle.”

"This family is blessed to have all of you." Swallowing a deep breath before you lean in to kiss her softly, you know this morning is going to be more difficult than any of your births - or even Margaery's and hers had been far more treacherous than yours. "I think we could all take turns with Antonia as she is healing? It will help her to not be so restless if she has different faces each day."

“That is an excellent idea, my love.” Oberyn leans across you and presses his lips to hers. “Unless Lord Sunstone has pressing matters to attend to.” The clinking of tools makes him want to look over, but if he does, you will and he wants to distract you for as long as possible.

“I think not.” Ellaria shakes her head but does not let her expression grow concerned or melancholy. “They spoke of only the children last night. Not business.”

“Then I am sure that they will have no problem with the idea.” All five adults, really seven if you include Cal and Leyth, were adored by the younger children and could be seen as a beloved aunt or uncle if they were not the parents. It really was a village of children and adults in the Water Gardens these days.

“She will be fine.” Ellaria soothes, running one hand up and down your back when she feels you tighten with nerves again. “It is natural to be scared, but remember how Maester Strode helped Margaery when Martine was born. He is skilled and earned your trust well.”

“I know.” You cannot help it, though, and have to stand with your back to the table so you do not look. “This fear has nothing to do with not trusting him. It is only because she is my little girl.”

“Of course, my love.” Oberyn hums softly, his eagle eyes fixed on the maester’s movements and his body tenses the moment the sharp knife cuts into his daughter’s small body.

“Is he doing it?” When Oberyn tenses you can only guess why.

“Yes.” He squeezes you quickly, making sure that each one of the moves the maester makes is not one that hurts his baby. At the thought of that, his hand slides down to your stomach. “Don’t fret too much, you will make yourself sick.”

“I am honestly surprised not to have been overtaken by it already,” you admit with a sigh. “Perhaps this babe is finally going to be calm, if only for her mother’s sake.”

Oberyn snorts, about to make a joke but he bites his lip on it. “Let us hope.” Ellaria strokes your back and sighs. “The girls are outside. They wanted to be here.”

“All of them?” The only surprising thing is that you are surprised by it, and it actually brings the nearest thing to a smile to your lips that you can manage. “Eight older sisters and they do nothing but dote on the little ones. They’re such sweet girls.”

“They would do anything for them.” She is proud of them, all wanting to come and wait. Understanding the risky procedure might not have a happy outcome and believing guarding the maester’s door might keep Antonia safe.

“I’m grateful for them.” You tense when Oberyn’s breath hitches slightly, and swallow down the fear that will surely lead to tears if you allow it to surface. “And for you, El.”

“My love, there is nowhere else I would rather be.” Ellaria leans in and kisses your shoulder and hugs your back.

The process takes more than an hour. And though the Maester is quick, quiet, and sure of himself, you do nothing but quake with fear the entire time. It is only when he is inspecting her stitches in the bright morning light that you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“It is done.” The Maester sighs, straightening up and moving to clean his hands again. The procedure had been a success and he is relieved that it had gone so smoothly.

“And our daughter?” She is still sleeping, lying on that table, but she is breathing and she is not quite so pale anymore.

“She will be perfectly fine.” He tells you with confidence. “She should wake up soon and she will be sore, but she will make a full recovery, your highness.”

"Can we move her before that?" You ask immediately, stepping quickly up to the side of the table and wincing at the sight of cleaned blood around her stitched wound. Your poor darling... "Let her wake up in her own bed, I mean?"

“It might make her feel better.” Strode nods. “Although I have a feeling that she might wish to be close to her parents for the next day, and have you close to her. So I would put her in your bed, your highness.”

"Just so." With Oberyn's help, you keep Antonia steady in your arms as you pick up her little body and look to the maester with deep gratitude. "I will forever be in your debt for keeping her safe, Strode," you declare quietly, almost as if being too loud might wake your oldest child. "If Maester Rhodestone were with us, I know that he would be proud to see you carry on his work."

“It is my pleasure that I can continue his work.” Strode reaches for Ellaria and presses a bottle into her hand. “Just a drop into some juice will keep her comfortable while she recovers.”

"Just one." Ellaria acknowledges, understanding that with medicine as with poisons - dosing is everything.

Maester Strode nods and quickly moves to the table to start cleaning up from the surgery and to examine the organ he has removed from the princess. Much could be learned by studying it.

******

The maester was correct that Antonia's recovery would take some time. It is entire weeks in bed with the tonic for pain deposited in her juice, until she is strong enough to be sitting up and playing cards or other games with her siblings. In the next few weeks Antonia spends a few hours at a time at the Water Gardens with all of her sisters and her few brothers. But the thing that truly delights every single one of you once you see that she is healing well? Antonia will soon have her very first scar. And that is a very exciting thing to happen when the adults all around you have found their soulmates - and then earned more on top of the first.

“Your father and stepmother are here, Star.” Oberyn tells you as he walks out into the gardens with the couple trailing behind him. Your father had decided when he had been reunited with Marlee, finding her alive and well, that he did not wish to spend another minute apart from her. Taking her and her children back to the Vale so he could relinquish his titles to your eldest brother and let your brothers meet the soulmate that should have been their mother. Surprisingly? They had quickly accepted the kind hearted Dornish woman and her children as part of the family. Even accepting that their father wished to return to Dorne to live out his days. Leaving the cold of the Vale behind as well as the painful memories of time lost.

There is little to no formality within your family despite the high titles, and you pop up from dangling your bare feet in the water to give your parents tight hugs. Your father’s hair is completely white now, and the cane he walks with is not just for show, but he has been more lively in the almost ten years since reuniting with his soulmate than ever before. “I am so very glad to see you both,” you hum. The sentiment is true no matter how often you see them.

"Princess." Despite the fact that you have asked Marlee to just call you by your name for years, she cannot help but use your title. Her arms still open to embrace you warmly. "We wanted to come see the grandchildren and to check on you." She is not a grandmother by blood to the children, but it does not matter and she dotes on each one of the children and spoils them as if they were her own.

“We are always happy to see you.” Your children have known no other grandmother and for that you are immensely grateful. They adore their Uncle Salin as well, who keeps them well supplied with sweets and stories of the world outside of Dorne.

“We thought that perhaps we could care for the children tonight.” Marlee explains. “To give the five of you a break?”

“That is so very kind of you.” It has been obvious, in the years since your father has remarried, that he had lost his spirit and his happiness to your mother’s cruelty. Now that he is reunited with his soulmate and living his life on his own terms, a happier man does not exist. “We could all have our midday meal together before we slip away? I know the little ones will be so glad to see you that they will not even notice we have gone.”

“We would be delighted.” Your father answers with a smile. “I can share the raven I received from your brothers.”

“I am not sure if that is exciting or ominous,” you tease with a grin. Your brothers have been thriving in the Vale, grown men living their lives happily with their wives and children all growing into bright young people with their futures sprawled out in front of them. “Oh my dears!” You call out, turning back to where the kids are splashing in the water and Antonia is playing dominoes with Raeden to keep her from getting too rambunctious. “Look who will be spending the afternoon with us!”

“Nonnie! Poppie!” Antonia screeches, her face lighting up and the other children, including Margaery and Raeden’s, all start screeching the nicknames that the eldest had bestowed on their grandparents. Margaery stands from where she was wading with her smallest toddler and waves happily. Delighted to see the parents she had adopted as her own since her father had never spoken to her again before his death when King’s Landing had been burned by the Targaryen queen.

“How is my little warrior feeling today?” He might not be walking as fast as he once did, but your father is still just as determined as ever to have his grandchildren in his life. He bends down now with great care, not wanting little Antonia to over extend herself. “I hear you are healing better than the Maester predicted.”

“I am almost ready to play like normal.” She had been patient with your caution, but she was eager to run and play with her siblings, even picking up the toy spear her Papa had given her to practice with. “I have missed you and nonnie.” She hugs his neck tight and kisses his leathery cheek with a loud smack.

“We have missed you too, little one.” He smiles so dotingly and bops the tip of her nose playfully with one finger. “That is why we are going to spend all day and night with you and your siblings. Because we have been away far too long.” In truth, they have only been traveling a little while, but Marlee’s younger daughter had just given birth and they wished to meet the new babe.

“That is the best gift ever!” She cries out happily and grins. While the servants will still be there, all the children adore time spent with their grandparents. Their soulmate story was a favorite bedtime story as well.

“Come, little one.” He puts out both his hands to her to help her stand. “Let us wash, and we will see what your Uncle Salin has made for lunch, hm?”

“He will have made tarts.” Antonia declares with a grin. “He’s made them every day along with the date cakes Mama loves.”

“Tarts, you say?” That is his favorite, of course, but he wonders if you have a specific craving this time, with his next grandchild already squirming and kicking in your belly. “Well, we know why there must be date cakes, don’t we?” He asks her, taking her hand so they can walk together while the other young children scramble out of the water and into the palace for their lunch.

“Mama’s going to have another baby.” She tells you happily. “They have been talking about celebrating because Aunt Margarey is having a baby too.”

“We always enjoy having a few pregnancies at once,” you agree, taking Antonia’s basket from her so she can walk with her grandfather — her flower crown weaving has come along beautifully during her recovery. “Do you know why else we want to celebrate, sweetheart?”

“Because you and Papa have been married for a long time? Your– your ani– ani–birthday?” Antonia asks, frowning slightly because she knows that’s not the word she wants to use.

“Anniversary.” Her substitution works very well, though, and you grin. “Not quite yet, pumpkin. It’s for you! Because you have been such a brave girl and so patient while you’re healing, we’re going to celebrate you getting your very first scar.”

Her eyes widen once you say that out loud. “A scar?” She asks quietly. “Like– like a soulmate one?” She knows that soulmates are special and you and papa are extra special. “Do you think we know mine? Or will I be like Aunt Margaery?”

“We don’t know yet, sweetheart.” Aunt Margaery, though she never gained another set of marks over her life, has been immensely happy in her romantic life. “We might know yours already, or we might wait many years before we meet them. Both are perfectly okay.”

“Okay.” It’s something fun but it’s not overly concerning to her right now. “I’m hungry.”

That draws an amused chuckle from both you and your father. Truthfully? It is probably good that your nine year old is not too excited about growing up. Let her be a child for as long as she is willing.

“Do soulmate scars hurt?” She asks after a few moments, biting her lip and frowning slightly. If she’s got to have a soulmate, she doesn't want to cause them any pain.

"Only for a moment, precious." Her concern is commendable, and a point of pride as you and Oberyn have always tried to teach your children empathy. "You had pain for weeks to earn it, but they will only have pain for just a moment. And after that, they will know that you are out there somewhere."

“Okay, good.” The pout clears up and she smiles happily. “I don’t want to cause them pain for too long.” She tells you. “Papa said you always weep when he gets scratches.”

"That is because I worry too much." You tell her, giving your father the stink eye when he chuckles in agreement. "I don't like it when Papa gets hurt, just like you don't want your soulmate to hurt, either. But there's no need to cry. I just worry."

“It’s okay Mama. Papa is the strongest, fiercest man alive.” She boasts, with the sense of confidence of a child that worships her father can have.

"Yes he is, sweetheart. He defeated an entire Mountain while you were still in my belly." Brushing some curls from her eyes, the smile on your face bolsters into something equally proud. "But just because someone can withstand hurt, does not mean they should have to."

“I know.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s just good that he can because I always want Papa here.” She tells you quietly. “He’s the best papa in the world. He even promised me a dragon.” Her eyes widen happily. “That’s better than a pony.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Though you all but roll your eyes, it does make you smile. Oberyn’s devotion to children is complete and no one could ever doubt that. “That does sound like the best papa in the world.”

“He is.” She insists happily. “He told me that first I have to make sure that I can keep the little lizard he let me keep alive. Because he says dragons are like giant lizards.”

"That is what they say." Never having seen one, you cannot say for sure, but if there is anyone whose readings you would trust it is Oberyn. As the group of you walk into the dining room at the Water Gardens, you are met with a whole group of other people waiting. A group which includes Raeden and Margarey who are beaming with excitement as they stand on either side of their oldest son by the windows. The young boy is only a few months younger than Antonia and looks every inch his father's son, but with his mother's quick wit and sense of humor. "Oh, dear," you hum in amusement, seeing the way Margaery looks as if she is about to burst at the seams. "What have you been up to, my dear? You like the cat that got the cream."

“It is– we have news.” Margaery nearly vibrates with happiness. The life she has had here, the life so willingly shared with the most surprisingly wonderful people, is one that she never could have imagined so many years ago. Despite the fact that she does not share marks with her husband, she does share love with Lord Sunstone. Love that is equally shared with you and Ellaria and Oberyn. The outlandish and improper request she had made so long ago had been her salvation and she is forever grateful for it. Which is why she now hopes this news will be celebrated with the people she loves most. “Bryer has gained a mark!” She cries out happily.

The room seems to freeze, all occupants at once have their eyes on either Bryer Sunstone or Antonia Martell — and all of these eyes are wide. Your hand grabs Oberyn's arm tightly beside you on instinct and you almost choke in surprise as you stare down at your little girl and then immediately force your eyes up to the little boy she has been steadfast friends with for her entire life. "Is– Margaery, is it–" The words will not even come, but many tears do instead. "Is it a funny shape?" Antonia bursts out with an entirely different question, obviously not having made the instant connection that every adult in the room already has. "Where is it, Bry? Can you show me? I bet it's more fun than mine."

“Nia.” Bryer huffs and rushes towards his best friend and now his soulmate. He had seen her mark when she was wearing stitches and knew what it looked like. It was good he’s always felt really good around the older girl, like she was the best part of a tart. He bites his lip and lifts his shirt to show the matching mark on his skin to hers. “It’s your scar.”

The sound of her mother's broken sob of joy seems to go right over Antonia's head at the moment as she stares at her best friend's stomach and her already wide eyes grow three sizes as her mind races to understand what has happened. One of her fingers comes out to poke the mark as though it were made by coal and she could smudge it, but no. No. It is there as deeply and truly as her own, and she lets out an equally overwhelmed squeak before finding Bryer's eyes. "So...we're...soulmates?" She breathes out, clearly astonished by the very idea.

“I–I think so.” He’s always felt so close to the Princess. But he shrugs. “Unless– unless you don’t want to be.” He offers, knowing that sometimes people aren’t soulmates and love each other. His parents are like that. So why couldn’t people be soulmates and not love each other?

“I don’t think we get to pick.” Antonia reminds him, but within seconds the little girl is smiling broadly. “But…” Mischievous by nature, Antonia Martell has always been the most like her father of any of his children and delights in making adventures out of everyday life. “But that means we can be best friends for everything, Bry!”

The breath Bryer had been holding whooshes out of his chest and his own grin lights up his face. “I know!” He drops his shirt and grabs her hand. “Let’s go pick out what we are going to do first!”

“Nuh-uh, you two. Not quite yet.” You barely manage to stop them as they try to bolt past you, and you shake your head the way only a mother can. “Best friends still need to eat lunch, and Nia still shouldn’t be running.”

“Maaammmmmaaaaaaaaaaa.” Antonia whines, pouting fiercely. “I’m not hungry.” She complains, even though she had just been say she was hungry. “I want to figure out what to do with my soulmate.”

“And you can.” Oberyn interjects, reaching out and taking his daughter’s should to turn her slightly. “You have the rest of your lives to plan, but now…” he tell her. “I want you to plan to eat lunch with your family and your soulmate.”

******

“Nia?” Still half asleep, Bryer stretches in bed and frowns to not find his soulmate beside him. After arriving at the Water Gardens late last night he had slipped into her chamber and curled around her for his first good night’s sleep in a month — four weeks at his father’s side traveling their lands and tending to their people was important but he had missed Antonia desperately.

Antonia groans, wiping her mouth and grimacing as she looks down into the chamber pot. “I’m here.” She tells him, standing back and reaching for a cup of water. Wine has been turning her stomach lately.

“Are you alright, love?” In the ten years since discovering they were soulmates, Bryer and Antonia have become bonded entirely. They are each other’s constant companion even more than when they were children and the occasional joke about their inevitable marriage had started well before that was even a possibility.

The fact that her father was the first to recognize the symptoms will forever be a source of embarrassment to Antonia. Not because she is ashamed of sex, she never would be because of the relationship her parents share with Ellaria and Bryer’s parents. She was embarrassed because she should have figured it out herself. “I have a confession.” She admits, shamelessly moving towards him as naked as the day she had been brought into this world.

“That sounds terribly ominous,” Bryer teases, trying to lighten the mood from the serious look on his beloved’s face. “Lover, you know you can tell me anything.”

“I know.” Setting the cup down, she sits on the edge of the bed as her soulmate and lover moves closer to her. His hand automatically reaching for hers. “I didn’t want to send a raven, I wanted to tell you in person.” She bites her lip as she looks down at their joined hands. She knows Bryer loves her, but she’s unsure of how he will feel about her announcement. “I am expecting your first child.” She tells him, looking up to stare into his eyes.

The way the air gets sucked out of the room for a moment should have had both of their heads spinning, but when Bryer’s mouth finally catches up with his mind he nearly loses his jaw to the ground. “You—we—a child?” He gasps, looking down at her belly as though a bump has formed there instantly.

She nods, hoping the shock is just that and not disappointment. “Papa recognized the symptoms and asked mama to take me to Maester Strode. He confirmed it. I am two months gone with your child.”

When he can find it in himself to move again, Bryer lunges forward and kisses Antonia with the most earnest, heartfelt honesty that he can muster. “Marry me.” He breathes out, practically laughing with how light he feels. “They cannot possibly tell us we are still too young if we will soon be parents.”

The girl deflates in relief and nearly barks out a laugh as she throws her arms around her lover’s neck. “Papa is already plotting it.” She promises. “He knows you must secure your heir properly. And he knows how much you love me.” In reality, you had no issue with them marrying young, Oberyn had just wanted to give the boy an opportunity to sow wild oats before marrying, if needed.

“I do love you,” he insists, cradling her in his arms and tugging her impossibly closer. “I always have. Since the moment I knew what love was.”

“I love you.” She promises, pressing her lips to his softly and smiling. “We have always been meant to share this life.”

“What do you think of trying some breakfast?” He asks, pressing kissing along her neck and shoulder and holding her as close as can be in his arms. “Or do you feel too sick for it?” He knows that he has heard his own mother, and hers, and Ellaria bemoan the way an uneasy stomach gets in the way of being hungry, and he wants to do everything he can to take care of her.

Humming softly, she leans into his embrace. “I think that I can stomach some date cakes.” She admits with a small giggle, reminded of her own mother’s eating habits while you were carrying her siblings. “And some of the fruit that your mother loves.”

“Whatever you want, my love. Anything.” Resisting the urge to tease, Bryer nuzzles against her again and kissing her shoulder. “Should we go down to breakfast and let our parents know that you have told me?”

“Mama and Papa already know.” She reminds him. “There’s a good chance they have told your parents. Papa had said that they were all going to be together, since they had all been missing your father in the big bed.”

“Well…” Bryer laughs softly. “The least they can do then is tell us what they have planned for our wedding.”

“Of course.” She rolls her eyes but she knows that her parents and his would want them both to have everything they ever wanted. “Let me dress.”

“If you must,” he pouts, always preferring her bare when he can get it. Even more so now that something primal and territorial is creeping into his mind with a baby in her womb.

“While our parents might parade around the Gardens nude when they think we are asleep, I don’t know if I could.” She teases. Many nights when Bryer had come to her chambers, they had heard their parents frolicking in the waters well after dark.

Nodding, Bryer climbs from the bed and begins to dress himself in turn. “I know that they have found their happiness in the freedom to share love with so many, but…I want only you,” he admits with burning cheeks. “You are all I want and all I need, Nia.”

“Bry–” She shakes her head. “I have only been with you and that’s perfectly fine with me.” She rolls her eyes and walks over to throw herself in his arms. “Mama says that if we choose many or just each other, all that matters is that we are happy.”

“Your mama is a very wise woman.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“Yes she is.” That point, Antonia would never argue. “Let’s go tell your parents they are going to be grandparents.”

“My mother is going to cry,” he predicts with a grin before scooping Antonia against his side and heading off with her down the hall.

Of that, she has no doubt. Lady Sunstone, or her Aunt Margaery, had developed a habit of crying when she was happy. She explained it one day, telling Antonia that when she was younger, she could never show her true feelings so they just kind of bubbled up as tears now.

“I half suspected the two of you might sleep through breakfast,” you tease when your oldest child appears in the doorway of the dining room with her soulmate wrapped around her as young people in love so often do. “Or even have trays brought to you in bed. Welcome home, Bryer. You were dearly missed.”

“Thank you, your highness.” Despite being his soulmate’s mother, Bryer still uses your title despite you telling him not too many times. His father, your soulmate, still called you princess and he was his father’s son. “It is very good to be home.”

“Very good indeed.” You agree, trying very hard not to smirk in your daughter’s direction. “Come. Join us. We were all catching up on the news.”

The news. Antonia eyeballs her mother and wonders if she had told everyone. “Apologies. It has been a slow morning for me.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Do not worry about that.” The table is full this morning — with more than a dozen children and five adults seated around it — and you all take from plates piled high with fruits, cakes, cheeses, and last night’s leftovers from the banquet. Salin had outdone himself with two whole roast boar and pot upon pot of spicy stewed lamb along with all the other elegant dishes he had provided. It was sure to be just as delicious this morning. “Lord Sunstone was bringing us up to speed on the prosperity of the farms in his region, and how well Bryer’s second tour with his people went.”

“Oh?” Antonia beams proudly at Bryer. “I know he will be a very good lord when the time comes, just like his father.” She has the utmost respect for Lord Raeden, and thinks of him as a second father.

"He has compassion and intelligence." Raeden commends his son from across the table, even with his youngest child sitting in his lap. "Two things which will be necessary for him to harness when things are bad or good with our people."

“The Sunstones are an asset to Dorne.” Oberyn agrees. “Every one of them.”

"And the next generation will be, too." Bryer declares, chest puffed and drink held aloft, proud to be a part of this conversation but also to usher in the next as he beams at Antonia beside him.

“To the next generations.” Margaery agrees, beaming at her eldest son and her husband’s heir. Proud of the son she had birthed and raised here in Dorne. “We have created enough of them.” She jokes.

"It is high time our children took over, I could not agree more," you hold up your own glass, but push a glass of juice toward your daughter. "I could not take wine when I was pregnant with any of you, pumpkin. It only makes sense that you cannot, either."

It is fitting that her mother be the one to announce it and Antonia’s eyes dart towards Bryer parents. No shock on their faces, only excitement and pride. “Mama!” She cries, pouting at you. “You told them!” She’s not angry, but she is going to see how sheepish you are over it.

"I could not resist," you admit, laughing and covering your face for just a moment to show embarrassment even though you barely feel absolutely any. Being excited for your first grandchild is your motherly right. "Forgive me, sweetheart? It is such good news to be shared."

“She could not keep it in, and I am so happy she could not.” Her future mother by marriage leaps up and rushes around to hug Antonia. “I could weep last night so you do not think I am anything but thrilled.”

"It brings our families as close together as they could possibly be." You are on your feet as well, hugging Bryer while Margaery squeezes Antonia to pieces. "And we are so very excited for both of you."

“Bryer is excited.” Antonia announces, looking over at her father. “Shocked. I thought he was going to choke on his own tongue.”

"That is about how I reacted when I found out that his mother was expecting him," Raeden chuckles. He, too, has joined the press of parents embracing their children and he hugs Antonia tightly. "His mother could have knocked me over with a feather. He is more like me than even he knows, sometimes."

“Thank you.” She whispers to him. “For making him a man I am proud to love.” She smiles up at the older version of him. While there are glimpses of his mother in him, he is far closer to his father in resemblance.

"Loving you has made him a good man." Raeden promises her. Just as love had made him a good man so many years ago - in so many different ways.

Leaning in, she kisses his cheek and then hugs her papa after he embraces Bryer. “I can’t believe it papa.” She tells him. “I’m going to have a baby.” Oberyn chuckles, folding his daughter into his arms and kisses her hair. “I believe it. Boy was sneaking into your bed every night.” He tells her. “Now he can just go through the door, rather than climbing through the window.”

Antonia puts on a performatively guilty face, but does not feel bad about it for a moment. "Do you not always say that love should be celebrated, Papa? We are only following your principles."

“I do say that. And I’m proud that you have found your love, my little date cake.” He kisses her cheek. “I love you Princess, all I want is for you to be happy and healthy.”

"I am happy, Papa." Antonia promises him, tears welling behind her eyes. "So incredibly happy."

“That’s all that matters, my love.” He promises her. “You were created in love, raised in it and you will carry that love to your own children and the people under your Lord husband’s protection.” Oberyn predicts. “Dorne is strong and you are a Martell.” He caresses her cheek. “You have lived up to our motto and I am so proud. Unbowed, Unbent,” he winks at the daughter conceived in King’s Landing so many years ago. “Unbroken.”

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell x reader #Oberyn Martell x you #Oberyn Martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell x f!reader #Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand #Ellaria Sand #Margaery Tyrell #Margaery Tyrell x m!OC #Game of Thrones #soulmate au #arranged marriage #and they lived happily ever after

[chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct]

Game of Thrones OC, Lacie Tyrell, daughter of Mace Tyrell and Alerie Tyrell

#got #got oc #got ocs #game of thrones oc #game of thrones #house of the dragon oc #hotd oc #house of the dragon #hotd #house tyrell #house of the dragon smut #hotd smut #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon x reader #got smut #Lacie Tyrell #margaery tyrell #loras tyrell #olenna tyrell #mace tyrell #highgarden #kings landing #tyrell oc #abigail lannister #sansa stark #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #cersei lannister #joffrey baratheon #tommen baratheon

[cambion-companion]

Roses in his Hands, Fire in her Veins

In collaboration with @lady-phasma

Tag list: @allihavenegativethoughts@sanniebabie@cullenswife@schniiipsel@ohsehunbabyy @dontforgetoctober3rd

Chapter One

A Maellory Tyrell x Aemond Targaryen AU

Maellory Tyrell is the ancestor of Margaery, a copy/paste of our Game of Thrones heroine, during the reign of Viserys I Targaryen. Maellory and her grandmother are summoned from their seat at Highgarden to the Capital. There in the throne room she is first introduced to the royal family, including the one-eyed prince Aemond. Little do they know, with one announcement their lives will be forever changed.

Word count: 4,024

Aemond strode into the throne room to find a retinue of House Tyrell in audience with the Queen Regent. His mother had taken up the mantle of regent quite well, even if it was unofficial. Her capacity to rule didn’t surprise him. His footsteps echoed in the hall and he excused himself to his mother with a bow and took his place at the far end of the throne’s dais. A young Tyrell woman stepped out from the cluster of lords and ladies at the front of the room.

The blue jewels on Maellory’s dress were almost an exact match to his sapphire though she could not have known it. They gathered the delicate fabric together between her breasts. Her flat stomach was exposed on the sides, tan skin contrasted with the pale fabric. Her ethereal nature, her light footsteps, and ability to command the room enchanted him. He tried not to stare but the shape of her body and the cut of her dress proved too enticing. 

When she curtsied to the Queen Regent he looked away. He surveyed the courtiers in attendance. House Tyrell brightened the throne room like glittering gems. Even her grandmother, Lady Morwenna, wore the bright, near-tropical colors. Maellory stepped to the side of the throne nearest Aemond and she flashed her blue eyes up at him. He was momentarily taken aback by the crook of her lip and the mischievous glint in her eye. He recovered and nodded a small bow as she curtsied.

Her grandmother was speaking to the Queen Regent. He tried to listen, affairs of state were important to him mostly because they weren’t important to his brother, but his attention kept wandering to her. She was watching the exchange attentively, her hands clasped delicately behind her back. This posture only served to draw attention to her breasts, he thought she must know that. She had to. He swallowed and turned his gaze back to his mother. 

Maellory was keenly aware of the Targaryen prince’s single-eyed gaze burning into her. Her lips curled into a small smirk as she ducked her head, feigning humble attention as her grandmother continued speaking amicably with the Queen Regent.

“It has been far too long since we hosted your family within the halls of the Red Keep, Lady Morwenna.” Alicent’s expression was warm as she turned her attention to Maellory, who straightened, returning her smile. “I met you when you were just a babe, how you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.”

“You are too kind, your grace.” Maellory’s smile widened, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she dipped into a low curtsy. She arched her neck just so, her wavy chestnut hair tumbling over her shoulder, noticing from her periphery how Prince Aemond shifted on his feet in response. A thrill of satisfaction shot through her chest as she rose once more, running her ringed fingers along the satin skirts of her dress.“It is a privilege to be welcomed here at court by your family. Perhaps you will visit us at Highgarden when the Harvest Festival is celebrated.”

Alicent nodded. “I would like that.” She looked to her father, Otto, before continuing. “It has been too long since I visited the Reach. For now, let us retire to the dining hall and make merry for this long-awaited reunion!”

The nobles around the hall shifted and began to depart, a murmur of voices rose, sounding very akin to the sleepy buzz of bees in their hive. Maellory looked coyly over her shoulder, catching Aemond’s eye, noting what a lovely shade of purple it was and how his pupil dilated as she surveyed him, a pursed smile upon her lips.

In that moment she made her decision, turned with a swirl of silken skirts, tossed her long hair, and walked smoothly up to Aemond’s brother. She dipped a curtsy to the eldest prince, noting with studious interest how he drank in her appearance with obvious lust. As she beamed at him, her eyes betrayed nothing of how her skin crawled.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince Aegon. I have heard so much about your magnificent conquests.” 

Aemond made a noise that sounded as though he had just barely strangled a laugh before it could escape. Her cleverness surprised and humored him. Maellory tactfully ignored him, instead turning to the silver-haired woman standing beside her brother and husband. “And this must be Princess Helaena.” Maellory gave the girl a gentle smile. “I have heard tales of your beauty, though they have not done you justice.”

Aegon snorted, looking over at his wife. “She prefers the company of insects to that of actual people.”

“Indeed?” Maellory kept her soft gaze on Helaena who had looked at her feet at the barbed comment. “I would love to see them sometime. There are many insects at Highgarden, throughout our prolific gardens. They seem to do quite well in the warm climate. Perhaps I could show them to you when you visit.” At her kind words, Helaena looked back up into Maellory’s earnest face, gracing her with a genuine smile of gratitude and nodding. Aemond quickly glanced at his sister’s pleased face but kept his air of disinterest intact. 

Maellory at last turned to Aemond, her spine tingling as their eyes met. It was so easy for her to read the people around her, but the expression on his face proved difficult to place. It wasn’t the open lechery she’d grown accustomed to manipulating from noble men, something more akin to admiration, maybe a hint of… apprehension.

“Prince Aemond, rider of the largest dragon in Westeros.” She formally greeted him, looking up into his face through her eyelashes. “Your renown proceeds you as well.”

“As does yours, Lady Tyrell, the ‘rose with silver thorns’,” Aemond’s curved mouth twitched slightly as he inclined his head to her. His demeanor had wavered when he spoke the appellation. 

Maellory’s eyes widened in genuine surprise at that, she tilted her chin up, laughing breathily. “Is that what they named me here at King’s Landing, your highness?”

“A silver tongue is more like it. Can’t imagine that gets you far amongst the rabble,” Aegon grinned wickedly at her.

Maellory kept her blue eyes upon Aemond as she answered sweetly. “If you give the people your love, they will return it a thousandfold.”

Aemond’s jaw noticeably clenched at his brother’s antagonism. Still, he held Maellory’s gaze as she seemed intent upon doing. She was as deft with her words as he was with his sword. She didn’t back down, didn’t shield her parries, but feinted to conceal her true thoughts.

Before he could speak she had turned, delicate blue fabric flowing around her legs, and walked to catch up with her grandmother. He watched her hands clasp the old woman’s elbow and lean in toward her conspiratorially. Her exquisite laugh rang out above the other voices.

Aemond shot a spiteful look at his oblivious brother. Aegon had walked off with some vapid lady so Aemond offered his elbow to his sister and escorted her to the dining hall. 

* * * 

Aemond pulled Helaena’s chair out for her. She sat between Otto and Aegon, who had yet to appear. Aemond walked to his place at the table. He stopped as Maellory was seated at the opposite end of the table. With a small, discontented Mmmm he continued to his chair. He was unaccustomed to feeling disappointments on such an inconsequential scale. Large disappointments colored his entire worldview, but meaningless events like seating arrangements had never affected him.

A servant slid her chair forward as Maellory took her place at the far side of the table. Naturally she sat beside Lady Morwenna who had a surprisingly honored place next to the Queen Regent. That was auspicious, he thought, then dismissed it. He pulled out his own chair more aggressively than was appropriate. The Tyrells sat to his left, limiting his line of sight. Perhaps he had only meant to study the intriguing new arrival, try to understand her, but his disadvantage nagged at him. His inscrutable disposition kept most people at a distance and maintained his carefully balanced leverage.

Maellory chatted with her grandmother and he occasionally heard her airy laughter drift down the table as the meal was laid out for them. No one sat to Aemond’s right this evening so he took to surveying the hall. The dark green hues of the Hightowers’ attire combined with the blacks and reds of the Targaryens’ clothing made a pleasing backdrop for the bright colors of House Tyrell. Aemond sipped his wine as he thought about Maellory’s blue eyes, the blue of her dress, and his own blue gemstone eye. He felt some of his composure return as he glared at the people assembled at the dinner. Aemond’s armor took shape in his stoic, unreadable expression and, ironically, his remaining violet eye. 

Thankfully Otto Hightower sat on his left and Aemond was far enough away to only occasionally have to listen to his brother’s drunken drivel. Attending to their sister was something Aemond had been doing since childhood because of Aegon’s disinterest but their grandfather seemed to delight in the task this evening. Aemond sat straight-backed but his shoulders did relax slightly at the sound of his sister chatting happily. The wine helped as well. The servants finished setting the tables and a hush fell over the hall. The attention in the room shifted to the head of the table as Queen Alicent rose from her seat, goblet of wine held in her hand.

“Friends, well met and be welcome. We have summoned you all here today to bear witness and celebrate the imminent union of House Targaryen with House Tyrell.”  Her brown eyes sparkled down upon the smiling Morwenna Tyrell. Aemond shifted in his chair, glancing briefly at the back of Maellory’s coiffed hair, his brow furrowed slightly as his mother continued speaking.

Alicent raised her goblet, encouraging others to toast. “It brings me great happiness to announce that Maellory Tyrell will be betrothed to one of my sons, Aemond or Daeron.” The queen regent nodded to Maellory, Aemond noticed her posture stiffen momentarily, almost imperceptibly. His own shoulders were tense with surprise, he stared at Alicent trying to draw her gaze to his, but she didn’t seem to want to look at him. His eye narrowed, the only outward sign of his emotions. 

“Since Lady Maellory is the eldest daughter of Lord Karlen Tyrell, she will have until the anticipated Harvest Moon Festival to decide who she would like to marry.” Alicent regarded the many faces looking back at her, soft murmurs spread around the table as Aemond lowered his eye to his plate. His face grew hot as the whispers grew louder.

A man’s voice rose above the rest as he addressed the queen.

“Forgive me, your grace, is this not a rather out of the ordinary way in which such matters are done?”

“Thank you, Lord Beesbury,” the Queen Regent acknowledged the slightly impertinent inquiry. Aemond looked up to watch his mother address the old lord. “For long House Tyrell has been faithful to the Crown, thus we extend this courtesy to honor that loyalty.”

“I am Hand of the King and represent his Grace’s wishes in this matter.” Otto spoke up next to Aemond, turning heads in his direction, allowing Aemond at last to look upon Maellory’s candlelit face. Her eyes flickered to him momentarily, long enough for her to raise a thin eyebrow and widen her eyes as if to commiserate in the surprise of their situation.

“The Hightowers are vassals to House Tyrell, and King Viserys has agreed to this plan for the sake of his queen, as well as myself, and our relationship with the lords of the Reach.” Otto drank from his own wine glass, relishing the reaction of those gathered over its glass rim. He trusted his daughter and she listened to his advice but this had been a stroke of cunning that even he could not have foreseen. 

Lord Beesbury looked more satisfied, though still confused as his sunken eyes flitted from Maellory to Aemond. “Very well, however I still think it is not in keeping with our customs.” Some of the heat left Aemond’s face with his grandfather’s defense of the Crown’s position but his analytical mind searched for the reasoning, for something in Maellory’s character that would allow a first born daughter to have her choice of Targaryen prince. Lord Beesbury made an excellent point and Aemond was unsure if he disagreed. The realm was held together by tradition. He detested it but understood that tradition often meant security and peace. This deviation from it was perplexing, maybe even a bit intriguing. 

The sounds of dining commenced, knives and forks against plates becoming a clamor that echoed around the large room. The noise served as a distraction from his instinctive strain to hear the lowered voices and individual conversations at the table. He looked at his plate and pushed it away. 

Alicent lowered herself into her plush dining chair, turning her attention back to Maellory. “Daeron is on his way back from Oldtown where he has been squiring many years for my father’s nephew, Sir Ormund.” Maellory mirrored Alicent’s movements as the Queen leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Some would say Aemond has had an unfair advantage in meeting you first, however I think you will find Daeron to be very charming. He matches you in age, I believe, he just turned seven and ten years last winter.”

Maellory glanced surreptitiously down the table to where Aemond sat, his profile sharp as his long fingers tapped the wood beside his untouched drink. Despite her perplexity, she molded a careful smile upon her lips, turning back to Alicent and Morwenna. “You honor me beyond words, my queen.”

As Alicent’s attention was diverted by the arrival of more food, Maellory’s gaze sharpened upon her grandmother. “When were you going to tell me of this arrangement?” The polite, courtly smile remained on her face but her voice, though she tried to sweeten it, carried an icy undercurrent.

Morwenna looked at her granddaughter grimly, her voice low enough to avoid being heard by any listening ears. “It is not abnormal for sons and daughters of great houses to be unaware of their impending fates.” Her wrinkled mouth pressed into a fine line as she read Maellory’s displeased expression. “My petal, you have been given more freedom than most girls in your position ever have the opportunity to hold.”

As the plates were cleared for the next course Aemond stilled his hand on the table and fought the urge to storm out of the hall. Otto glanced at his grandson, opened his mouth, then closed it as he caught Aemond’s glaring eye. With great restraint Aemond stood and moved his chair silently back under the table. Unlike in the throne room he wouldn’t have to draw attention to his exit from the dining hall. He bounded down the steps of the dais and into the shadows of the side wall. 

Maellory nodded at her grandmother’s words absently as she watched Aemond leave the table. He wasn’t entirely inconspicuous. His striking figure seemed to catch her eye whenever they were in the same room. She looked around the room quickly, noting her possible points of egress. For the moment she turned to Lady Morwenna and smiled warmly at her. Her grandmother was artful in her politics and Maellory admired her dearly. She felt the first twinges of anxiety that she might be left alone in King’s Landing without her grandmother. Maellory had learned so much from her in seventeen years but knew she would need her in the near future perhaps more than she ever had before.

* * *

Maellory wasn’t at all sure where Aemond had gone when he turned down the hallway. Her light, soft steps made nearly no sound but she wasn’t going to race to keep up with his long strides. She caught her breath and her brows knitted together with a mix of consternation and determination. She retraced her steps back to the last corner they had turned and stepped out of the Keep into a small, narrow garden balcony. It was enclosed on only two sides and opened up to a view of the city and Blackwater Bay glinting with the early moonlight in the distance. 

The cool dusk air ruffled along Maellory’s gown, causing her bare arms to erupt in gooseflesh. Hugging herself for warmth, she swept her eyes along the large balcony, her curious gaze alighting upon Aemond’s form. His back was to her, and the way his silver hair shone in the dim moonlight only served to make him more intriguing. 

She didn’t know at all what to expect from the youngest prince but through her observation of the eldest she mused that he would be nothing like this second son. Daeron was most likely as different from his older brothers as they were from each other. The way Aemond tried to be a looming figure in the background seemed to have the opposite effect on Maellory. She thought the contrast with his elder brother made him shine like a polished river rock, hard sides to be sure, but so much more refined than Aegon. She imagined that every thought Aegon ever had passed over his face if not also past his lips. Aemond, on the other hand, chose his words and his facade as deliberately as she did.

He was unaware of her presence, his emotions in turmoil as he clasped his hands tightly behind him. His silver hair stirred in the salty breeze coming off Blackwater Bay, the long strands tickling his cheeks. Aemond's nebulous thoughts pulled at the corners of his mind, unformed but beginning to coalesce as he stared across the city of King’s Landing.  Normally he would be content in readily yielding a betrothal to his younger brother; now, however, Lord Beesbury’s words had stayed with him as much as the shape of her raised eyebrow had lingered in his mind’s eye. Why not let her choose? 

He longed for the clarity of being astride Vhagar. Flying with her gave him the space he required to think. This part of the castle had, so far, proved to be secluded enough from the chatter of the court that he could indulge his racing mind. He had avoided his stuffy chambers, not wanting to pace in front of the fire as he was wont to do. The very last feeling he needed now was encumbrance. One completely solid feeling amongst all of the others, identifiable above his roiling thoughts, was coercion. 

Maellory found the stairs at the end hallway. She smoothed her windswept hair before approaching the balcony’s railing. She kept a slight distance between herself and the prince. Aemond didn’t turn to her immediately. He listened to her footsteps as she walked up to him and saw her hand rest on the railing from the corner of his eye. He kept his hands behind his back but shifted his weight slightly toward her. 

His eye lingered on the waves in the bay. The crests caught the evening moonlight making the bay appear to be filled with stars. The waves could just barely be heard above the noise of the city as it settled its affairs of the day. Leaves rustled on the vines overhanging the balcony. The breeze shifted and he could smell Maellory’s perfume. Everything about this woman was proving to be breathtaking. Aemond disliked being so disarmed.

“I often seek out the fresh breeze in a wide open space when I feel overwhelmed. Being surrounded by moonlight and flowers is calming.” He turned slowly on the heel of his boot. The moonlight caught on her eyelashes as she looked at the garden below. As she lifted her head to look at him he saw it glint off her bottom lip. He clenched his jaw. His hands gripped his forearms behind his back. “I imagine it reminds you of home, my lady.”

“The scent of all these lovely flowers is intoxicating, to be certain.”

The moonbeams falling across Maellory’s face turned her eyes to silver, lighting them from within. Aemond was entranced. “Yes, the flowers as well.” He murmured, pleased to see a slight blush rise to her cheeks.  

“I want to apologize on behalf of my brother for his earlier behavior.” Aemond let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “He despises being at court, manners have never come easy to him.”

“I was not offended.” Maellory looked out toward the shimmering ocean, the curves of her neck accentuated by shadows and soft argent light. He noticed she wore no jewels at her neck. Her neck and collarbones needed no adornment. The low cut of her dress began to draw his eye back to the gems of her bodice. He rubbed the inside of his knuckles with his thumb.

“My brother, Loras, would prefer if he weren’t the eldest son, he shirks duty in favor of the empty glory of tourneys and a quick tumble with a lover.” She looked back to Aemond, noting how his eye flicked quickly up to her face. “It often falls upon my shoulders to represent our house with the honor it deserves.”

“A feeling I know well.” Aemond nodded, his arms relaxing, unwinding behind his back to rest at his sides. He placed his hand upon the stone wall of the balcony, his fingertips inches from hers. “Now you have been burdened still more with the decision of who you are to wed.”

“I wouldn’t name it a burden.” Maellory felt a twinge of mischievous delight at the way Aemond’s curved lips parted slightly at her words. “A surprise for both of us it seems, but not an unwelcome one.” She searched his face, trying to read what he was feeling, pursing her lips slightly when Aemond gave nothing away. 

He nodded at her slightly, his eye never leaving hers. “No, not unwelcome. I have grown accustomed to proving myself, this is no different.” He wasn’t sure if the story of how he claimed Vhagar had traveled to Highgarden intact. Perhaps Maellory knew precisely what he had sacrificed in addition to his eye to prove himself. The court may have even embellished the tale beyond recognition. A second son having to prove himself was not unusual but his mutilation was something most outsiders felt he must overcome.  

“I would rather you show me who you are, than feel you have something to prove.” Maellory’s gaze was still intent upon Aemond, watching with interest as a flicker of surprise softened his expression.

He smiled gently down at her. “I will keep that in mind, Lady Maellory.”  Her name felt like silk on his tongue.

Maellory shivered again, unused to the chilly nights at King's Landing. She stepped closer to him. He swallowed dryly as she did so. He followed her gaze out to the bay, not turning his body away from her. The silence was peaceful, punctuated intermittently by the first birdsong of the evening. The constant prattle of the court and its ladies made his silence a respite for her. Within that lacuna she saw through Aemond’s imposing presence, saw her own facade mirrored in his posture, in his impeccably curated attire, in the intangible armor he wore everyday. 

“I will leave you to your thoughts, my prince.” Maellory’s eyes lingered on the contours of Aemond’s face. “I hope we can speak together more soon.”

“That is my desire, as well.”

Maellory dipped her head and offered him a tender smile before she walked to the stairs. As she turned the side of her hand coquettishly grazed Aemond’s, their skin barely touching at all. 

Aemond watched her leave, a gust of wind caught the thin fabric of her azure dress while her long auburn curls bounced with each step she took.

His eye remained upon the doorway long after she passed through it. The way her eyes had moved over him, exposed him, it was a unique ability, a challenge he had never had to meet before. With a sharp exhalation through his nose, Aemond replaced his hands behind his back and turned to survey the moonlit landscape, a smile of satisfaction tugging up his lips.

#aemond x tyrell oc #aemond x original character #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x oc #prince aemond x oc #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond stannies #pro aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond #hotd aemond #aemond x margaery #aemory #hotd fanfic

[earthtoluisa]

Broooo you guys don’t get how obsessed I am with margaery

Just my s/I and margaery having a peaceful moment:)

#game of thrones #got oc #game of thrones oc #margaery tyrell #margaery tyrell x selfinser #drawing #wip #self insert #selfshipping #self ship community

[cdragons]

The Eastern Wind & Moon Sail to Winterfell

READ THIS FOR CONTEXT

Previous Part

Summary: 美灵 (Měilíng) and 明阴 (Míng Yīn) visit House Stark after news of Jon Arryn's death and murder arrives at Winterfell. Ned Stark senses a trouble brewing in the air. Are the vultures from King's Landing circling to soon feast on his family's flesh? Is there any way to stop it? Meanwhile, the Young Wolf begins to battle his desires for the heart and affections of one tempestuous YiTish Sea Captain.

Warning(s): MDNI 18+; Canon doesn't exist here *shhhhhhhh*, Ned is having a crisis, Stannis may be OOC; Robb Stark wants to Dom the hot sea captain when he's clearly a Sub; Catelyn Stark is kind of a bitch; GOT is GOT (shit's gonna go down); Yi Tish dialogue is Bold, Italicized, and Green

Author's Note: Author hasn't seen Game of Thrones in a long-ass time, so if the characters are OOC...my bad 🤷🏻‍♀️. I used Mandarin for YiTish, and translations are at the bottom. Game of Thrones belong to GRR Martin, and the regions of Yi Ti are all credited to @anya-snow. If you liked reading this, please check out the masterlist!

Arya continually stabbed her needle in the fabric as Septa Mordane gushed over Sansa’s pretty embroidery. She looked beside her and met eyes with his youngest brother’s betrothed, Shireen Baratheon. The young girl gave an encouraging smile as she also struggled with stitching and embroidery. The young Baratheon heiress preferred to lose herself in the ancient library in Winterfell or with Maester Luwin as they discussed the history of House Targaryen.

The Stark girl smiled back at the young Baratheon. She liked Shireen very much, and thought her excellent company. At night, she would recount tales and stories her sister, Minna, shared from her travels in letters or from herself. Arya felt her mood drop again as he looked at Sansa. Shireen was so lucky to have an older sister as exciting and fun as Minna—someone who would fight and travel the world. The girls were only sisters through marriage. Shireen was from Stannis Baratheon’s first marriage, as Minna was the daughter of her mother’s first in Yi Ti, but they loved each other so fiercely that blood hardly mattered.

Minna didn’t care that Shireen was scarred from Greyscale, nor did she treat her as a pitiful creature to grow with her face. Minna and her mother, Lady Mei, loved the girl to the seven hells and back. The woman loved Shireen so much that she demanded her new husband swear that Shireen’s place as his heir would not be changed if they ever had a son. Arya still remembered the night she overheard Shireen tell Rickon how Minna told her that the gods gave Shireen her scars to prevent the Maiden from cursing her.

“Minnie told me I have the most beautiful soul,” she whispered just loud enough for Arya to hear her from outside an open door. “If I were beautiful both inside and out, the Gods would have cursed me for having too much, like Aphrodite had done to Marcaria.”

Arya bitterly continued with her stitching as a dull thud entered her ears, and she turned her head in the direction of laughter outside in the courtyard.

Bran struggled as he pulled his arm to draw out the bowstring. His older brothers, Jon and Robb, stood beside him in observation to guide his lessons while his younger brother, Rickon, sat above them on a mounted saddle. When he released the bowstring, the arrow shot up and over the target and outside the wall. He looked down in dejection as his brothers began to laugh even harder.

“And which one of you was a mark smith at ten?” his father, Lord Eddard ‘Ned’ Stark, called out above them. He and Lady Catelyn Stark, nee Tully, watched him practice. Ned Stark looked at his young son and encouraged him. “Keep practicing, Bran. Go on.”

Jon Snow lowered to whisper in Bran’s ear. “Don’t think too much about it, Bran.”

“Relax your bow arm,” remarked Robb.

Just when Bran was about to release his draw, an arrow shot past him and pierced the red center of the target. Whipping his head behind him, Bran saw it was Arya with a bow about twice her height. She curtsied with a smile before Bran went after her. She let him chase after her, and soon, they were running around the courtyard.

“Quick, Bran! Faster!” called out Jon as he and Robb watched their two siblings joyfully play.

Rickon remained seated on the mounted saddle. He looked up at the window where Sansa and Shireen should be. When his mother and father told him he would marry Stannis Baratheon’s daughter last year, his mother was enraged. He overheard Mother plead with his father to reconsider the match. She did not want her youngest boy to be with someone deformed by the gods. But Father dismissed her claims.

“Shireen Baratheon is Mei’s daughter now, and she confirmed that the girl’s illness is no longer contagious.” Ned Stark firmly stated.

“You would risk our family’s health over some foreign woman’s ‘confirmation?’’ Catelyn Stark exclaimed. “How is she to know? How can you possibly trust her words so much? A woman from a land as far as hers has no way of knowing such remedies. What if she and that girl–”

Her husband cut her off. “That’s enough, Cat. I understand your worries. I do. But I will not allow you to besmirch Mei’s and her daughter’s good names. She has been a long friend of Stannis Baratheon, and now she is his wife. She would never harm children. Never.”

He noticed his words frustrated his wife, and he placed a gentle hand on her arm before laying a soft kiss on her brow. “Mei is probably the wisest woman I have ever known. And sending Shireen with her daughter isn’t so much for an engagement – but to make her comfortable around others. The boys are long used to her sister’s presence; they will take up nicely with Shireen’s.”

And the matter was settled. Rickon remembered how Mother and Sansa kept their distance from the girl when she first arrived with Minna. Minna would only stay for the first month before leaving to travel to the Reach and then Dorne. When Shireen first approached him during Luwin’s lessons, he was amazed by the book size she was carrying. The moment she opened her mouth about things like Jin and huakaʻi pō, Rickon decided that it would make him extremely happy if he spent the rest of his life with Shireen. His mother was less than pleased and stormed off to lock herself in Winterfell’s Sept. But Father only gave Rickon a proud smile and gave his hair a good tousle.

As Ned Stark and his wife laughed at the scene, they were interrupted by the small pattering of a child’s footsteps running towards them. They turned and saw Shireen Baratheon escorted by Theon Greyjoy, the Ironborn ward. The odd pair first bowed respectfully and greeted Lord and Lady Stark with their titles before Theon stepped aside for Shireen. The young girl was beaming so widely that it warmed the old Lord’s heart. He couldn’t help but pity the child for the hand life dealt her, but it filled his heart to know that she would at least experience some kindness outside her own family.

“Ah, Lady Shireen,” he greeted the girl. “What brings you here? Come to watch Bran practice?”

Shireen shook her head. “No, my lord. I just received news from Shadow. My sister is currently docked at Dragonstone, and she, Mother, and Steffard will be arriving in White Harbor in a week’s time from tomorrow!”

Ned’s eyebrows shot up in bewilderment. “A week? From Dragonstone to White Harbor? How will they make it so fast with her crew and that giant ship of hers?”

“They won’t be coming with her,” Shireen answered. “She’s traveled to after stopping at King’s Landing. Father is Dragonstone to take care of some things while she sails alone. My sister is a very accomplished sailor blessed with the winds’ favor, my lord. I wouldn’t be surprised if she arrived here in just five days or less.”

Ned gave a loud laugh. “Knowing she’s your mother’s daughter, it wouldn’t surprise me either. Thank you for telling me.”

“I’ll be sure to prepare a guest room for them,” Lady Catelyn informed her husband before turning to Shireen. “Will your sister and Lady Baratheon bring their own handmaidens, or will they need one provided? Will your brother need a wet nurse?”

Shireen shook her head. “Oh no, my lady! My sister greatly dislikes the idea of handmaidens and ladies-in-waiting! But Minnie said that she would be bringing Wu! And my mother prefers to nurse my brother.”

Lady Catelyn Stark’s smile faltered slightly while Ned’s widened at the mention of Lady Minna’s ‘pets.’ The beasts resembled more killers than travel companions. Catelyn Stark almost preferred the ruffians that made up her crew to the animals.

Shireen turned to Theon. “Do you think Ari will enjoy spending time with another bird? I would feel awful if he became lonely from Shadow’s arrival.”

Theon gave a sincere smile to the young girl before tousling her hair. “I think nothing would make him happier, my lady. He was bored out of his mind being alone with the ravens before Baleor’s arrival. What’s one more?”

Rodrick walked up to his lord and lady to inform them that they had captured a deserter of the Wall, and they were ready to give his execution. Ned Stark’s expression became somber hearing the news as his eyes darted to the young Shireen. He ordered Theon to escort her and Rickon to Maester Luwin for their lessons before telling Robb and Jon to saddle their horses. When the Greyjoy ward left, he informed Rodrick that Bran would join them. This gave concern to his wife.

“Ned,” she pleaded. “Ten is too young to see such things.”

“He won’t be a boy forever,” her husband replied. “And winter is coming.”

Bran kept thinking about the words his father had imparted to him after he had taken off the deserter’s head with Ice.

“The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.”

It still confused him. He wanted to ask Robb when Father stopped in the middle of the road. He made a right turn toward the river. Jon was right behind Father while Bran followed. It was a direwolf! But…it was dead, and it had pups! But as excited as Bran was, he made no sound. Everyone around him was silent as they all stood in awe at the dead symbol of their house.

“It’s a freak,’ remarked Theon.

Father corrected him. ‘It’s a direwolf–” he looked at Rodrick for a moment in shock before grabbing the antler lodged in its throat “–tough old beast.”

“There are no direwolves South of the Wall,” commented Robb.

“Now there are five,” remarked Jon, picking one pup in his arms and handing it to Bran. “You want to hold it?”

The pup’s fur was white with speckles of grey across its body. Its body squirmed as it whined and whimpered at the change of its surroundings – and for the death of its mother.

Bran looked up at his brother. “Where will they go? Their mother’s dead.”

With a heavy heart, Rodrick answered the young lordling’s question. “They don’t belong down here.”

Ned Stark stood with his sword in hand. “Better a quick death. They won’t last without their mother.”

“Right,” Theon unsheathed his blade and reached for the pup in Bran’s arms. “Give it here.”

“No!” Bran cried as Theon looked mildly distressed at the boy’s plea.

“Put away your blade,” Robb commanded his friend. He didn’t like to give Theon orders – especially since the boy was more like a brother to him than just a ward his father brought from the Iron Islands, but he didn’t want to spill the direwolf pup’s blood.

Nonetheless, Robb’s words irked Theon. “I take orders from your father, not you.”

But Bran couldn’t allow the pups to die. He continued to plead with his father. “Please, Father!”

“I’m sorry, Bran.” The lord didn’t like seeing his young so upset, but he needed to understand the way of the world. It would be cruel to let the pups live – only to struggle to live and die before winter comes.

“Lord Stark–” Ned turned around to his son’s voice “–there are five pups—one for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is the sigil of your house. They were meant to have them.”

“And what about you?” thought Ned. “Are you not my child? Why should you be denied the right to wear and own the sigil of my house – your house? Even if you carry neither mine nor your mother’s name- are you still not of my blood?”

 He looked at his son with sad and hurt eyes as if reliving a memory from another lifetime ago. When everyone turned to him, waiting for an answer, he replied sternly and somberly.

“You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves.” And with bitter anger on his tongue, he spat out. “And if they die, you will bury them yourselves.”

As Jon handed two more direwolf pups in Robb’s arms, Bran turned to his brother. “What about you?”

Jon hesitated before answering. “I’m not a Stark. Get on.”

But as they began to leave, Jon heard small and faint whimpers from below. He walked down to try and locate it. Robb and Theon stopped to ask if there was a problem. For his answer. He held up a sixth direwolf pup – one with stark white fur like snow and piercing blood-red eyes.

“Ah, the runt of the litter,” Theon quipped with a smug smirk. “That one’s yours, Snow.”

Jon looked at Greyjoy with exasperation, while Robb looked pleased and grateful for the albino pup’s existence. At the very least, his favorite brother also had a direwolf. He was a Stark – whether his mother liked it or not.

The ride back to Winterfell was quiet in the front, with the grown men still somber and sullen from the execution. But the boys were speaking with one another with great excitement for bringing home new members of their family. Robb and Theon were riding in front of Jon and Bran. Bran was still thinking about what the deserter said about the white walkers. Was he lying? Was Father right about mad men seeing what they want to see? But…he didn’t look mad.

“Quite the day for the lad. Eh, Bran?” Theon called out to him as Bran broke from his thoughts. “First, your first deserter execution. Next, you and your siblings are getting a direwolf each. And to think, I thought Shireen’s sister’s arrival would be the most exciting news of the day.”

“What?” thought Bran. His thoughts about white walkers and deserters were quickly replaced by news of his friend's arrival.

“Minnie’s coming?” he excitedly asked with a broad smile and bright eyes. “Did she say when? Is she bringing Wu with her?”

Theon’s news also caught Jon’s and Robb’s attention. Jon was lost in his thoughts since finding the albino wolf pup. Robb was thinking about Arya’s and Rickon’s reactions to receiving the privilege of caring for their house’s sigil. But now, something of greater import came to their attention.

“Ming’s coming?” asked Jon. “Are you sure?”

Theon smirked at the bastard’s excitement. “I was with her when Shadow flew up to her with a message tied on its leg – escorted the Lady Shireen myself when she told Lord and Lady Stark. Lass was practically jumping off the walls after reading it.”

“Did she say when she would be arriving? Are Lord Stannis and his lady wife coming with her?” asked Robb.

Theon shook his head. “She says she’s in Dragonstone to prepare for her stay. She’ll be at White Harbor in a week. She’s bringing their mother and brother, too. But Lord Stannis won’t be joining them this time.”

This greatly confused Bran and his brothers. Lord Stannis was infamous for his sour expressions and austereness – but anyone who had the privilege of meeting him now would see how much the company of his second wife softened his hard nature. Stannis Baratheon was a man who showed no love for his brothers, but he adored the women and girls in his life. An adoration now extended to his youngest child, his only son.

For such a man to not travel with his wife was a strange and unusual occurrence.

“Why is Lord Stannis not traveling with Minnie and Lady Mei?” asked Bran. His brows furrowed before worry took hold of him. “Did he and Lady Mei fight, and she’s running away with their son?”

“Bran, that’s enough,” ordered Jon. “Everyone knows how much Lord Stannis respects Lady Mei’s advice. I’m sure he's not joining them because there’s too much to do at King’s Landing. Being King Robert’s brother gives him a great number of duties.”

Theon turned to Jon with a wide smirk. “Awfully defensive of Lady Mei’s honor – aren’t you, Snow? Think that’ll grant you any favors from her daughter, ‘Minion’?”

“Don’t call her that!” Bran called out.

Jon sputtered his response with red-tipped ears. “You know how much she hates being called that. Or do you want a repeat of what happened in the courtyard when you and Robb first called her that? And, of course, I care about Minna’s mother – I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t.”

Jon shouldn’t be as excited as he was at that moment. But he couldn’t help himself. Ming – his Ming – was coming to Winterfell. She was everything Jon wanted in an older sibling. She was invincible and told him as such. She and her mother had never once treated him differently from the rest of the Stark Children after learning of his bastard status. Whenever he got in over his head about his birth, she would always manage to ground him in some way. Once, he asked her if she was trying to trick him. She stared at him briefly before rolling up a piece of paper and swatting his head.

He still remembered her scowl with fondness.

“Do I look as stupid as Catelyn Stark to you?” she interrogated. “Who cares if you’re a bastard? You care about your siblings and work hard to be a worthy son despite the world giving you an excuse not to. I’ve given you some of my favorite fruits from my homeland, and you dare ask me if my friendship towards you was a ruse?! Don’t be stupid, Jon.”

He wept like a baby. He had never felt so happy in his life, and all he could do was thank his friend while weeping for joy. And to make him stop crying, she let him cry on her shoulder as she softly stroked his hair.

“Yeah,” snorted Theon. “Friend – sure.”

“That’s enough,” Robb cut in. “All of you. You want Father to scold us?”

Robb could tell his brothers were ecstatic about Ming’s arrival, but he had conflicting emotions about the news. Ming Yin Baratheon was a woman grown who was older than him by two years, the same age as Theon. Ming always had a wicked and brash tongue on her. When they first met, she was his height but so skinny and dressed so plainly with dirt streaks on her face.

Was it really so bad if he assumed she was smallfolk?

Then Theon dared him to tug on her braid while she was reading a book in the courtyard. A stupid dare between stupid boys resulted in them running for their lives with tears down their cheeks as a short and bookish girl chased them with a broom twice her height. She shouted out curses and promises of all the vile things she would do to them as she violently swung the broom through the air with fire in her eyes and poison on her tongue.

It took the combined efforts of Stannis, his father, Rodrick, and Jory to pry her off when she caught up to them. In the end, Robb’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as Luwin treated his bleeding nose, black eye, and bruises across his body while he and Father occasionally snickered to themselves. His mother nearly had a heart attack at the state of her eldest child. When she heard what had happened and tried to scold the girl, Ming only responded by blowing her tongue and spraying her spittle at the Tully woman. Even with more dirt on her cheeks than before and her braid ruined, she carried herself in such an unrelenting dignified manner that Robb couldn’t help but envy it.

At the very least, Theon was in no better state than him.

How in the Seven Hells could a girl of nine years manage to fight off four grown men? The memory stumped Robb then and still stumped him now.

“Scared of meeting the Demoness from Dragonstone?” Theon smugly asked when he saw his friend staring in the distance. “Or are you worried she won’t be impressed with your new height and strength when she sees you haven’t improved your writing?”

Robb scoffed at Theon’s words. “No, don’t be ridiculous.”

He refused to believe that he cared so much for some quick-tempered girl who always teased him– even if she had shiny black hair that ended at her waist and sharp, expressive dark eyes with full lips. It didn’t matter that she haunted his dreams every night since she was in Winterfell when she turned fourteen. It didn’t matter to Robb that Minna was the epitome of an exotic beauty with enough fire in her soul for any Northern winter to freeze her. It didn’t matter to Robb that she was closer to Jon than to him.

“I’ll kiss you when you finally beat me.”

It didn’t matter to Robb – none of it.

“I’m not scared of Minna, Theon – so stop trying to bait me.” Robb let that be the final word before riding ahead just behind his father.

Meanwhile, Ned had heard everything passed between the boys while riding in the front. He chuckled at Bran’s excitement. He was sure he would be climbing the gates of Winterfell every day to wait for Minna’s arrival. It was no secret to anyone in the Stark family or those working in Winterfell that Bran had a bit of a crush on the tempestuous sailor. While his wife disliked the girl, Ned was very fond of her. Her temper and sharp tongue reminded him of Mei when he first met her. Not to mention that she was the spitting image of Mei at that age.

He wasn’t too old to be oblivious to how his sons acted around pretty girls – especially girls like her. Northern women were one thing, but Mei and Minna were an entire league of women. There had never been two women who would turn Westeros upside down and inside out as much as them. Mei had turned the forever stoic Stannis Baratheon into a feeling human, became the most respected woman in the Keep, and opened trade opportunities for Westeros. At the same time, Minna tore down every obstacle in her path to pursue knowledge and made Dragonstone one of the richest keeps in the Seven Kingdoms – not that Robert or his queen will ever get a hold of a single coin from her.

When Ned and his sons returned to Winterfell, he was immediately bombarded with questions from the rest of his children about whether Minnie was really coming to Winterfell. They asked if he knew about whether he knew she was bringing gifts from her travels. Arya wanted to know if she would give her a dagger forged by the Master blacksmiths from Qohor. Rickon hoped she would bring any sweets and candied fruits.

Even Sansa couldn’t hide her excitement. Despite the girls' differences, Minna would bring Sansa the most exquisite fabrics, accessories, and books. The gifts were more often than not used as a way to distract her from any pranks or tricks pulled on her. Thankfully, Mei would be here as well. Sansa held Lady Mei Baratheon on nearly the same high pedestal as her mother. She would tell how beautiful Sansa was growing and how her grace and charm rivaled the most beautiful empresses from her homeland. She would sing praises of how her stitching looked more impressive than the last time she’d seen it while sharing news of the latest trends worn among noble women worldwide.

Excitement filled the halls of Winterfell at the news of their guests. Preparations were underway for their arrival. Ned went to the Godswood and shone his sword under the branches of the Old Weirwood tree for some peace. He was grateful for the life the Old Gods blessed him with. This was not the life he was meant to have. Everything of his should have been Brandon’s – his wife, his title, his responsibilities – but he wouldn’t change any of it, not for all of the power and gold in the world.

But his world would be crashing down around him when his wife arrived with a message from King’s Landing.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” Catelyn told him with sympathetic eyes. Then she told him Jon Arryn had died, and Robert and his wife would travel to Winterfell with their children and the Queen’s brothers.

Ned looked down at his feet. “If he’s traveling this far North, it’s for one thing.” He looked at his wife in hidden fear. “He wants to make me his Hand.”

“First Mei, now Robert,” thought Ned when he shared the news to his children. “May the Old Gods and New protect my family for what’s to come.”

Bran watched the road to his father’s keep from the top of the gates. He saw a single dot moving closer and closer until the dot became a wheelhouse. His eyes widened in excitement as his smile broadened in anticipation for his friend in the horse-drawn carriage that carried House Baratheon’s banner. He stood up and ran across the edge or beginning to climb down the tower. He reached the ground to run to his father at the stables.

“They’re here! They’re here!” he exclaimed when he reached him. The boy was practically bouncing on his heels for barely containing his elation.

Ned chuckled at the sight of his son. “Who, Bran?”

“Minnie! There’s a wheelhouse coming! It carries the sigil of House Baratheon!”

“Was anyone carrying the banner?” his father asked with a quizzical brow raised.

Bran shook his head. “No, but I saw it painted on the top of it.”

“Alright, then,” nodded Ned as he gave his son instructions. “Gather your brothers, sisters, and Shireen. I’ll prepare your mother. Tell them to gather in the courtyard to greet them.”

Bran nodded before doing as his father instructed. He swiftly ran through the familiar halls of the Winterfell keep that was his home. He found Sansa, Arya, and Shireen with Septa Morgane. They were learning their sums when Bran burst into the room. Septa Morgane scolded him for acting so brashly, but her words were quickly ignored when Bran told the girls that Minnie and her mother would soon arrive. As soon as the news left his mouth, Shireen dashed right past him, followed by his sisters.

Jon, Robb, and Theon were already in the courtyard, sparring with wooden swords, when Bran found them. They immediately put away their wooden swords and met their father with Rodrick right behind them. Father and Mother stood side-by-side when Robb stood to Father’s left. Rickon stood next to their mother, and Shireen stood next to him with an eager smile beaming on her face. Sansa stood to Robb’s left, Arya on her right, and Bran was on hers. Jon and Theon were behind them – Theon was a Greyjoy, but Ned Stark’s ward. Jon was a Stark by blood…but not by name.

Shireen was bouncing on the tips of her toes in hopes that time would move faster. The days since her sister’s letter of her arrival moved so slowly, and she could hardly sleep a wink last night for this moment.

“Do you think she missed me?” she whispered to Rickon.

“Of course! Minnie loves you more than anything!” Rickon replied. “Even more than her own ship, I think.”

The loud creaks and groans of the aged wood crept closer and closer until the wheelhouse stopped in the courtyard’s center. The driver ensured the horses were calm and stable before leaping from his seat and opening the doors. A vision in a marigold silk tunic with trumpet sleeves and gold floral patterns paired with a gold belt around her waist. It was a shame that such finery was hidden underneath a thick wool cloak with a thick fur mantle. Her lustrous, flowing, jet-black tresses were bound with a green ribbon and golden stitching in a single braid trailing down her back. The pendant of her husband’s sigil hung down from a simple gold chain over her bosom.

Lady Měilíng Baratheon was the second wife of Stannis Baratheon and the mother of his only son. As she stepped down from the wheelhouse, she stepped on the dirt with such grace and poise that it seemed the Mother of the Seven had come instead of a highborn lord’s wife. A woman over forty years of age who still managed to get pregnant and carry a son to term – she looked far too young to be her age.  

A small boy who could not have been taller than Ned Stark’s knee shuffled behind her. It was the little lording, Steffard Baratheon, the only son of his father and second-in-line to inherit Dragonstone after his older sister, Shireen. He wore a fine coat from a stag’s hide and little shoes to protect his feet. Like his mother, he too wore a gold pendant of his father’s sigil hung from a simple chain. Despite being blessed with most of his mother’s soft features, he certainly inherited his father’s bright blue Baratheon eyes and inky-black curls.

Seeing the boy standing next to his mother, Ned felt a hundred years older than he was. Where had the time gone? He, Mei, and Robert were all children once – children involved in a war to decide the fate of a country for its future years. Ned had once pitied the YiTish girl for the hand she was dealt in life. As a foreigner, she should have had no part in Robert’s Rebellion, but she experienced loss and grief like the rest of them nonetheless.

And now, all three of them were leaders with their own children and carrying burdens on their shoulders that their children would inherit – how the years escaped them.

Měilíng searched for her young daughter and beamed when she found her. She nudged her little son and guided his eyes to his sister. His eyes lit up as he toddled to her, warming her heart. “希希 (XīXī)!” he exclaimed as Shireen ran towards him. Her arms were spread open as Steffard leaped into her arms and wrapped his arms around her neck. “I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!”

“I missed you too!” Shireen giggled as her body was flooded with her baby brother’s warmth.

Still locked in their reunion, the two young siblings spun in circles before falling on the ground in laughter. The scene loosened the tension as House Stark looked at the pair warmly.

When they stopped laughing, Shireen helped her brother as she looked at their mother. Mei’s smile shined as she squatted on the ground, balanced her body with her feet, and spread her arms wide open to greet her daughter. Shireen needed no instructions to race into her mother’s arms. A cocoon of love and happiness blanketed the young Baratheon girl as her face was dotted with pecks and kisses. She buried her face in the crook of her mother’s neck and breathed in her scent – her mother always smelled like the salty sea breeze of Dragonstone and peonies. To Shireen, it was as if she was transported home, and if she closed her eyes, she was back on the shores of the Dragonstone beaches, walking alongside Minnie.

“How are you, my little doe?” her mother asked as she tenderly stroked the back of her head. “Did you enjoy the books your sister and I sent you? Did you enjoy your lessons with Maester Luwin and Septa Morgane?”

Shireen answered her mother with a broad smile and starry eyes. “I am well, mother. I loved the books! But–” Shireen looked behind her mother to try to find her sister “–where is Minnie? Was she not in the wheelhouse with you and Steffard?”

Meiling shook her head as she laughed to herself. “Do not worry, little doe, your sister is here. But she is a little worse for wear after days in the wheelhouse.”

Their mother rose from her feet as her hands remained grasped with Shireen’s. She turned to the wheelhouse behind her and called out her daughter in the language of their homeland. “明阴 (Míng Yīn)! How long do you intend to keep your sister waiting?”

A weary and pained groan exited the horse-drawn transport in response. “Would you give me a minute? I’m a little busy trying not to die here!”

“You are not dying!” Měilíng scoffed. “How long do you want to keep Ned and his family waiting?”

“As soon as I’m done making sure I won’t shit or vomit my guts out! I don’t want to have to pay any additional fees for this torture device on wheels!”

“Do you need a brush for your hair?”

“NO!” A few moments passed. “OKAY! I’m good!”

The giant wooden box creaked as Shireen’s sister finally exited the wheelhouse, and she immediately breathed in the fresh air only found in the North. A young woman an entire head taller than Měilíng stepped into the light – despite the bags under her eyes and the slightly tired look on her face, she was every bit as beautiful and poised as her mother.

Míng Yīn was exactly how Ned Stark imagined her mother would have looked if Mei trained herself in combat and fighting as a child. Her dark almond-shaped eyes could either enchant a man enough to willingly give her his life or scare the souls of all her enemies. Her muscles grew and hardened after years of training under her biological father in Yi Ti before traveling around the world on open seas – fighting anyone who dared cross blades with her and leaving a trail of blood and corpses for fish to nibble on. Ned did not doubt that she would bankrupt his boys if they even dared to try and bet against her in combat.

Míng Yīn wore her hair in a half-up-down style with a part of her hair bound in a simple braid on the back of her head. Her outfit was more fitting of a sailor than a highborn noblewoman. She wore a mid-length dark blue wool robe with a silver border stitched on the hem and long sleeves. The robe was wrapped around her body in a way that left her neck, collarbones, and the slightest hint of her cleavage out in the open. The dark linen sash that held her sword and dagger further emphasized the curve of her hips and waist. The black leather breeches hugged her lower body, and the tall black leather boots highlighted the muscles of her calves.

A large black jaguar had quickly come outside the wheelhouse as well. Its pristine and shiny coat shone in the faint sunlight that bathed Winterfell. Without missing a beat, it promptly stood beside its mistress, scanning the new environment for any dangers that would risk his beloved mistress’ safety and well-being.

So, Míng had indeed brought Wu. Robb’s mother wouldn’t like that.

But unlike her mother and brother, Míng Yīn did not wear the sigil of her mother’s second husband’s house. On her neck and sitting on her breasts was a black jade pendant with a small dragon with a white eye carved into it hung from a red string. On each side of the pendant was a tiny Dragon’s Bloodstone bead.

Robb unconsciously straightened his posture at the sight of her. He felt himself release a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding until Ming came into view. Years’ worth of memories flooded his mind as she reached for her younger sister.

The young Baratheon girl launched herself in her sister’s arms. “Minnie! You’re here!”

Robb watched on the sidelines as Ming greeted Shireen with a dozen kisses for each month since they last saw one another. He wondered if she still smelled as cool and crisp as the ocean’s wind that blew through her hair. Or if her skin would taste as warm and bright as the sunshine soaking her skin while she stood on her ship’s dock on cloudless days.

He longed for a sample – anything would be enough.

When the two sisters parted, Wu gently lowered himself to nudge his head against Shireen. Loud purrs came from his throat as the young girl scratched that spot under his chin and stroked his back.

“Oh, Wu! You’ve become even more beautiful! Thank you for protecting Minnie!”

The beast preened at the attention. Míng Yīn was his mistress and savior and, therefore, his favorite. His eternal loyalty and love would forever belong to her. But if he had to choose a second favorite, it would belong to Shireen Baratheon – for she had the purest soul and kindest heart in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

Rickon could also not contain himself and joined his betrothed to embrace her sister. The sight of two small children clinging to the person who brought fear and awe to every sailor, sea merchant, and trading company from Westeros to Essos was both comical and heartwarming. A scene that became more comical was when Míng Yīn grabbed one child each and flung them on her shoulders as if they were small sacks of flour. Wu jumped on his hind legs to play as he licked their tiny hands.

Finally, Lady Měilíng of House Baratheon and her children brought themselves to stand before the Lord of the Winterfell and knelt with one knee on the ground in a show of respect. Ned told them to raise before bringing his old friend in a tight embrace.

When they parted, he gave her a look-down to take the sight of her in fully. “Gods, look at you. How many years has it been?"

Měilíng gave a kind smile in response. “I’d say almost two years – far shorter compared to when you’ve last seen Robert.”

“How is Robert in King’s Landing? Is he working Stannis to the ground?”

Měilíng huffed in annoyance at the mention of her brother-in-law’s name. “Oh, of course. The man’s too stupid and fat to do anything else but order his brother, my husband, and his Hand to run his kingdom while he eats, drinks, and whores himself to ruin.”

Everyone apart from Ned widened their eyes in shock at the woman’s words. Did she not fear for her head? Was it alright if the wife of the King’s brother said such things of him? But Mei only turned to Ned’s wife as she bowed in respect for Lady Stark.

“Lady Stark,” she spoke in a clear and calm voice. “On behalf of my husband and House Baratheon, I humbly thank you for opening your home to allow my daughter to stay with your children this past year. Your generosity was further extended to allow room for my family’s visit. I cannot imagine the stress my eldest daughter gave you when her letter stated that we would be here in less than two weeks.”

Catelyn bowed her head in response. “Think nothing of it, my lady. Lady Shireen Baratheon had been our home's most polite and wonderful guest. I am grateful you and your husband sent her to my family’s home to host her. She had quickly become my youngest son’s most favorite playmate.”

Měilíng smiled at the woman’s words. She then turned to the Stark children before greeting each and every one of them. She marveled at how tall and handsome Robb had become since childhood. She softly whispered in his ear if he were hopeful that his sparring skills improved enough to beat her daughter. Seeing him sputtering and pale skin blushing made a very amusing scene. When she came across Sansa, she gasped and held the girl’s hands in her own.

“Oh, Sansa!” she exclaimed. “Look at you! You’ve grown so beautiful and tall since I last saw you. I thought you were a princess! And your cloak – tell me, did you do the stitching?”

Sansa softly giggled as she blushed from the praise. “Yes, Lady Baratheon. I’ve improved a lot in my stitching and needlework since you last saw me – I’m sure I could even make you something, if you’d like.”

Měilíng put a gentle palm on the girl’s cheek. “I would love nothing more. Perhaps you would even convince my eldest to practice her needlework. Or even try to persuade her to stop wearing breeches and trousers when she’s not at sea.”

“Never going to happen, Mother,” interjected Míng Yīn, who had finally put Shireen and Rickon on the ground after greeting Lord and Lady Stark. “I do enough needlework on my own. Thank you very much.”

Míng Yīn’s mother turned to her daughter in exasperation. “The only time you practiced as a child for needlework was to sew wounds close after training with your father.”

“…Yeah, exactly,” Míng Yīn nodded with a slight shrug and a blank expression. “What more needlework skills are necessary after that?”

“Minnie!” shouted Arya and Bran as they both made their way to crowd the woman. After exchanging warm greetings and kind words, the most essential questions came from the younger Stark daughter’s mouth.

“Did you bring gifts?” she asked in an eager tone.

“Arya!” exclaimed her sister and mother. Both women’s faces turned red at Arya’s impoliteness as Ned and his friend only laughed at the girl’s bluntness.

Míng Yīn stroked her chin as if deep in thought. “Did I bring gifts? Huh…I wonder…that doesn’t sound like something I’d do. Is it?”

Bran jumped like a child of four after eating too much sugar. “You did! Can we see them? Please?” He turned to his father with pleading eyes.

Ned slightly shook his head. “Come on now, Bran. Let our guests first get settled in their rooms. Judging from Lady Minna’s expression, she could do for a bit of rest.”

“But after they get settled, can they give us the presents?” Rickon sweetly asked while holding Steffard’s hand on one side while Shireen held the other as they placed the baby on Wu’s back.

His mother answered as she softly stroked his head. “After they rest for a bit, then we will have supper. The cooks prepared a feast for our guests’ arrival. There will be plenty of time tomorrow.”

Even Sansa deflated a bit with her younger siblings that they couldn’t receive their presents sooner rather than later.

Míng Yīn grabbed Shireen by the back of her cloak before placing her sister on her back. Shireen was a bit shocked before she giggled at the display of her sister’s open affection and wrapped her arms around her neck as Míng Yīn looped her arms around her little legs.

“Anyone been doing this for you while I’ve been gone?” she smirked.

Shireen responded with glee. “No! I only like you doing these!”

As Robb watched his parents and sister walk off with Lady Meiling and Steffard, he figured now was as good a time as any to approach Ming. Shireen jumped off her back to her mother’s side to try and hold her brother the rest of the way to their rooms.

“Ming!” he called out. He felt his palms grow sweaty when she turned around in his direction.

He walked towards her with long, confident strides. He thought he looked intimidating, but he realized that wasn’t the case when she burst out laughing. The young lord’s ears burned at her reaction, and they only grew hotter when he heard Theon and Jon snickering behind him.

She only stopped laughing long enough to gasp out a response. “What’s with that face? You look like you swallowed a lemon!”

…Fuck, what was Robb to say in response to that? He had to be smart about this. He would not make a fool of himself. He tried his best not to stare at the jaguar staring at him with hollow eyes.

“…I’m finally taller than you,” he dumbly stated.

“Shit,” was the only echoing in Robb’s mind as he heard Jon and Theon loudly guffawed as they heard him.

He didn’t have to look behind him to know that the bastards collapsed on the ground, gasping for air.

But Míng Yīn only walked toward him while Wu did not come any closer before stopping a few feet away as she traced her eyes over his face and down his form. He saw her dark eyes crinkle with appreciation as a sweet smile spread. She snorted out through her nose as she stepped even closer until only a few inches of air were between them. Wu still hadn’t moved, but he was staring more intensely than before, and Robb wondered if his death would be from a jaguar clawing out his throat.

“Yes,” she whispered as her eyes darted to his lips. “You’re much taller now.”

Blue met black as only the noises came from their parents walking farther and farther away. Their growing distance made the space between them seem more like a separate reality. One where it was only the two of them and no one else. Robb’s eyes quickly glanced down to Ming’s lips, and his Adam’s apple bobbed at the thought of them around his cock.

But that bubble burst when Míng Yīn bumped her fist into Robb’s chest and backed away with a cheeky grin and mischievous eyes.

“笨蛋 (Bèndàn), I’m still going to kick your ass in the courtyard, though.” She turned to Wu before walking. “Come on, 无牙 (Wú yá)! Let’s catch up to 小希 (Xiǎo xī )! I want to take a bath before dinner.” She turned to walk back to her family and called out to him without looking back. “You’ll always be a hundred years too early to beat me in a fight!”

Robb only stood in a daze as he watched her walk away. When Theon slapped his back, he finally came to and saw that Jon was beside him.

Theon snickered at the glare his friend gave him. “Stare at her ass any longer, and I’ll think you’ve become more scarecrow than wolf. Plus, I think the cat can sense your eyes.”

Robb only shrugged. “It’s a good ass to stare at.”

“It’s a great ass to stare at. That doesn’t make you look less stupid.”

“Can we stop talking about Ming’s backside?” Jon begged. He didn’t like talking about their friend in such a disrespectful manner, and he liked the idea of Wu tearing out their throats even less. “Let’s get back to sparring with Rodrick before the feast.”

Another reason to adore Míng Yīn – she hated it when Jon wasn’t included in the feasts while she was staying at Winterfell. The feast of her first coming to Winterfell with her mother was marked mainly by how she walked out of the Great Hall and returned with Jon. She dragged him by the wrist before seating him right next to her at the table.

Jon was terrified Lady Stark would berate his new friend for deliberately bringing the bastard to the feast. But all that came was a stare-down between the Lady Stark and Ming Yin. Lady Stark’s face was red with embarrassment, and she stared down at the girl with the most terrifying look Jon had ever seen. Just remembering the expression gave chills down his spine.

But Ming refused to back down. She unblinkingly returned the lady’s stare with her own, and it was as if a silent war had broken out. Ming wasn’t afraid of the red-haired fish with crow’s feet under her eyes. A wolf by marriage was hardly a wolf at all. She wasn’t going to be beaten in a battle of wills – not then, not ever.

Ned sat by his wife, wondering if Mei would bring war to his feet if his wife killed her beloved daughter. Meiling sat beside Lady Stark in rapt interest for the events unfolding. She always loved it when her little goblin decided to enact her idea of justice. She loved it even more when she took charge.

After what seemed like hours, Lady Stark conceded to the girl as she returned to her meal. Ming turned to Jon with bright stars in her clever eyes.

“Didn’t I tell you?” she asked with a broad smile. “I’m invincible.”

Since then, Jon has always included every time a feast was held for the YiTish women. An act of genuine kindness that was appreciated by all of Jon’s siblings and his father.

An act that only deepened the infatuation of a confident young wolf with dark auburn curls and bright blue eyes.

An infatuation that the Gods saw morph into obsession as they felt shivers course through their divine forms in anticipation of the future ahead.

*Additional Notes:

The characters from Yi Ti and other countries in this stories will different ways of how they are referred

Míng Yīn's Nicknames and Who uses them:

Ming - Robb, Theon, Jon, Sansa, and Catelyn Stark

Minna - Ned (he is the only one allowed)

Míng Yīn - Luwin

Minnie - Shireen, Rickon, Arya, Bran

Měilíng's Nicknames and Who uses them:

Mei - Robert, Ned, Renly, and Stannis

Translations:

希希 (XīXī) - Hope Hope; 希 means "hope"; Shireen's name in Chinese is written as 希琳 (Xī lín), in which 希 means "hope," and 琳 means "forest." Because Steffard is a baby who grew up hearing Yi Tish and Westerosi Common, it makes sense he would refer to Shireen with a nickname.

小希 (Xiǎo xī ) - Little Hope; another nickname for Shireen, but specifically from her older sister. Míng Yīn is a girl who is thousands of miles away from her hometown, Wan, in Yi Ti. When her mother married Stannis, she had to leave everyone she ever loved, including her older brother. But seeing baby Shireen have her hope that everything would turn out for the better.

明阴 (Míng Yīn) - 明 means "bright," and 阴 is the character used for "yin" in the Chinese philosophy of "yin and yang". The character's direct translation is "negative," but it is also used to describe "femininity, moon, water, and earth" as it represents the female principle of the universe

笨蛋 (Bèndàn) - Fool or dumbass; 笨 means "fool," while 蛋 means "egg." Technically, the direct translation is "foolish egg," but most people will use it to call someone an idiot.

无牙 (Wú yá) - toothless; 无 means "none," while 牙 means "tooth"; Míng Yīn named him this because when she first found him as a cub, he didn't have any teeth.

杀手 (Shāshǒu) - killer; this is Shadow's actual name; Shadow is a Peregrine Falcon

Tagging: @succnfuccubus, @valeskafics, @arcielee, @anya-snow, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @jamera-ash, @lillian-morningstar, @strangedragonqueen, @writingsofwesteros, @a-libra-writes, @leonkennedyslefthand, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @hd-junglebook, @what-the--curtains, @axelsagewrites

#stannis baratheon x reader #stannis baratheon x oc #stannis baratheon #stannis the mannis #robb stark x reader #robb stark x oc #yi ti #yi ti oc #margaery tyrell x oc #margaery tyrell x reader #shireen baratheon #shireen baratheon x rickon stark #shireen x rickon #theon greyjoy #theon greyjoy & reader #jon snow & reader #jon snow & oc #theon greyjoy & oc #ned stark & oc #robb stark #got x reader #game of thrones x reader #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf x reader #got imagine #game of thrones imagines

[blissfulphilospher]

Jaime wants to kill Robert.

Elia wants to kill Lyanna.

Eddard Stark dies like always.

And other poor Stark's because of poor choices except Sansa.

Purple Wedding and the king dies.

Aegon wants Shireen.

Stannis want Iron Throne.

Viserys wants Dragonstone.

Margaery and Sansa get Cersei's perfect twins.

Much short snippets of plot worth seven books because I wanted the story like that.

I could have write whole chapters but they didn't fell right.

#asoiaf fanfiction #rhaenys daughter of elia #elia martell #viserys targaryen #rhaenys targaryen #aegon vi targaryen #shireen baratheon #cersei lannister #Cersei x Oberyn #margaery tyrell #sansa stark #lannister oc #martell oc #tywin lannister

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Margaery Tyrell Masterlist

To join my taglist

Kinktober 2023-2024

Requests: Closed

Margaery Tyrell:

Aesthetic:

One Shots:

Requests:

#game of thrones smut #game of thrones fic #game of thrones au #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones oc #game of thrones one shot #game of thrones x reader #margaery tyrell #queen margaery #margaery tyrell imagine #margaery imagine #margaery tyrell fic #margaery fic #margaery tyrell fanfiction #margaery fanfiction #margaery tyrell smut #margaery smut #margaery tyrell one shot #margaery one shot #masterlist #valaenatargaryensdragon

[rp-partnerfinder]

Please be 21+ and communicative to interact!!!

About Me: 21+. She/Her. EST. I like to plot on Tumblr and write on Discord. I write in third person, past tense and ~2-4 paragraphs (about 200-400 words or more). I work full-time during the week so replies won't happen every day. I aim for at least 2 replies a week, but it all depends on how work is going. I don't expect anything more than 1 reply a week from my writing partner. I don't double because I don't have the time to put equal effort into two threads with one person. I want both of us to be happy with the one idea we come up with.

What I'm Looking For: Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire and House of the Dragon threads. MxM is my strong preference, but I'm open to doing FxF or MxF. I prefer my writing partners to be open to discussing MxM. I'm mainly interested in canon x canon pairings. I'm willing to do some canon x OC, but I'm picky with OCs so don't be offended if I turn you down. I like canon or canon divergent plots. As long as something makes sense within the universe, I'll generally be okay with it. Romantic ships and NSFW/smut are preferred but with a healthy dose of plot.

I'll be listing my main muses (I might be willing to try some other characters out) and some of my favorite ships. I'm open to discussing other ships as well.

All characters will be 18+.

My Muses:

Alicent Hightower (pre-10 year time jump only)

Alliser Thorne

Benjen Stark

Beric Dondarrion

Daemon Targaryen

Daenerys Targaryen

Gerion Lannister

Jaime Lannister

Lyn Corbray

Margaery Tyrell

Otto Hightower

Petyr Baelish

Robb Stark

Roose Bolton

Stannis Baratheon

Thoros

Tywin Lannister

Yoren

My Favorite Ships (bold = my preferred muse ; italics = slightly preferred muse ; nothing = no preference):

Alicent x Rhaenyra

Alicent x Daemon

Alliser x OC Member of the Night's Watch

Benjen x Yoren

Beric x Thoros

Daemon x Criston

Daemon x Laenor

Daemon x Rhaenyra

Daemon x Laena

Dany x Margaery

Dany x Jorah

Dany x Jaime

Gerion x Male OC

Jaime x Bronn

Jaime x Sansa

Lyn x Male OC

Margaery x Sansa

Margaery x Stannis

Margaery x Joffrey

Otto x Viserys

Petyr x Renly

Petyr x Sansa

Robb x Roose

Robb x Theon

Roose x Stannis

Roose x Tywin

Roose x Sansa

Stannis x Davos

Please message me (highly preferred) or like this post if you'd like to work something out.

.

#21+ rp #got rp #game of thrones rp #asoiaf rp #a song of ice and fire rp #House of the Dragon rp #hotd rp #Alicent x Rhaenyra #Alicent x Daemon #Alliser x OC Member of the Night's Watch #Benjen x Yoren #Beric x Thoros #Daemon x Criston #Daemon x Laenor #Daemon x Rhaenyra #Daemon x Laena #Dany x Margaery #Dany x Jorah #Dany x Jaime #Gerion x Male OC #Jaime x Bronn #Jaime x Sansa #Lyn x Male OC #Margaery x Sansa #Margaery x Stannis #Margaery x Joffrey #Otto x Viserys #Petyr x Renly #Petyr x Sansa #Robb x Roose

[lady-phasma]

Roses in his Hands, Fire in her Veins

In collaboration with @aemonds-war-crime

A Maellory Tyrell x Aemond Targaryen AU

We did it, we found a way to ship Aemond with Margaery Tyrell (so it's not too AU)! So excited we can share it with you. First chapter out now. Blurb below the fold.

Chapter 1

Maellory Tyrell is the ancestor of Margaery, a copy/paste of our Game of Thrones heroine, during the reign of Viserys I Targaryen. Maellory and her grandmother are summoned from their seat at Highgarden to the Capital. There in the throne room she is first introduced to the royal family, including the one-eyed prince Aemond. Little do they know, with one announcement their lives will be forever changed.

#aemdon fic #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #hotd fic #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x margaery #aemond x tyrell oc #aemond x original character #got fic #house of the dragon fic

[wardenparker]

The Viper's Bride - ch 16

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

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

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 13.1k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid. This is a MMFFF polycule, folx. Get on board or don't click to keep reading. Pregnancy!* It's time orgy, friends! MMMFFFF group sex. Oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, fingering, anal play, anal sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pregnant sex, rough sex, multiple partners. dirty talk, voyeurism, substance use, sexual experience enhanced by substance use. Canon typical violence, poison, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of sexual assault (Elia's), eye gore, murder, character death. Summary: The night before Oberyn fights in the Trial by Combat holds special meaning for your group, and for Raeden in particular. And the fight itself? Is worse than you could ever imagine. Notes: Well, my loves. This is it 🧡 The final chapter of Oberyn's soulmate extravaganza. Next week will be the epilogue and then we'll dive into spooky season head first with Max Phillips' soulmate story the week after that!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15

It is almost surreal to watch your father and brother step away together. The tension that had filled the room seems to dissipate all at once, and you fall down again in your seat beside Raeden with a sigh. “That was…unexpected.”

“Completely astounding.” Oberyn muses thoughtfully, still reclined in his chair and shaking his head. “Fate is playing in your life, Star. The Gods have truly taken an interest.”

“Perhaps.” Looking around you at the table, it feels hard to deny. Otherwise why would those same gods have blessed you with so much love and companionship? “Perhaps I am simply very lucky. Who can say?”

“You will be very lucky tonight.” Raeden predicts with a salacious grin, his fingers still stroking his wife’s arm, although he is grazing the curve of her breast.

“I believe that will be you, my love.” Your prediction carries equal weight, considering Oberyn’s dark eyes turned to Raeden the moment your father and Salin had left your chambers. “My husband looks as though he might pounce.”

“I must admit that I am eager for the rest of our night to begin.” Draining the rest of his wine out of his cup, he passes it to Ellaria to refill as he stands. Striding over to the other man and caressing his jaw with one finger as he looks down at him. “Take off your clothes.” He orders huskily.

There could not be a more obvious signal to the whole party that the night has officially begun, and Raeden’s calmly curved grin of anticipation tucks itself into the corner of his mouth as he reaches for the ties of the robe over his shirt and trousers. “As my prince commands,” he intones, knowing from many nights of seeing you and Ellaria use that same line to entice him, that Oberyn enjoys the acknowledgment of his power during sex.

His eyes shift to Margaery: “Tonight, you will watch your husband take my cock.” He informs her. “The best pleasure he will have will be if he cums inside another. You or any of the other lovely ladies or Cal can be under him if you wish to be.”

"My husband can cum in whomever he chooses." Margaery hums, having found very quickly that she enjoys the shared pleasure of multiple partners. "As long as I have a beautiful woman's thighs on either side of my head, I do not mind if it is me or someone else."

“You should watch, lover.” Ellaria coos as she smirks slightly. “Let me lick your cunt while you watch, you will not regret it.”

"I would be a very stupid woman to give up that kind of offer." Margaery grins, leaning in to brush a kiss across Ellaria's lips.

Ellaria cups her lover's face while you look on, kissing her passionately. “Cal, Leyth?” Oberyn looks over at the couple who have been serving faithfully. “Would you like to join us in our pleasure tonight?”

"Please." Leyth is already nodding halfway through the question, clutching Cal's hand in eager anticipation. "We...have missed being asked to join you. Very much."

“We have not wanted you to feel as if you have to join us.” Oberyn knows the couple is aware of the changing dynamic and the time needed to adapt.

"The freedom to choose is not lost on us," Leyth assures him, always grateful that that choice has been afforded to them and that their choices are actually respected. "So let us say that tonight we eagerly choose to accept your invitation."

“Fuck.” Raeden pauses before he shucks his breeches and laughs. “Is this to be a proper orgy, in the Red Keep?”

"Why should we not?" You have stood from the table as well, and share in Raeden's amusement. "Cersei already assumes it is what we do every night. We might as well make her correct just once."

“Then I hope that all the lords and ladies around us complain about the noises we make.” He decides with a grin, feeling completely free for the first time and reveling in it.

"We will make sure of it." Ellaria promises, cradling Margaery at her side and nipping at the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

Leyth turns and gives her lover a soft kiss on his lips before she moves towards you. “Princess…” she murmurs softly, having wondered what you kiss like or if you would want her to touch you.

“Come here…” Beckoning her closer, you offer her an encouraging smile and readily meet Leyth’s lips for a kiss.

She’s relieved, her own admiration and respect for you growing into a crush that she has been unable to express. Sliding her hands up and cupping the back of your head with greedy hands.

It is surprising but not unwelcome, the enthusiasm that Leyth has for the kiss drawing you in more and more to explore what is being offered to you. Leyth is stunning — you have always thought so, even since the first day you set foot in the brothel — and you are not about to turn up the chance to know her better tonight when everyone will be indulging in whomever they please.

Ellaria hums in pleasure as she sees that everyone is very well occupied. Smirking at her soulmate’s wife, she starts to pull off her dress. “We should get comfortable.”

“I have never been more comfortable in my life,” Margaery promises her, following the cue and beginning to undress Ellaria in turn. Her Dornish dress is much simpler and easier to remove, making Margaery remember the first time — not so long ago — that you had pouted about the complexity of northern dresses. It is a welcome feeling, to connect the two experiences, and the younger woman hums happily at how easy it is to slip her hand inside Ellaria’s dress and palm the welcome weight of her breast with one hand.

“We will enjoy ourselves immensely.” Ellaria moans breathlessly when the other woman pinches her nipple. With sexual freedom, Margaery Tyrell, now Sunstone, has quickly developed the skills that most whores only dream of when pleasuring another woman. “If I lick every cunt and fuck every cock, it will be a good night.”

“Perhaps we should make that our new motto,” Margaery suggested, giggling immensely even as her other hand is working diligently to slip Ellaria’s dress away from her skin. “For nights such as this, I cannot think of anything better.”

Raeden stands naked in front of Oberyn, his cock already hard and jutting out proudly, making both Oberyn and Cal groan as they look on. “How do you want me?” He asks, slightly breathless as he shivers in anticipation. It has been so long since he has felt a man’s touch, and this man, both of these men, are beautiful and he wants to embrace the freedom he has been given by your marriage to the man who is going to fuck him.

“However the prince wants us, he will have us both.” Cal can barely keep himself from touching, but he has been privy to how long Oberyn has waited to have Raeden in his bed. He can very easily wait his turn so the prince can have what he wants.

“Lay down on the bed.” Oberyn orders both men. “Cal, strip down as well.” He grunts, satisfied that he will be able to have everything he wants tonight. “Show me what it looks like to have the two of you kiss.”

It is an achingly easy set of instructions to follow, and if Cal were wearing something other than the robes that the prince had given him befitting his station, he might have simply torn them off. As it is he struggles to get them off as quickly as possible and follows Lord Sunstone onto the bed to all but fall into the larger man’s arms. He has wondered endlessly what the new lord will be like to have his hands on and it takes him no time at all before he is moaning against Raeden’s lips.

Cal is lithe, yet there is strength in his touch and embrace. Raeden doesn’t even hesitate, one large hand sliding down his chest and over his abs to brush against the other man’s cock before wrapping his hand around it and giving him a gentle squeeze.

It is not unusual for this suite of rooms to be filled with the sounds of pleasure. In fact, each and every night there are people fucking in more of these beds than not. The difference is that tonight you are all in one room. Raeden is fisting Cal's cock on the bed with Oberyn kneeling over them with dark, predatory eyes as they kiss. Ellaria has Margaery spread out over the largest arm chair before the fire, carefully and methodically chasing her own touch down the younger woman's body with her tongue to taste every inch of her. And on the other side of the fireplace, Leyth has laid you down on the chaise to let you watch the proceedings as she eagerly learns what touches make you sigh and moan.

His eyes feast on the sight and his own fingers quickly pull at the ties and strings of his robes. Wishing to be as bare as his lovers. “His cock is wonderful.” He praises as he watches the dark hand glide up and down the lighter toned cock. “Now, I wish to taste yours.”

Raeden does not need to be told twice, rolling to his back with his hand still stroking Cal's length so that he does not have to give up any contact but still exposes every inch of himself to Oberyn's desires. "I am yours," he promises, and the truth of it rattles him more than he expected.

“Not yet.” Oberyn chuckles as he kneels on the bed, running his hands up the muscular calves of your soulmate. “But you will be.”

It is the kind of declaration that shoots to something visceral inside him, and Raeden's cock twitches unmistakably in response. "Then take me," he poses, his words laced with a seductive challenge that he knows Oberyn will not be able to resist. "Make me yours."

There’s a rough little growl the back of the Prince’s throat, smirking as he lunges forward and wraps his hand around the thick length of your lover’s cock to roll down the foreskin and prove to the new lord that despite his lofty status, he is not unskilled in the art of sucking a cock.

As determined as he had been to continue stroking Cal's length, Raeden's hand stutters immediately and he lets out a groan so deep that it seems to rattle the windows. His fingers dig into Oberyn's short hair, encouraging his movements without directing or pushing him, and Raeden's head falls back for just a moment as he shudders with the intensity of the prince's attentions.

It’s about pleasure, but it’s also about preparation. Oberyn knows it’s been years since Raeden has touched or been touched by another man. The last time was when he was a younger man. He is not used to taking a cock and will need to be stretched out. Taking his fingers down to the hole he wishes to possess, he smears his spit around it in a gentle massage.

The gasp and grunt that releases from somewhere deep in Raeden's body vibrates through his body and his fingers tighten in Oberyn's hair desperately. It has been far, far too long since he had this sort of experience and it is only now - having it offered to him on proverbial silver platter - that he realizes how deeply he has been missing it. Spreading his legs and reminding himself to relax, Raeden falls back onto the pillows which his next moan.

Cal decides that Raeden's too distracted for kissing, but his lips move down his chiseled jaw. Kissing along the smooth skin and down to flat, hard nipples so he can flick his tongue over them and help work the other man up. He knows he wants to be under this man while the prince fucks him, his own cock twitching at the thought.

"Gods above," Raeden chokes out, his head already swimming. There is something so singular about experiencing pleasure from someone of your own sex. A person who knows the intricacies of what touches and pressure bring pleasure because he himself has felt the pleasure that it brings. It makes Oberyn's tongue agile and sure, and every flickering touch from Cal is filled with confidence.

Oberyn chuckles and pulls off the cock with a satisfied sound. Lazily licking down his soft, full balls to take one into his mouth, still steadily rubbing, though he is adding more pressure. Not quite breaching the other man, but close.

It has Raeden squirming, trying to move toward the pressure he wants so badly without missing out on any of the touches he is already receiving – begging for more without saying a word.

Oberyn’s eyes find Margaery’s then yours in a slow perusal of the room. “Watch.” He orders, pulling his fingers away momentarily to wet them even more before slowly starting to push the first finger inside the man’s ring of muscles.

There is a collective holding of breath when Raeden moans, with every set of eyes watching as his own close in bliss. "Fuuuck..." It is low and growling and delicious and Raeden is laid out like a feast on the bed for Oberyn and Cal to devour.

The tight heat has Oberyn eager to sink into him, slowly pushing his finger deeper until it is sunk to his knuckle and then carefully searching for that wonderful little spot that makes every man keen when he is entered. The one that can make him cum without anything wrapped around his cock. “Why don’t you prepare Cal to take your cock like I am readying you?” Oberyn suggests as he smirks. “I think the man is salivating to be impaled on your cock.”

"Lover." His attention had been so singularly focused on Raeden that Oberyn has not noticed Ellaria slipping temporarily from the space between Margaery's thighs to bring him a bottle. "You will all be happier to have this," she suggests, setting the small, corked bottle of oil on the bed beside her soulmates.

“Thank you.” The oil will greatly aid the pleasure and he takes it with a small smile and a wink. “Thank you, sun.” He coos softly.

"I want to hear all three of you scream," she confides, diving into kissing Oberyn with her usual, dedicated, passion where she does not pull back again until she has relearned every contour of his mouth. "But only with pleasure."

“Tonight we will make the halls of the keep ring out in pleasure.” He chuckles before he unstops the bottle.

It is not a prediction that anyone doubts, but as the men turn back to each other to focus on pulling as many sounds as possible from each other in these early stages of pleasure, you stop Ellaria on her way back to Margaery. "Join us?" You almost beg her, having made room on the large chaise for more bodies. There is nothing you want more right now than your own tangle of limbs - all four women sharing space and sharing each other.

Smiling indulgently, Ellaria curls her finger towards Margaery before she leans in to press her lips to yours. “Shall we see how we can tangle our bodies together in pleasure, lover?”

Margeary comes to your sides like a moth to flame, practically moaning as she watches you and Ellaria sink into a deep kiss. "It is only fair," she decides, leaning down to kiss Leyth, as well. The curvaceous redhead had not escaped her notice for even a moment.

It is funny how the group has been separated, although not surprising. Leyth and Cal have discussed at length the dynamic, murmuring the dark from their own small, yet comfortable bed off the chambers. Now, tonight, is a fulfillment of those desires that have been repressed and it should be a night to recall fondly.

"My prince." Cal looks up from the nipple he has been lavishing attention on and his fingers, run down to tease Raeden's cock with a slow pump up and down his length. "At the brothel, we used to take this...herb, it kept our cocks hard after we had finished." He explains. "Perhaps tonight would be a good time to use it? To make sure everyone gets to exhaust themselves?"

In the middle of the conversation, very literally, Raeden’s hips buck subtly at the idea of such an increasing, wondering if the prince even needs such an aid. But then — there are seven of you. And that is an enormous amount of Fucking no matter who you are. “I—I would partake,” he agrees, eyes fixated on Cal’s hand.

He can't help himself, it's too tempting with the pearl of liquid that is pooling on the dark tip of his beautiful cock. Cal ducks his head and wraps his lips around the first inch of Raeden's cock while Oberyn's lubricated fingers push back inside him. Looking down at the prince, he wonders if he will agree because his own cock throbs at feeling both men inside him tonight.

“Does it help women?” Margaery asks with curiosity, thinking of all the ways this night might go. She has never had trouble becoming aroused for her partners before, but the idea of more is beckoning her tonight.

“It does.” The answer comes from Leyth. “It is why the women in the brothels are always so wet.” She tells you. It might be the one good thing Littlefinger did for his whores. Even if it was only so there was less probability of being hurt when fucking an unattractive client.

“Then perhaps we could all partake?” You look to your husband with curiosity. “Anything that enhances our pleasure tonight is surely welcome.”

“Would it hurt the babe?” That is the only reservation that Oberyn would have as he looks between the two servants.

“No.” Leyth shakes her head immediately. “Some of the girls…the ones who could bear children…they took the herb nearly every day but the babes were never affected.” She would never do anything to put your or the child in harm’s way, and dearly hopes that you and Oberyn know that.

Smiling slightly, Oberyn nods his head and looks at you with lust fueled eyes. “Yes, Star.” He agrees. “Anyone who wishes to take it, should.”

Cal moves gracefully from the bed to retrieve a simple metal box from the room he shared with Leyth. The powdered herb is familiar to them but not unwelcome, which was why they had kept it with them after leaving the brothel. The thought of one night in the future being like this was tempting. “Put a pinch of the powder under your tongue and let your spit wash it away,” he tells all of you, providing an example by demonstrating before he passes the little metal box around.

Leyth also demonstrates when the box reaches the ladies, moaning slightly at the familiar taste. “We will have a very good night.”

The powder is minty and dissolves quickly, leaving all of you looking a little more mischievous afterward. With debauchery ensured, you all tangled in each other’s arms immediately. The four women in the chaise are spread over every inch of the overlarge piece of furniture, and even with Leyth and Ellaria firmly between yours and Margaery’s thighs, you find your way to grope and lavish each other with kisses.

Oberyn groans at the taste of the herb and pulls Cal in for a kiss before turning his attention back to Raeden. “Now. I am going to ready you and I think Cal and I both will suck your cock.

It is not something either of the other men are going to object to, and Raeden falls back into the pillows with a groan. The sight of Oberyn and Cal twined together in a kiss would be enough to have him rock hard under almost any circumstance – but now they are bent over him so that his cock is receiving every lick of attention and it has set his entire body on fire.

Again, his fingers start to push back into Raeden’s body as he sucks on the man’s cock like it was the sweetest of treats. His tongue tangling with Cal’s as they try to wring cries of pleasure from him.

He is in ecstasy and there is no mistaking it. Raeden writhes and bucks under Oberyn and Cal's attentions, grasping at the sheets or their shoulders or anything he can get his hands on and you cannot tear your eyes away. "Look," you instruct Margaery, nudging her jaw with your nose and sucking a mark into the pale skin of her neck when her eyes move to the bed. "My husband is going to fuck yours, just like I fuck you."

"It is not quite the same, lover." She hums, her greedy eyes fixed on the way that her husband squirms and whines in need. "But just like they enjoy the sight of us wrapped up in one another, I will savor this view."

Of course it isn't exactly the same, but it is close enough to make you moan just at the sight of them -- which Leyth heightens with a stroke of her masterful tongue and chases with two fingers sliding inside your dripping pussy the way Oberyn's fingers are slipping deep inside Raeden. It is all like an incredible dream, and you truly hope that you will be able to sample every single pleasure possible tonight.

“You will look magnificent on my cock.” Oberyn groans, pulling off his leaking cock to purr pure filth to him. “Imagine our lovers walking in at any time to find you bent over, my cock buried in your ass and my hand wrapped around your cock as you moan my name.” He smirks. “Or on your knees, my cock in your mouth and Cal’s in your ass as we spit roast you, your leaking cock neglected until you cum from our attention.”

The entire room moans in unison at the images presented. There is not a single one person in this room who would not immediately climb into the bed and join in if they saw it. “If any of us walked into that, we would swallow every drop of cum and beg for more,” you predict, knowing that it is true for you at the very least.

“If he is bouncing on my cock, I expect you to ride his.” Oberyn chuckles, curling his fingers deep and pressing against his spot that immediately has Raeden keening.

He had forgotten. Or else thought that he was remembering the sensation with exaggeration. But the way pleasure courses through him with the press of Oberyn’s fingers on that specific, seemingly magical spot inside of him makes Raeden sure that this sensation is better than what he had felt years ago. Perhaps it is down to the skill of his partner but it is utterly remarkable. His broken cry to the gods is met with a moan from his wife when Ellaria sticks on her clit just so, and at once all of you seem to commit that much more to the debaucherous goal of the night.

"The Sunstones are having the time of their lives tonight." Oberyn quips, very pleased with himself as he finds that spot and curls his fingers against it again. If this herb works as well as Cal claims, he feels like Raeden will cum and cum and cum. He wants to see if his theory is correct.

“And we will make sure you do too,” Margaery promises, breathless, with one hand buried in Ellaria’s thick hair and the other squeezing the weight of your tit in her palm. Raeden squirms, panting his agreement and just trying to get as much of Oberyn’s fingers as possible inside him when he knows for certain that it is not enough. “More,” he begs, the word cracked with another moan even as his own hand is dedicated to making Cal ready in the very same way.

“You will.” He has no doubt of that. The night is too full of promise and he drinks in the moans of the group. “I will fuck every one of you tonight, including you, Lady Sunstone.”

“You too will be marked by her,” Raeden manages to tease even at the expense of another moan. He wears the marks from his wife’s fingernails like a badge of honor, and so do you. After tonight, all of you will.

“Vicious little tiger.” Oberyn chuckles, adding a third finger into her husband as he talks to Margaery.

He had asked for more, and he groans at getting it. His cock leaks precum, twitching and aching with need, and his back arches off the bed in eager anticipation. “Gods—yes—fuuuck—”

"How thrilling that I will possess both you and your wife tonight." He coos, smirking at the way Raeden's head tilts back. "Just as I have your soulmates." It's not meant to taunt him, just show him how he belongs here.

“As I have possessed yours.” Raeden grunts, groaning at the stretch of having another finger added to his tight hole. “Ours.”

Oberyn groans, his cock twitching in response and he hums. "Yessss, ours." He agrees. "Now you are going to spill into Cal's mouth. Give him a taste of what you are going to pump into his ass in just a few minutes."

Taking orders as a soldier and taking orders in bed are two different circumstances, but Raeden surprises himself with how little it bothers him to have those orders given. Instead, it only seems to spur him on tonight, and Cal too. Cal who has Raeden's cock so far down his throat that the man on his back is surprised he has not outright choked yet.

Ellaria hums as she looks up from between Margaery’s thighs. “He is close, lover.” She confides. “And sounds so sweet, but he tastes even sweeter on your tongue.”

Cal's own cock is beaded with precum as he swallows around Raeden's length, desperate to find out just how sweet that taste really is. Oberyn has three fingers buried deep, curling them expertly while he other hand kneads the flesh of Raeden's thighs and caresses his heavy balls, knowing that they - like his own and Cal's - will be emptied many times tonight. Raeden's breathing comes in ragged pants, moans becoming whines and keening curses the closer he gets to his first peak of the night. Climbing and climbing, his back lifts off the bed entirely when Oberyn and Cal's names tear from his lips for the first time and that first spurt of hot cum is followed by countless more.

Oberyn throbs, his own cock pulsing at the sight of Raeden cumming. Nearly about to burst himself from how erotic it is. Groaning as he continues to pump his fingers while the other man fills Cal’s mouth to where cum is sliding down his chin.

Cal's own moan is almost as loud as Raeden's, the other man scrambling to swallow as much as he possibly can while still losing a few strands of sticky cum to the column of his neck. For the first climax of the night, it is the perfect way to begin and has him nearly bursting in his own right.

Oberyn pulls his fingers out at Raeden and he hums with a grin on his face. “That is beautiful.”

"The first of many beautiful sights tonight." You had been watching too, always unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of Raeden's pleasure.

“Now one of our ladies needs to cum.” Oberyn says as he watches Ellaria dive back into Margarey’s cunt. “Will it be my star or my flower?” He asks curiously.

The so-called competition of the question is taken quite seriously by Ellaria and Leyth, it seems, and both women redouble their efforts on Margaery and your pleasure. As talented as Ellaria is, and as eager for this night as Margery has been, it is decidedly the newest member of the group's chance to come apart next – although you feel you might be directly at her heels with Leyth's clever tongue drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

Ellaria’s tongue curls around Margaery’s clit, sucking it into her mouth as a hand slides up to squeeze her breast. Her dark eyes fixed on her face and she’s humming to vibrate her bundle of nerves.

Margaery’s nails dig into Ellaria’s shoulder without apology, biting into the skin as her body tensed and her mouth falls open on a vocal scream. Her eyes nearly cross from the pressure and her cunt bears down on Ellaria’s king fingers tightly, drawing them in deeply before flooding them with slick release that runs all the way down and drips to Ellaria’s wrist.

Raeden moans, both from his own release and the loss of Oberyn's fingers while Cal pulls off his cock and watching his wife cum. He knows how talented that mouth is and he is sure that tonight, every one of you will collapse into a deep sleep for the few hours you get.

“How do you want us?” Cal asks Oberyn, knowing that however the prince wishes to have his newest lover, he will find a way to be under Raeden and take the force of them together with as much pride as pleasure.

His brow arches as he looks at Raeden. Contemplating the positions and how easy it will be for the other two men. “On your knees.” He decides, lifting to his own knees and wrapping his hand around his cock. “Hand me the oil.”

Call practically flattens himself to the bed immediately, hips rolled back to entice Raeden but also because he can’t help grinding his own cock into the mattress right now. Raeden takes the moment to sit up, lips crashing against Oberyn’s for a deep and intense tangling of tongues before he pulls away again to gasp for air and takes his position over Cal with his own ass in the air.

“Fuck.” Raeden groans when he hears the slick sounds of Oberyn piling up his cock and the bottle is pressed against his arm. “Ready yourself to plunge into Cal.” Oberyn strokes his ass possessively.

Four of you are watching from the chaise as Oberyn starts to slide inside Raeden, and Raeden in turn begins to break open Cal. The three men are as coordinated and careful as they can be in this moment but they aren’t the only ones moaning. It is a sight to behold and you are instantly panting with increased desire — chest heaving and threatening to have you moaning with every shallow breath.

“Ohhhhhhhhh.” Raeden’s eyes close, mouth open on a moan as the prince rocks into him steadily. Not forceful or impatient, it is just the right tempo to have him take the thickness of the man and desire more as his own cock sinks into the tight, welcoming hole of Cal’s body. The servant whimpers his name, making him twitch as he pushes back against him, eager to feel the lord’s cock firmly buried after so long without this kind of pleasure.

“If you feel half as good as you look, my loves, you must all be in ecstasy.” Even Leyth has paused to watch, kneeling between your legs, and she smiles up at you momentarily when you speak before curling her fingers determinedly inside you to hear the gasp it will pull from your chest. “You will cum so easily watching them, I expect,” she purrs. “I know you like to watch, princess. So keep your eyes on our men while I make you scream.”

“You know the Princess.” Margaery pulls Ellaria up for a kiss and to turn her over so she can touch and kiss while watching her husband as the filling to a delicious treat. “Her cunt gets so wet when she watches her lovers.”

"Can you blame me?" It is difficult to keep your eyes open as Leyth's remarkably clever tongue has your eyes nearly rolling back in your head as she works you closer and closer to the edge.

“Not at all.” She hums as she slides her fingers down and starts to rub Ellaria’s clit while her tongue shoots out to circle her breast.

Watching the three men together is vastly unlike watching them with anyone else. That tendency toward gentleness that Raeden has with partners who are not as physically strong as he is has vanished. He is not in control here but willingly giving all of that up to Oberyn. His groans rumble out from the depths of him as he submits completely to one man while still soothing his hands over Cal’s back whenever he needs to steady himself.

The choked cry catches in his throat when the next thrust comes rougher than the ones before. Signaling that the pace will pick up and there’s a sense of freedom to be had from the way Cal mewls under him.

"Gods." The moan from you on the chaise is more of a keen, and your fingers thread through Leyth's hair even as your hips grind down to meet her lips and tongue eagerly. "They will be the death of me but I will die a happy woman."

Oberyn’s eyes are fixed on where he is joined with Raeden until you whimper that statement. Chuckling as he looks over to where you are very eager splayed open for the lovely servant, he hums. “Not tonight, star.” He chides. “Perhaps we will let you expire when we have wrung every scream out of your throat.”

"Not a minute before," Margaery agrees, leaning over to flick her tongue across one of your nipples in a move that is surprisingly affectionate, before returning her full focus to Ellaria.

“Perfect.” The caress to Raeden’s hip is surprisingly gentle even as his hips snap forward. “You have chosen a perfect wife, Rae.”

"Is she n–not?" The last word is turned to a grunt with the forceful swing of Oberyn's hips, and Raeden's own slam into Cal with equal determination. The feeling of it is exquisite.

The chorus of moans pleases Oberyn, the feeling, the moment exactly what he had wished for. Tonight is about living, experiencing life to the fullest and what is better than a tight ass a round his cock while one of his soulmates has her cunt licked while the other is finger fucked? Surely the halls are filled with the sounds of pleasure coming from this room.

Leyth pitches you off the cliff of pleasure just moments later, humming into your dripping cunt as her fingers curl against that perfect spot inside you. The only thing stopping your thighs from squeezing Leyth's ears shut is her strategically-placed arm, holding you spread out for her so that you cannot do anything but quake and cry out as she skillfully shatters you into a million blissed out pieces.

Margaery and Ellaria watch. Her fingers curled deep into the paramours cunt, Margaery’s head twists around as she moans softly at the sight of your body shaking and heaving with pleasure.

“Fucking gorgeous.” Raeden’s head had been turned to you as well, and the way he groans when you cum is only half to do with Cal’s body bearing down on his cock so tightly. He nearly growls at the feeling, scratching his blunted nails down the other man’s spine. “Cal thinks so, too.”

“Yes.” The other man whines. “All of you, so -“ he moans when Raeden’s hips slap against his ass again, cock spurting a dribble of pre-cum onto the bed below him as he throbs. “So sexy. wanted to touch all of you.” He babbles. “W–wanted to.”

“Next time I hope you will not hesitate,” Ellaria purrs, watching the way his cock pulses with hungry fixation. “You need a cunt, Cal.” She declares with mischief in her voice. “Who do you want beneath you?”

“Anyone.” He moans, eyes rolling back into his head as he imagines filling one of the gorgeous ladies spread out and teasing him with the wet views of their cunts. He has never wanted to sink into a group more, even when he was having sex all the time. Even Leyth has admitted that the Prince’s lovers and friends are all people she would fuck willingly every day if asked. Neither one of them having an reservations about that now they have had months with just the two of them together and no demands on their bodies. “Please. I-I am close.”

“It should be you, lover,” your hand caresses Ellaria’s cheek only because you are not close enough to kiss her. “I know you have missed Cal’s cock.”

“You do not want to experience his cock?” She asks curiously. She had thought that you were becoming close to the servants and would want to be involved.

“Oh I do.” You can promise her that without hesitation. “But you have not cum yet. If you would rather cum for Margaery, I will gladly let these men weigh me into the mattress.”

“We will be in this position many more times.” She tells you breezily, tamping down her own fears. If Oberyn is lost tomorrow, she will not have you regret missing out on one experience with him. “Take your place under them and feel the power of all three.”

Leyth does not miss a beat, transferring her attention to Ellaria and Margaery after helping you off the chaise. The five steps you need to get to the bed are quick, and you slide across half the mattress to cup Cal’s jaw and bring his eyes to yours. “Hold still for just a moment and then you will have a slick cunt to cum in.”

His neck stretches slightly, eyes dark and lust blown. “Kiss me, Princess?” He chokes out.

That is a request you are glad to bend to, and you meet his lips with equal desire as you slide yourself under the clutch of slick bodies for which Cal is the anchor.

“Do not collapse on her.” Oberyn has no issue with you being under the group, but he will not have you take all their weight when his child is nestled inside your womb.

“Never.” They are all very aware of your condition and happy to have the new babe in the way. Making sure you and that babe are safe is the very top priority. Even so, Cal groans when you slip into place below him and wrap your hand around his cock to guide him into your velvet heat.

“Princess.” Breaking you open is an exquisite feeling. Looking down and seeing you beneath him as you take inch after inch of his cock. His own body being pushed forward by the much slower thrusts of the men behind him. “So— you are so tight.” He groans.

“She is ma—magnificent.” Raeden groans, so close to his own end that he can barely think. Every sense has been taken over by Oberyn and Cal.

“Yes she is.” Oberyn agrees, smirking slightly when he feels the way that Raeden is pushing back desperately. “I think my lord Sunstone wishes to spill his load again.” He teases, his fingers gripping the man’s hips fierce and he snaps his hips forward.

“Not everyone has your stamina, lover.” Ellaria is close now, too, with Leyth and Margaery both dedicated to pleasing her, and she throws her head back on the chaise when Margaery grazes her teeth along her swollen clit. “Cal will burst any moment,” she predicts with a moan.

“Fuck.” Raeden grits his teeth and feels his own body respond to the words and the way that Cal’s body is gripping him like a vice.

“Cum for us, love.” From where you are, you can look him in the eye with no effort in between Cal’s passionate kisses. “Cum in Cal and make him fill me, too.”

Your words make the world explode for Raeden. Gasping out a choked combination of Cal and Oberyn’s names, he gives into the pleasure that has been denied to him for years. The cock in his ass striking against pure Heaven, his own throbs and starts to fill the man below him with hot ropes of his seed.

Cal’s hips stutter mere moments later, slamming into yours with as much force as he can muster and painting your cunt with his own sticky cum. Both men are panting, glassy eyed with lust and still hard thanks to the powder that Cal has supplied.

“Cum, my prince.” Raeden begs desperately, enjoying the way Oberyn still rocks into him roughly. “I need to feel it.”

Oberyn’s answering grunt comes with a gleam in his eyes, and he knows you are all watching him with held breath. You all need to witness this as much as Raeden needs to feel it, knowing what it means to him. His jaw is clenched, giving him away, and you practically moan when you notice it. “He is close,” you promise your own paramour. “Squeeze his cock even once more and he will not be able to hold out.”

Oberyn hisses when Raeden immediately follows your suggestion and bears down on his cock. “Vixen.” He chokes out, snapping his hips forward one last time and grinding deep, closing his eyes as the orgasm consumes his attention.

There is no heat in the chastisement, just in Oberyn’s eyes, and you marvel at the way his beautiful body tenses completely and he groans Raeden’s name a the most holy prayer. They have both waited so long for this that it makes being a part of it all the more meaningful. Raeden shouts at the first feeling of Oberyn filling him — calls out to the gods in their heavens and then growls Oberyn’s name so fiercely that anyone would think that he was coming apart all over again. His fingers dig into Cal’s hips as Oberyn rides out his pleasure and Raeden unconsciously holds his breath. The moment seems to invigorate and nearly collapse him simultaneously but Cal is already angling the men to one side on the bed. When they did slump over and need five minutes of rest, they will fall beside you, not on you.

“This is the beginning of a glorious night.” Margarey hums, moving off the chaise so she can pet and kiss both you and her husband. Another affectionate peck for Cal and then last but not least, Oberyn. Showering everyone with attention as thanks for such a wonderful scene.

The pile of bodies on the bed grows one more time as Ellaria and Leyth move to join you, and the easy touches between all of you grow to more kisses before too long. There will be no rest tonight until everyone is entirely satiated — and that will not happen quickly.

“We must clean up before we touch you.” Oberyn murmurs against your lips. You had crawled out from under Cal and was dividing kisses between Raeden and Oberyn as they had stated to kiss fiercely.

“Am I so very pure?” To his mind you are, and you know that. Revel in it, even. He treats you like the most precious creature in the world now that you are carrying his child.

Oberyn snorts, nibbling on your pulse even as his still hard cock twitches inside Raeden. He has not pulled out of his body yet, could perhaps stay buried if he did not want to touch as man as he could tonight. “Very.” He teases. “The woman who begged me to marry her could not even fathom the woman carrying my child.”

“I think I would not even recognize that woman if I laid eyes on her again.” You could beg for more kisses, but that is about it.

“She is much more confidant about taking what she wants.” Ellaria coos, pulling away from Leyth and Cal for a moment. Her hand is already around the other man’s cock and pumping it as he moans against his partner’s breast.

“I learned that it is not a sin to take what is freely given.” And that, for you, has been so immensely freeing.

“Everyone here gives freely or they are not in this bed.” Margaery had been immensely comforted by the fact that both Leyth and Cal wished to be here.

“That is true.” Raeden purrs at his wife, plunging himself across several bodies to demand a kiss and pluck at her breast. “And you have taken to it very well, wife.”

Her moan is loud and symbolic of the night itself. Everyone pleasured and enjoying themselves.

“I believe it is your turn to be fucked by a prince, Lady Sunstone.” She is now the only one who has not had Oberyn’s cock and one who very much wants it, and you grin before leaning over to nip at the sensitive skin of her neck. “She is like me, husband,” you warn Oberyn, knowing it will actually delight him. “Slap her ass, pull her hair, and fuck her hard. You will be rewarded with the scratch of her nails and wailing moans of your name.”

Oberyn smirks as he rolls over, moving quickly to the water basin to wash and to get a cloth for Raeden and Cal. “We will see, Princess. I will paint her ass with my seed and see if it makes her any lovelier than she already is.”

“She is most beautiful when she is exhausted from cumming,” you attest, winking at Margaery before you lay back in the pillows and trace your fingers up and down the length of your slit. Cal’s cum mixed with your own and the feeling is wonderfully decadent. “That leaves us, my love,” you hum at Raeden as he quickly cleans himself. “Unless you plan to share Margaery with Oberyn? Then I will gladly finger fuck my own pussy at the sight.”

“Very fitting.” Raeden watches shamelessly, looking back and forth between you touching yourself and Oberyn cleaning his hard cock before he comes back to the bed. He aches, pleasantly so in a way that has been sorely missed, and he can feel the prince’s cum start to drip out of him. “He fucks my wife while I fuck his.”

“Then come here.” Reaching for him immediately, the smile on your face turns from amused to beaming and you tug him toward the bed again by his fingertips. “Take me however you want me. I promise my screams will reach the gods.”

“The night will be one that the gods are envious of.” Oberyn predicts with a smirk. “Old and new.”

******

The morning light wakes you first, as the pile of bodies on the bed in your chambers has wrapped itself up in a comfortable ball with seemingly only you facing the window. Or, at least, Oberyn has his face buried in your back with Raeden curled around him. Leyth is facing you in the center of the bed, with Margaery in Cal's arms on her other side, and Ellaria has one arm stretched out across all of their bodies as though she was reaching for you in her sleep. The night had left all of you as exhausted as you were satisfied and you had all fallen into dreams with your last partners and no hesitations whatsoever with your intimacy.

This morning, however, you would banish the brightness of the sun if it was in your power. Blot out its power and let night last forever. This morning, Oberyn will stand up and fight for his sister's honorable memory and Lord Tyrion's innocence. He will fight for his life. And the worry that that churns in you has you turning over in his arms to watch just a few more minutes of his peaceful sleep.

He wakes the moment you move, although he doesn’t give that away. Keeping still as you sigh heavily and his body stays relaxed as you shift and turn to face him. He can sense the sun, the light brighter than the flame of waxy candles that he had finally passed out to. Sometime, perhaps an hour before dawn. Even though he should be exhausted still, he’s invigorated, feeling as if he could fight a hundred Gregor Cleganes.

“The morning has come, my love.” As bare as a whisper, your fingertips do not even graze his skin but ghost over it as you watch Oberyn’s relaxed face. “Your morning. Your time in the light of the gods to bring Elia’s murderer to justice. The poets will sing about this morning with reverence.” Your voice shakes a little, tears threatening to burst through, but you swallow them with determination. “I promised you that I would be strong today, my love, and I will. You said for our people, but it is for you.” The tears you promised not to shed are close to the surface and you swallow again, thickly. “To fall in love with you was unthinkable, husband. It was never an option in my mind. But you—gods help me, you smiled at me and looked into my eyes and I knew somehow that my heart had room enough for two.” Your fingertips graze his beard gently and you almost choke, holding the sob in so you will not disturb anyone else in bed. “I believe you could conquer all Seven Kingdoms if you set your mind to it, my love. But—if you do not—if this morning goes awry—” Voice dropping impossibly lower, your open eyes are set firmly on his closed ones. On the set of his eyelashes and the tone of his skin in the rising sun. “Then the Mountain’s blood shall run from my dagger instead. I swear it on my own life.”

It is humbling to hear that vow set down from your sweet lips. Vengeance is not in your nature, revenge not steeped in your blood. That you would love him so fiercely to make that promise is like a soothing balm to the raw edges of the morning. He would never wish you to have to do that. He wants you to live your life peacefully, exactly how you wished. Neither does he want you to mourn him. Your first child, growing them, nurturing them in your body, should not be spent wallowing in misery.

“I love you, husband.” If he were awake you would seal the promise with a kiss, but as it is you study his features in repose. Memorizing his face one more time. “My soulmate.”

“I love you, wife.” His voice is scratchy, husky with sleep and he keeps it low to not disturb the others. Wanting this moment with you before any intrusions. He will have another moment like this with Ellaria as well, needing it. Just in case. “My soulmate.”

Under any other circumstance you might be upset with yourself for having woken him. But there is too much at stake today to lie to yourself that you are not glad to hear his voice. Instead you reach up again and let your hands rest on the line of his jaw. “Good morning, beloved.”

“No lovelier sight to greet the day.” Oberyn smiles as he looks over your still sleep softened features. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“A most pleasant ache,” you admit with a sly grin. There is not one single member of this unusual family that will not be sore today. “Did you sleep well?”

“For the few hours that I have slept, I feel as though I could move mountains.” He hums, smirking at his pun.

“My husband feels very clever this morning.” The pun practically has you rolling your eyes but you lean forward to kiss his lips instead.

“I always feel clever, but for you I will admit that I am going to be happy when this is over.” He accept the kiss and gives you another.

“As will we all.” As confident as you all may be in Oberyn’s abilities, he will not be the only person in that ring today. He is not the only factor at hand. And that alone is terrifying.

“We will be back in this room, making ready to leave this city in just a few hours.” Oberyn reminds you. “Every noble of Dorne who has come will be there as well.”

“It cannot come soon enough.” Pressing one more kiss to his lips, you summon a smile and remind yourself that sewing doubt in him helps no one. You are his wife. His soulmate. His support. And you can clutch Ellaria’s hand in mutual fear when the time comes.

“Would you like to join Ellaria and I in the bath?” He had thought to spend that time with his other soulmate, but he knows you might want to stay close while you can. “She will be helping me dress.”

“She deserves time with you this morning.” Ellaria has known him much longer and loved him much more ferociously, and it would be cruel of you to intrude on her moment with Oberyn. “I will wash and dress with Raeden and Margaery, and we will all present as a unified party to the capital.”

He touches the necklace that the three of you had worn. Raeden’s necklace was equally beautiful and It had made him incredibly possessive when he had seen all of you wearing it. It only made the night even sweeter when you had disappeared together and then reappeared wearing them. “Dorne is stronger with the three of you beside us.” He tells you honestly. For so long, it has been him and Ellaria. Lovers have come and gone but the two of them are no longer just the two of them. He has subtly started thinking of your group as his, just as he is yours.

“Dorne will be stronger when we all return home together.” Having made your promise when he was sleeping, you will not allow yourself to entertain any other possibility aloud this morning. It will do no good, especially not for him.

“Of course it will.” Oberyn smirks, “we will set Dorne on it ear and it will be better for it.”

“The only thing I have ever done that would shock Dorne is make a husband of its prince.” Still though, you smile. Knowing how unbelievable that news will be to many of the people. “And I am honored that you love me as I love you.”

“I do love you.” Oberyn whispers seriously. “Until the end of time and my bones turn to dust.”

“May that be an extraordinarily long time from now,” you murmur, fingers delicately tracing the lines of his face.

“It will be.” The vow is make as he traces your own face gently and the others begin to stir. “When I am too old to sire a child.”

“That will never happen,” Raeden chuckles, his voice hoarse and cracked as he stretches at Oberyn’s back. “You will be making new babies the same age as your great-grandchildren.”

“Especially if I get more of whatever Cal fed us last night.” Oberyn jokes as the man’s eyes open. “My legacy will overrun the Seven Kingdoms.”

“There are three women in this bed who would be glad to bear you more children.” It would be four if Leyth could have children, but there is no use harping on the impossible. “And you, too, Lord Sunstone.”

“It is my hope that one of you is already carrying my child.” He can’t help but look smug at the prospect as he leans in and kisses Oberyn’s shoulder. “So our children can run the gardens together and grow up as close as siblings.”

“That is a wonderful dream,” Margaery murmurs sleepily, already smiling. “When we reach home I will see a Maester right away.”

"It is time." Oberyn grunts softly, hating to pull away from the warm bodies in the bed, but he needs to prepare for his trial by combat battle with the man who had murdered his sister.

******

When the party from Dorne arrives in the stadium with matching emblems, Dornish dress in House Martell's colors, and looks of fierce pride on all of your faces, it is the sound of bells that welcomes and warns you all at once. The leather trim on all of your cloaks and gowns matches Oberyn's armour. The oils rubbed into your skin even smell of Dornish herbs. You, Ellaria, and Margaery are all even wearing your hair in traditionally Dornish styles. There is no question whom you represent, and Oberyn walks proudly out in front with you on one arm and Ellaria on the other as Raeden and Margaery follow close behind. Today is about honor, and no matter what happens, you will all hold your heads high.

Oberyn smirks as Tywin, Cersei and their dower looking entourage arrive. The head of the Lannisters looks as if he’s sucked down a cup of sour wine. Or had walked in on his children fucking. “Look at him.” Oberyn hums as he strides to the tent that has been erected with his weapons already in place on a table. “He looks like he had taken a disappointing cock in his ass.”

You and Ellaria snicker softly at the image Oberyn paints, and walk with him directly to the table. There are chairs in place but you all know that you will be too nervous to sit, making you all the more grateful for the pitcher of wine that has been placed out. This is Cal and Leyth's doing, for there is a small pitcher of fruit juice beside it for you, and you step forward to pour Oberyn a goblet of wine knowing that Cal will have made sure it is Dornish.

“Make sure not to touch the spear, my love.” Oberyn cautions. “It has fangs.” The poison has been applied, although there is another powder he will rub on it before the fight begins.

There is some cheering from spectating peasants who have no idea the enormity of the importance this morning bears for Oberyn. but the ripple of a gasp rips through the crowd when the legendary warrior prince drinks his wine in one gulp and turns to Ellaria to bestow a passionate kiss before giving the same to you.

“I think they might hate you more than me.” Margaery hums as she looks towards the seats where her former family sits. Her father’s face is mottled red and he might snap the arms of the chair he is gripping it so tightly. Tywin’s glare matches Cersei’s and she’s felt the weight of their anger.

"My husband's sense of humor is rubbing off on me," you mumble just loud enough for all of your party to hear. "I could suggest that the prince and Lady Sunstone share a kiss as well."

“That might make my father keel over.” She giggles quietly and hums pleasantly at the thought. “Although I will kiss him as soon as you and Ellaria does after his victory.”

“I should like to see his reaction to that,” Raeden chuckles and leans down to kiss his bride, drawing an even more animated reaction from the crowd.

"It would be one that all of the Seven Kingdoms should see." Oberyn chuckles himself, his eyes sliding towards the Lannisters and he smirks.

The bells cease their tolling only moments before Tyrion Lannister appears with guards flanking him on either side. "Looks like very light armour," he observes when he is hurried under the same tent as the Dornish party to stand beside his champion. Clearly, Tyrion is concerned.

Oberyn breaks away from his kiss with Ellaria, annoyed by the criticism. "I like to move around."

The youngest Lannister is obviously unamused with his answer because he continues to grumble at him. "You could at least wear a helmet." Oberyn picks up the goblet that you have refilled and starts to drink. "You shouldn't drink before a fight." Tyrion huffs.

Motioning towards the man in chains, Obery quips, "You learn this during your years in the fighting pits?" He looks down at the cup. "I always drink before a fight."

"It could get you killed." Tyrion reminds him flatly, looking around at the party surrounding him. At the support he has. It would be useless to admit that he envies the man for being so adored, and instead he grumbles again. "It could get me killed."

Oberyn sets down his cup and looks at the little man with certainty. "Today is not the day I die." He assures him, aware that the poison will guarantee his victory against the Mountain. Ellaria hums happily, sliding her hand over his leathers and looking towards you with a smirk. She knows both of you find his confidence sexy and right now, all of you need to believe that statement.

"Have faith in your Champion, Lord Tyrion," you remind him, as the crowd begins to roar again. It is louder this time, more excited than merely intrigued, and you turn to watch Gregor Clegane himself - the Mountain - walking into the arena. So that is why they call him a Mountain, you think to yourself with instant terror. And you know Ellaria is just as scared when she grips your hand tightly. "You're going to fight that?" She asks Oberyn with wide eyes.

Oberyn swaggers over to the edge of the table and leans against it, looking over at where the Mountain has made his appearance. "I'm going to kill that." Ellaria's eyes are fixed on him. "He's the biggest man I've ever seen." Her grip tightens, nearly crushing your fingers as her own worry spills over the edge of her calm facade. Oberyn will do as he pleases, he has for years and she has never truly worried, but that? That is a foe that he might not be able to beat.

Bending over the wash basin, Oberyn cleans his hands of the wine. "Size does not matter when you are flat on your back."

"Thank the gods." You and Tyrion manage to murmur at the same time.

A horn sounds its simple fanfare, calling the combatants and the audience to order. Grand Maester Pycelle has appeared on the edge of the ring and though he is surely doing his best to be heard throughout the stadium, his aged voice is not powerful. "In the sight of gods and men, we gather to ascertain the guilt or innocence of this..." he stumbles, not quite knowing what descriptor to use until he settles on the usual one. "Man...Tyrion Lannister. May the Mother grant them mercy. May the Father give them such justice as they deserve. May the Warrior guide the hand of our champion–" He is cut off when Tywin grows impatient and motions for the horn to blow again, ultimately bowing lamely and shuffling off to the stands once more.

Oberyn turns, pulling Ellaria into his arms and kissing her passionately, before she steps back and you take her place. Every feeling, every touch and mark on your body that belongs to him is poured into the much too short kiss. His heart starting to pound in anticipation.

Ellaria has one of Oberyn's hands in hers and you have the other as the sound of Gregor Clegane's immense sword leaving its sheath can be heard across the ring. "Don't leave us alone in this world." She entreats Oberyn with a note of desperation that is so unlike her but so like this situation. Realistically, would either of you be truly alone? Of course not. You would have each other, if nothing else. But formally? Legally? You could be denied everything without him there to provide for you – and that is what terrifies her. That everyone in this tent is under his protection and his alone until the time you set foot on Dornish sand.

"Never." He can promise her that. Without hesitation or contemplation. He would never leave any of you alone if he could help it.

As soon as Ellaria lets go of his hand, you pull Oberyn into your arms and place the hand of his that you had been holding on the curve of your stomach. The nature of the gesture is unmistakable, and as the announcement of your pregnancy had not yet been made, a gasp ripples through the crowd. But that is precisely what you were hoping for. While the people of King's Landing are murmuring in shock, they do not notice you slipping the sheath of an extra dagger under the folds of your husband's leather armour. "For Elia," you whisper to him, giving the sheathed dagger a quick tug to make sure that it is secure before you kiss him once more. "And for your family. Be swift, my love."

There is a quick wink towards Raeden and the squire that has been a part of Oberyn's travels and will attend him during the fight, tosses him the spear. The lightweight, yet sturdy wood feels perfectly balanced in his hands and he wastes no time twirling it around in his hand. Showing off is part of his very nature and part of his strategy. He wants the crowd to cheer for him. It's obvious they do when he spins around for the final time and grins up at the covered tents where Twyin and his whore daughter try to look unimpressed.

From where you stand under your tent at the edge of the ring, you and Ellaria are already on edge as you watch Oberyn showboat and the look of disinterested murderousness in the Mountain's eyes deepens. The crowd cheering pushes your heart up into your throat because you know that it bolsters him – he feeds off the energy of those around him in almost every circumstance. This one is no different.

Turning to face the man who had murdered his beloved sister, the grin on his face is satisfied, eager to address the man who would confess his crimes to the crowd. "Have they told you who I am?" He demands, wanting to know if he remembers his sister, or if the years and his numerous crimes for the Lannisters have dimmed his memory. The Mountain seems unimpressed. "Some dead man." He tells him right before he lunges with a swing of his broadsword.

The first few strikes sound terribly, the clash of metal and strong wood echoing through the space like taunts. Every strike seems to pierce your heart rather than deter Oberyn's confidence, and if that is how it must be then you will gladly absorb every blow.

"I am the brother of Elia Martell." He announces, keeping his voice loud but not shouting into the stands because he's addressing the man in front of him. "Do you know why I have come all the way to this stinking, shit-pile of a city?" He asks, squaring his body in front of the giant of a man. "For you." Instantly, he crouches and attacks, swinging his spear and nearly catching Clegane under his heavy helmet.

Oberyn swings his staff elegantly. Of course the weapon was molded for him but he has also molded himself to the weapon – and Clegane's lumbering and grunts only serve to make him look inelegant compared to the smaller, much nimbler form of the Red Viper. Even though you gasp when the Mountain lunges, you cannot tear your eyes away. Oberyn slides backward, deftly avoiding the attack as he continues to taunt his foe.

"I'm going to hear you confess before you die." This time Oberyn isn't facing the beast in front of him, instead his words go up into the crowd with a ripping of confusion from the spectators. Tywin's jaw is so tight that it could shatter if he clenches his teeth together. Turning back to Gregor Clegane, he makes his accusations. "You raped my sister. You murdered her. You killed her children." There is hatred in his eyes and swings his spear up. "Say it now and we can make this quick."

Your hand tightens around Ellaria's as you watch the growling Mountain lunge at Oberyn and the clanging of their weapons rings through the stadium. Feeling their presence at your back, you cannot tear your eyes away from the ring to look to them, but you know Raeden and Margaery are just behind you. Oberyn was right - of course he was - it is his speed and his dexterity that keeps him ahead of Clegane.

When he hits the Mountain across his back with the spear, he knocks the man's helmet off. Revealing his disgusting face to the crowd. "Say it. You raped her." Oberyn spits out, deflecting another attack from the other warrior. "You murdered her." He can still sling his accusations as he spins around, although the Mountain is just shouting as he lunges for Oberyn again. Again, his spear is used to push the sword's momentum down to the ground and he looks into the eyes of his sister's killer. "You killed her children."

The accusation is repeated with every swing, every lunge, and every blow. Oberyn is a blur in the ring as the lumbering Mountain tries to keep up, but the Red Viper of Dorne is too quick for his reflexes and heavier armor. Once he manages to knock Oberyn toward the ground but the prince only springs up to his feet again seconds later – the sharp intake of breath under your tent is loud enough for other to hear but still none of you can take your eyes off of the fight.

His rage manifests as amusement, a smile on his face, although it doesn't reach his eyes. The fight has gone beyond playful and taunting. The years of fury have built up and the Mountain knocks the spear out of his hand, knocking him to the ground.

The crowd may cheer as Oberyn flips out of the way, his training making him lithe and athletic while you and Ellaria swallow shaky gasps and clutch each other's hands impossibly harder. Tyrion may hyperventilate at any moment, watching his champion be so performative, but he says nothing. He knows that you and everyone else under this tent are terrified for the life of the Prince of Dorne, not for the life of the Imp of Casterly Rock.

The next spear is tossed to Oberyn and his attacks turn more vicious. Even as he's sent down to his knees, he is bouncing back. This time after a flurry of attacks and deflecting, the giant grabs Oberyn and tosses him across the combat area.

By this time you count three wounds that the poisoned blade has made in the Mountain's flesh, but you know nothing of poisons. How long will it take to begin killing him? How will it kill him? Will it weaken him immensely, or simply slow him down? Was there even enough poison to do Oberyn any good in the moment? You flinch when he is thrown to the ground but Ellaria holds to your fast, urging you not to look away. The two of you have promised to survive this fight side by side and that is not a promise either of you can break.

Stomping away from the Mountain as he tries to regain his footing, Oberyn's fervor spirals. "You raped her!" He shouts, "You murdered her!" He watches as the other man attacks again, spinning around and this time, he digs the hook of the spear into the back of the Mountain's heel. Ripping open flesh and making him scream in agony. Panting as Clegane drops to his knees. Gripping his spear, he screams again. "You killed her children!" Running forward, Oberyn leaps up and drives the spear into the Mountain's chest, making blood spurt from his chest.

There is a moment where people almost smile. Tyrion and Jamie Lannister both look like they are about to, mostly out of shock, and Ellaria almost laughs in relief. You and Margaery make identical sobbing sounds that are halfway like laughs, and even Raeden blows out a long breath. Clegane is flat on his back, and you could swear that you see him twitch while Oberyn circles him with growling anger.

To add insult to injury, Oberyn leaves the spear in the man's chest. "Wait. Are you dying?" He asks. "No. No. No." He growls as he paces. "You can't die yet. You haven't confessed." He reaches over and yanks the spear out of his chest, assured that poison has worked through the man's body. He will die in agony and yet it will still not be good enough. "Say it." He resumes marching around him as he groans on the ground. "Say her name. Elia Martell." As his blood boils, his mind spins in a murderous rage. "You raped her. You killed her children." The spectators are quiet as his voice rings out of the seats. "Elia Martell." He points at Tywin Lanniser sitting on his cushioned chair. "Who gave you the order?" He looks back at the Mountain and then back at Tywin. "Who gave you the order?! Say her name! You raped her! You murdered her!" Around and around, Oberyn circles the fallen man, his voice climbing higher ever time he speaks. "You killed her children." Nothing matters but this. Nothing. Not Tyrion. He had never really cared about the little man's guilt or innocence. He cares about his revenge.

Oberyn circles the giant, roaring his accusations and demanding that Clegane confess. Once - just once - he manages to look up to the tent where all of you are watching, and the unmistakable pride in Ellaria's expression and the firm determination in yours makes him smile with grim satisfaction. But he inches just a hair too close to the dying man in the middle of the ring. Clegane's hand comes out and snatches at Oberyn's ankle, sending the legendary Viper to ground once more. Tyrion panics, eyes widening; and you and Ellaria gasp out loud. The Mountain is moving and Oberyn is on his back.

Please, Gods...please do not take him like this...

There is a split second where the future flashes in front of his eyes. One that he would not be present for. His lover becoming jaded and bitter, obsessing over revenge for his death and oddly enough, he does not want that. His Sand Snakes being killed by the bastard Lions in a vain attempt to find justice for their father before they are ready. Raeden being run through in a battle to get you and his heir out of the city. It's not above Tywin Lanniser and he knows that the man had seen the way you had brought his hand to your stomach. Then you, his lovely wife. Carrying his child. The horrible idea of you suffering the same fate as his sister. Perhaps even at the hands of the same man.

His hands flail for a moment as the weight of the man presses him down into the stone. "Elia Martell." He growls, hands reaching for Oberyn's head and the Prince's eyes squeeze shut as the gloved thumbs cover them and start to press. Oberyn screams, the sound pure agony as he touches the dagger you had tucked into his waist and he knows that confession would be the best he would ever get. Not before the man seriously damages his eyes or kills him. His pride, his arrogance had landed him on his back, the poison not killing him fast enough. "E-Elia." He gasps out, wrapping his fingers around the hilt and pulling it out, shoving it up through the bottom of the Mountain's chin and into his head as hard as he can. "Elia Martell." Oberyn chokes out. "Of Dorne." Gregor Clegane's eyes widen and he gurgles, blood spewing out of his mouth onto the prince's face. "This is for her."

The collection gasp of shock from the assembled audience cannot compete with the way you and Ellaria scream. The fierce shrieks coming deep inside both of you when all you can see of Oberyn is that the man you both love - your soulmate - is flat on his back beneath the Mountain's murderous bulk. Raeden has to push Margaery backward into Cal's grip so he can wrap one arm around you and Ellaria, barely managing to stop you from storming the ring yourselves to finish the Mountain with your bare hands. He knows you would manage it somehow. That together there could be nothing from stopping you and Ellaria if you got your hands on Gregor Clegane.

You struggle against Raeden in tandem, screaming Oberyn's name, until you see a flash of metal against the late morning sun and another flood of blood. It is impossible to tell whose blood it is at first, until a look of relief washes briefly over Jamie Lannister's face.

"Oberyn!" Prying Raeden's hand open, you sprint for the center of the ring as the Mountain's lifeless body is shoved aside to reveal a triumphant Prince of Dorne has, indeed, survived.

He has survived.

Avenged his sister.

Won the day.

And you pull him into your arms just a moment before Ellaria reaches his other side so that both of you can help him to his feet.

"The gods have made their will known." Tywin Lannister's voice shakes with anger and disbelief, but the results are indisputable. "Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name...you have been found innocent of the murder of King Joffrey." He sounds as if he could throw something, but you barely hear the declaration. Oberyn is standing on his own two feet with his arms around you and Ellaria, and that is all that matters.

Panting and breathless, Oberyn absorbs the roar of the crowd, but is doesn't mean anything to him. Neither does the effusive gratitude of a near sobbing Tyrion as the guards unlock his chains, setting him free. All that matters is that he is still breathing and you and Ellaria are in his arms. He surges forward, pressing his lips to Ellaria's and then yours in front of the crowd as Raeden and Margaery stand to the side. His need for justice has been quenched. While the Mountain did not implicate Tywin, he can live with the fact that her murderer has breathed his last breath and all of King's Landing now knows.

"Let us leave this fucking place." He decides breathlessly, grinning at you and jostling Ellaria closer to him. "Never to return. Dorne calls us home."

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell x reader #Oberyn Martell x you #Oberyn Martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell x f!reader #Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand #Oberyn Martell x m!OC #Ellaria Sand #Ellaria Sand x reader #Ellaria Sand x m!OC #Margaery Tyrell #Margaery Tyrell x m!OC #Margaery Tyrell x reader #male OC #female reader #Game of Thrones #soulmate au #arranged marriage #poly #polycule #polyamory

[chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct]

Little Abigail Lannister and her cousin Margaery Tyrell with their dolls after Abigail broke her nose playing knights with Loris.

#game of thrones #got #hotd #got oc #got ocs #game of thrones oc #game of thrones x reader #hotd oc #abigail lannister #asoiaf fandom #a song of ice and fire #my art #digital art #art #asoif fanart #asoiaf fanart #got fanart #game of thrones fanart #a song of ice and fanart #margaery tyrell #margaery tyrell fanart #loris tyrell #fanart #margaery fanart #queen margaery #abigail lannister imagine #asoiaf #got fanfiction

[cambion-companion]

Currently working on an AU where Margaery Tyrell's ancestor, Maellory Tyrell (🤭), and Aemond meet in King's Landing...only to fall slowly into the twisting vines of love.

A collaboration piece with @lady-phasma

It's probably going to end up being at least several chapters, and yes, this is our way of inserting Margaery into Westeros 150 years before she was born 💚🌹

Coming Soon...

#aemond x margaery #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond x tyrell oc #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond fanfic #aemond fanfiction #Aemaery #aemond headcanons #aemond oneshot #aemond stannies #prince aemond targaryen

[rainwingmarvel7]

Basic Erwyn Dormaire (Snow) Lore

Born: 287 AC, Braavos

Parents: Edwyrd Dormaire and Melisandre of Asshai

Siblings: Alistair Dormaire, Nadya Dormaire, Victyr Dormaire

Love Interest(s): Arya Stark (S1-S8, wife), Margaery Tyrell (S2-S6, largely one-sided romantic interest until S6)

Children: Alys, Eddard, and Victaria Dormaire (w/Arya Stark)

Titles: Bastard (S1-S8, but largely kept secret), Nobleman of House Dormaire (S1-S8), Knight of Ravens (S2-S8), Lord of Raven’s Keep (S8)

Weapon(s): Bow (gifted to him by Theon Greyjoy before departing for King’s Landing), Sword (given to him when he became a knight)

Fic: As the Raven Flies

#game of thrones #got #game of thrones oc #got oc #asoiaf oc #erwyn dormaire #oc: erwyn dormaire #erwyn x arya #erwyn x margaery #arya stark x oc #margaery tyrell x oc #as the raven flies #fic: as the raven flies

[cdragons]

Stannis Baratheon x Second Wife Yi TI!OC ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ - Masterlist

Read for context

Summary: Let’s pretend Yi Ti and Westeros have an okay trading relationship with each other, and merchants from Yi Ti are always treated with celebrity status in the Seven Kingdoms. Let's also pretend that the GOT writers haven't completely fucked up all of Stannis' fantastic characterization and complexity. Let's pretend Selyse bit the dust when Shireen was a baby, and her death fixed all of GOT's shitty endings! Join Xú Měilíng as she and her future daughter (not Shireen) become key players in the Game of Thrones, as House Stark's and House Baratheon's survival is entirely due to them!

Main Pairings(s): Stannis Baratheon x Second Wife!OC (Xú Měilíng); Shireen Baratheon x Rickon Stark; Robb Stark x Yi Tish!OC (Měilíng's daughter from first marriage, name TBD); Margaery Tyrell x Yi Tish!OC (Měilíng's daughter from first marriage, name TBD)

Platonic or Unrequited Love Pairings(s): Jon Snow & Yi Tish!OC (Měilíng's daughter from first marriage, name TBD); Theon Greyjoy & Yi Tish!OC (Měilíng's daughter from first marriage, name TBD); Ned Stark & Stannis' Second Wife!OC (Xú Měilíng); Robert Baratheon & Stannis' Second Wife!OC (Xú Měilíng)

Warning(s): MDNI 18+; Domestic Abuse; Child Abuse; Canon-Typical Misogyny, Sexism, Racism; Future Smut; Rhaegar Targaryen & Lyanna Stark will NOT be portrayed in a flattering light 😬

Chapter 1 - When East Winds Blow

Chapter 2 - The Careful Fawn & The Curious Wind

Chapter 3 - The Eastern Wind & Moon Sail to Winterfell

#stannis baratheon x reader #stannis baratheon x oc #stannis baratheon #stannis the mannis #robb stark x reader #robb stark x oc #yi ti #yi ti oc #margaery tyrell x oc #margaery tyrell x reader #shireen baratheon #shireen baratheon x rickon stark #shireen x rickon #theon greyjoy #theon greyjoy & reader #jon snow & reader #jon snow & oc #theon greyjoy & oc #ned stark & oc #robb stark #got x reader #game of thrones x reader #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf x reader #got imagine #game of thrones imagines #margaery tyrell

[rhaenyraslaena]

OC AESTHETICS | | LADY MARGAERY TYRELL

❛ born a bastard daughter of the wayward princess saera targaryen in far off lys and a nobleman of house tyrell, she became to be raised as the trueborn daughter of the tyrell heir. ambitious and wanting to establish the family who raised her in the plotting targaryen court, she established herself with her vast intelligence and scheming. rumored to be a lover of prince daemon targaryen, she possessed an eye on every corner in the red keep. she would further establish herself as the personal confidante and unofficial mistress of whisperers of queen alicent hightower, a fellow woman of the reach. her influence was continue long after the dance of the dragons, as she became the official mistress of whisperers for aegon iii targaryen, the son of the late queen claimant. she is said to have mothered three children — trystane flowers, naerys flowers, and rhae waters — fathered by two targaryen princes. many tyrell lords named their daughters for the influential and highly successful margaery — the most famous of which is the newly crowned queen consort of tommen baratheon. ❜

#oc: lady margaery tyrell #hotd oc #asoiaf oc #house of the dragon oc #a song of ice and fire oc #game of thrones oc #house tyrell #house tyrell oc #tyrell oc #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #game of thrones #fyeahhotdocs #ocappreciation #occentral #daemon targaryen #aemond targaryen #daemon x oc #aemond x oc #fandom: house of the dragon #fandom: a song of ice and fire #okay i love the name margaery and as i was plotting out her story house tyrell seemed to come out on top #originally an ashford buuut i liked the tyrell backstory better