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wardenparker · 1 year

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The Viper’s Bride - ch 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell x you #Oberyn Martell x reader #Oberyn Martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand #reader x m!OC #male OC #female reader #male original character #Game of Thrones #soulmate au #arranged marriage

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 1 month

Text

Of Roses and Snakes

pairing: Oberyn Martell x OC!Female!Tyrell

summary: Ella Tyrell gets told what her family had decided against her will. Maybe it was not so bad after all

Word count: 2,5K

Warnings: Angst, fluff, hurt-comfort

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Ella grumbled annoyed as she rolled over in her bed, the sun had been hitting her face for several minutes by then but she had no energy to move until this moment when a banging on her disturbed her peace even more.

"What?!" She called out harshly. She lifted her head as the doors opened to see who had entered her room. She sighed when she saw Margaery walk into the room already all dressed up and ready to conquer the day and make the boy-king fall for her charm.

"Is it not too early, sissy?" Ella asked, sitting up with a pillow clutched to her chest. Margaery gave Ella and wavering smile, almost looking like a wince. The future queen sat down on the bed beside Ella and reached over to grab her hand, the expression on her face was some sort of apologetic which raised alarms in Ella's head.

"What is it?" Ella questioned curiously, she was not one to fear easily. She laughed in the king's face when he suggested wiping her when she expressed her disgust at the wine they had, apparently that insulted the taste of the mother king. Cersei smirked at Ella seeing her son defend her only for the smirk to be wiped off when Ella burst out laughing, smoothly she recovered and mentioned that she was not one for wine anyways but prefered ale in its stead, that satisfied Joffrey but Cersei hated her guts for that.

"The Queen mother has somehow convinced father of something, sissy" Margaery finally spoke, Ella was half relieved that she was not the only one holding the conversation between the two of them. However the other part of her wondered what queen Cersei had up her sleeve.

"What could possibly be so bad that you had to wake me so early?" Ella pushed her duvet off herself as she spoke. She sighed when her feet touched the cold tiles and she moved to the table a couple of feet away in her room. Her eyes squinted as she looked out of the window where the sun was rising, it had been for several minutes before Margaery had entered.

"It involves you" Margaery uttered looking down at her hands in her lap. Ella picked up her chalice, filled it with the disgusting wine they had in King's Landing, and took a huge gulp in preparation for whatever Margaery had to say. She did not fear wiping, no she feared Cersei using her cunning mind to hurt her, she knew she had the power to, it was no secret that Cersei was happy to abuse the power she had.

"What could she possibly have convinced the idiot?" Ella rolled her eyes. She filled her cup again but took a small sip this time. Margaery squirmed almost uncomfortable while the seconds ticked by, she was trying to form the words in her head, wondering how she could break the news to her sister, her unsuspecting sister.

"They plan on giving your hand away" Margaery's words were hurried Ella nearly understood nothing of them. The chalice in Ella's hands cluttered down on the floor in shock and the wine spilled all over the tiled floor. Margaery jumped at the sound of the metal piece hitting the floor.

"What?" Ella cried out in disbelief, she knew her father was dumb however she did not think him dumb enough to make such a decision without at the very least asking for her consent.

"Calm down, please, sissy" Margaery stood up from the bed and walked over to where Ella stood, making sure to not step on the wine and ruin her dress or shoes. One of her arms wrapped around her younger sister in comfort snapping Ella out of her shock.

"When did you find out?" Ella allowed Margaery to detour her towards an ottoman where the two of them sat down. Margaery trapped Ella's hands in between her own, trying to push her comfort through their touching organs.

"Just now, I came immediately after I found out however I could not hear well and do not know who they have in mind" Margaery sighed. She was heartbroken for her younger sister, the fact that they were born merely eleven moons apart led them to be the closest of friends and they rarely left each other's sides as children and adults. Margaery could only hope that the match would be less violent than her own and Ella would end up with a pleasant man.

"Thank you for warning me" Ella took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. "I should have known her silence never meant peace" Ella laughed at how ridiculous she sounded, Cersei and peace were polar opposites and could never meet.

"Should I expect you when we break our fast?" Margaery asked, her hand tightening over her sister's. Ella and Margaery always broke their fast together, whether it was at home at Highgarden, or whether it was family or merely the two of them alone.

"We shall see" Ella smiled at Margaery not wanting to worry her older sister, although neither really acted their age difference, many thought them to be twins.

Ella paused in the middle of her sentence to her sister when suddenly the sound of someone clinking their knife against their glass echoed around the room. Everyone who was invited for supper with the royal family paused, unsurprisingly Cersei wished the entire council and all the royalty that had traveled for Margaery and Joffrey's wedding to attend the supper. So everyone and anyone in court was in attendance and more.

"I would like to begin this supper by thanking you all for making the journey to travel this way whether it was long or short, and we welcome you with open arms and hearts. The king and I are very happy with your presence for his upcoming wedding to Lady Margaery Tyrell" Cersei's voice echoed throughout the room with false happiness, Margaery had told Ella all about what was conspiring between her and Cersei. Ella turned to watch Cersei with her eyes squinted suspicious of the Queen mother.

"I would like to use this opportunity to announce on behalf of Lord Mace-" Cersei turned to look at Ella's father who nodded with a stupid smile on his face which made Ella wince, how in the world did her father last so long she had no idea and she could not wait for her elder brother Willas to take over the Lordship of Highgarden and they be done with their father. "-that on the morrow two weddings shall take place in stead of one, both his daughters shall marry" Cersei's eyes slid over the crowd analyzing their shocked expressions.

Margaery reached over to grasp Ella's hand in shock, the two girls' eyes widened, they had expected a betrothal but not for her to be married the next day alongside her sister. Ella turned to look at her grandmother who was shaking her head in disappointment meaning she had no idea either. There was rarely anything that Olenna Tyrell did not know so this was near a miracle.

"Lady Ella Tyrell shall be wedded to Prince Oberyn Martell on the morrow" Cersei announced pointing at the handsome prince sitting near where Ella was sat with only her grandmother in between. Ella had met the prince before along with his paramour who seemed not to be in presence at the supper.

"What?" Margaery whispered horrified. Her eyes trailed to Joffrey who was grinning evilly. Ella's heart dropped, all her dreams of falling in love and finding a loyal and respectable man were thrown out of the window with one sentence from Cersei's lips. She was being given to a man known for how lustful he was, he took his paramour with him wherever he went, and he was literally residing at a brothel.

Ella swallowed thickly fighting every urge in her body not to drop the smile from her face, indifference hardly maintained on her face. Her hand was holding Margaery's in a death grip and the other one was engulfed in her grandmother's warm hands. Ella turned to smile at her grandmother as the people around them broke into applause and cheers.

Oberyn was way older than Ella was, he had eight children already all from different whores and paramours while she was barely into her tenth and fifth nameday. Ella allowed her eyes to finally trail to Oberyn at her grandmother's other side to find him already looking at her analyzing her, trying to read her. She gulped and nodded at him before turning back to Margaery not seeing his reaction.

Margaery attempted to give Ella a reassuring smile but failed when her eyes trailed to look at Oberyn who was siping his wine with a neutral look on his face

"Excuse me, grandmother, I feel tired and wish to retire for the night" Ella whispered to Olenna. Olenna gave her granddaughter a small smile and patted her arm as Ella pushed back her chair and stood up. Ella breathed deeply to calm her racing heart before plastering a sweet smile. She moved away from the table and weaved her way through several tables accepting congratulations with a polite smile and a squeaky-sounding "thank yous".

Once outside the hall Ella could not help but take a second deep breath. she leaned against the wall trying to regain her composure. The cold stone walls felt like heaven against her heated and sweaty skin, she was shocked no one mentioned how flustered and ill-looking she must have looked.

She had dreams that were thrown out faster than a horse dump would have been. She had dreams of touring all seven kingdoms and meeting as many families and people as possible during her journey. She dreamed of reading as many books as she could, filling a library of her own, and maybe even writing her own book or books but those dreams were just demolished by Cersei Lannister.

"I never expected marrying me would be such a dreadful thought" Ella jumped when a gruff voice spoke a couple of feet away. She turned to find Oberyn standing a couple of feet away from her watching her, studying her and trying to see her reactions, her intentions.

"Your Grace, it is not like that" Ella almost tripped over her skirt while trying to curtsy, her cheeks were turning from embarrassment. The prince of Dorne just caught her sulking over marrying him. Too many things wrong with this one interaction, first and most important was that the Ladies did not sulk.

"I would be honoured to be called our wife" Ella's mask fell back in place once the shock had worn off. Oberyn however looked annoyed but to the horror of Ella, she did not wish to offend him, she did not wish to have a miserable life more than it already was.

"Do not sugar coat the situation, we both know we are not the partners we wished to have" Oberyn walked over to where she was still standing and leaned back against the same wall she was leaning on before he interrupted her panicked thoughts.

"Your Grace?" Ella turned to face, her face showed just a little bit of how truly shocked she was.

"Ella I am way older than you, I am not an idiot to think you wished to marry a man my age" Oberyn crossed his arms, his eyes roaming all over her face much to her shock. She had expected that a man with his reputation would be delighted to marry a young thing like her, she was awaiting to see his eyes roam her body and see her figure and probably make comments like she's heard other men do to their betrothed including Joffrey.

"My Prince-" Oberyn cut her off by raising his hand rendering her silent. The move irritated her beyond measure but before she could voice that Oberyn opened his mouth and what came out of it shocked her.

"Call me Oberyn, only Oberyn"

Ella was baffled, she knew men loved their women either calling them by title or a nickname, they loved to boast, they were small-minded like that.

"Oberyn, I do not mean to offend you-" Ella sighed. Her eyes were fighting not to water, they stung and hurt and she was sure they were turning red as well. Her hands fisted her dress to keep her composure but it seemed her moment of silence to get her thoughts and words straight yet again was interrupted by the prince standing in front of her.

"I do not intend to cage you little rose, your place is not in a cage but a garden" Oberyn raised his hand to touch her cheek, his fingers were gentle but rough to the touch, calloused with decades of training. He may be known as a master of poisons but he was a warrior still and no less than any guard in the palace, Ella knew that, she had seen him train in passing.

"Just know that as my wife you will be free, free of this court and their expectations. I will not expect you at my beck and call for you are no servant. I will not expect you to welcome me into your bed whenever I please for you are no whore. I do not expect you to be bred and bear me children even sons for you are no breeding mare" Tears weld in Ella's eyes as Oberyn spoke. One of those traitorous tears rolled down her cheek but his thumb was already prepared to wipe it off.

"You say that now but then the court will pressure us-" Oberyn raised his other hand and placed his forefinger over her pouting red lips. He wished to kiss them, taste them, just a small taste but he forced control over himself.

"I will not listen to them, I am not some weak-minded Lord. I am a Prince of Dorne and I shall take you there with me after the wedding" Oberyn promised. Ella took a deep breath to control herself before speaking again.

"There are many things we need to speak of but no time, tomorrow I will become your wife whether we like it or not" Ella took his hand in her own and started to rub small circles over his knuckles, she felt like she should comfort him too, after decades he was being forced to settle for her when he had voiced time and time again that he wished not to marry.

"I promise to care for you, little Rose" Oberyn promised, raising their intertwined hands and kissing her knuckles gently. Ella could not help the blush that crept up her neck and on the apple of her cheeks turning them into what they were called, blood red apples. His lips were soft and his moustache scratched her hand but she found herself not minding it. Her mind even wondered if she would get any beard burns from it if she were to let him in her bed and she found herself not minding this match as much as she did earlier.

#game of thrones #game of thrones au #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones oc #game of thrones one shot #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell fanfiction #prince oberyn #oberyn martell #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell fluff #oberyn martell one shot #oberyn x oc #oberyn martell x oc #valaenatargaryensdragon

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in-for-a-pennyx · 2 years

Text

Pedro Pascal for Interview Magazine (2014) by Anthony Batista

Old photos of Pedro that are new to me 🤎

Don’t talk to me about the gloves. (Only talk to me about the gloves)

#how dare you sir #this is an attack on user T #I’m offended #yes please #very mafia prince oberyn au #pedro pascal #oberyn martell #prince oberyn era #oberyn #pedro pascal fandom #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal edits #ppedit #pedro pascal character

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drrav3nb · 4 months

Text

Marriage by Combat

Picking up a single-bladed spear from the array of weapons, the Prince twirled the staff in hands and approached the centre of the coliseum. “I once heard a rumour that you would only accept an offer of marriage if the man asking could defeat you in combat,” he said before tucking the spear under his arm and bowing deeply. “Allow me to put that challenge to the test.” Brienne could not stop herself from grinning, his provocation reminding her of an oath that she once made to herself so many years ago. “You have no armour on, sire.” “Neither do you.” Synopsis: Ever since she was a young girl, Brienne had made it very clear to many of her potential suitors that she would never accept their offer of marriage unless they could defeat her in battle. So what happens when the Prince of Dorne takes her up on that challenge?

Read the fic here

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 7 months

Text

Aphelion - 11

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

*Please be sure to consider all chapter warnings before reading! Warnings will be updated for each chapter in individual posts as well as on the Masterlist.

Warnings: language, discussion of the past, mentions of violence, blood and death, mention of self-harm, NSFW, vampirism, biting

Word Count: 16,754

Summary: Oberyn has already told you that it's been 400 years since he last used his mark of protection on someone that he cared about, but when you learn why he stopped using it - and how that decision has shaped his life since then - it sheds new light on what it means that he used it on you. And so does what happens after he shares this with you.

The plan for dealing with the Lannisters is in place, and preparations continue throughout the week - until Toban and Tyene surprise you with something unexpected but extremely welcome.

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN FROM @something-tofightfor & I! We hope that your spooky season is full of fun, treats, and just the right amount of scares. We also hope that you all enjoy this mega-packed chapter! This story continues to be so much fun for us to work on, and we're both really excited about this update and what's still to come. Thank you from the bottoms of our hearts to everyone who has interacted with this story - your comments and reactions make us very happy ghouls.

Also, if you have questions about details or plot points or the way that Westerosi history/world fits into the “real” world- please ask! We don’t want to confuse anyone.

Catch up with the Aphelion masterlist here!

(banner by @valkblue )

It took him more than a few seconds to gather his thoughts, but Oberyn’s hold on you never wavered. You stared out and over the city, the lights glittering in the distance, and you let yourself think again about everything that had happened in the previous hours. No, not just hours … days.

But unlike Oberyn, you didn’t think silently.

“I’m not sure if you know this, but …” Closing your eyes, you took a long breath. “If it wasn’t for Golden Lion and my job, I’d probably be in some shitty little apartment in the Midwest right now.” He hummed in response but didn’t speak, one of his hands moving slowly back and forth over your stomach. “I knew what I wanted to do with my life when I was a teenager, but I never really thought that I’d get hired by a company like theirs right out of college.”

“They did something right, at least.” You snorted at his words, his irritation barely masked by amusement. “Was Golden Lion the first place you’ve worked?”

“It was my first full time adult job, yeah. I did an internship with them my senior year of college and I guess they were impressed, but …” You shrugged. “They had more than 100 candidates apply for three open positions so I figured I’d get a “thanks but no thanks” letter after a few weeks and started applying to museums and historical programs in places like Michigan and Illinois and Ohio. But instead … I got a job offer with a relocation assistance stipend.”

It had been one of the best days of your life, and even though you’d learned that Golden Lion - and the Lannisters especially - weren’t the people you’d thought they were, your time at the company had been worthwhile. It taught me so much and it brought me here.

“They do have a knack for recruiting people with talent.” He sighed, lowering his lips to your shoulder again. “It is an annoying thing that has been true since … well, since the beginning.”

You felt him smiling and you did, too, still staring out into the darkness. “I had a choice between working in New York, London, one of the Westeros office locations, or here.”

“And you chose California.” He kissed the side of your neck, breathing the next words into your ear. “The City of Angels.” You rolled your eyes every time Los Angeles was referred to that way, but when Oberyn said it, it had the opposite effect on you. I am a walking cliche when it comes to him.

“I did. Westeros was tempting, just because of everything it would have allowed me to see, but I decided it was too far away for something that I didn’t know if I’d get to do for long. In London I would have been in a really small office and that wasn’t appealing. New York was …” You wrinkled your nose, even though he couldn’t see it. Never New York. “But California? I figured that even if the job didn’t work out, I’d have the beach. And then I met Nora and her friends and it turned out I really liked what I did for work - and most of my coworkers.” You spun to face him, finding that you were blinking back tears.

You knew it was selfish - that after everything the Lannisters had done to the Martells and to the people Oberyn loved, you had no right to be so upset over something as trivial as your job. But it was important to me. It was a huge part of my life. Everything I worked for.

“And I think that’s what the worst part of this is. Even though there were always ulterior motives to what they had me doing, it was … I liked it. I liked working for Golden Lion. I learned so much. I met so many people and worked on so many great projects, and …” You glanced up, lips pressed together. “And then I met you, and I realized that I knew so damn much, but I really knew nothing, even after all this time.”

“Meeting me was the worst part?” He was teasing you, but when you met his eyes you saw concern in them, Oberyn barely concealing a frown as he watched you. “I don’t think that anyone has ever been so bold as to -” That made you laugh, both of your hands coming up to cover your face and wipe some of the tears away.

“Yes, Oberyn. The worst. I meet an unreasonably hot man that just so happens to be the literal embodiment of every fantasy I’ve ever had in my entire life at a bar. Then two weeks later I’m standing with him on the balcony of a penthouse apartment so fucking nice that I have no business being anywhere near it. Oh, and I’m also wearing a mark of protection from him on my neck that means that he chose me, and -”

Oberyn moved before you’d even registered it, gathering you in his arms and holding you tight against his chest, face turned down so that he could kiss the top of your head. “I do see how that might be terrible.” Inhaling deeply, you let yourself cry for a few seconds, Oberyn’s arms locked in place. “But you need to look at me.”

You did, pulling back enough so that you could meet his gaze. The playfulness was still there, but Oberyn’s mood had shifted again, the man mostly serious. “What?”

“You can’t blame yourself for not knowing the truth. Not many people do. Even those that are like me aren’t … they do not all come from Westeros, or have the same vendettas that we do. And even I have to admit, the things that the Lannisters have done to remain relevant throughout the years … it is impressive. It is even more impressive because like I said, they attract talented people, which means their relevancy lasts.”

“Yeah, but it’s just … a cover. They used people like me to try and find you, Oberyn. You and your family, and -”

“But think about it.” He loosened his grip on you, taking a half step back and urging you to back up and against the low railing. “How much did you learn? How much did you archive? How much will the records you created teach others? Yes, the end goal was for Lannister benefit, but overall, you’ve done more good for Westeros than you know.” He reached up, fingers curling against your neck so that he could press his thumb to the mark he’d put there. It sent a tingle of heat through you, your lips parting and feet shuffling toward him, both hands rising so that you could grip his shirt. “You know now. And if… when this goes according to plan, I’m sure Tyrion will have no problem getting you back to your position, if that’s what you want. This plan will make him mortal, but getting rid of the rest of the Lannisters puts him at the head of the company by name and lineage, and I do not think that he will mind doing a small favor for me.”

You hadn’t even thought of that - of the possibility that after everything was done, you could go back. But I’ll need to work. I don’t have thousands of years worth of finances saved somewhere, and I can’t pay my rent here without a job. “We’ll see. We need to get through the next …. When is the wedding again?”

“The engagement party is next weekend. The wedding follows soon after. They are apparently following the Westerosi custom of the party being used as a lead-in to the main event, but that works in our favor.”

“Yeah, there’s so much going on no one can have eyes everywhere.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “Thank you for talking me down, Oberyn. I’m sorry I -”

“You never need to apologize to me.” He said your name, the man’s thumb and forefinger tilting your chin up so that you could see his wink. “For anything. I understand what you are going through, and I understand how much your life has changed.” Flattening your hands against his belly, you nodded and then took a deep breath.

“If you say so. But I need to stop getting sidetracked. We have a lot to talk about and -” You were interrupted by the rumble of your stomach, Oberyn’s eyes immediately dropping at the sound. Shit. Of course he can hear that, he -

“When was the last time you ate?” He tweaked your chin, his smile widening. “It sounds like it’s been a while.”

“I had some fruit while we talked to Tyrion, but it’s been … hours? Lunch, maybe? I don’t…remember.” You trailed off, frowning. Since the night of the Halloween party, your dining habits had been less than regular. The fact that no one in your company ate at typical times wasn’t helping, either. “I should have something, though. Or else I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“Stay here.” He nodded twice. “I’ll get you something and then… I’ll tell you about Cameron and Toban.”

He disappeared back into the apartment, the door closing softly behind him. Once he was gone, you turned back to the railing, gripping it with both hands. You’d wasted time complaining about your job, but not too much, and you knew that even though it was late, there were still hours before sunrise. And he’ll want to stay out here as long as possible.

Your head swirled with bits of information - what you knew about the Lannisters and the Martells, what you knew about Oberyn and Ellaria’s bond, the vow that Oberyn had made to himself the moment he’d been turned and learned what happened when someone turned others. And you knew that no matter how much time you had to understand it, it would never be enough. Unless that eternity that Toban mentioned is possible. That might be …

Swiping one hand over your face, you hung your head, opening your eyes so that you could watch the cars on the street far below you. Tyene had offered to change you if you wanted it. Toban’s willingness to step in when necessary had already been tested, but you had a feeling that if he attempted the same thing a second time, even Ellaria’s interference wouldn’t protect him from Oberyn. But I don’t want either of those options. If it’s not Oberyn… it’s no one.

Linking your fingers together, you stared out and over the city, weight resting on your forearms. Four hundred years is a long time, even for him. And it sounds like Cameron was incredibly important to him but he still wouldn’t … he didn’t even use his mark, he … “It’s late, so I figured you didn’t want anything heavy.”

Turning at the sound of his voice, you watched as he held up a plate with one hand, a bottle of water held in his curled fingers and a stainless steel bottle tucked under his other arm. “A sandwich? Did you make this? Or was it -”

“I might have been a prince in a past life, and not need to eat in this one, but I know my way around a kitchen.” He grinned as he set everything down on the small table before unfolding the blanket laying atop the outdoor couch. “Come here.”

You did, stepping in front of him - and when Oberyn draped the material over your shoulders, he used the ends of the blanket to pull you closer, ducking his head down to press a kiss to your lips. That kiss was longer than the last one on the rooftop, but he still broke it much too quickly, stepping back and gesturing for you to sit. “Thank you for … dinner? A midnight snack? Whatever this is, I’m going to inhale it.”

“Good.” He sat next to you, rolling the container he held between both of his hands. “I hope it is alright with you if I … also eat.” Your eyes flicked from the sandwich in your hand to the bottle in his, both brows shooting up in understanding. Blood. There’s blood in there, and he didn’t want me to see it while he drank.

“Of course. Eat.” You took a bite, chewing to give yourself a few extra seconds before speaking again. “Oberyn, you don’t have to worry about that with me. I understand what … you are, and what you need.” Elbowing him, you turned your head to look at the man. “And I’ve already seen you at your worst with Clegane, right? So it -”

“That wasn’t anywhere near my worst.” Flipping the straw up on his bottle, Oberyn sipped from it, staring straight ahead. “But yes, you have briefly seen the worst parts of me.” Your stomach dropped at his words, but part of you wasn’t surprised. He’s been alive for 2,000 years, and he thinks… Oh, Oberyn. “I know that you are expecting to hear about Cameron. But to tell you about Cameron, I need to go back much further.” He sipped again, eyes closing as he swallowed. “To Isabel. To before Isabel. I need to tell you why I stopped offering my protection to the humans I cared for.”

His voice changed as he spoke the woman’s name, and it only took moments for you to figure out who she was. But instead of interrupting, you continued to eat your sandwich, scooting marginally closer to him while you chewed. It took a few seconds, but Oberyn laid an arm over your shoulders, his fingers closing around the far one and squeezing. I’m listening, Oberyn.

“When Ellaria turned me, I knew that I wouldn’t get my revenge right away. I knew that it could take time, but I never thought … I never thought thousands of years would pass.” He paused, head shaking from side to side slowly. “The longer I waited, the more I needed to do to fill my days. By the time I was given the sunlight again, Ellaria and I were far from Westeros. My immediate relatives were long gone, and there was no sign of the right Lannisters. She took me to Greece and within a year I… we met someone.”

You weren’t surprised - Oberyn’s magnetism had been well documented in all of the ancient texts that you’d seen, and you imagined that given the opportunity to meet new people in new places, it hadn’t been any different.

“But it was short lived, because… I wasn’t careful enough. Her association with Ellaria and I put a target on her head, and she was … she was killed because of it. She was killed and we had to leave, and it was only then that Ellaria explained the process of marking someone for safety.”

“Oh, Oberyn.” Wincing, you reached over and squeezed his knee. “I’m so sorry.” He lost someone else, almost right away. I can’t…

“I was too. And from there …” He laughed, but the sound was sad. “From there, I admit that I treated offering my mark in the same way I lived as a man - in excess. Even Ellaria questioned me at times, but it was the way I coped. I could not have the revenge I wanted, and losing more people that I cared about was not an option. So for a few hundred years, I … marked my partners. I kept them close without thinking twice, but I never hesitated to step away from them when it became clear that Cersei and Tywin and the fucking Mountain were back, or when they demanded too much of me.”

“Oberyn, I …” You didn’t know what else to say - especially since up until that conversation, you’d assumed he’d always been selective about who he offered protection to. But I was wrong.

“Many of them asked to become like me, and I denied all of them - most of them without explanation.” He took another drink, pausing before he set the bottle down on the table. “Losing them of natural causes became almost routine for me. Eight. Ten. Twelve. It was not easy to say goodbye, but I was not heartbroken in the same way I was when the first was taken. Finally, Ellaria pulled me aside, and she let me know what she thought.”

“What did she think?” Curling your legs beneath you, you leaned against Oberyn’s side. “It doesn’t seem like she would have said anything unless she felt strongly about it.”

“You are correct.” Glancing up, you saw that he was smiling - that expression a fonder one. “She told me that the mark was meant to be a symbol of honor, and an indication that the person who wore it was special. She said she’d never try to tell me how to live my second life, but that unless I used that ability with some discretion, it was … meaningless. That in our community, the mark had come to symbolize intent, and I was treating it like giving someone a worthless trinket. I hadn’t ever thought of it that way.”

“Were you two together all that time? I know that Makers don’t always stay with their Children, but you and Ellaria are … different.”

“No. She stayed with me for a long time, but once she was certain I would be alright on my own, we separated. We’d see each other … well, to us, it was frequently, but to you, it probably isn’t.” He started moving his hand up and down on your arm, Oberyn shifting so that you could move even closer. “She made a special trip to tell me what she thought about me using my mark, though. And afterward … I slowed down. I slowed down and I realized that there was no point in protecting people in that way. It was only for my benefit. It didn’t offer them anything in the end.”

Unconsciously, you reached up, touching the space on your neck that bore his sigil. Something changed again. Ellaria and Tyene and Toban’s reactions were real. This isn’t just a mark, it’s… more.

“It’s not possible for me to be emotionless; I’m sure you know that. But I … stopped letting myself get so attached. I stopped settling in places long term. I kept moving. I focused on my eventual revenge instead of on immediate pleasure, and instead of one or two people a century wearing my mark and knowing what I was, more and more time passed between each one. I kept my own secret, and didn’t linger long enough for people to start asking questions.”

“You must have been lonely.” Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes. “Even with Ellaria and the Others that you came into contact with, it must have been so hard.”

“It was. But it got easier each year. The difficult part came when the questions about me making a Child started coming, and I had to explain my reasoning for not turning anyone.”

“That’s nobody’s business, though.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s like people questioning why someone like me isn’t trying to have a baby, or hinting that time is running out, or making the assumption that you can’t be happy unless you’re a parent. That’s a personal choice, Oberyn, and even though I’m kind of relieved to know it isn’t just humans who think that’s their business, it’s still awful of them to question you like that.”

“The thing is, that my reason for not turning anyone is … hypothetical. Yes, most of us pass our strongest traits on when we change someone, but it isn’t set in stone that it happens.” He removed his arm from around you and then leaned forward, picking up the thermos again and taking a long pull from it. You caught a whiff of copper, biting your lip at the scent, but before you could say anything, he continued. “Even Ellaria started to hint that there would be nothing wrong with me changing someone and potentially passing something along, but she never pushed. And after those conversations - after seeing her and Toban and meeting others like us and their first Children, I began to see the appeal… and I started using my mark again. Sparingly, but … just in case. Just to let everyone know that someone was off limits.”

“But you never acted.” He flipped the straw down and let the bottle go, leaning back. “Even though you were close.”

“I was.” He sighed. “Sort of.” Without warning, Oberyn pulled you onto his lap, strong arms holding you against his chest though you were still wrapped in the blanket. “I met Isabel while I waited for Ellaria to arrive for a visit, and there was … something about her. A connection between us that was immediate. I fell for her and offered her my protection. She accepted, and asked if … if it was possible that we could be together forever.”

“You considered it.” You looked up at him, watching as Oberyn nodded slowly. “Because if Ellaria thought you were going to choose between Tyene and Isabel, you must have been much closer than before.”

“I was.” He met your gaze then, the line between his brows deep as he frowned. “But I made the mistake of telling her that it was in fact a possibility, and she … assumed.” Oh, no. “And with that assumption, our relationship changed. I loved her. The idea of … forever with her was not unappealing, but …”

“She thought a maybe was a definitely.” He nodded again and then winced when he looked away, like he was remembering actually living the experience. “Did she know about your past? About the Lannisters and your family?”

“She did. And at first, she told me that she understood my need for vengeance, even though she hadn’t ever seen or heard of the Lannisters before me. But as more time passed, I think … it became clear to her just how focused on that goal I was. I spent as much time with her as I could, but I was also with Ellaria and Tyene, making plans. It had been a long time since Cersei and Tywin had shown their faces so we thought it was probably coming. And when I reminded Isabel that there was a chance that I would turn her and our time together would be short because I did what needed to be done and did not survive, she …”

He lifted a hand a rubbed slowly at his jaw, still staring out at the city. You’d thought that Oberyn’s reasons for not turning the woman had been simple, but the previous few minutes had proven otherwise. And I think it’s going to get worse.

“She did not take it well. She said that Ellaria encouraging my revenge quest for over a thousand years was not a good idea. She said that if I kept it up, I would only do more harm to myself and the people I cared about. She said that once I turned her, I would understand that there was more to my life than the need to remove the Lannisters from the world. And that was … the last thing I needed to hear. Especially since Ellaria had been the one encouraging me to make an offer to Isabel in the first place.”

“I’ve said a lot of stupid things in my life, Oberyn, but none of them have been as stupid as telling you Ellaria was a bad influence on you.” He smiled at that but it was still sad, his hold on you tightening. “That wouldn’t have been a good start to Isabel’s new life.”

“No. And as much as I loved her, Ellaria’s presence was … is… always going to factor into my decisions. I will never compromise on that, no matter how many years I walk this Earth, or who I choose to have beside me.” And you shouldn’t have to. Ellaria isn’t just your Maker. She’s … everything to you. “Isabel didn’t take that well, and she definitely didn’t take me telling her that I’d chosen not to turn her because of her feelings about Ellaria well, either.”

He stopped speaking, and you watched the emotions pass across his features, his face more expressive than you’d ever seen it before. He tightened his jaw and then loosened it before finally looking down at you with another frown on his face that sent a shallow ache through your chest. “Are you -”

“Give me a second. This is not easy for me.” He closed his eyes and then turned toward you, kissing you on the forehead and lingering there. “I left her and went back to Ellaria and Tyene full time. I refused to turn Tyene because that girl deserved better than to be someone’s second choice, and Ellaria was far more equipped to handle her transformation than I was.” He spoke without pulling back, his lips brushing over your skin with each word. “But curiosity got the better of me, and after a little while, I went back to check in on Isabel, and she …”

You felt it before you saw it - the warmth of Oberyn’s tears falling against your skin. Without thinking twice, you slipped an arm around his back and the other under his shoulder, turning your head so that you could press your cheek to his chest. Whatever he’s going to say next is going to be awful.

“She cut my mark from her skin.”

You closed your eyes as the ache in your heart deepened. Without realizing it, you tightened your hold on him, fingers digging into his skin. You were expecting it to be bad given the way he was struggling to get through this part of the story. But that’s horrible. I can’t even imagine…

Your thoughts trailed off as he continued. “She said if I wouldn’t choose her, she didn’t want the safety my mark brought her. Since she could not see it, she… What she did to herself, it… her arm was … mutilated. The wound … it … it became infected, and the infection spread. She refused to let me do anything about it.” He paused again, and when he spoke, you heard the tremble in his voice. “She was too weak to get out of bed, but she was strong enough to tell me that all she’d done was make sure that I didn’t have to wait around for years to watch her die of old age since I wouldn’t give her a forever.”

“Oh, Oberyn.” Your blood ran cold at his words, and you knew that he’d heard your sharp intake of breath. “That’s… how could someone do that to you?” You knew that he’d loved the woman, but you thought she’d been selfish - especially when it came to Ellaria. And if she knew what avenging his family meant, she just tried to manipulate him. And that’s even worse.

“I don’t know. But she did die, and despite what she’d done, it … hurt to lose her. Before you, she was the last person I placed under my protection.” He sniffed, saying your name. “For four hundred years, there hasn’t been anyone else I have wanted to protect. Not even Cameron. Not even when I knew his life was in danger. Because the memory of Isabel - and what she believed that mark would eventually mean was so strong.”

He used one hand to ease your head away from his chest, tilting it to the side so that he could stare at the skin of your throat, leaving you to wonder at his thoughts. Do you regret it? Do you wish you’d asked? Do you wish you’d waited?

“Our marks of protection are all slightly different, but they all require …” He smiled briefly, raising his thumb so that the ring caught some of the light. “The right components.” You’d wanted to ask about the process but didn’t know how - especially since you didn’t have a clue where to start, so you were glad that he brought it up on his own. “It can be made from any metal, but most of us that are … ancient choose gold. It is melted down by an elder, and then some of our blood is added to the molten liquid. Even a few drops are powerful, which is why when I bit you, I pressed the sigil to your skin. I healed the space around it with my tongue, but… the metal itself healed that area… and since the metal bears the spear of House Martell… it remains on your skin, a visible reminder of just how important you are to me.”

“I wish it was visible for me, especially after seeing Ellaria, Tyene and Toban’s reactions to it.” The words slipped out - and at the realization of their implication, you sat straight up, eyes wide. Oh, no. I didn’t mean to… Especially after what we just talked about. Now he’s going to think -

“I wish you could see it too. But for right now … you can feel it.” He reached for you again, fingers trailing over your skin and sending heat throughout your body. And when he positioned his hand the same way he had the night he’d marked you, you gasped at the surge of warmth, the corners of his mouth lifting briefly as he gauged your reaction. “I’d almost forgotten what it feels like.” He leaned closer, curling his fingers slightly. “This is a good reminder.” Of what?

There were plenty of ways to interpret his words, but you chose to take them at face value - that he was simply happy to be around someone that understood the significance of what he’d given them - and didn’t try to take things a step further or ask for clarification. Even though I want to, and he has to know it by now. “I’m glad something good came out of this mess.” Letting the blanket drop, you pulled one hand free, raking your fingers through his hair. “Even something small.”

“It is not small, believe me.” He let go of your throat, his hand dropping to your shoulder and squeezing. “But I still have not told you about Cameron, and that’s what I promised to do.”

“We don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. I can sleep in.” He smiled at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “But yes. Tell me about him, please. And maybe something about Toban, too. Because -”

“Toban means well. He always has. And while I wouldn’t call it jealousy, because it’s clear he would do anything for her, the connection that Ellaria has with him has … started to bother me more as the years pass.” He rolled his eyes. “Our gifts are another thing that isn’t guaranteed, but depending on your lineage, they’re more or less likely. With Ellaria, they are very likely, since she’s one of the first.”

You’d assumed that to be the case about her age, but with the confirmation, you realized just how special your circumstances were - and how lucky Oberyn was. Because she barely saved him. And so anyone younger might not have.

“Ellaria can see the past via touch. Toban’s ability is to read situations and circumstances like no one I have ever met before. Tyene … well, she is able to convince anyone to do just about anything, and doesn’t hesitate to tell you what she thinks about it.”

You grinned at the admission, lifting a brow. “I’m not surprised by that, especially after the way she greeted me for the first time.”

He smiled, too, the man nodding. “Her treatment of you is how I knew she accepted you, but I was surprised that she did it as quickly as she did.”

“I like her, Oberyn. I’m glad that Ellaria turned her. She fits well with the two of you…. And Toban.” Dropping your hands to settle them in your lap, you cocked your head to the side. “What is your gift, though? You must have one, if the three of them do.”

“Nothing as exciting as seeing the past or knowing the future or the power of persuasion.” He sighed, the rise and fall of his chest a strange sight. “My… gift is also somewhat of a curse. The depth of my humanity is what I carry with me, no matter how much I’ve tried to ignore it sometimes. Despite my hesitation when it comes to getting attached, when it happens … I cannot help the way it makes me feel… and act, when the situation calls for it.”

“How is that a curse?”

“I haven’t been a human in 2,000 years. At that age, most of us have long since forgotten what it’s like to experience things the same way humans do. But I have never been able to disassociate from that part of myself entirely. I’ve tried to, but it has never worked for long.” He closed his eyes, pausing. “And that brings me to Cameron.”

“I’m going to stay quiet, Oberyn, and just let you talk. Because if I interrupt, I’ll -”

“Thank you. There aren’t many that know this full story, so…” He slipped a hand under the blanket and then under your top, his large palm pressed to your side. “That will help.”

You didn’t know what to expect when it came to the man’s story, but once he started speaking, you were enraptured - and wouldn’t have wanted to interject without his encouragement.

“Ellaria and I have done many things throughout the years to earn a living, finding ways to adapt to the times at hand and use current events to our advantage. Some of the stories about our kind are true, but there are others that aren’t. For example, some of us are quite persuasive, like Tyene, but we can’t just … bend people’s minds to our will without a second thought. Luckily, by the time I was turned, Ellaria had already amassed quite a fortune that she kept secret. Her name may have been Sand then, yet she was anything but poor. Those funds, along with what I was able to take away from my own family’s vaults throughout the years were more than we needed.”

He hummed, glancing down at you and then back out at the skyline, and you used the opportunity to take in his profile, parts of his face silhouetted in shadow, though it only made him more appealing.

“At the time I met Cameron, Ellaria and I were operating a network of Speakeasies on the East Coast. It was good money, easy money. And it was simple for us to attract visitors, because almost everyone was looking for a place to drink and socialize where they could be themselves in every way.”

You didn’t need clarification on that. When it came to Oberyn, excess was the norm, and he’d never been one to hide his true nature, or his desires. Sex and alcohol and freedom? People must have loved them back then. He stroked over your skin with his fingertips, humming low in his throat before he continued.

“Cameron was … special. He visited one of our locations in The Bowery, and caught my eye from across the room. I had two beautiful women in my lap and he still devoured me with his gaze as though they were not there at all. His confidence was… alluring. He wasn’t shy about what he wanted, and I liked that. We began a relationship, and I quickly realized that I cared for him, despite promising myself that I would keep things … loose. I did travel a lot, between locations, and Ellaria often filled in in my absence, so he got to know her, too.”

Oberyn lowered his head and rested it against yours, collecting himself. “Many like us came to America then, to take advantage of the rapidly expanding cities and the nightlife. There was a group - the one Toban told you about? From Braavos? They were also attempting to operate in the same market as we were, and it got … contentious.”

You weren’t surprised because Toban had given you a heads up, but that didn’t make the story any easier to hear. He’s been through so much. He’s had to adapt over and over and it’s still happening.

“I wanted to be sure that Cameron was safe, and since he knew what I was, it was a little easier. We trained together. He stayed close to me when I traveled. I told him what to look for when it came to potential attempts on his life. The sell swords attacked one of our clubs one night, burning it to the ground because they thought we were there … and that is when Cameron and I disappeared for a while. We needed to lay low, and it was during that time that he asked me to protect him with my mark. But I was hesitant, and you know why.”

“I do.” You mumbled the words, agreeing. “And I know how hard it probably still was for you to tell him no.”

“Punishing Cameron for Isabel’s behavior was unfair of me, and I know it. I knew it then, but that changed nothing. He asked me - repeatedly, why I would not protect him if I claimed to love him. All I could say was that I had never before used the mark as a last resort, and I didn’t want to start with him. There were many Others from Braavos, but they were clumsy, and I thought … I thought my presence would be enough. But Cameron got tired of me telling him no, and so he turned to Toban, who was spending a lot of time with Ellaria then, and one thing led to another.”

“Would … would the bond he felt with Toban because of the mark have changed if you’d turned him later? How does that work?”

“I do not know.” He shook his head, the man’s frown deepening. “For many, offering the mark is the precursor to offering them a second life. It is … I don’t think I have ever come across someone that is protected by one and a Child of another. But in Cameron’s case, it wouldn’t have mattered. He grew to resent me in the months following Toban’s decision, and his final request of me was just a last effort to make me choose.”

“Were he and Toban -”

“No, they were never together. Not to my knowledge, anyway. Toban marked him because time was running out, and it was either that or watch me lose someone else I cared for before I was ready, because they would have eventually killed him. It was only a matter of time. He turned him because after the mark, the two of them became close, since Cameron wanted less and less to do with me. After your first, it … I’m told that it becomes less likely that the bond is so strong between a Maker and a Child, so to Toban, it was as simple as granting a request. Cameron told me what was happening, and then the two of them left and were out of touch for twenty years.”

You found it hard to believe that Toban had been out of touch with Ellaria for so long, but stayed quiet, thoughts buzzing in your head. Oberyn’s differing use of his mark of protection through the years was staggering - from overusing it to not using it to choosing to use it sparingly to only offering it when the possibility of forever was on the table, but denying it to someone that was in immediate danger. And then there’s me. How do I factor into this? “You never considered turning Cameron?”

“Not once. I did love him. We were close. He knew me well, and we were happy together, but it wasn’t … I never felt the same as I did with Isabel, and that was a problem for me. He’s happy now, I’ve seen him once since he became one of us, but … the bond between us does not exist anymore. And as upset as I was with Toban at the time, his … interference was for the best. It kept Cameron alive, and it kept me from being forced to make a decision that I would have regretted later.”

You couldn’t help it - stifling a yawn in the middle of his words, one hand rising to cover your mouth and hide it. Shit. “I’m sorry, Oberyn. It’s just that it’s late, and you’re comfortable, and -”

“It is. And I am.” He laughed quietly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I am almost done, and then I will take you to bed.” Wait, what? “To sleep,” he clarified, lips finding your temple. “I just need to explain my feelings toward Toban, and then … then you will understand more.”

“Before you do that, I have something to ask.” Leaning back, you looked up as he stared down at you, the man nodding twice. “Tyene offered to change me if you wouldn’t. Toban said that he was glad things wouldn’t be the same with me as they were with Cameron, and that he looked forward to getting to know me when this was over … why? They’ve known me for a few days, and they’re already acting like I’m going to be around for a long time, and that they want it to happen.”

“They’re my family. They understand that everything going on right now is … fluid. But the fact that I acted so quickly and definitively with you, despite you being in no danger from any Others … it tells them everything they need to know about my feelings.” It was an answer, but only a partial one - though it would have to be enough. Because there are more important things to worry about.

“What if there are Others working with the Lannisters that Tyrion doesn’t know about? What if that’s a surprise? What if -”

“That is nothing to worry about. It is a rule set by our Elders that we give the Lannisters nothing. They’ve been trying to figure out how our blood works for centuries, and have offered unbelievable sums of money for assistance. But despite the fact that not all of the Others have a vendetta against them like mine or Ellaria’s, no one is willing to help them, because it means they’d be completely cut off if they lived long enough… and survived my retaliation against them.”

Toban’s words - no one would dare cross the Red Viper - echoed in your mind, and despite yourself, you shivered. If he has that much power over the entire community, then … then the fact that I’ve been accepted by him means even more than I thought it did. “I’m glad to hear it. And soon, helping the Lannisters won’t be something any of you have to worry about.”

“No, it won’t be.” He hummed and then squinted, though you knew that his vision was perfect. “The sun will start to rise in about 40 minutes, so I’m going to make this quick.” Quietly encouraging him to continue, you squeezed his bicep. “I have denied myself very little in my first life… or in this life. But I am consciously denying myself the connection that we have with our first. Over and over, I have had the opportunity to choose someone to fill that role, and I have walked away every time. Toban was Ellaria’s first, and the bond they have … as much as I want to experience that, it hasn’t ever felt right. She turned him with nothing but love for him in her heart, and I … I’ve already told you what I feel. The hate. The rage. The sadness. They are not all I feel, but they are always there, like a shadow. Making someone an offer of eternal life shouldn’t come with the burden of those things.”

No, it shouldn’t. “Only you can decide what the right time is, or who the right person is, Oberyn. And you told me the other night that once this is over? You might be able to make that offer to someone. I want that for you. And whoever it is is going to be the luckiest person in the world, because you -”

“No.” Using one hand, he turned your face toward his, the corners of his mouth lifting in a tiny smile. “I will be the luckiest man on this planet if they say yes.” Oberyn kissed you softly, his lips parted so that your lower one fit between them.

He didn’t say you, don’t get your hopes up. But it was impossible not to - all of Oberyn’s words and explanations aligned with his actions and your presence in his life, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that he was referring to you when he mentioned an after for someone.

“I do not hate Toban. I could never truly despise someone that holds such a large portion of Ellaria’s heart. But he has something I haven’t been able to seriously consider for myself, and seeing him … and them together is a reminder of that.”

You kissed him when he was done speaking, puckered lips trailing over his and then to his cheek, pausing over the space where his dimple appeared each time he smiled and then moving back to his mouth. You lingered there, wanting to deepen it, but Oberyn decided for you, shaking his head and leaning back. “We need to go inside. If I get carried away with you out here, the sun will not be pleasant.”

“Of course.” Pushing yourself to your feet, you kept the blanket wrapped around you, staring down at where he still sat. “Plus, unless I missed something in the last few hours, you and Ellaria haven’t had enough time to take care of what you need to, so… getting carried away isn’t an option.”

“We have not.” He stood, too, reaching out to put an arm around your shoulders. “But there are other things that you and I could do that would make me lose track of time.”

“Yeah?” Feeling bold, you slid your arm around his back, hand landing on his hip and your fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of the pants he wore. “Are any of those possible in that bedroom with the drapes shut?”

“If you’re not too tired, we can find out.”

You were exhausted, but his words sent a jolt of adrenaline through you, your eyes moving to the partially open door. I’ll never be too tired to find out with you, Oberyn. What you’d discussed had likely taken a lot out of him, but you never would have known based on the way he led you back into the bedroom and then fluidly worked to secure the door and drapes - ensuring that not even a sliver of sunlight would leak through when it rose.

You went into the bathroom while he did that, taking a few moments when you’d finished to stare at yourself in the mirror. You could feel the mark he’d given you - a dull thrum against the side of your throat, and even though you knew it wouldn’t do any good, you leaned in and squinted at your reflection. I know what it’s supposed to look like, but I really wish I could see it just once.

And you didn’t even mean as a result of being turned - though if that were the case, you’d be able to see it any time you looked into the mirror. I just mean … Swirling your fingertips slowly over your skin, you sighed. I want to see what he sees.

A knock at the door startled you. When it pushed open a few seconds later, Oberyn peaking around the edge, you straightened up and smiled. “You can come in. I guess.”

He stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him. Oh, he took his shirt off. “The room is ready. We will be able to rest for as long as we need to.”

“What do you do while I… while the person you’re in bed with is sleeping?” You watched his expression in the mirror, both of Oberyn’s eyebrows shooting upward. “You don’t really sleep, so -”

“I do need rest. When it’s a human I’m with, my body just sort of goes into a … meditative state. I’m still alert and aware in case of danger, but if someone were to see me, they’d think I was asleep.” He stepped behind you, extending his arms so that he could grip the edges of the counter on either side of your body. “You have seen me actually sleep, though. After the Mountain? My body was doing everything possible to heal, and that meant being truly unconscious.”

Oberyn pressed his chest to your back, never breaking eye contact with your reflection. “So it’s like a recharge. Even though you technically don’t need it, you still… keep up appearances.”

“I do.” He nodded, turning his head to press his lips to the angle of your jaw. “When I have a reason to.” I’m the reason right now? “I also must admit to something.” He kissed you again, mouth moving closer to your ear. “In the last few days, I have spent more than a few hours just watching you sleep.”

“Creep.” But you felt your entire body growing warm at his words, a sharp inhale of breath your only response when he let go of the counter and wound his arms around you to pull you even closer. “Oberyn.”

“I have been trying to figure out what it is about you that has drawn me in so quickly.” He hummed, the man pushing your shirt up and gliding his fingers over your skin. “Why I was so … moved to do whatever it took to protect you, even when I was … impaired and hadn’t had the urge to give that gift to anyone in hundreds of years.”

“Does the why matter?” Sighing as he stroked the skin beneath your belly button, you tipped your head back, resting it against his shoulder. “It doesn’t to me, because whatever the reason, it means … you’re in my life now, and I’m in yours. Whatever that means going forward is something that we’ll have to figure out, but …” Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, pressing your lips together. “Do you regret what you did? Do you wish you hadn’t been -”

“No.” It was almost a growl, Oberyn’s palm flattening against your belly, the other one moving up your body and sliding beneath the neckline of your shirt so that he could settle it over your heart. “I regret the timing, yes, and not being able to explain what I wanted to do beforehand… but when it comes to choosing you?” He nuzzled against the side of your face, his upper lip curling. “There is no regret.”

It made you feel better.

When you turned your head toward him, he was waiting, the man’s lips already parted so that he could pull yours between them, the scrape of his teeth making you groan. Reaching up, you used one hand to grip his hair, fingers twisting in the silver-streaked locks. He pressed harder on your chest, and once again, you knew he was monitoring your heartbeat. But this time, it’s not because he’s afraid it’s too slow.

He kissed you harder, his mouth moving with yours - and the hand on your abdomen moved lower, the tips of his fingers skimming the waistband of your sweats. You whimpered then, Oberyn swallowing the sound - but it only seemed to encourage him. Wait, though. Wait because …

Pulling away from him with a gasp, you let out a shuddering breath, and were unsurprised to see mischief in his eyes, one of his brows raised. “Can, um…” Fighting to catch your breath, you chewed on your lower lip and wrinkled your nose. This is stupid. “Can they hear us? I know this is a big apartment, but …”

To his credit, Oberyn didn’t outright laugh at you. Instead he just murmured your name and leaned in to kiss you, his fingers curling slightly. “Our hearing is very good, yes. But with age and experience, we are able to … tune things out. It becomes like background noise for us unless we’re actively listening. I cannot say that they won’t all know that something is going on in here because of your heartbeat or any noises we make, but I can assure you that Ellaria and Toban are quite occupied themselves, and Tyene is more like a teenager than you know.”

“Doesn’t want to hear either of her parents having sex? Got it.” You grinned at that, feeling marginally more at ease. “I just didn’t want to be rude, Oberyn. I know you’ll tell me that I’m worrying for nothing, but …”

“I certainly haven’t been listening to them, I can promise you that.” The look in his eyes changed briefly, but then he was focused on you again, the intensity back. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I understand.” You considered his words for a few seconds, breaking eye contact and then closing both of yours.

Everything you knew about Oberyn Martell - from Westerosi history books and actually meeting him in person - told you that while he had very few limitations when it came to his behavior, he was considerate of others when the situation called for it.

He wouldn’t force you to do anything, and his honesty about the fact that three supernatural beings also in the apartment could probably hear everything happening was proof that you had a choice about whether or not to move forward. But they all already know how he is. They know how he feels, and how I feel, and …

“I want this, Oberyn.” His hold on you tightened, and when you lifted your head again to lock eyes with him in the mirror, you nodded twice. “But, the first time we’re actually together? I’d prefer if it was just the two of us, you know?”

“Of course.” The hand at your chest dropped a few inches, Oberyn’s wrist caught on the neckline of your shirt as he palmed one breast. “No one to listen. No one to interrupt. No one to …” He pressed his lips to your cheek and then moved them down, kissing the space just beneath your ear and then against the column of your throat. “No one to make either of us leave that bed before we’re ready.”

You moaned at that - the sound loud, and when he latched his lips against your skin and sucked, you did it again, not caring at all who was listening. He wasn’t biting you, but part of you wished that he would - and you didn’t know what exactly that said about you. “I can’t wait.” The thought of you and Oberyn - uninterrupted and in a bed together, the man finally able to give you what you both desperately wanted - was enough to make your knees shake.

But he kept you upright, releasing your skin and then smiling against it as he continued to kiss his way forward. “On that night,” he whispered, lips moving over the part of your collarbone that was exposed, “on that night, I am going to kiss every single part of you that I marred when I was not well.”

“Oberyn, you don’t have to -”

“It is not for you.” He shook his head, the hand at your waist sliding marginally lower while the one on your chest moved in a slow circle, one fingertip circling your nipple. “It is for me. And it is the only way I can begin to forgive myself.” You knew that telling him that you’d already forgiven him was unnecessary - he’d made the decision to make up for what he’d done, and you couldn’t sway him. “But for now…” He took a step forward, the small movement aligning your thighs with the edge of the counter. “This is for you.”

He removed his hand from beneath your shirt and then used both of his to pull it upward, the man silent as he moved. Raising your arms to allow him to fully remove it, you let out a shuddering breath at the sight of your bare torso in the mirror, watching as he wrapped his arms around you again. He’s just watching me. Watching … us.

The heat of his body was soft against your skin, the man’s palms warmer where they pressed to it - but you were focused on the intensity of his gaze, his eyes following the movement of his fingers as he touched you. “Oberyn, what are …” You gasped when his right hand slid down your stomach, fingers gliding beneath your waistband again - but instead of continuing down, he held it there, humming appreciatively. “You seem pleased with yourself, Prince Oberyn.”

That got a laugh out of him, the smile spreading across his face as he palmed your chest with his other hand. But when Oberyn said your name next, there was no trace of laughter in his voice. Instead, it was low and full of want, his eyes blazing in the mirror’s reflection. “You’ll be pleased in a few minutes, too. That is a promise.”

You managed little more than a quiet sigh in response, but you nodded, never taking your eyes off of him. He was pressed against you from behind, the man’s body firm, and when he used one foot to nudge yours apart, you moved. Not much - just enough to widen your stance for him. Please touch me, Oberyn. Please, just …

Reaching up with one hand, you dragged your fingers through the hair laying against the nape of his neck as you finally turned your head toward him, your upper body twisting slightly. It was enough to allow you to kiss him, your mouth pressed to his as your fingers curled.

Despite his age and his circumstances - and the fact that your friends had the element of surprise, you knew that nothing was promised beyond the moments you were living in. Especially for me, you thought as you continued to kiss him, lips parting in a signal to him that you wanted more. Because out of everyone, I’m the only one without a contingency plan or immortal blood.

He must have noticed a change in your heartbeat, because Oberyn pulled away moments later, his frown deep. “What is wrong? Do you want me to stop?”

“No. I don’t.” Closing your eyes, you bit down on your lower lip. “I’m just … so much could go wrong, Oberyn. And I’m scared that I’ll lose you before …” You pulled your hand from his head, using it to cover your mouth. Just say it. “I’m scared that I’ll lose you before I can really get to know you. Or that something will happen to me, and then…” And then you’ll lose someone else you care about earlier than planned.

“You will not lose me.” He leaned in, running his nose along your temple. “Not during this conflict, and definitely not tonight.” He kissed you then, lips landing on the corner of one eye. “And nothing is going to happen to you… nothing that you don’t like, anyway.” You felt his smile, the man pausing before he spoke again - that time, directly into your ear. “Let me take care of you, issa ōños.”

You knew it was Valyrian, but you didn’t know what he’d said - and didn’t want to stop him and ask, especially when his hand moved even lower, the edges of his nails dragging against your sensitive skin and making your hips jerk backward into his. He was hard and made no effort to conceal that from you, Oberyn bending one knee and sliding that foot between both of your legs so that you could feel the length of him against the back of your hip.

It also stabilized you, your lips curving into a tiny smile at the realization. But that was cut off when he kissed you again, Oberyn’s lips crushing yours with what you could only describe as a slight desperation. You have nothing to prove to me, Oberyn. Nothing at all.

The hand on your chest moved upward, palm pausing over your heart for long moments as the kiss continued, desperation turning into something like need as he felt the steady - though elevated - beat of it. He nodded once without breaking the kiss, and when you circled your hips slowly, leaning the weight of your upper body into his, Oberyn was ready.

He licked into your mouth, the drag of his tongue long and slow. It took you a few seconds to realize that he’d dropped his hand again, slipping his fingers between your legs and curving them - the breadth of them pressed against the apex of your thighs. His touch was welcome, and when he stroked you with one long finger, you moaned into his mouth, your hand rising again to let your fingers tangle in his hair.

He continued with only one finger, though he sped up after a minute or so, the man not doing anything but touching you until he broke the kiss to let you breathe. You gasped a breath into your lungs, eyes squeezed shut, and when Oberyn’s hand moved upward from your chest and to your throat, you let it out shakily at what you knew was coming.

He made contact with the mark on your neck at the same time one finger slipped into you, Oberyn humming as you breathed out his name, the sound so quiet that only someone with his hearing would have known. Your muscles clenched around his finger, your body accommodating him immediately - though you wanted more, and knew that he’d want you to say so.

You opened your mouth to tell him, turning your head just enough so that you could steal a quick kiss, but when your lips met, you felt the sharp sting of his teeth - the man nicking your lip and then snapping his head back before you could even react. His fangs are out. Is that new or has it been that way every time we’ve been close like this? “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“Don’t apologize for what you are, Oberyn.” You dragged your tongue slowly over the area he’d bitten, your tongue coming away coated in the tang of copper. You met his eyes again - directly that time, and not in the mirror - and shook your head without looking away. “I can handle it, and I want to.” It was the truth - you needed him to know that no part of him or who he was or what he wanted frightened you or made you uncomfortable in any way, and that you trusted him to toe the line of safety with you in every situation. “Can…” Swallowing, you nodded. “Can I see?”

He hesitated but it was brief. Oberyn’s hand dropped from your neck back to your upper chest, the motion of his other hand paused, too. “Yes. You can.” He opened his mouth again, tipping his head back and baring his teeth - and you watched as his fangs descended, the sharp points coming into view with no change in his expression. Oberyn stayed still, the man’s eyes on your face as you stared at what he was showing you.

They were beautiful - much like the rest of him was - and without thinking about it, you raised your hand slowly, fingertips caressing his cheek as your thumb hovered just in front of his open mouth. “Does it hurt?” You spoke quietly, wondering what he felt in the rhythm of your heartbeat. “When they come down?”

“No.” He prodded at one with the tip of his tongue, your eyes following the movement. “It never has.” You wanted to touch one of them - to press the pad of your thumb against the point, testing the sharpness, but had no idea if that would be crossing the line of acceptability. “People used to fear them, even after I told them what I was. I became … adept at keeping them hidden. At not letting my natural reaction to … others allow them to be visible.”

“So they come out when you’re turned on?” Arching a brow, you grinned at him again. “Good to know.” The edge of your nail caught on his lower lip, and then Oberyn snapped his teeth at you, playfully nipping at it before turning his head to kiss the inside of your wrist with a lingering press of his lips. “Oberyn.” You got his attention with a single word, his gaze rising to lock with yours again. “You have my permission to … bite me if that’s what you want.”

It sounded stupid coming from you - the words leaving your lips and echoing in the small space. But he probably needs to hear it, because he was so afraid I’d be mad or off-put and … I’m not. “Is it what you want?”

He pulled you closer to his body, Oberyn’s fingers curling against your core, and you nodded in return. “Yes. I want you, and that urge is a part of who you are, so… it is.” His eyes flashed at your admission, the man’s pupils widening - and then he was kissing you again, none of the previous restraint present.

Instead, he took the lead, his mouth pressed to yours with some force as the hand between your legs began to move again. But that time, Oberyn went with two fingers, much as he had done in the safehouse. It felt better - your body’s immediate reaction to cant your hips forward over and over into his touch, chasing the pressure of the heel of his hand on each backstroke.

He bit your lip again before he moved his mouth to your jaw, the points of his teeth scraping over it and then dragging along your cheek, the man’s plush lips trailing a second path over your heated skin.

Closing your eyes and breathing hard, you angled your head away and gave him a better route to your neck, knowing full well that he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the mark - but still wanting his mouth on it, wanting to feel the heat of his lips as the effect of the claim he’d made on you coursed through your body. Not a claim, you reminded yourself as he bit on your earlobe before releasing it. A promise. A reminder that he wants to keep me safe.

And Oberyn did press his lips to your mark moments later, along with a twist of his wrist that left his fingers buried in you but also allowed him to circle his thumb over the spot just above them, your hips jerking back once more. His kiss burned, the connection between you electric in its intensity, and you forced your eyes open, watching what was going on in the mirror.

It was a sight you’d never forget - one of his hands pressed so tightly to your chest that your flesh dimpled beneath it, the other hidden beneath the sweats you still wore, the motion of the fabric over the movement of his fingers and the flex of the muscles in his wrist and forearm something that you could have watched for hours.

But it was his head that you focused on, the crown of dark curls streaked with silver repositioned after only a few seconds and giving you a view of his brow and nose as he moved away from your throat and back to the place where your neck met your shoulder.

You didn’t even notice your own bare skin - chest on full display in the warm light of the vanity fixture - because you were so focused on him and what he was doing. But nothing could have prepared you for Oberyn raising his eyes and turning his head so that he could rest his chin on your shoulder.

He curled his fingers inside of you at the same moment he smirked, and then he opened his mouth, letting you watch as his fangs descended once more. He’s going to … Oh, he’s…

You knew it was coming and yet you were still unprepared for the way it felt the moment he sunk his teeth into your skin, the man’s low moan at the taste of you sending a shiver of pleasure throughout your entire body. Your first instinct was to close your eyes but you forced yourself to keep them open, watching as your mouth dropped open, lips forming his name though you didn’t speak it out loud.

He didn’t actually drink from you the same way he had the first night. Instead, Oberyn sipped slowly, timing the swallows with the strokes of his fingers, your body following his lead. You lifted one hand and laid it over the one he had on your chest, using the other one to grip the edge of the counter even though it was unnecessary.

You wanted to watch - wanted to see the exact moment you fell apart from his touch and his mouth, but instead of doing that, you closed your eyes and let yourself relax into him, the man supporting your weight, even as your hips continued to move in tandem with his hand.

There was pressure building in your lower belly - the result of his touch and his bite, and if you could sense it, you knew that he likely could, too. But I haven’t touched him. I haven’t … he hasn’t… You groaned, forcing your eyes open and saying his name, the man looking up without pulling his mouth away from your skin. His eyes were dark - the pupils so wide that you couldn’t tell where they ended, and there was a tiny trickle of blood at one corner of his mouth that made you gasp when you saw it. That’s my … oh, shit.

But it didn’t deter you, and when you spoke moments later, your voice was low, though you heard the certainty in your tone. “Touch yourself, Oberyn. I know you want to.”

His eyes rolled back and then he shut them, pulling the hand on your chest out from beneath yours as he sucked on your shoulder, and then you felt that hand slide down your body before it joined the other one between your legs. What the fuck is he…

Before you could even finish your thought, Oberyn deftly replaced his first hand with the second, never missing a beat in the rhythm of his touch. Oh, he’s … oh, shit. Humming, you watched as he removed the first hand - his fingers glistening with your slick - and drew it back between your bodies, pushing the pants he wore down so that he could do what you’d told him to.

He grunted against your skin and then you felt him move - stroking himself slowly, the man’s knuckles brushing against your back and hip. He sped up the motion of his other hand, and you glanced down, catching a glimpse of what was going on behind you - his large hand wrapped around his length, lower body pulled away from yours enough to give him the space he needed to glide easily.

You had no idea what a vampire’s release would be like - or if it would be anything at all - but before you could dwell on the thought, Oberyn’s thumb found a sweet spot again, the man pressing down against your skin before circling slowly, another prolonged suck on your shoulder making you gasp.

It was almost too much - definitely more than you’d experienced with him the first time he’d touched you, but at the same time, it was nowhere close to being enough. Will it ever be? You wondered as you forced your eyes to stay open, gaze focused on the flex of the tendons in his wrist and the way the length of him looked - tip flushed, the rest of him and his hand coated in you.

Without warning, Oberyn released your shoulder and lifted his head, and you let out a moan at what he left behind - a double set of puncture wounds on your skin, thin trails of blood oozing from them and more of the same coating his lower lip. He looked almost drunk, his eyelids heavy, and for a few seconds, you thought he was going to stay like that… but you were wrong.

“Give me your hand.” Voice low, he made the demand, Oberyn’s tongue cleaning the blood from his mouth. “Over mine.” Ducking his head, you felt as he kissed the place he bit once more, followed by the drag of his tongue, which felt almost as good as the bite itself. But you moved your hand at the same time, making a guess that he wasn’t asking for help touching you and reaching back so that you could wrap your fingers over his mid-stroke.

He grunted at your touch, and before you could question him further, it was your hand resting against his skin, Oberyn’s larger one securely atop yours and guiding you. He was warm against your palm, the heft of him large but not uncomfortable, and as you took over, Oberyn’s focus shifted back to the hand he had between your legs, the speed of those thrusts increasing, as did the pace of his thumb.

It felt amazing - better than anything that had ever been done to your body before, and Oberyn knew it, the man’s smile turning lazy as he focused on the mirror. “Normally I would prolong this,” he murmured, mouth moving along your skin. “To see how long you could remain right on the edge.” No, please. Not tonight. I just want … “But that is not what either of us needs tonight.” He sighed, mouthing at the base of your throat and then parting his lips to bite again - that time without his fangs. “Tonight you just need me.”

It was the truth - and it didn’t matter how or why he knew it, and so you nodded, swallowing and tipping your head back as you paused your hand long enough to swirl your thumb over his head, the man twitching at the touch. Squeezing once in agreement, you then resumed your movement - and Oberyn changed his, holding his fingers still inside you while the third kept moving - the pace increasing.

“Oberyn!” You cried out, your voice much louder than you’d anticipated, but it only encouraged him, the muscles in your abdomen tightening as your toes curled, Oberyn’s hand squeezing yours once more before releasing it. He moved that hand up to your chest again, the weight of his touch grounding you and holding you tight against his body. Even though your eyes snapped closed, you knew why he was touching you there - knew what he was searching for. And I hope he likes it, you thought even as your lips fell open in a series of pants, breath shaky. My fucking heart is racing, and …

“There it is,” he whispered, followed by a quiet hum of approval. “There you go.”

You fell apart moments later, your body nearly convulsing at his touch - your free hand slapping against the countertop as the one you had on him stuttered in its motion, grip tightening. Your muscles clenched around his fingers, and Oberyn kept them still, the man swearing in another language - one that you didn’t recognize before turning to kiss the underside of your jaw, the press of his lips against the pulse in your neck welcome.

He eased you through it, his touch lengthening your orgasm, but once the haze of pleasure had begun to subside, you took a deep, shaky breath and used the hand on the counter to touch his wrist, stopping the motion. Stop. Stop, Oberyn. “Let me turn around, Oberyn.”

He slipped his fingers from inside of you, but didn’t pull his hand free from beneath your sweats. You let him go long enough to turn and face him, knees wobbly and your chest heaving, but when you met his eyes, you saw understanding in them. “Are you -”

“Be quiet.” Wetting your lips, you shook your head. “Be quiet and let me take care of you now.” His eyes flashed but he didn’t speak, and when you touched him again, your grip was certain - your confidence growing with each passing second.

He crowded you against the counter again, and without thinking, you maneuvered yourself so that you were sitting on the edge of it, legs spread so that Oberyn could step between them. It gave you better access, and when you reached up with your free hand, gripping the hair at the back of his neck and urging him to kiss you, Oberyn didn’t hesitate.

It was a deep kiss, Oberyn’s tongue seeking entrance to your mouth immediately, and as he kissed you, his hips began to rock forward, the tiny thrusts forcing more of him through your grip. He held you with both hands - one of them pressed to the center of your back, the other one gripping the back of your neck and holding you in place, but despite the power behind it, his grip was gentle.

You felt his fangs again when he bit on your lower lip but he didn’t pierce the skin, and when you gasped, the sound turning into a moan moments later, Oberyn groaned too, his hips moving faster. He broke the kiss, humming out your name. “I am close. I… where do y-”

“Anywhere.” Pressing a kiss to his lips, you shook your head. “Anywhere, Oberyn.” He grunted at your words but didn’t speak again, and when Oberyn kissed you hard, mouth sealed over yours, you knew that close meant imminent.

Your heart racing again, you swirled your thumb over his tip and squeezed, the speed of your hand increasing as Oberyn’s lips parted, though he didn’t pull back from you. Forcing your eyes open, you tilted your head down to stare between your bodies, twisting your wrist so that when he came, it would hit your belly - and that change was all he needed, the man pulsing in your hand as he followed you over the edge.

It coated your skin, pearly streaks hitting your stomach, the volume increasing with each stroke of your hand until he was nearly shuddering in your grip, Oberyn’s muscles twitching though he didn’t seem to have any trouble staying on his feet. “Fuck.” He swore, the sound beautiful to your ears. “You just … you are …”

“Hold that thought, Prince Oberyn.” With one more stroke - and a final squeeze - you released him, fingertips trailing up his stomach until you could press your hand over his heart. It was strange to feel nothing beneath your palm, but it wasn’t difficult to imagine what it would have felt like - his chest rising and falling rapidly while he struggled to catch his breath, his lips parted as he sucked air between them. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s alive in all the ways that count. Your hand moved higher, fingers curling around the side of his throat and your thumb sliding over his jawline. “Ok, now you can finish.”

“I just did.” He raised an eyebrow. “All over your -” You laughed, eyes closing and your chin dropping, but when Oberyn said your name, you looked back up at him. “I know you heard me earlier, heard what I called you?” Oh, he’s … Nodding, you took a deep breath and held it. “Issa ōños, it means … it means my light. And that is what you are to me, because you’ve shown me something I haven’t seen in a very long time.”

Your heart was racing, his explanation of the words much more intimate than you’d ever expected them to be. “I have?” He nodded, both of his hands slipping down toward your waist.

“The way forward. Hope. What it means to … care for someone again. I am beginning to see an end to the darkness I have lived with for so long.” You didn’t know what to say, and any of the things that crossed your mind seemed like too little - so you just leaned forward and kissed him gently, stroking the back of his head. When the kiss ended, neither of you said anything - but you didn’t separate, either, locked in place and holding each other, his forehead pressed to yours. We can’t stay here, though.

“We should get cleaned up, Oberyn. I need to lay down.” Sighing, you straightened up and looked into his eyes. “And I need to … figure out how to respond to what you just said, because -”

“No. You don’t. Not yet.” He smiled, the expression understanding. “I just wanted you to know.” The man backed off, though he was reluctant to let you go. “It is important that you know.”

He stepped away, giving you the room you needed to climb off of the counter and begin to clean up, doing the same thing beside you before pulling his pants back on. Everything he says is important. But that seems … very important. And I just … I don’t know what to think.

Luckily for you, there was plenty of time, since you had days before the engagement party and wedding, and you weren’t involved in every aspect of the attack plan. But it can wait until I wake up. You yawned, swaying on your feet as you dried your face off with a fluffy towel, but then you felt Oberyn’s arms around you again, his mouth right next to your ear. “It’s time for bed. You can barely stand.”

You didn’t argue, and only a few seconds later, you were horizontal on the comfortable mattress, the thick blanket covering you while Oberyn pressed against you from behind.

You were drowsy, and knew that it wouldn’t take long to fall asleep, but you forced yourself to speak one final time, clearing your throat without opening your eyes. “I know you won’t sleep, but I hope you get some rest.” He chuckled, his mouth pressed to the back of your shoulder. “I’ll see you when I wake up. I lo-”

You stopped yourself just in time, breath catching in your throat. Oh, no. Oh, I just almost… His arm tightened around you, Oberyn pulling you as close as he could. “I will be here.” I almost just fucked everything up. I almost ruined everything.

You were exhausted, but the racing of your heart at the near admission kept you awake for a long time. And if Oberyn noticed - which you knew that he did - he didn’t comment on it, his body still behind yours.

“You’re serious?” You looked back and forth between them, eyes wide. “Tyene? Toban? You’re telling me that -”

“Yes. We’ve all been cooped up in here for a week, and you haven’t been anywhere for almost two aside from coming here.” The girl grinned, holding out a hand. “We’re going out tonight.”

“But shouldn’t we -” You bit your lip, shaking your head. “Shouldn’t you two be worried about preparing for the wedding instead of worrying about babysitting a human? The engagement party is tomorrow, and…” Trailing off, you looked at Toban’s face, watching as he studied you. “That’s why we’re leaving.”

Closing your eyes, you nodded. It’s because the party is tomorrow. “After tomorrow, we lose the element of surprise.” Tyene stepped forward, glancing at Toban. “Or at least Oberyn and Ellaria do. So between then and the wedding, things will be … harder for us. Unless we go tonight, we won’t be able to until it’s all over because they might be looking.”

“And at that point, none of us will be hiding anymore.” Toban cleared his throat, saying your name. “So tonight, the three of us are going to leave the apartment, you are going to check in with someone that you know as proof of life, and Tyene and I are going to fuel up for what is coming.”

That was code for find someone to drink from, though he was tactful about admitting it. “That’s not the only reason we’re leaving.” You smiled at her, nodding, even though you felt a pang in your chest. “But alright. Let me get changed. I don’t think I want my first time out and around people in such a long time to be in sweatpants.” She grinned, turning and leaving the room, though Toban remained, the man eyeing you curiously. “What? What did -”

“He expects you to be upset.” Frowning, Toban shook his head. “But you aren’t… at least in the way it would make sense for you to be.”

“Oberyn told me about your gift.” You stood, taking a deep breath. “And you’re right, I do feel … something right now, but … two thousand years of history between them? I’ve known him for fifteen seconds in comparison. And if this is what needs to happen so that he can focus on what’s coming, there’s no way I can be mad about it.” You chewed on your lip and then shook your head. “This isn’t a shock to me, Toban. I knew it was going to happen.If anything, I’m surprised it took this long.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead closed his eyes, nodding. He doesn’t know what to say. “How long do you need to get ready?” Toban cleared his throat. “An hour?”

“No, not even close.” Glancing around the room, you shrugged. “Twenty minutes? A half hour?” He agreed and then followed Tyene out of the room, leaving you alone. There were plenty of clothes for you to choose from, and after checking the weather on one of the TV channels, you opted for a pair of jeans and a light colored tee, pulling a cardigan over it.

From there, you moved to the vanity, sliding onto the bench seat and reaching for the small bag of toiletries that included makeup, trying to decide whether or not you wanted to put in the effort. Not like I’m trying to impress anyone.

“I have warned them that if anything happens to you, they will answer to me.”

Turning your head toward the voice, you rolled your eyes when you saw Oberyn leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed. “You wouldn’t have agreed to let me leave this apartment if you thought something might happen.” He pushed off of the wall and moved toward where you sat, the man settling both hands on your shoulders. “It’ll be good to get outside, Oberyn, to be around other people again.”

“Are we not enough?” You thought about lying and then opted not to, setting the compact you held back down as you turned your head again to look up at him.

“It’s not that you aren’t enough. I just … I went from interacting with dozens of people every day and using all kinds of technology whenever I wanted to the confines of an apartment, no phone, and the same four faces for the last two weeks.” Aside from Clegane and Tyrion, that is. “It was a big change.”

“You’ll be back in that world full time soon enough.” He cleared his throat. “I’m … sorry that this is what your life has become. You should not have to hide here, with us. This is not your fight.”

“It is, though.” Eyeing yourself in the mirror, you shrugged. “It became my fight the second you kissed me at that party, Oberyn. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you win it.” Even if that means going out to a bar so that you can fuck the lingering effects of Ellaria’s blood from your system. “Besides, spending time with Toban and Tyene will be … interesting. I’m sure they’ll have a ton of stories to tell me, and with you and Ellaria out of earshot, they won’t have to worry about censoring themselves.”

He laughed at that but didn’t speak, his eyes on you as you applied mascara. You could see his reflection in the mirror, the man’s brow furrowed, and you wondered what it would actually take for him to speak up. I’ve never seen him like this. He twisted the ring on his thumb with two fingers, still silent when you picked up another brush - but Oberyn finally broke the silence a few seconds later, his tone full of confusion.

“You are calm. Your heartbeat is … steady.” He frowned, glancing up at the ceiling. “Yet you know what is going to happen when -”

“Oberyn.” Capping your eyeliner, you spun on the bench to face him, hands in your lap. “Yes. I know that when the three of us are gone, you and Ellaria are going to fuck.” You knew it was more than that, but being blunt was the route you chose. “You need to be clearheaded for tomorrow, and even though having the extra stamina from her blood would probably be helpful if something happens, the focus is more important.”

“Among other things.” He mumbled the words and then held a hand out, waiting for you to take it. “I wish it did not have to be this way.”

“Why?” He pulled you to your feet, his free hand going to your waist. “You love her, Oberyn. You haven’t seen her in a while, and this is probably the longest the two of you have ever gone in each other’s presence without jumping into bed.” Settling your hand on his chest, you said his name again. “I will never be jealous of what the two of you have. She saved your life twice that I know about, and probably countless more times between, too.” He smiled at that - just a twitch of his lips but it was there, and so you continued. “Plus, if that night in the bathroom was any indication, my pelvis and ribs wouldn’t stand a chance with you until you get that out of your system.” Arching a brow, you stared at him for a few seconds, giving your words time to land.

You hadn’t discussed what had happened between you - or what you’d almost said - after waking up, and the following few days had been filled with planning sessions, meaning that Oberyn’s attention was divided. You’d thought about it, of course, and figured that he had, too … but you knew that he had far more important things to worry about.

But those things didn’t keep him from you in the time before you went to bed each day, Oberyn taking breaks to lay with you until you’d fallen asleep, his hand stroking over the parts of your body that he could reach and the two of you trading deep, slow kisses until your eyes closed and he had the opportunity to extricate himself, heading back into the other room with Ellaria, Toban and Tyene.

You only knew this was the case because you’d woken up to an empty bed one night, the fear that he was gone filling you for long moments and only abating when you heard his voice from the other room, Toban’s joining in moments later. He’d always been in bed again when you woke up, though, the comforting weight of him beside you and his face the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.

Tyrion hadn’t come back, but packages from him had arrived throughout the week - blueprints and files, a secure phone that he’d used to call your group twice - and so you knew that he was still all in. You also knew that while the actual plan was to attack just before the wedding ceremony, there were contingencies in place in case the Lannisters acted out of character and attempted anything at the party.

“You certainly did not complain about the way I was touching you the other night.” Narrowing his eyes playfully, he cocked his head to the side. “Or the way I used my hands.”

“And I never would, but Oberyn, I do enjoy walking and being able to comfortably sit in chairs and breathing without pain, so … yeah. Five or six thousand years is a lot more than two, so -” Leaning in, you kissed him on the mouth, nodding. “Yes. You do what you need to do and I’m going to go and convince Toban and Tyene to let me have a couple cheap beers and the greasiest -”

“Do you want me to stay in the other room tonight?” His hands went to your waist, all traces of humor gone from his tone. “The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.” That threw you, and you were unable to keep your expression from changing before you got yourself under control. Oh, Oberyn.

“I’m … not sure.” Averting your eyes, you pressed your lips together. “I don’t think I’ll be able to answer that until I get back, to be honest.”

“Thank you. Thank you for being -”

“Oberyn, will you please stop being annoying and let her leave?” Tyene popped her head into the room, a clear look of irritation on her face. “This isn’t the inquisition, and -” He stepped backwards, pulling you with him without looking away. But Oberyn used one hand to shove the girl back into the hallway, followed by closing the door before he pressed his back to it, two quick knocks from outside immediately following. “Two minutes, Martell. Or I’m breaking this door down, and -”

“I’ll be out in one, Tyene!” Raising your voice, you cut her off before turning your full attention to Oberyn. “I’ll see you when I get back.” You contemplated telling him to have fun, but decided against it, choosing instead to lean closer, winding your arms around his neck and tucking your head in. “In one piece, too. Maybe even a little tipsy. We’ll see.”

“We will.” He kissed the top of your head, arms snaking around your waist. “Please be careful. Stay close to them. If one of them -”

“I’ll listen to them the same way I would you.” Backing off, you nodded. “I promise. Now kiss me goodbye and let me leave, alright?” He eyed you warily, but you could see that there was pride in his eyes, too - the man staring at you in a way no one ever had before.

His kiss took you by surprise, the press of the man’s mouth gentle, even as the tips of his fingers dug into your sides. He deepened it, Oberyn swallowing your sigh as he traced his tongue along the edges of your teeth and then let it slide past them, meeting yours.

It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, though you could have read it as one, because you were about to walk out the front door of the apartment into an uncertain world for the first time in days. Instead, it seemed to be a promise - that even though you were leaving and he’d be going to bed with another woman that he was in love with while you were gone, he was what would be waiting when you came back. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” He spoke into your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “Enjoy yourself.”

He took your hand and urged you away from the door, opening it and walking down the hallway to where the other three were waiting. Toban and Tyene were dressed to leave the apartment but Ellaria looked more casual - her long hair down and trailing over her shoulders, the dress she wore loose, too. She looks … beautiful.

“Alright.” Tyene clapped her hands together when she saw the two of you and then pointed at the door. “I need a damn drink, let’s get the hell out of here.” She grabbed your free hand as she passed, tugging you away from Oberyn without breaking stride. “Toban’s buying.”

Two hours later, you were ready to admit that getting out of the apartment and back into the real world was exactly what you needed.

After a short Uber ride, the three of you found yourself in Culver City - not quite close enough to your apartment to make it obvious, but in a place you were much more comfortable with than you would have been at one of the upscale downtown bars.

You’d been on edge until you finished your first drink, constantly looking around the somewhat crowded room, fingers curled protectively around the frosty glass - but when you’d seen how at ease Tyene and Toban were, you followed suit.

Your second drink went down smoothly, too, while you focused on a story that Toban was telling about the years he’d spent in Australia. But before you could order a third, the man stopped you, his hand settling on your arm. “We’re going to walk down the street to another place before we do anything else.”

“Why? Is it -”

“I believe you call this bar-hopping?” He lifted his glass, saluting with it before he finished the final sips of his beer. “And there are still enough people in costume that it’s good cover.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Plus, I think Tyene’s got her eye on someone, so we’ll have to leave once she’s done.”

The two of you watched as the girl flirted with a man near the bar, reaching up to tousle his hair while she laughed. Good for her. “What about you?” You focused on him, taking a breath. “See anyone here that you like?”

“I can wait.” He drummed his fingers on the table, looking around the room. “I need less and less to survive as time passes. It’ll be good to… renew myself, but my focus right now is on you.”

“I didn’t want this.” Shifting in your seat, you shook your head. “The last thing I want is for someone else to be responsible for me because I’m just -” A human. A weak little human who wouldn’t stand a chance against the Mountain or a vampire or something as fucking simple as getting hurt.

“I can’t speak for her,” he interrupted, gesturing to Tyene, who’d pulled the man into a kiss. “But I’m always happy to spend time with new friends.” He laid his hand atop yours, squeezing. “Especially when they’re as special as you are.”

“I’m just -”

“You’re not just anything. Not anymore.” Toban lifted his hand and held up one finger, the man nodding - and you only realized that he was signaling Tyene when his attention was fully back on you, his expression widening into a grin. “And now I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” He nodded again, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a phone. “What is -”

“Choose someone you trust. Not family, if you can help it… but someone that you can have a conversation with. Talk for a few minutes, and then invite them out. Invite them to meet us at a random place around here. Are you familiar with the area?”

“Yeah.” You took the phone, turning it over in your hand. “Is there anywhere I should avoid?”

“No. Tyene can hear what you say. She’ll head to wherever you suggest next once she finishes with her friend and wait to see if anyone … else shows up before we do. Enhanced everything is an asset to us. And when we know it’s safe, you and I will head there, too.”

“Is this dangerous? I don’t want to risk it if … This was great. I don’t need to -”

“I heard what you said to Oberyn earlier. You need the interaction. You need to see a friendly human face.” He leaned closer. “You need more than any of us can give you right now.” He was right - and you knew it, so with a tiny nod of agreement, you averted your eyes and dialed a number you knew by heart.

It rang twice before someone picked up, and at the sound of the voice on the other end of the line, you closed your eyes, grinning. “Nora? It’s me. I’m so sorry I haven’t called you back. Want to meet for a drink?”

Tag list reblogs coming soon!

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x female reader #pedrostories #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #oberyn x female reader #the red viper #the prince of dorne #game of thrones fic #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell vampire au #game of thrones au #modern oberyn au #cowritten with rachael #something tofightfor #aphelion #aphelion masterlist #oberyn martell masterlist

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odetodilfs · 1 year

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On the throne

A/N: HEYYY!! So the Oberyn smut is here, this is quite good in my opinion so I hope y'all like it! (Power bottom Oberyn lovers rise) Pairing: power bottom!Oberyn Martell x sub!top!male!reader

Warnings: SMUT, riding, cumming inside, kind of exhibitionism?, light bondage, deepthroating, established relationship (marriage).

Summary: This is an AU where he doesn't die and you two become kings of Dorne, and after a public celebration you two decide to have a private one on your throne.

REBLOG MY WORK IF YOU LIKED IT, SUPPORT YOUR WRITERS.

It was official: You were kings, you and your husband Oberyn Martell were kings at long last. There had been a large banquet to celebrate the occasion and both of you were dressed up in the most luxurious attire. Oberyn had progressively pulled his robe apart on his chest, leaving a little window view that was driving you crazy. He kept smirking and flirting as well as just being able to make you blush easily, saying how he was excited to reign Dorne alongside his beautiful husband, which was just sweet of him honestly.

Towards the end of the celebration, he started being more and more obvious with his flirting, touching you, sometimes full on placing hands on your crotch. He loved seeing you blush, he loved having this power over you, seeing you flustered at his bold advances, it had kind of been the way you two fell for each other. Finally, all the guests had left and by this point you two were starting to get desperate for the other, so Oberyn quickly took you to your brand new throne, “Sit” he smirked, knowing you’d follow any orders he gave you, and you did.

You sat on the throne as he lifted up your chin with his fingers, examining you, “How about a little celebration on our own?” he suggested and smirked, you were already weak, he just had such a power to dominate you, “Take off your clothes” he ordered as he turned around and looked out the window, undressing himself as he took off his robe. The light highlighted his back muscles even more and it was so hot, your clothes were off in an instant, that’s how he liked you to undress. Your dick was already hard and he walked to you and took it in your hand “I know what you want, my love but you’re going to have to wait a bit…” he said as he got on his knees and put your dick close to his mouth, resting it on his face, you were desperate, but what power did you have against him??

He took the head in his mouth, making you mewl, if his hands weren’t holding your hips you would’ve started fucking his throat. He very slowly took you down his throat until he got to the base, giving you so much pleasure but denying you that feeling of fucking his throat, you tried putting your hands on his head but he slapped them away. He pulled off and went away “Where are you going-” you said breathlessly, “You’re not being a good boy, so it seems like I’m gonna have to make you be one” he said as he brought some rope which he tied around your hands, you were officially totally powerless against him “Now be good” he ordered as he started to blow you again.

The pleasure you were feeling was amazing, but what was more amazing was the fact that you couldn’t do anything to make you feel more pleasure, as the now king sucked on your cock it just felt incredible. You thrust your hips upwards as he sucked just the tip, then… suddenly, he crammed your whole dick in his throat, “Ah-ah-ah!” you moaned in pleasure as he kept it there, his gag reflex was basically nonexistent as he pulled off your dick, leaving it glistening with his saliva, then, he did it again, and again until he felt like you’d been teased enough.

When he finally got his feet on the throne, squatting down with his ass centimeters from your dick “God, yes, yes” you said softly, looking up at his firm, dominant eyes as he slowly sank down on your cock, mmm’s coming from his lips as he felt the pleasure of your dick inside him. You didn’t move, you awaited his orders, “Yes, good boy-” he moaned as he started softly riding you, “O-oh my god-” you moaned as his tightness wrapped around your cock, his walls firmly squeezing it and the slowness of it making the experience even more pleasurable.

“My love they might-” he shut your mouth with his fingers, “What if they catch us? We’re kings, too bad for them that their kings fuck on the throne” he smirked as he kept riding you. The dirtiness of it, he was riding you on where you’d sit governing Dorne, making you moan and writhe, “Ah- ah-” it was all so amazing as he started speeding up, hitting his prostate with your dick only made him go faster in search for more pleasure. “Good boy, you’re being such a good boy” he said to you as he rode you, his naked body glistening in sweat.

You grew closer and closer to the edge, you could only moan out your husband’s name “Oberyn-” you moaned, he instantly knew what was up “Good boy, cum for me” he didn’t say but rather commanded,

“Ahhh!” you screamed as you came in him, your cock throbbing and pleasure almost overwhelming your body. The throbbing of your cock sent him over the edge too and he let out a soft moan as he spilt his seed all over your body. You stayed locked together in a kiss as you both came down from your high. He got off your cock and untied you, some of your release started running down his thighs. To your surprise, he scooped you up in his arms and started carrying you as you put some light robes on yourselves, “Where are we going?” you asked, “Some skinny dipping would do well for a cleanup” he smirked at you, you cuddled his chest as he carried you there in his arms, now as the 2 kings of Dorne.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x male reader #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #au fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal characters #gay

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sirowsky-stories · 8 months

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The Old Prince

So, this is my entry for the Halloween themed Pedro Pascal Writing Challenge hosted by @pedrocontestsrus Thank you for organizing this! And if anyone else is interested in entering the competition, here's a link to the post with all the info.

I chose Prompt #2 Theme: A Dark and Stormy Night. However, I suck at short, so this is basically just a teaser which I'm gonna have to continue outside of the contest.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, Game of Thrones AU, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses, reader is attacked and abducted. Also, this is my first time writing Oberyn. Word Count: 4041 Author's Masterlist

You run at full speed despite the darkness, ignoring the burning in your lungs and the furious pounding of your heart, even though you know that he’s already gone and that your running would only scare him off if he wasn’t. The woods have always scared you and even now, in your mid-thirties, you still panic when you’re alone among the creaking old trees, spider webs and nightly active animals, all of whom seem intent on eating you. At least, to your own imagination.

“Damned it, Casper…” you breathlessly curse the horse for leaving you, once you’ve been forced to a stop by the pain in your lungs.

He’s normally very brave but being in the woods in the middle of a building storm is apparently too much even for his stout heart. So, you’re left to walk the remaining four miles to your house, and not for the first time, you find yourself wondering why the hell you’d chosen to live all the way out here, surrounded by the very woods that have always been such a source of discomfort to you.

“Because that was all you could afford, dimwit,” you chastise yourself out loud.

The house you now live in had been put up for sale after the previous owner had been missing for a few years and was eventually declared dead, despite her body never being found. It’s small and old, but well maintained and very charming, so you’d been surprised to be the only one interested in it.

You’ve lived there for over six years now and while it’s a bit secluded and a little too far from town, you do love it. The hiking trails leading up to the seven hills that make up the east boundary of the region run right by your property, and in daylight, you love to ride or just wander up to the peaks and admire the view.

There are rarely any larger wildlife passing through so for the most part, it’s quite safe, so long as you remember to bring water and check for lose rocks on the steeper sections of the trails. But now, in the near pitch-black darkness of night, you can’t even recognize the trail you’re on. So, why are you even out here?

Well, that would be because you’d started out in daylight, as usual, but then gotten involved in a search for another missing person in the hills, which had left you out there until well after nightfall. You had of course expected Casper to bring you home safe and sound, like he usually does no matter what’s going on around him. But unfortunately, on this occasion, the horse had lost its footing and fallen to the ground.

He’d gotten up without trouble, but since you’d no longer been on his back at that point, he’d gotten spooked, probably by the reins getting caught in his legs or something, and had taken off. You hope that he gets home without hurting himself, but you’re also quite angry with him for not recognizing your voice and staying by your side instead of running off on his own.

But your thoughts are disrupted by a creaking sound coming from behind you, a sound definitely not created by a tree. You stop, feeling a cold shiver move slowly down your spine, and you know that you’re in danger. You have no idea exactly what is watching you right now, but you know that something is.

You hear that same sound again, mere moments after the first, and even as you instinctively set off running, too panicked to even know if you’re still on the trail, your mind tries to work out what the hell that sound is. The winds are picking up, building towards the forecasted storm that has all the kids in town excited because of how perfect it is for the Halloween celebration, but it’s making it so much harder for you to hear if something’s chasing you.

Unable to stop yourself, you throw a look over your right shoulder, and a strangled scream escapes you when you catch a glimpse of something impossibly large and strangely shiny, and then just teeth. You try to run faster but you can’t. The dark world around you is a blur as you wait for those teeth to sink into your flesh and torture you to death. It seems to take so long.

And then it happens. You’re snagged to a stop so quickly that it makes your legs lift off the ground as they’re kicked forwards by the momentum. Something has your shoulder between its jaws, but that’s as much as you’re aware of before the world fades away and nothing exists anymore.

-=¤=-

You wake up on a bed in a room with a strange ceiling and stone walls. You’re groggy and only half awake, so it takes you a moment to realize that there are paintings covering the ceiling, making the stones look kind of fluid. Beautiful images of stormy seas and a red sunset flow across the domed shape, bringing it to life in a way that stone shouldn’t be capable of.

Then you remember, and bring your left hand up to examine your right shoulder, half expecting it to just not be there. But it is, and it feels fine. You sit up, relieved but also confused that there’s no pain, and as your bare feet hit the cold floors, your eyes are drawn to the rest of the room. It’s round and there’s a window in every direction, revealing the daylight outside, but also every detail inside.

The bed is easily large enough for two people, and the sheets and blankets are the softest you’ve ever felt. There’s a loveseat underneath one of the windows, with plush pillows leaned against the armrests. In the middle of the room is a carpet which you can tell just by looking at it, likely costs more than your house. And the curtains, four matching pairs, all a deep red, somehow seem both heavy and feathery light.

There’s a door to your left, and it’s standing open, so at least you’re not a prisoner. But you don’t feel like one regardless. All of this is so strange, because you’re sure that something bit you, but you can’t find any wounds in your skin. There are holes in your shirt, though. And where’s your jacket? Why are you barefoot?

You head for the door and find a winding staircase leading down, so this is apparently a tower. At the foot of the stairs is a corridor and then more stairs, twirling the other way this time, so you keep heading down, passing closed doors and empty spaces until you reach a pair of large double doors that are left wide open.

There’s a fire crackling inside and your cold feet and bare arms have left you shivering, so you head inside, finding the biggest open fireplace you’ve ever seen, in the other end of the huge room. It must be a ballroom or excessively large dining room, but it’s completely empty, save for a padded short stool in front of the fire.

You sit and warm yourself, trying to think back, to remember any details that might help you understand what’s happened to you, but nothing comes to mind. And then a movement to your right startles you to your feet.

“My apologies, miss. I have a habit of moving quietly,” a dark and low voice says, and when you locate the man who that voice belongs to, you’re momentarily stunned into silence.

He’s tall and broad, but quite lean, with a perfectly chiseled jaw and a beard trimmed to accentuate that. He wears no jewelry, but his dark green coat has golden threads and small embroideries on the cuffs and along the collar. Shapes too small for you to make out at ten feet of distance, but which from afar remind you of snakes. Still, it’s his eyes that rob your brain of most its function.

So dark, but also incredibly expressive. He’s curious, intrigued, but wary. As though you might pose a threat to him somehow, which seems impossible to you.

“W-… Where are my shoes?” you manage to croak, still unable to break away from his eyes.

“I took your shoes and your jacket to encourage you not to run away once you awoke. I’m afraid I am going to need you to remain here for the time being,” the man explains, and suddenly your brain wakes up in full.

“So, I’m your captive, is that what you’re telling me?”

“Yes, and no. You are my captive, as much as I am yours.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I have no idea who you are,” you counter, getting angry because that’s all you can do to keep from panicking.

“My name is Oberyn, and this is my home. You’re welcome to explore as much as you like, but I would recommend staying away from the basement. Especially at night.”

“Why? Do you have more prisoners down there you don’t want me to set free?”

“Oh, there are cages down there, and many of them are occupied,” he says, while taking a few steps closer to you. “But I doubt that you would want to release any of the creatures that are locked inside.”

Creatures? What the hell does he mean by that? He’s only three feet away when he stops, just as the outside light catches his eyes at a different angle, and you can swear that you see something else within them. A bright golden shine seems to illuminate them from within for just a fraction of a second, as if reacting to the sun’s rays.

“The tower is yours. I will not venture there without your approval for the duration of your stay. But the rest of the castle is my domain, and you move through it at your own risk. Do you understand?” he asks, to which your anger flares.

“Understand? No… I really don’t. Who are you?! What is this place, where the hell am I?! There aren’t any castles anywhere near the seven hills! And what the hell was it that chased me last night, and why do I have bitemarks in my shirt but not on my skin? What the fuck is going on?!”

He lets you scream and rant without so much as a twitch bothering his mustache, and says nothing as you begin to pace in front of the fireplace, crossing your arms in silent defiance, but also an attempt to guard yourself against all this strangeness.

“You were bitten by a serpent,” he quietly says, just as you’re about to give up and leave the room.

“It was a lot bigger than any snake, and it had a lot more than two fangs,” you counter, all but spitting at him now, further angered by the notion that he might be trying to convince you that you imagined the whole thing.

“I didn’t say that it was a snake,” he replies, and you stop pacing.

“And what is a serpent if not a damned snake?” you challenge, but he seems unbothered.

“Is that all it can be? You must think broader than that, young one.”

His words make no sense to you. Serpent, snake, fucking danger noodle, it’s all the same. And “young one”? He’s at most five years older than you.

“Please, just tell me where we are?” you finally ask, deciding that there’s probably no point in trying to argue with this mystery man.

He looks at you for a good minute then, as if trying to decide if he should answer, and you notice that he doesn’t blink a lot, which is surprisingly unsettling.

“We are six hundred and nine miles from your home. Give or take a few dozen feet.”

That takes you a second to process.

“What!?” you almost scream, unable to take any more of this incomprehensible nonsense. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that you had a fucking helicopter hidden in the woods, or something?”

“Take a look outside the windows,” he calmly suggests. “I’m sure the snow on the ground will help you come to terms with the truth that you are no longer as far south as you think.”

Unwilling to take his word for it, you walk over to the nearest window, where the view makes your heart sink. Because he’s right. Not only are there several inches of snow covering everything in sight, but you also don’t recognize the landscape at all. And that’s when the realization of just how much trouble you’re in, finally dawns on you.

Turning away from the window, you now meet your captor’s eyes, for the first time with fear brimming within your own. Unable to stop yourself, you try to back away from him but there’s a wall in the way, so you start moving sideways instead, heading for the open double doors of the room. He doesn’t try to stop you, but just before you turn your back to him as you’re crossing the threshold, his expression turns incredibly sad.

You run through the halls, fully panicking now and having no idea where you’re even going. But then another set of large double doors are in front of you, so you grab the handle on one of them and pull it open. It’s the front entrance. You’re standing on the top ledge of another staircase, this one twisting off in both directions, leading down to a massive courtyard.

There’s a fountain in the shape of a rearing Pegasus in the middle, so big that the lilac shrubs which surrounds it barely even reach halfway up its hindlegs. And beyond that, is a giant garden of cherry trees and rhododendron hedges, in the middle of which, a wide driveway comes straight through, right up to the courtyard. A driveway that’s so long, you can’t even see the end of it, where it disappears into the surrounding woods.

You couldn’t run from here even with your shoes and jacket.

The freezing wind brushes over your exposed skin, making you shiver and wrap your arms around yourself while sorrow suddenly burns through you, bringing tears to your eyes. But then something soft and warm falls over your shoulders and you flinch, spinning on your heels and quickly backing away, further out onto the ledge to try and get away from him, which means stepping into the icy cold snow in just your skin.

“Please…” he says, and he sounds alluringly soft and inviting now, which only adds to your suspicions. “I have no intention of harming you.”

“Then how about you tell me what exactly your intention is?” you counter, barely able to keep your jaws from clattering with how badly you’ve started shaking.

He takes a deep breath and then slowly releases it, somehow looking sadder and more tired with each milliliter of air that escapes him.

“I just… I’m sorry. Please, come back inside before you get frostbite on your feet.”

“That’s n-not an answer,” you challenge, already trembling all over now.

“I know, this is why I’m sorry, but how is hurting yourself going to help the situation?” he wonders, and you have to concede that it doesn’t.

You huff once in defiance, and then step forward, allowing him to wrap the blanket around you. But you hadn’t expected him to sweep you up into his arms and carry you inside.

“Hey, I c-can still walk, p-put me down!”

“The floors are cold here. I will put you down once you’re in a room with a rug.”

“Or you c-could just give me b-back my shoes,” you gripe, and he hums in what sounds like a thoughtful manner to you, as if he’s conceding that maybe he was wrong to take them from you.

But he says nothing more, and as he carries you through the empty hallways, none of which look familiar to you because this place is apparently a damned maze, you steal a few closer glances at him. His skin is in better condition than yours ever has been, to the point where even his stubble looks soft. And his hair looks flawless. Not one strand of the curls on his head seems damaged or less bouncy than the rest. And the same goes for his beard and mustache.

His clothes are perfectly tailored, and they look new, but they don’t smell like it. Instead, the only smell you detect seems to be his, and it’s not at all unpleasant. Contrarily, the longer you smell him, the more inviting the scent becomes. You’re somewhat embarrassed to realize that you’ve stopped shivering with the warmth that spreads through you from within, just from that delicious scent.

The room that he finally turns into is small and smells of paper, reminiscent of the old bookstore in the city back home, run by a sweetheart of an old lady who also happens to be the grandmother of the missing woman who’s house you live in. She was the only one who’d come by with a housewarming gift after you’d moved in. That’s how sparsely populated your social circle is.

It looks to be an office, of sorts. There’s a fireplace here too, already lit and crackling warmly in the far corner of the room. To the left is a desk filled with scrolls of paper and what looks like old maps of countries you don’t recognize, and to the right are shelves filled with more scrolls, books and scraps of paper. There’s an armchair and a small sofa in front of the fire, and he sets you down on the sofa before kneeling in front of you to inspect your wet and freezing feet.

You’re about to argue that you’re perfectly capable of tending to your own extremities, but something about his touch stops you. His fingers seem warmer than they should be, almost feverishly so, but more than that, his skin feels like it’s giving off tiny electric impulses where it meets yours. And the feeling is highly intoxicating.

He quickly examines your feet and then sits back and looks up at you again, where a curious expression flashes across his features as he notices that you’re suddenly a bit out of it. He seems concerned at first, and then… is he blushing?

“If I get you your socks and your boots, will you promise me that you will not go running into the woods and getting yourself lost?” he asks, sternly holding your gaze while he looks for any traces of deception in your answer.

Except you don’t give any. Because you can’t make that promise. Not when you still don’t know why he’s brought you here or why he intends to keep you here.

“I don’t suppose it would make much difference if I told you that we are much too far away from any other people for you to make it there alive in winter?” he sighs, and he does seem genuinely worried that you won’t believe him.

“Actually, I do believe you on that part. I just also believe that dying while running for your freedom might be better than living in captivity,” you explain, and once again, something terribly sad comes over him.

“I really wish you could trust that I don’t intend to harm you, young one.”

“Why do you call me that? I can’t be that much younger than you.”

He chuckles drily at that, but it’s a sound of hopelessness rather than bemusement.

“If only that were true…” he says quietly, turning his gaze to the floor for a moment before he rises and leaves the room.

When he returns, only a few seconds later, he’s carrying your shoes and wool socks, both of which he appears to have cleaned, hands them to you and then steps back while you put them on. For a moment, you contemplate more questions, but the more you think about the strangeness of this whole situation, the more you just want to pretend that it’s a dream and that you’re gonna wake up and laugh at yourself any second now.

“The tower’s mine?” you find yourself asking, instead of any real questions.

“That whole wing is yours for as long as you’re here,” he nods.

“And how long might that be?”

“For now, I can’t say with any certainty, but hopefully no more than a few days.”

He does look genuinely apologetic as he says that, but you’re relieved to hear it. Somehow, you’d envisioned being a captive for years, locked away in that tower. But there’s something innately honest about this guy. You have no reason to trust anything he says, and yet you do.

“And what determines how long my stay ends up being?” you wonder, while rising from the sofa and daring yourself to take one step towards him.

He doesn’t react in any visible way to your truly minimal challenge, but you wonder if perhaps he likes that you don’t just accept your circumstances when they don’t feel right to you. There’s a little glimmer in his eyes that might just be a hint of awe.

“How long it takes me to figure out how you’re still alive,” he quietly answers, bringing you back to the severity of the moment.

Turning away from you, he reaches for an old-fashioned candlestick holder, lights the candle and then hands it to you.

“Living light reveals the path to the tower,” he says, as if that isn’t the most useless piece of information you’ve ever gotten, and then gestures to the open door.

Utterly confused, you step out into the dusky hallway, half expecting the wooden door to slam shut behind you, but it doesn’t. When you turn back to ask him which direction to turn, you find him right behind you, already showing you to the right with a gentlemanly open hand aiming that way. You nod your thanks and begin walking, still without a clue as to what the candle is meant to show you. Until it does.

Once the dancing light hits a certain wall, a faint glow appears in a thin line running along the wall, around waist-height. You follow it, seeing it fade away as soon as the flame isn’t directly in front of it, and before you know it, you’re back at those winding stairs. Walking back into the chamber at the top, you find that nothing’s moved since you left.

You walk around the room, examining everything more closely, finding two large and fully stocked bookcases hidden behind drapes on either side of the fireplace. There’s also a closet built into the wall next to the bed, and there are very old dresses hanging in there, covered with dust, making you wonder who the girl might’ve been that those clothes had originally belonged to.

Realizing that you haven’t asked your captor how to get food or how he intends to figure out how you’ve miraculously healed, you spend a few minutes pondering on whether you’ve got the energy to make the long walk back down to look for a kitchen and ask if you’re expected to come down from your tower at any specific times. But ultimately, you decide to leave it for now, picking out a book instead. You’re too stressed still to be able to eat anything anyway.

The book keeps you occupied for the entire afternoon, and it isn’t until it grows dark that you eventually close it and get up, intending to go looking for that kitchen. You’d left the candle holder in the window that faces the front of the castle, although you can’t see the courtyard from behind the main structure, but as you go to pick it up, a movement outside catches your eye.

Peering down towards the ground, you see a door swing open, and then something runs across the section of the yard that you can see. It’s so fast that you can’t be sure, but it looks like it could be what attacked you last night. And it looks like… a dragon. A dragon that just ran out of the same castle where you’re trapped.

Part 2

Thank you for reading! I had so much fun with this and I'm nowhere near done with it. Huge Thanks to @joelswritingmistress for inspiring me to take on Oberyn, I didn't think I ever would.

If anyone wishes to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

#PedroHalloween2023 #pedro pascal character fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones au #modern!au #halloween writing #sirowsky stories

90 notes · View notes

sirowsky · 8 months

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The Old Prince - Masterlist

Welcome to the Dragon realm, where Oberyn Martell reigns supreme!

Summary: 6000+ year old Prince Oberyn of Ancient Egypt almost kills and eats you, but something unexpected happens instead, and before long, your quiet and unassuming life has become something entirely different. This is a slow-burn romance that features both angst and sugary sweet fluff, all in a package wrapped in horror and fantasy. Unwrap and enjoy!

Notes: This story is now complete but I always welcome requests for one shots if anyone wants to know more about these two. I love to hear from you in general, so if this story speaks to you, don't hesitate to let me know, in words, gifs or just likes, and feel free to jump into my DM's or my ask box!

FYI: I never write using the y/n format. This is my first time writing Oberyn and I haven't seen season 4 of Game of Thrones since it first aired, so I'm far from an expert on him. Also, reader undergoes physical transformations in this story, so she will not be featureless.

Part 1 - The Bite Part 2 - Fear Part 3 - Home Part 4 - The Spirit Part 5 - Nightfall Part 6 - Belonging Part 7 - Uncertainty Part 8 - The Light Part 9 - Tyrannus Part 10 - Power Part 11 - The Darkness Part 12 - Collapse Part 13 - Time Part 14 - Sacrifice

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#oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones au #au fic #modern au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #halloween writing #spooky season #sirowsky stories

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hiatuswhore · 1 year

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♕ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝐻𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑜𝓃

♕ A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks now. Feedback please!

♕ SUMMARY: Rich like a Lannister, cold like a Stark, and fearsome like a Targaryen. From the ashes, words of the Great House Marison. While many play the Game of Thrones, history plays the game of lies. In this game all play the fool, except one.

♕ WORD COUNT: 2.7K

♕ WARNING: Triggering content briefly, proceed with caution.

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The Viper circles the Lioness, standing in the markets, each donning well-hidden agendas. Offering curt smiles to blanket the evident tension.

“The Princess is a lovely girl. Her enthusiasm for her studies most refreshing. Her favorite is the story of the great Dornish farm girl, (Y/n) Marisol.”

“You mean Princess (Y/n) Targaryen. Formerly Lady (Y/n) of House Marison,” Cersei covers her frown with a dry chuckle. Oberyn chuckles, wetting his lips with a shake of his head.

Your love for your home began on your very first day in the world. Leaving your mother not a blubbering bundle of tears and red skin but wide-eyed and curious. You can recall the sun's hug and the sand's tickle. The many spices and elaborate dances in your visits to Sunspear. Most of all, the quaint solace of your home by the water's edge.

Summers often entailed your brother of six and ten chasing you by the tide. The edge of your skirts made your dress heavy as water soaked the ends, your feet sank lower into the damp sand, your strides clumsy and with haste. Deziel’s laughter booms as your own pierce the air. The shrill sound garnered a smile from your mother, often missed. The coverage of trees shielded the beach from your home, but your mother could make out her children from any distance. Your brother wrestled you down, the sand irritated your neck and dampened your dress, but it mattered little.

“Bend the knee, Dornish scum! Swear subservience to the Targaryen crown or perish!” Deziel’s northern accent as poor as his understanding of the frail peace between your people and the Targaryens. His fingers fiddling at your sides fervently, unrelenting. Your shielded youths evident in your choice of playful jests.

“I swear! I yield!” You cry out between heavy breaths. Tears left you in a fit of laughter that bordered joy and pain.

“What!” Deziel scoffs, his hands leaving you with crazed disbelief. A dopey grin paints your face, squinting up at your brother. His fingers return to your sides, a loud squeal leaving you as he drops his weak accent, “Have you gone mad! Make an oath breaker of yourself at once! We are dornish, wild girl!”

No matter your answer, Deziel would bring the brunt of the Targaryens or the Dornish upon you. A game made only for you to lose. At the orange glow of the sky, you both march home smelling of saltwater. You caked in mud, Deziel always wiping dirt upon his skin, so you both get the whole of your parents' scoldings. Not that Deziel ever had to. With one look at your round cheeks and brown eyes, the voices of your mother and father would soften.

“Not at all. Many stories circulate about Lady (Y/n). Yet many fail to remember that she grew in a time when the people of Dorne were rather petulant to the other six kingdoms. A time Targaryens often terrorized our shores.” Cersei raises an eyebrow at his words. Every lesson taught on history being challenged before her, discounted.

“A false rumor. Histories often altered over time by wrong interpretations. By your admission, you accuse the Great House of Marison to be built upon a lie.” Oberyn’s smile widens, nodding his head to her words without care.

“A great dornish lie.”

You can recall your mother often reminding you both of a debt owed to her by the Prince. If trouble were ever to strike, it was your assurance of safety.

For many years, you lived in a false glimmer that only held joy with no place for despair. With time your brother's responsibilities grew as your mother forced lessons of etiquette and customs down your throat. You never understood what would politeness and formality do for a farm. Still ever the sheltered girl of the Marisol family.

Despite their efforts, an inevitable truth loomed. Not a single place in the world can be sheltered from the horror inflicted by men.

You are no stranger to these horrors.

You can remember the day from the sweet smell of honey bread your mother made. To the seconds before your father and brother's departure. According to your father, a hunts no place for a young lady. Reading between the lines, a long sigh left you, no place for a lady.

Inside, you sat at the family table, huffing at the boring pages your mother put before you. Her instructions were clear. You were free to leave the table once you read the story and could explain it to her. You cannot recall the story, only the dreadfully boring time you spent attempting to read it.

Your head whipped right as your body stiffened. The slam of the door and your mother rushed across the room. Her sudden movements sent your heart into a speedy gallop. She ignored as you called out to her, pulling back the carpet and removing a false panel.

“Mother?” You called out, her hand wrapped around your wrist, ripping you from your seat. She laid you down in the ample space, a kiss on your forehead.

“You do not make a sound, do you understand? Do not come out unless I, your father, or Deziel retrieves you,” Not once had you ever seen your mother cry, but the mist in her eyes was not well hidden. She finally kissed your forehead, muttering her love before she closed you in. The cracks in the floor left you with a slit-like view of above. You squeezed your eyes shut, dust falling over you as heavy steps shook the panels above.

And there it was. Your first true encounter with the Westerosi people. The man held a gruff tone. You bit back a whimper at your mother's cries, fists bawling so tightly that not even the broken skin gave you pause. The groans of strange men and the smacking of flesh forced you to swallow down growing nausea. You were no fool to what occurred above, already a young maiden grown and flowered.

You squeezed your eyes shut, and your nails dug further into your skin. Escaping to your mind with a steady tempo, one, two, three, four…silence halted your count at one thousand two hundred and thirty-seven seconds.

Opening your eyes, you clamped them back shut, red clouded your vision. The warm drips did not cease, so constant drip you believed it would drown you. Even as that plagued you, your mothers' directions were clear.

Deziel pulled you from beneath the boards, shielding your face as he swallowed thickly. Your father's cries filled your home, leaving you without an inkling of its beginning. When it end arrived, the three of you journeyed to Sunspear, typically a two-day trip with stops and games—became a silent day trip. Your father’s movements mechanical, with a refusal to look at either of you. Poor Deziel. He made sure his father ate, and you were clean and cared for.

At Dornish court, if the news of your mothers' murder hurt the ruling Prince, you saw no evidence of it. Much of the conversation between your father and the Prince had been lost on you. You could only recall pieces that made no sense at the time but later clicked without issue. The three of you boarded a ship with men, coin, and servants. You kept your eye on the shore, even when it was long from view.

Princess Rhaenys Targaryen—Velaryon and her husband, Lord Corlys, welcomed the three of you. You can recall the panic the Princess immediately eased as your brother and father parted from you to join Lord Corlys.

“(Y/n) is it? Worry not. You are safe here,” Her accent made you shudder, akin to the one the man in your home had. It would take you weeks to not flinch or tear up at the sound of it. “A dear friend of mine asked to aid you in acquiring a safer life. What comes next will not be easy. You will need to convince the people of the realm that you are a noblewoman. But not just any noblewoman, the very best of them. The prettiest, smartest, and most pristine. You will work far harder than any other in these coming years. Can you do that?”

You did not answer the Princess’s question. Nor were you fully processing all before you. Deziel’s betrothal to Laena Velaryon cleared much of your confusion. The final nail in the coffin to your simple farmer lifestyle. With his bride comes lordship and property, not in Driftmark but in Duskendale, the closest castle to Driftmark. Your father, now a Lord with the respect of an Old Valyrian house and a beautiful daughter without a reputation. No longer bearing the name Marisol, with clear foreign descent but House Marison. A new, smaller house with riches and the favor of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys.

The rapid changes made it all finally click in your mind, your mothers' teachings. Her insistence on your education and understanding of etiquette and the functions of royal courts. She hoped for the best and expected the worst, and the very worst arrived.

“Princess Aliandra kept a book where she often documented her days. She detailed meeting her father's beloved family friend and their time together. The Princess described her friend as having a brown complexion. Light during her travels from the north and dark during her time in the south. Beautiful brown coils of hair. Princess Alisandra believed many of her friend's attributes came from her father, born in the isle of butterflies. Today known as Naath.”

Not a dime was spared in the erasure of your history. Your golden complexions and coily hair, a feat that cannot be removed. But your accents ripped from you with blood and tears. The crack against your back leaves you gnawing your bottom lip. Hot tears flood you, your septa calling for you to continue to read the story.

“The year continued without further crisis or test as Jaehaerys and Alyssane—“ You fail to stop the cry that leaves your lips as your septa draws blood. Gripping the edges of the book tightly, your toes curl as a shaky breath leaves you.

“You cry now, but this will be nothing if the crown ever learns how you aim to deceive them. You must forget this savage dialect and move forward, Lady Marison. Do you understand?” Septa Oleyna offers you a knowing look. She wears a natural grimace, nudging her head toward the book. Nodding, you turn back to the book, another cry leaving your lips at the crack against your back. “Understand?”

“Yes, Septa Oleyna.”

Your days continue like this until your accent fades into a distant memory. The dialect sour on your tongue, the Targaryens chipping away at another piece of your beloved culture. Every aspect of Westeros bores you. The clothing dull, the food bland, and the women docile. You cannot help but wonder if your father or Deziel share your sentiment. If they do, it never shows.

While you grow to accept your new reality, your quest for the truth of the past does not cease. At first, your father's not forthcoming when you inquire about the dealings behind the attack on your previous home. Still, you did not relent even at your brothers' pleas for you to drop it.

The news is unveiled at a private dinner between the three of you. Your fathers' mood already sour, and before you knew it, he was spewing the reality in a fit of rage. By order of the crown, soldiers were sent to Dorne to remind the Dornish that attempts at an uprising would prove foolish. A premature act of aggression. Your father storms from the room, slamming the hall door behind him. Deziel’s eyes soften, and he places his hand atop your own. A comfort far too small to dim the growing flames.

Coals sit in your throat, twisting and burning akin to hell fire. You do not wail or collapse into your emotions as expected. A grimace consumes you with an ire that sets your skin ablaze. The brutalization of your mother and destruction of your family not an act of politics but a personal slight.

“So you truly believe the Targaryens and the Northerners allowed a dornish family to settle and form a house built on false names and histories?” This time Cersei chuckles, shaking her head. Oberyn’s confidence did not falter.

“How can one allow or disallow a deception they are unaware of? You see, in Dorne, we sing songs and tell the tales of the great (Y/n) Marisol because she did what many of you believe is not possible today?”

“And what’s that?”

“She took your customs and expectations, outdoing every noble lady in the realm. A little dornish girl with Dragons in her palm. They terrorized our lands, and she made them pay for it.”

As the others prepare for your brother's pending nuptials, you immerse yourself into Septa Oleyna’s process. Your lessons come with fewer tears, resentment a great motivator in your education. Not only in doing away with your accent but the history of Westeros and every bit of information available on the living royal family. Even taking the time to study High Valyrian before bed.

The weeks pass you rapidly, (Y/n) Marisol long gone with Lady Marison’s machinations growing. Deeming you ready, your father brings you along during his travels across the realm. He introduces you to Lords when the opportunities present themselves. You master the art of knowing when to speak and when to remain silent. What topics to broach and what others wish to hear. With each passing moon, your ability to read others growing sharper than a blade's edge.

Every feast. Every great house. And every appearance makes every tear and drop of blood worth it. Doing what girls train years for and often never achieve in mere months. Perfection. The word spreads like wildfire.

Lady Marison. Ward of Princess Rhaenys. Beautiful. Smart. Reputable. A perfect bride in all categories. You masquerade with poise, a Dornish girl exceeding in all they deem above you, above your people.

Dragonstones, unlike your other destinations. On the ships, your father reiterates the danger a mishap can hold. No longer will you be in the presence of Lords but Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne.

“Put your trust in me, father. I work only to secure our safety,” You say. No fool to Lord Corlys and Rhaenys protection being minuscule against the truth sweeping the realm.

The Princess of greets Lord Corlys, your father, and yourself, with presumably her entire family. Three dark-haired boys and two silver hair babes. At her side stands a tall looming man, doing little to hide his boredom. Corlys greets his “grandsons” with large smiles before beginning introductions.

“It is an honor, your grace,” Curtsying, like all the others you push a broad smile to your face. Your eyes squint while beaming at whomever you address.

“I have heard much about you, Lady Marison. Your reputation proceeds you,” As does yours. During your time at Driftmark, Laena made sure you knew every inch of it. The history, good and bad, every little detail of her family to prepare you for the pending wedding—and portraits of her brother. Of the three Velaryon boys, not a single one took Laenors likeness.

“The gossip speaks far too highly of me,” Feigning humility, you smile and nod as your mind resides elsewhere. No longer rumors, the truth standing before you. A female heir with bastard sons and younger brothers. Your gaze cuts to the Rogue Prince, his eyes not leaving you. Offering a curt nod, his eyes merely cut to your father's. The same scrutiny in his eyes.

“Your accusations against the history of House Marison deem almost every great house illegitimate. A Marison can be found in the lineage of all the houses. Even—“ The Queen pauses, her hands clutching her necklace. Oberyn clasps his hands in front of him, a knowing smile on his lips.

“(Y/n) Stark née (Y/n) Marison the second, grandmother of Eddard Stark. Nadia Tyrell née Nadia Marison. The Arryns, Tully’s—“ Still, the Queen stares off aimlessly, a blank resolve leaving much to the imagination.

“Are you reaching a point, my prince?”

“A Marison can be found in all histories. In mine, your sons, even yours. Joanna Lannister née Joanna Marison.”

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wardenparker · 11 months

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The Viper’s Bride - ch 7

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

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 20.3k 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* Flirty Oberyn deserves his own neon sign of a warning. References to pregnancy and childbirth. Oberyn has a short fuse. Dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), hair pulling, spanking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, cum play Summary: Your trip out to the marketplace ends up being a more fruitful and more meaningful endeavor than you ever could have guessed. And with the burden of secrets lifted, things between your foursome are beginning to progress. Notes: Honestly this chapter brings me so much joy. Things are growing and coming together, and these four have So Much Emotion. I just adore the way they fit together.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

“I have brought plenty of coins to make sure you buy whatever you wish.” Oberyn confides, guiding you through the halls of the brothel after leaving your lovers to explore the marketplace of King’s Landing together. “Though, we should decide what to do about your ring.”

"Ellaria should have hers back." Although it is the one that he put on your hand at the Citadel, it does not belong to you. It belongs to his paramour, and she was only kind enough to provide it as the answer to a desperate question at the moment. "Whatever you prefer me to wear will be lovely, I am sure."

“I was thinking about that.” He tilts his head as he walks with you out of the building and onto the streets. “Ellaria gave it to you.” He explains. “I was thinking that we could find a ring for her. And one for your Raeden.”

"Perhaps..." Toying with the bauble on your finger and rolling the idea over in your mind, you turn your eyes to him again as he leads you out of the brothel. "We could find some that compliment each other?" You suggest, unsure if he will like the idea. "For all of us?"

“That seems like a good idea.” He smirks and nods as he covers your hand with his own and pats it. “I believe that our lovers would like that. Tell me, is your Raeden’s cum crusting your thighs from the make up sex?”

"I think you would like it if it was," you surprise even yourself by laughing softly, but you shake your head. "He is far too exhausted and our talk was much too serious. But I am sure that he will be recovered by this evening."

“I thought it was disappointingly silent.” He muses. “However, the passion of make up sex is often incredible.”

"I hope not to fight with any of you again any time soon." The people that you pass on the street either pay you no regard whatsoever or they pause to stare. The prince pays them no mind, only giving his attention to you or where his feet will step next, and you try to take your cue from him.

“Fighting is a natural part of love, my star.” He does not always enjoy fighting, but it does happen. “But we will muster along and find a happy agreement.”

"It may be natural, but it is far from pleasant." And pleasantness is something you crave more often than not. You know that about yourself. "There are much more comforting and pleasurable things we could be doing rather than fighting."

“I agree.” Oberyn hums as he looks around. “And perhaps in time, you will realize that not all fights will end like the ones with your mother.”

"I hope to learn it sooner rather than later." He turns you down a lane to the right and deftly avoids others walking by, keeping you close to his side as you go. "There is something else I wished to speak to you about."

“Oh?” He tights his hold on your arm and steers you around a cart that is stopped in the middle of the street. “Anything in particular?”

"There is the little matter of our marriage." You murmur quietly, knowing that you cannot be overheard. "And that it is not yet...official."

Oberyn frowns slightly. “If you were examined by a maester, he would say that your cunt has been used.” He reminds you. “They do not need to know who’s cock filled it.”

Swallowing nerves and the pinch of fear of the unknown that accompanies any leap of faith, you squeeze his arm gently in your hand as you pass by an entire family out together in the street. "What if I were to admit to you that the thought of sharing our marriage bed has already crossed my mind favorably several times?"

It is not often that Oberyn is not prepared for a sassy comeback immediately. The words that he might have said to a mere stranger who admits their want of him are not suitable for this situation or you. He’s not unaware of your growing fondness, but he looks to you again to gauge your honesty. “I would ask you how you and your Raeden feel about such an idea.” He admits. “Along with your own feelings, beyond favorable.”

“It is not for me to tell his tale, but we have both confessed to our own desire to share your bed.” It is not an insignificant thing to confess this to him, and you can only hope that he has no real objections or conditions. “And Ellaria’s.”

“Then when you are ready to do so, you will be most welcomed.” He can’t help the smug smirk on his face and he sucks his teeth happily. “We will spend all day learning what ways pleasure you and your lover.”

“You are pleased.” His smile can mean nothing else. “I know that we began together in a rather odd way, but I—I do wish to be a proper wife to you.”

“You mean most do not beg their betrothed to marry them to save their lover’s life?” He asks teasingly, arching his brow as he looks back at you again. “Shocking.”

“And most do not house their new bride in a brothel,” you remind him with your own teasing tone. “Perhaps we are not proper at all.”

“You are safer in that brothel than the keep up on the mountain.” He reminds you, squeezing your arm against his body, “and there is more entertainment.”

“Far safer.” The market is not far, sprawling out along the city wall that looks out into the Narrow Sea. Tents, tables, stalls, and carts line a winding path that welcomes visitors and buyers to peruse goods at their leisure and haggle with the merchants in the warm sea air.

He chuckles when you do not mention the entertainment. Instead of pointing it out, his brows raise and he immediately steers you towards one stall that has an open flame and the mouth watering scent of roasted meat filling the air. “I did not realize that a stall here had Dornish food.”

“It smells like my grandmother’s house.” A nostalgic scent, and one that almost has you closing your eyes against the happy memories. “She was of House Yronwood, and kept a Dornish cook.”

“Meats here are so bland. It is why I eat so many fruits here.” He groans, walking up to the stall eagerly. “We will have to order some to be delivered to the rooms.”

“To have something of home will be comforting. For you and Ellaria both.” They have come farther than you have after all, and to an entirely different country. The Vale is not so dissimilar from King’s Landing except for being a slower pace of life.

“Do you have favored meals from the Vale?” He asks as he peruses the meats available and points to one particular roasted joint when the merchant rushes over.

"A few. It is a colder part of the world even in summers, so some of my favorite things have been soups or stews." You end up smiling, shrugging as though you have been caught when he sees you eyeing the pastries in the Dornish food stand. "Some sweets, of course."

“We will take four of each.” Oberyn nods towards the pastries and picks up one to offer you. “And a portion of your meats to be delivered to the brothel.”

The honey-syrup soaked fried dough is sprinkled with chopped nuts and dusted with a powder you do not recognize, but it looks delectable and you obediently open your mouth to accept the morsel without a second thought. Oberyn hums, smirking slightly as he feeds you a bite of the pastry. Watching as your eyes flutter in pleasure and your moan makes his cock twitch under his robes.

A distant memory from your childhood floats to the surface, the taste of roses in the honey reminding you of when your grandmother's cook used to serve the delicate pastries with sweet cream and you had tried to soak rose petals in a glass of milk the next day only to be vastly disappointed with the results. "Wonderful," you hum, cheeks warm with delight at the expression on the prince's face.

“Good.” He smirks and takes a bite of his pastry himself before offering you the rest of the treat. “The honey is most delicious licked off a lover’s body.” His smirk turns lasciviously wicked as he chews and swallows while watching you.

"I will bear that in mind..." Leaving 'my lord' or any other honorific off the end of the thought, you find yourself shy to meet his eyes but smiling nonetheless. After being so honest as to tell him directly that you desire him, it seems pointless to be coy about such a thing.

He chuckles, leaning in and kissing the edge of your mouth. Letting his tongue slide out to lap at a drop of honey that had escaped your notice. “You do that, star.” He murmurs when he pulls back.

It should be a sin to desire someone this way, but it is your husband, so the way your knees quake under you and threaten to give out when his tongue touches your skin and his voice pitches low is a welcome torment.

"Something amiss, star?" He asks with the tilt of his head and an amused smile on his lips. "You seem...flustered."

"Nothing amiss." You assure him, though you do feel the heat of your own cheek when you touch your fingers to the place that he just kissed. "Only enjoyable thoughts."

"Enjoyable thoughts become pleasurable moments." He hums, looking back at the merchant to hand over several coins.

"Perhaps not before too long." Without really knowing how ready you are to advance your marriage, the thoughts are firm encouragement. Almost as much as the few kisses you have exchanged.

Once he has paid, he informs the merchant which brothel he is staying in and is assured that it will be delivered with haste. Craning his neck, he looks around and then back at you. "Where to next, my princess?"

There are more merchants here than you have seen collected in one place in a very long time, and you look up and down the rows with interest before a stall catches your eyes. "My lord..." A breath of excitement is very telling from you. "There is a bookbinder's stall. Just there."

He steers you towards it without another word. He has seen your love of books and would never despair it. Encouraged to find that his wife has a love of reading and learning. “We shall see what they have.” He hums. “The library at Sunspear is vast and very diverse.” He tells you. “We have had to split it between the original keep and the Water Gardens, it has grown so large.”

"My father's library was my favorite place in the world," you tell him honestly, the shine of another dream on your face that has nothing to do with carnal pleasure. "There were days I would throw open the windows and let in the salt air from the Narrow Sea and do nothing but drink tea and read books from sunup to sundown."

“It sounds ideal.” He smiles, happy that there are some good memories from your father’s house. “There will be many more days like that in your future.” He predicts. “Although the air will be much warmer and the shade sweet if you wish to sit under an overhang and watch the children frolic in the gardens.”

"I think I certainly will." Knowing that he has so many children already both eases a certain measure of your anxieties about producing an heir as well as heightens them. He is certainly virile, able to continue to father many children through the years to come, and you do not fear sharing a bed with him any longer. But the prospects of childbearing remain terrifying.

He frowns when he sees fear cross your pretty face and he taps your hand to ask silently what is bothering you.

"My eldest brother's wife did not have easy births," you explain quietly, letting your fingers dance across the spines of the beautifully bound books in front of you in a soothing, familiar action. "She nearly lost her life to their son. But both are well now."

“I see.” Oberyn knows well that many women pass while giving life. It is a miracle that his daughter’s mothers had all survived. “Again, wife,” he murmurs softly. “If you have no wish to provide me with an heir, you do not need to.”

"I would not say that, exactly." As it is something that you have actively worked to prevent in the past, and something that you have viewed as your duty for so long, the gift of choice is almost startling. It forces you to think of whether you want to be a mother, or whether you had simply accepted an inevitability. "I think...it deserves to be thought on."

“Then you let me know.” He nods seriously. “After you have made a decision. Your decision.” He knows that you feel it is your duty to provide him with the promised heir, but he does not care about that. He has children, he has his older brother’s son. What matters is that he would not force you to give him a child, like he would not force you into his bed.

"Raeden was correct." The smile you offer him is grateful and true. "I have been most fortunate in the choice of my husband."

"I feel as if I am not so terrible." He hums, slightly smug about his own qualities. "At times."

"There is certainly the potential for fondness," you laugh, knowing that you have already surpassed potential in the few days you have known him.

"Do you see any books that you wish to have?" He asks, picking up a particularly lovely bound book of what looks to be poems to examine them further. With the king's wedding, normal merchants were displaying far costlier offerings than normal with all of the nobles gathered in the city. Soon they would pack these away and it would be a long time before Oberyn steps foot in this place again.

"I would read anything and everything." It is a deep truth, that you will read almost anything handed to you, but you have found yourself hovering over some volumes telling the tales of tragic lovers and another set of volumes telling the stories of sailors from generations past. "These are beautiful pieces. Either one would be a lovely keepsake."

"Get them both." Oberyn hums, looking up from the poems with an indulgent smile. "The ship back to Dorne will be a perfect backdrop for you to lay in a hammock and read on the deck under a sail all day."

"Are we sailing?" As much as you love the sea, you have never done more than look out over it or play in the tides when you were small. It was not ladylike to do when you were older, according to your mother.

"Yes." Oberyn looks out towards the sea. "It is quicker to get to Dorne, I would rather not spend weeks traveling." He smirks. "Plus Cersei has gifted her daughter a ship for us to take back."

“That is very kind of her.” The bookbinder is not very subtle about listening intently, so you smile pleasantly at the mention of the late king’s mother.

"Yes." He knows why you are being so diplomatic, and he approves. Even if he did not share that diplomacy normally when it comes to anyone who bore the Lannister crest.

"We will enjoy our voyage, then. It will be my first time at sea." The binder ties your book sets with cord and leather while you wait, and thanks the prince with an excessive amount of bowing and scraping when payment is given. For you, the joy of new books has already made the entire day most worthwhile and you accept the bundle with great care.

"What shall we peruse now?" Oberyn hums, his own book purchased for Obara. She would like the ofte morose verses. He looks over at you with an indulgent smile. "Jewelry? Trinkets? A new sword for your lover?"

“We should look for rings.” It would be a welcome gift, you think, to show that you had been thinking of Raeden and Ellaria. “Raeden’s sword is very precious to him.”

"Yes, I could tell it was something that he did not wish to part with." He hums, taking your books from your hand and tucking them up under his elbow. "Was it his father’s?"

“It was.” The bond between fathers and sons is not lost on you, having seen it with your own three brothers. Raeden’s relationship to his own father is unique. “It was a gift to him, before he sent Raeden to train.”

“Who was his father?” He asks, knowing that the man should be from a noble house if he was given the opportunity to train.

"Monford Velaryon." The whole story is still somewhat of a mystery, even to you, but you certainly know the great House that your soulmate is descended from. That is sometimes all that bastards know. Raeden is, technically, quite fortunate to have any sort of relationship with his father.

That is surprising and Oberyn's eyebrows arch up as he makes a sound of understanding. "I see." He knows of the man. "The brother of the Bastard of Driftmark." He hums with an amused smirk. "No wonder he treated his own bastard well."

"He rarely speaks of his father, but he has known him a little over the years," you explain the little that you know as the pair of you stroll toward the metal workers and trinket makers at the other end of the market stalls. "He sent Raeden to Lord Royce to train, which is how he came to the Vale."

"Then it is fortunate that he had sent him to you." He guides you towards a stall that has a dazzling display of gold. "I believe that the fates or gods always allow us to meet our soulmate at least once." He informs you. "Otherwise why would the gods, old or new, have us bear each other’s marks?"

“It is not easy to think of things as being left up to chance.” In that, you must agree with him. “You have been very fortunate to have so many years with Ellaria.”

"Yes, I am." He does not doubt that. "It was a chance meeting." He admits, sliding his arm down so he can lace his fingers with yours. "She spilled an entire carafe of wine on me in the little tavern she was working at, fired on the spot and nearly overwhelmed by her misfortune."

“I cannot imagine her as anything but poised, but I suppose everyone is young and nervous once.” It makes you smile, actually. To think of the young prince swooping in to rescue the young damsel he saw in distress.

"She lived above the tavern and was kicked out." He squeezes your hand and frowns at the memory of the past wrong. "When I was done drinking that night – I had dismissed her from my thoughts, after all, what was one clumsy serving girl? – I found that same girl pacing in front of the whore house I was going to seek pleasure at."

“Deciding whether or not to find work?” You guess, nodding solemnly despite reveling in the comfortable way your hand fits into his.

"She was." Oberyn bites his lip and looks at you. "So I bought her first and only night as a whore."

“It seems you are accustomed to rescuing young ladies from possibly terrible fates.” Of course not every whore leads a life of poverty or sadness, and not every woman separated from her soulmate is doomed to misery and despondency. But luckily for you and Ellaria both, there was no need to find out what other possibilities life might hold.

"Perhaps I have read too many stories of fabled knights." He chuckles, dismissing any compliment that you might offer. "It is always an easy read."

“I enjoy them very much myself.” With your hand in his, you squeeze his fingers gently and keep close to his side. “But I seem to enjoy the real men themselves far more.”

"What you do not read in those books is that those same men are quick tempered, stubborn, sharp tongued and deadly." He winks at you and then nods towards the jewelry. "Shall we see what baubles catch our eyes?"

A silversmith and a goldsmith seem to be sharing quite a large area with their backs to the ocean wall, and both men have their apprentices scurrying around doing all manner of small tasks when you and the prince approach. “What does Ellaria like best?” You ask, wanting to make sure the gift that goes to her is nothing short of perfect.

Obeyrn chuckles. "She loves beautiful things, especially ones that caress her skin like a lover." He taps your finger with the ring on it. "Things like this."

“But you do not think it should be returned to her?” The ring is beautiful, its shining stone catching the light wonderfully and scattering it everywhere for all to enjoy, but you would not keep it for a moment if it would sadden her to go without it.

"My lover would not have offered it if she had wanted to keep it." Of that he is certain. It quite possibly brings her great joy to see her ring on your finger, a little claim of her own on his wife. "Offer it back to her if you wish and hear what she says."

“No, I trust you to know her mind.” Just as you would hope he trusts Raeden to know yours. “Perhaps we could find her something that resembles a sun? I have…heard you call her that. And it is a beautiful sentiment.”

"She is my sun and world." He nods, smiling approvingly at your sense of sentiment. "She is very like the bursting sun of Dorne. Radiant and beautiful."

“She might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” That is something you can easily admit – after all, you have eyes.

"She is enchanting." Oberyn agrees and looks at you. "But she and I both agree that you are just as breathtaking and appealing." He assures you with a small wink. "We have talked at length about how disappointed it is that you would not be joining us in our bed. Before your change of heart."

“Many things have changed in the last few days. For the better, I think.” There is a ring in one of the goldsmith’s cases that holds a red-orange stone in a spiral of intricately woven golden metal, with barbs that neatly resemble the sun’s rays or a great explosion of fire because of the color of the stone. “Do you think she would like this?”

His hand must let go of yours to pluck the ring from the soft cloth it is laying on and he hums as he holds it up to the sunlight to examine. "I think that she would love this to be on her hand while she caresses your skin, or your lover's skin." He admits with a smirk when he tears his eyes off the ring and looks back at you.

“Or perhaps both.” Which might be altogether the most scandalous thing you have ever said in your life, but with a husband like the Prince of Dorne, no one seems to pay it any mind.

"Then she would need one ring on each hand." He chuckles. "My paramour is greedy."

“She should have one for every finger if that is what she desires.” A woman like Ellaria – if there are any other women like her – deserves to be showered with gifts and affection the same as any noblewoman.

"I think you should get her this." Oberyn decides and hands the ring to you before he sets down the books so he can pick up linked chains of gold. "And I will get her this."

“Beautiful.” Nothing Ellaria wears is simple, and the delicate golden chains will flow over or under her dresses beautifully.

"It will drape around her breasts and draw eyes and mouths to her skin." He predicts before he looks towards the goldsmith. "I need two of these." He orders. "I need one for my wife and one for my lover."

The man seems confused at first, but when you neither flinch or react at all, he nods slightly. “Would you like them to be identical, my lord? Or have them specially made for your ladies?”

He turns towards you for your input. "What do you say, star?" He asks seriously. "Would you like to match Ellaria? Wear this and nothing else as you entice your Raeden and your husband?"

“It would be an honor to have something identical to your paramour.” To have something that marks you both as his sounds as enticing as the image he has painted.

He hums in approval and turns back to the goldsmith. "I would like two of the exact same." He orders, handing over the chains. "And we require a gift for my wife's lover."

“What…sort of gift did you have in mind?” It is obviously not the sort of request he is not used to receiving, and even as he sets to work collecting your purchases he tilts his head in curiosity.

"Star?" Oberyn turns towards you and he lifts your hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of it. "What kind of bauble would your Raeden like?" He asks. "I have not gotten a chance to know him quite as well as you so I will defer to your knowledge."

“I think he might like a ring as well.” Not usually one for baubles, you have seen his admiration for rings at other times in the past. Particularly one like his father wears. “Something like a signet? That he could seal letters with.” A nobleman’s signet with the sign of his House is something altogether extremely special, but of course simpler ones exist.

Oberyn's eyes narrow as he thinks about it and he nods. "Yes." He agrees, biting his lip. "Perhaps–" He looks at you in question. "Perhaps he might like a signet with a sword piercing a stone?" He imagines the image of a large stone with the hilt of a sword sticking up from it.

"I think that would be most fitting, and appeal to him immensely." It would be the mark of considering him a man, more than a servant, if nothing else. Sometimes you doubt that your father even knew Raeden could read and write. It was not that he thought his guard an idiot, but rather that he had simply never bothered to notice.

Pleased with your agreement, the prince turns towards the smith and raises a brow. "Can you craft that?" He demands. "I will not accept poor work. It must be a ring that a noble would wear."

"It will be costly, my lord, but it can be done." The merchant nods, again looking between you with curiosity. "Would you like it engraved? A name? Or initials?"

"Does he have a second name?" Oberyn asks you, only aware of the name you had told him. If he were a noble’s son, he might have been given another name.

"Monford." Though Lord Monford Velaryon could not claim his bastard son, he had done the best he could. Giving Raeden his name in another way. "Raeden Monford Stone."

Nodding, Oberyn turns back to the smith. "Have the letters R, M and S intertwined, like this." Oberyn removes his own signet ring and offers it to the smith to see.

Considering the commission, the merchant gives the prince a cost and the amount of time it will take, inflating both for his own benefit. Fast work is not quality, and cheap clients are not worthwhile.

"Five more coins if you have it done tonight." He tells the man, well aware it would not take as much time as he had estimated and ballooned the price to fill his pockets. It was honest thievery and from what he can see, the man has quality goods. "Polished and delivered to where I am staying."

"Tonight, my lord?" The merchant considers for only a few moments, knowing the coin more than warrants leaving his apprentice here to sell his goods while he works. "Aye. That can be managed. The whereabouts of your lodgings will be needed, of course."

"The brothel." Oberyn supplies the name of Littlefinger's establishment and nods, before looking back at his display of rings. "Now I need to find something specifically for my bride."

"And I should like to find something for my husband." You have your own coin, though it may not be as plentiful as his, and have found that you enjoy the idea of the prince wearing a token of your affection. It is nothing so bonding as your wedding ring, but it is a sweet symbol nonetheless.

"Star..." Oberyn turns back to you with a small smile. "You need not get me anything." He hums. "The presence of your beauty and intellect is gift enough."

"If you do not wish to wear a token, that is your choice." Although, you note with surprise that the rejection does not fill you with dread and bile the way it might of yesterday. Instead, only a flutter of nerves makes you shift in place. "But if you are willing, I should like you to have something that I have chosen for you."

"My dear." Oberyn shakes his head and reaches out to cup your cheeks with both of his hands. "I will wear anything you give your husband with pride." He assures you softly. "I just do not wish you to feel obligated to give me anything."

"It is not an obligation at all." That is an easy enough, and honest, reassurance. "It will please me to dote on you. That is all."

Oberyn is not one to not give into his impulses so he does not not resist leaning in and kissing you softly. "Thank you, star." He murmurs, keeping it simple and quick before he is pulling away.

"You will look for me, and I will look for you." The warmth and hazy quality of his kisses are still new to you, and you can feel your cheeks burn when he pulls away. Whatever is given to the Prince of Dorne must be extraordinary in at least one aspect, so you set to work looking through the goldsmith's wears immediately.

"My lord–" Oberyn's eyes turn back to the merchant as he shifts uneasily. "There is a matter of payment for–"

"You will get your coins." He promises him, his voice low and warning. He understands some of the lesser lords would try to pinch pennies and delay payment, but he is not such a man.

"The Prince and Princess of Dorne are not the penny pinching squabblers that you have been used to making your deals with," you inform the merchant, for the first time using your new title entirely on your own. There is a note of pride in your voice that is unmistakable.

Being a merchant in King's Landing, he had known the man was not from around here, but his eyes widen in fright when he hears who he has just insulted. "I– apologies, my lord, my lady." He bows so low he nearly folds himself over. While he might not have recognized Oberyn on sight, he has no doubt this is the fabled Red Viper. The rumors that he had finally wed seem to be true.

"You have a right to protect your business, ser." A ring on the far end of his stall has caught your eye and you wave him over to ask about it. Many strands of shining gold twist around each other again and again in an intricate pattern that your eye cannot trace easily, but both ends of the strand end in viper's heads with precious stones embedded there – one bright red and one deep blue. "This piece. You designed it yourself?"

"Aye." He nods, rushing over to eagerly hand you the ring. Now that he knows how deep your purse goes, he is very happy to accommodate any and all of your whims. "Me wife designs them. She's handy with a piece of coal."

"Very handy indeed." It is a fascinating design, and now that it is in your hand you turn it over several times and chirp with delight when it seems to fall to pieces in your fingers. "It is made to do this?" You ask the man quietly. "To be solved each time before it can be put on?"

He nods, looking particularly proud of that piece since you seem so impressed. "Somethin' to keep idle hands busy." He boasts, puffing his chest out slightly. Oberyn smirks at how he chatters with you while his eyes roam over the remaining rings to find the perfect gift for you.

"It is perfect, I think." May it take every ounce of your pin money, it does not matter. The merchant gives you the price after you insist on paying separately from your husband, and you produce the coins for him with a nod. The ring will be added to your order and hopefully Oberyn will be as taken with the bauble as you are.

One ring catches his eye and he has to reach over the stand to pluck it up to get a better look. Large, clear stones surround an even bigger milky white one. The delicate scrolls etched into the twisted gold reminds him of star dust streaking across the sky when he witnesses shooting stars. It would be the moon and stars, perfect for you.

"Have you found something of interest, my lord?" Ready to cater to the infamous prince's whims in whatever way he is able, the merchant carefully adds the ring you chose to the cloth-lined box he has selected for the prince's order.

"This." Oberyn holds the ring up and looks at the merchant. "Are the stones precious?" He asks. "I have not seen these before."

"Aye." He looks down at the piece and smiles, particularly proud of the way the craftsman ship turned out. "These on the edges are diamonds of different sizes. The center is called moonstone. Particularly beautiful, if I might say so, your Highness."

"It is." He agrees, humming thoughtfully as he looks at the ring. "I want it."

The merchant scrambles to comply, wrapping everything that has been ordered and looks up eagerly. "Is there anything else that I can do for you, my lord?"

"Make sure that you have my other ring available tonight." He reminds the man, opening his purse and starting to drop gold coins into his hand.

"My son will deliver it himself." The man assures him, all but groveling when the prince places payment in his hands. "It is my honor, ser."

“The rest of your coins will be given to him upon delivery.” Oberyn tells him, taking the box and nodding his thanks.

"I think he may tell everyone he meets for the next month that we visited him," you hum as you walk away, slipping your arm around your husband's as you go.

"As long as he does not call me cheap." Oberyn huffs in amusement before spying a merchant with large bags. "Perhaps one of those is in order for our growing purchases." He suggests. Between the books and not the box, his other arm is full.

"My eldest brother's wife favors one of these," you recognize the styling immediately. The material is nicer than the reused ship's canvas that many in the Vale make goods out of, but the style is the same. "It looks near identical to hers, but for the fabric."

"Pick the one you like best." Oberyn tells you, sending you an indulgent wink. "There are still many more coins to be spent if we wish."

"You are an indulgent husband." It earns him a kiss to his cheek before you step forward to choose a bag, greeting the merchant merrily when you come up to her stall.

He chuckles as he ambles behind you slowly. Letting you take the lead in this interaction. Watching you with a certain fondness that he had not expected to have, especially at this point.

To your delight, when you ask the merchant about her wares, she happens to have a bag made of the same disused ship sail material that you are so used to seeing. The pattern that she has stitched into it is a beautiful pattern of roses and their vines that make it a breathtaking work of art. Something so delicate with such a strong material takes a talented hand, indeed.

Oberyn looks around the waterfront, aware that there are many eyes on the two of you and he smiles. Let the word get back to Cersei that he is walking the streets of the city.

"Where else shall we walk?" It is impossible not to notice the eyes on you as the prince helps you carefully layer the purchases into the beautiful bag and put it on his shoulder. "Is there anything else you wish to explore?"

“You have said it has been a long time since you have come to King’s Landing.” He reminds you, taking your hand again and holding it rather than having you hold his arm. “And it might be years still since you return. Is there anywhere you wish to visit?”

“I was brought to be presented to the king.” The way you shrug your shoulders gives the impression that it was no great adventure and it certainly was not. “It was endless social engagements under my mother’s thumb. I see now that she was trying extremely hard to have me married quickly to be rid of me, but obviously that did not happen the way she wanted.”

“May I ask why?” Oberyn asks curiously. “You are a beautiful woman and I have no doubt there were many lords to wish you as a wife for themselves or their sons.”

“I have always been bookish.” It is not something you regret, though clearly something others do not find as desirable. “An educated girl with an opinion is not usually a lord's first choice for his son. Too headstrong. But I think also that my eldest brother, who came with us, had been directed by my father to be quite picky about my match.”

“I see.” He wonders why the man had been so choosy but it does not matter now. You are wed to him and he enjoys your intellect. “If you had a cock, maesters would be impressed with your eagerness to learn.” He snorts. “Women bear our children and yet some feel that they are weaker.” Shaking his head, he sends you a small smirk. “If they truly understood that a smart woman controls her lord with ease.”

“My father was content to let me choose for myself until my mother convinced him to accept your brother’s offer.” Walking along the market together is rather aimless now, but you still enjoy it. “But marrying for love when you are a nobleman’s daughter still does not allow the possibility that you should love someone of a different station.”

“You never told your father about Ser Raeden.” He can’t fault you for that logic, sure that you wouldn’t have been allowed to marry him. Most likely Raeden would have been sent away.

“There would not have been a point.” As unfortunate as it is, and as kind a man as he is, your father still only considered matches of rank or wealth for you. “I struck a deal with my eldest brother after his second child was born. If our father allowed me to stay unmarried, I intended to live with Antony and his wife and help to raise their children. A spinster aunt would have taken the place of needing to hire a septa to educate them, and Raeden would have simply stayed in service to our family.”

“Then I apologize for leaving your brother without his spinster sister.” Oberyn jokes dryly, sending you a wink.

“I hope that one day my brothers might be able to visit us in Dorne?” It is a long journey from the Vale, but it would sadden you immensely not to ever be able to see them again. They have been your constant companions for your whole life. “I think you would like them. Particularly my second brother. He has more of an artist’s temperament.”

“Your brothers are welcomed in Dorne any time they wish to visit.” He promises with a serious look. “I regretted not being able to see my sister more and I would not wish that on any brother.”

“Perhaps I will write to them tonight to tell them so.” You squeeze his arm gently in your hands as you walk together. “Who knows how long it will be before we are allowed to leave King’s Landing. I will write to say I am safe, that we are married, and that they are welcome whenever they choose.”

“We can arrange for you to send a raven.” Oberyn offers. “We do have a few that are designated for the Vale, we will acquire more.”

“I would be very grateful for it.” He might protest, but the prince truly is a kind and most helpful man. “But all of that is really only to say that the most I have seen of King’s Landing is the inside of a handful of ballrooms and assembly rooms.”

“Then I shall take you to a favored tavern of mine.” He decides with a grin. “The Coachman is where I have shared many drinks and laughs when I have had to be here. The wine is not Dornish, but it’s drinkable.”

"In fact...that is one of the only places in the city that I have been before." It makes you tense, to remember that night was only a few days ago. It seems like months or even years. "But I expect you knew that."

His head tilts curiously and he looks over at you, wondering at your unease. “Why would I know that, Star?”

"Perhaps she simply did not tell you where we were." That is the most likely explanation, even as you trail your eyes down to your feet to watch the toes of your boots appear from under your skirt with each step. "I would be interested to know what Ellaria did tell you about our first meeting."

“Hmmmm.” Oberyn knows that his lover does not keep important things from him so it does not bother him too much that she had met you before he had. “I’m afraid that she did not tell me.” He admits as he stops and turns towards you. “This is the first I am hearing of such a meeting.”

"I thought she would have told you..." Suddenly terrified to have spoken out of turn despite the prince not appearing to be upset at all, your eyes stay glued to the ground rather than looking up at him. "It was the day before we were invited to break fast with Queen Cersei," you murmur, convinced he could start railing at any moment. Your mother would have, certainly. "She sent a note to the Red Keep asking me to meet her. I–-I brought Raeden. For protection. As I had no idea who she was."

Chuckling, the prince shakes his head, admiring his lover’s tenacity and her capabilities. She is not a woman who sits on her hands and worries. “And what did you think when you met her?” He asks, wanting to know what impression you had of her.

"That she was very protective of you. And that she loves you very much." Both of which are true, but at the time you had not known what to make of the conversation.

“I believe that no one could argue that point.” He agrees, squeezing your hand. “Ellaria would take issue with someone arguing that.”

"And now that I know her a little better, I would never dare think otherwise." The action brings your eyes to your joined hands and you smile weakly. "I thought she would have told you."

“My lover is independent.” He hums, watching as you fluster slightly. “She probably thought that if she knew what to expect, she could manage to redirect my attention if needed.”

"I would not blame her for wanting to know what I am like." After all, you were as much a stranger to them as they were to you.

“It speaks very highly of her view of you that she did not tell me about the meeting.” He admits. “She felt no need to warn me.”

"Is that what it means?" You look up at him with nerves written on your face.

“Nothing to fear, Star.” Oberyn winks at you and smirks smugly. “My lover knows what I like, and she knew I would be very intrigued by you.”

“Then I am glad to not have disappointed either of you.” Feeling the earnestness of the moment, you bring his knuckles to your lips to kiss them and find it much easier to smile. “Should we go then? Being there for perhaps ten minutes in the middle of the night, I have very little memory of what it was like.”

“We shall.” Oberyn turns back and guides you a few blocks over to the Coachman’s Tavern, grinning when he hears the rowdy noise from inside spilling onto the streets.

The inside is crowded and rowdy just as it was a few nights ago, but there seem to be more people eating meals and fewer just drinking for the sake of it at this time of day. Fewer dancing girls too, from the look of it. If Oberyn is aware of the looks, he ignores them, catching the attention of one of the serving girls and smirking. “A table and some wine.” He demands.

“Aye.” She nods, giving him a sultry smile and pointing. “Just there. I’ll fetch your wine.”

“Come, princess.” His hand is still firmly linked with yours as he pulls you towards the table that had been pointed out. “We will share some wine and discover more about each other.”

“What would you like to know?” There can be no secrets now – the two things that you had kept from all others are things that you had divulged to him very easily.

“Anything you would like to tell me.” The bag on his arm is set beside the chairs and he watches as you sit down before he sets his royal self down beside you with a slightly dramatic flare.

“I do not think there is terribly much interesting about me that you do not already know.” His complete attention flusters you all over again, but the difference is noticeable. This is a pleasant, warm, encompassing feeling. Not fear. “I am passably accomplished. My singing and dancing are exemplary, but playing music and needlework are less so. I can paint, though, and I know geography and the noble houses of Westeros.”

“What did you do when you were a child?” Oberyn asks, leaning in and watching you with interest. He wants to know about your past, your interests. The things that he has long learned about his lover, he will now learn about his wife.

“Played with my brothers.” With those being such fond memories, you smile and lean closer to him in turn. “Antony, Bennick, and Corwen always seemed very amused by me, even when I was very little. As if a little girl made no sense to them. So they taught me to fence with sticks and climb trees and tumble around with the dogs instead.”

He smiles, imagining you running around and fighting with your brothers. “My daughters do the same.” He tells you. “They are fierce and strong like I imagine you must have been as a little one. Clamoring on your papa’s shoulders and demanding sweets.”

“Bennick would sneak us all sweets when the septa wasn’t looking.” The memory makes you smile. It’s such an innocent thing but it felt like being bandits. “Mother was very strict about treats, but Ben always found a way.”

“Sweets are demanded often around the halls of Sunspear.” His youngest especially. She has a sweet tooth that rivals her father’s. “The cooks keep pastries and cookies for the girls to ‘steal’.”

“It makes you feel terribly clever, as a child.” The serving girl comes over, depositing two goblets on the table and the wine, but giving her full attention to Oberyn when she simpers and asks what else he wishes for.

“Are you hungry?” Oberyn looks to you as he asks, pouring wine into your goblet and pushing it towards you.

“I—yes, actually.” The food in your room was probably wonderful, but you hadn’t had any stomach for it this morning. “If you are,” you add quickly.

“Food.” Oberyn decides, turning back to the server. “Whatever is best.”

“Aye.” The girl casts a glance at you but nods and walks away without a fuss.

He chuckles quietly as he turns back towards you and arches a brow. “What do you think of her?” He asks teasingly. “Do you like the width of her hips? Her breasts were very big.”

“I hardly noticed,” you admit. It felt very much like the girl was judging you, so you barely gave her a second look. “I…I have only noticed a few women in my life. Like that.”

"So you are selective." He nods as if he is learning some kind of great insight into the way your mind works. "That is good to know."

“Perhaps.” He seems to approve of this, and you smile as you drink your wine. “There are very few women in the world who are not beautiful somehow, but to be entranced by them is something different.”

Being entranced is a rare thing. He knows this because there have been very few lovers that have actually entranced him. "I know exactly what you mean." He agrees as he reaches for his own goblet. "True intoxicating beauty is something that is rarer than the most delicate bloom."

“You are very lucky to have Ellaria.” You tell him honestly, safe in the knowledge that you have shared with him. “She is precisely that rare. Brynna was that rare, too.”

He reaches out and finds his fingers trailing over yours. "You are that rare as well, star." He assures you. "Just like they are. Yet you have your own beauty that shines through like the softest moonbeams."

“I have spent my entire life being told by my father and brothers that I have a lovely smile and beautiful eyes. I thought them my only good features until Brynna and Raeden began to teach me otherwise.” His fingers are warm and teasing, stroking your skin softly, and you stretch your own to touch his skin as well. “Now to hear you say such things?” It makes your cheeks burn and your heart flutter. As if your whole body could take flight. “It is more than I could have imagined.”

"They do not see the fire in your eyes." He insists, curling his fingers around yours and toying with them idly as he keeps his eyes fixed on yours. "The strength in your spine and the love in your heart." He adds. "It is wrapped up with a clever mind and a selfless determination to make sure that those you love are safe."

It is hardly likely, when you look back at the prince – at your husband – that he does not know what he is saying to you. But you wonder if he knows how fully he sees into your heart or how he sees things about you that even Raeden did not perceive at first. And you wonder, too, if he understands the desire you already have to keep him safe. “You are a very insightful man,” you murmur, lacing your fingers together through his. “I hope I am able to live up to what you think of me.”

"You will not disappoint me." He murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to your fingertips one by one. "You cannot, because all I wish is for you to be yourself."

“I will always do my very best to make you happy,” you promise him quietly. And if that means more moments like these in the years to come, you will be very grateful.

He nods and then the server comes back with the large platter laden down with food and sets it down in front of Oberyn. "Anything else my lord requires?" She purrs as she leans over to give him an up close view of her breasts.

“You will be the very first to know if he does.” The girl’s forwardness does not bother you so much. She earns her coin how she can and that is her business, but you are obviously enjoying an intimate moment.

Her eyes cut over to you and she would dismiss you completely to turn her attention back to Oberyn. Annoyance at her treatment of the woman in his presence makes him strike out, grabbing her chin and narrowing his eyes on her own wide ones. "Do not disrespect the princess of Dorne in my presence again." He warns her slowly, his voice low but the fact that he is not yelling is more dangerous.

“M’sorry, milord.” The panic on her face is obvious, eyes flicking frantically between his face and yours, pleading for help but too frozen to pull away. “Never again, milord!”

“Husband…” Slowly, you are unsure if you should say anything at all but you feel badly for the girl. Your hand rests gently on his shoulder, not willing to test his temper any more. “You cannot blame her for liking your attention. No harm was done.”

Oberyn watches her for another moment before he finally lets go of her chin and leans back, looking over to you. His temper got the best of him and normally Ellaria is the only one who can somewhat reign him in, but your soft words had soothed his ire. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two coins to drop onto the table as he looks back at the server. "Go."

The girl disappears faster than lightning in the sky, and you breathe again softly. “Every person in the world cannot expect to have seen a portrait of every royal. Everything is fine.”

"Princess or whore." He growls slightly, cutting his eyes around towards you again even though they are not quite as dark anymore. "To ignore a lover in their presence is an insult. One I do not accept lightly."

“And I am sure she will never commit such an offense again.” The hand you have on his shoulder presses slightly more firmly and you hold his eyes. “All is well, my prince.”

There is an excitement that washes over him with the firmness of your touch and voice. His cock twitches and he grunts in agreement. "It would be a shame to waste the food."

“It would.” The tray that was delivered holds meat pies, cheese, roasted vegetables, and even a portion of sweets to share, and you offer him an encouraging smile. “And it all looks very well. So why do not we eat, and talk more, and afterward we can return to the brothel?”

"That sounds like a plan, princess." Oberyn's dagger comes out of its sheath and he spears a potato to offer to you.

Conversation returns and you watch carefully as his humor returns to normal. The meal is filling if not the most delicious thing you have ever eaten, and you distinctly remember the moment of being fed that Dornish pastry in the market earlier when you offer him a bite of the little spice cake and its apple filling from your own fingers.

Oberyn hums but his favorite part of the treat is letting his tongue lap at your fingers. Smirking when he watches your eyes widen and he leans back to swallow. "Shall we return to our quarters?" He asks, the meaning much heavier and intimate than previous.

“That…seems wise.” The way he looks at you gives you the impression that he is going to devour you whole – something you have only seen in Raeden’s eyes before this moment. It is not at all unwelcome, but it does make you a bit nervous as you rise from the table. Once again, you find yourself worried about being a disappointment to the prince.

He sees the way your expression changes, your lips pinch together in harmony with your brows. You are uneasy and he will not have that. "Yes." He hums and stands to offer you his hand. "We will return to our quarters and then...." He shrugs one elegant shoulder. "We shall see."

******

Returning to the brothel bears almost an odd sense of calm and even welcoming, although you have not seen Lord Baelish’s face since yesterday. Or perhaps it is somewhat because of that fact. Either way, you and the prince are greeted cordially by Cal near the entrance and he takes the bag of purchases up to the rooms you have been using after asking if the prince has any other needs to be met. The obvious hope in the man’s voice is not something you can blame – just like the attention of the serving girl at the Coachman. The prince is irresistible.

His eyes flicker back to you and then to the man who had spent several nights in his bed since his arrival in King's Landing. "Some wine, Cal." He hums, sending him a wink. "I do not know where the night takes me but I think that you need rest from my attentions, no?"

His disappointment shows in a pout, but he just nods before veering off course to obtain more wine for the prince’s chambers. He will deliver everything at once, including the various packages of food that were delivered to the door just a few minutes ago.

“Shall we go see if your Raeden is awake?” Oberyn offers, sure that you are not wanting to immediately jump into anything intimate.

“I’m sure he would like to see you, as well.” Now that you know there is an attraction there, you would not deny them time together, just as the prince has not denied you time to be with Raeden.

“That remains up to your lover, much like it is up to you.” He strolls with you down the hall, smirking at the sight of a large breasted, giggling redhead dashing towards one of the rooms farther down from yours.

Inside the rooms that are designated as yours and the prince’s, Ellaria is sprawled out with a sheet of parchment and quill in her hands, both of which she disregards entirely when Oberyn appears in the doorway. “Lover,” she smiles broadly and rises from the bed elegantly to embrace him. “How was your walk?”

Like everything in Oberyn’s life, he embraces his lover with a passion that would have you believe it has been years since they have been together rather than hours. His mouth slots against hers hungrily and he slides his tongue against hers for a long moment before he pulls away. “It was perfect.” He hums, turning his head towards you with a smile. “The princess has excellent taste.”

“Is that so, Beauty?” Ellaria hums and leaves a kiss on each of your cheeks. “You must have impressed him.”

“We…” Your cheeks burn at the attention, but you clear your throat as Cal comes into the room and deposits your things on the table before leaving again. “I found something for you. That I truly hope you like.”

“For me?” Her kohl lined smokey eyes widen and she does not know to look pleased or shocked that you thought of her while you were with the prince, your husband. “That is incredibly generous of you.” She muses, stepping closer and caressing your cheek with an amused smile. “Buying my affections, Princess?” She teases. “There is no need.”

“It is a token of appreciation…and affection.” It is becoming increasingly clear to you that Ellaria makes you nervous not because she is so impressive and confident – though she is – but because you are attracted to her.

“I accept any and all tokens.” She leans in and hovers her lips over yours but does not kiss you. “You are most generous.”

“You have more than earned my appreciation.” The pull is far too great not to close the distance between you, but the kiss only lasts for a moment before you part again with your skin on fire. “I will wake Raeden and we will give you your gifts.”

Ellaria steps back from you and finds Oberyn’s side, watching with speechless interest as you disappear behind the door to your chambers. “That was unexpected.” She murmurs, reaching up to touch her lips.

******

“My love?” When you push open the door to the chamber you have been sharing with Raeden, there is little light to be found. He has lit no candles and left the curtains closed, so perhaps he truly has slept the afternoon away. “Are you awake, Rae?”

Raeden groans softly, turning onto his side and his eyes flutter open, only to see dim light. “My love?” He croaks out, raspy from sleep. “Here.”

“Returned to you safe and sound, as promised.” He must have been far more exhausted than you thought, making you feel all the more guilty for fighting with him earlier today. Setting yourself down on the edge of the mattress, you lean over to dust kisses across his cheek and lips. “Sleep, darling. I am sorry to wake you.”

“No.” He shakes his head and lifts himself to his elbow with a groan and a yawn. “If I sleep much longer, I will not sleep tonight.” He frowns. “Unless it is night now?”

“It is nearly dusk. I am afraid we were gone longer than I expected.” In truth, all you had thought was for a stroll down the market lane. Your adventure had been far, far better than that. “There is food and wine in the other room. Perhaps…we might spend some time with the four of us together?”

“Of course.” He will always do what you wish to do. He is wearing his drawers when he crawls out of the bed and stretches. He hadn’t felt comfortable stripping down again after the earlier confrontation since he would be here alone with Ellaria. “Let me get dressed.”

“The prince’s gift for you should arrive tonight.” It is his to give, and you won’t spoil the surprise if he intends it to be one, but you still smile while Raeden dresses. “It is…well, I hope that you like it as much as I think you will.”

“He…got me a gift?” He is pulling on his undershirt when he freezes, his head whipping around to stare at you in confusion. “Why?”

"Because he is fond of you." You can certainly venture that far, offering him a reassuring look. "And because you are my soulmate, and a good man. Those are all excellent reasons."

“He should not have.” He frowns slightly, aware that he has very few coins to buy gifts for anyone. His belongings had been in his trunk when it was delivered but his coin purse was far lighter than he had remembered it being.

"There is something for all of us, my love." Seeing the anxiety on his face, you stand again and reach to hold both of his hands in yours. "He does not expect anything in return. It is a gesture, that is all. For all of us."

“Your husband is a generous man.” He is aware that there is no way he could afford to keep you here, safe and belly full. He is grateful that the Prince has seen fit to be a benevolent man to you and your lover.

"You deserve to be treasured." And although it is not always easy for him to believe, you will tell him so every day. "Come, my love. Finish dressing and we will feed you. You must be ravenous."

“Of course.” He will want to come to be where you are. Especially since you mentioned food. It has been some time since he has eaten, since he was asleep.

The prince is handing coins to a stout young man delivering a package when you and Raeden come back into their room, and you are glad to see that Raeden's ring has arrived without trouble. There are bowls and platters of all manner of Dornish delights spread out along the table for enjoyment and Ellaria is enjoying a plate of comforting food with pleasure. "It appears everything has been delivered."

“It has.” Oberyn looks very pleased as he gestures towards the table of food. “While we ate some already, let us indulge more with our lovers.”

"You already know I cannot say no to sweet delights." There is an entire bowl of the honey-soaked pastries that you had indulged in at the stall. The merchant must have noted your obvious enjoyment of them.

He chuckles and picks up a pastry when he joins you beside the table. “Then we will have to make sure you have something sweet every meal.”

"He is extremely pleased with something that has happened today," Ellaria assesses, knowing Oberyn's moods as well as her own after so long together. "You must have enjoyed yourselves thoroughly."

“We went to find gifts.” Oberyn purrs. “There is one gift that is a matching set, for you and the princess and one day I will have you both model it for me.”

"Oh?" Ellaria hums her approval. "It must be very salacious if you are so excited to see them worn."

He smirks, aware that his lover is very versed in his tastes. He sets down the box that was just delivered and moves to the one you and he had brought to open it and pulls out the packets with the necklaces. “Just them lover.”

The identical multi-strand necklaces are beautifully crafted, and Ellaria sighs in delight as she pulls hers out of the wrapping and holds it up in the firelight. "Lover, it is stunning," she coos honestly before her eyes slide over to you. "When your princess is ready we will wear them together. It will be a beautiful sight."

“Yes it will.” His eyes shift from his lover as he strokes her arm to your Raeden. “Ser Raeden and I will be hard as stone taking in the beauty of you and the princess wearing nothing but these golden chains on your skin.”

Raeden's cheeks burn but he does not deny it, looking between the two people across from him before his eyes move back to you. "You are stunning in everything, my love," he answers diplomatically. "Any ornament pales in comparison the two beauties at this table."

“A poet.” Oberyn’s eyes flash in surprised delight and he hums. “Perhaps I shall give you your trinket next?” He looks to you to see what you think about this.

"It is hardly a trinket, but yes. Please do." You nod approvingly and sit back, hoping that Raeden will love the gift like you think he will.

He’s a man who gives gifts often to those he loves, but he does not love Raeden. He wants the man, he wants you and your lover in his bed but he has not yet formed the attachment to him that seems to be so easy with you. Still he had wanted to gift Raeden something to show the man his place, that Oberyn was not going to send him away from your side. “Ser Raeden, your lover told me your full name and I decide that my Princess’s lover, her soulmate should wear something both honorable and intimate.”

"Then you know who my father is." It is not a common name, and unmistakable to a noble with such a vast knowledge of the nobles of Westeros. If you had told the prince his full name, then Raeden has no doubt that the prince knows whose bastard he is.

“I do.” Oberyn nods seriously. “Which is why I know the sword you carry is a gift. I should have recognized the sea horse in the handle before now.” It’s subtle and small, but visible when you are looking for it. Raeden had left his sword in his rooms when he went to sleep while you walked with your husband.

"He did the best he thought he could for me." Though it was not always perfect, at least he had some connection. To the man himself and to his family. They knew he existed, which is more than many bastards can say.

“I know about bastards.” He knows that he is luckier than most, all his bastard children are accepted, loved. He would tolerate nothing less than that. “Yet the next time you send your father a letter….” Oberyn reaches for the box and hands it to him. “Seal your missive with this, if it is your desire to do so.”

Raeden opens the box with tentative fingers, curious as to precisely what might be inside. There is a small cushion inside and the glint of gold atop it and Raeden looks up at the prince curiously before reaching in to the little wooden square to extract an intricately carved gold signet ring. The carving bears the image of a sword hilt extending out of a stone, some of the blade exposed to make the image all the more dramatic. Engraved in the band, the letters RMS are intertwined beautifully and delicately, making him gasp quietly. "My lord..." he looks up at the prince with awe. "This symbol. Is it Dornish?"

“It is your symbol.” Oberyn tells him. “Your sword from your father and the stone to signify your lineage.” He clasps his hands on the other man’s shoulders. “You bear no shame of being a bastard in Dorne and your signet should be worn with pride.”

"You cannot mean..." There is water in Raeden's eyes when he looks over at you and then back at the prince, trying to fully understand what has just happened. "Your Highness it is...it is more than I could have dreamt." His own signet and his own symbol is tantamount to having his own House. It legitimizes him in a different way – not as the son of his father but as the beginning of his own lineage. It is an act of graciousness that frees him in a way that could not be imagined and he looks to you again with wide eyes. "My love, did—"

"It was Oberyn's idea," you tell him honestly, seeing the way he is so overcome with emotion. "I suggested something for you to use in your correspondence. The symbol was of his own creation."

“Lover.” Ellaria is soft, melting into Oberyn’s side as he watches the man try to compose himself and nearly fail at it. He understands why this is so emotional to him and he turns his head to look at Ellaria before back at Raeden. “Your sons will bear your symbol.” He decides. “Under the Dornish banner.”

Swallowing fresh tears, Raeden squeezes his eyes shut before extending his hand to the prince in gratitude. "I will endeavor to deserve it with every breath I take, my prince." This gift is far more than a trinket. It is a future. A future at the hands of the man who has married his soulmate. Fate is very strange indeed.

The prince takes Raeden’s hand, jerking him towards his body to clasp his arm around him in a fierce embrace. “I know you will.”

Having nothing like Raeden's restraint, you have been sitting to his side with silent tears streaming down your face and you wipe them now to move closer to your soulmate and offer him a kiss. This is a moment of pride and you know he has desired something like this for his entire life.

Oberyn steps back from your lover, allowing you this moment together. Your history is far longer than his own brief one with the man. Ellaria cups his cheek and turns his head towards her so he can be gifted with a kiss of his own. “You did a wonderful thing, lover.” She whispers against his lips.

Raeden turns the ring over twice more in his hand before fitting it to his finger, overwhelmed and beaming with such unexpected pride at wearing his own symbol. At having his own symbol. A knight in service to a prince with his own lineage to begin. That is an extremely remarkable thing.

“It is not so very momentous,” you murmur after the pause, picking up the small box that contains Ellaria’s gift. “But this is my thanks to you.”

Letting go of her lover to take the box, Ellaria hums and her eyes find yours. “I already know it will be beautiful.” She declares. “In everyone’s eyes, you are Oberyn’s wife and could easily pretend I do not exist.” Oberyn would never allow that to happen, but some other woman could try. So it is only fair to acknowledge that, the way you acknowledge her lover's generosity to Raeden.

“You are his soulmate.” It is every bit as important as being his wife. Arguably more so, and you reach across the table to squeeze her hand gently in yours for a brief moment. “And the mother of four of his daughters. You have been the most important woman in his life for many years. And I am grateful to you for accepting and welcoming my presence. I know that if you did not, things between all of us would be very different.”

“They would.” Ellaria knows this and she smiles at you as she opens the small box and looks down. Biting her lip when she sees a small flash of gold wrapped in cloth. Reaching down and pulling it out, she sighs softly and smiles. “It is beautiful.” She murmurs, admiring the ring before looking back at you.

“I thought it only fitting, considering you gave me your ring at the Citadel.” The expression on her face is one of true appreciation and perhaps even happiness, and it warms you through completely to see it.

“I will be proud to wear it.” She sets the box down and slides the ring on her finger before she reaches for you. Pulling you in for another brief kiss to show her affection.

There is a comfort in it this time, something warm and welcoming, and you are smiling when you sit back again. “There is something for you, as well,” you remind your husband, knowing that the last two remaining boxes are your gifts to each other. The things that you had selected separately as surprises.

“Yes.” Oberyn smiles as he moves towards the box once more to pluck out your ring. “A wife should always have a gift from her husband.” He does not actually know about what a wife should or shouldn’t have, but he will treat you as he has his lover.

It is an elaborate thing. Shimmering stones that twinkle in the candlelight like stars surround the milky center stone, and you gasp softly to see the way it seems to grow ever more brilliant from every angle you examine it. “It is beyond words,” you murmur, looking back up at him. It slips onto your finger so easily that it truly seems meant for you. “I will treasure it always.”

Oberyn nods, pleased that you approve of his gift to you. Smiling as you admire it on your hand. Each one having a ring on it.

The moment lingers, as does the sentiment, and you get up from your seat to step around the table. Perhaps the pull between you is only imagined since your vows and perhaps it is not, but either way it is strong. You lean over at his side to give your husband a kiss, murmuring thanks to him softly.

“You are welcome, Princess.” He winks at you. “You deserve to be adorned in all manner of beautiful things.”

“I would say that you deserve the same, but you have already ensured that for yourself,” you tell him, offering Ellaria a smile before you move the box in front of him. Only his ring remains. “The last is for you, husband.”

Oberyn takes the box and looks at you in curiosity before he opens it. The ring makes his brow furrow and he picks it up to examine it. “How intriguing.” He hums as he starts to fiddle with it.

Ellaria and Raeden lean in to watch his fingers work the knotted metal, only for all three of them to look delighted when the pieces finally fall into place and reveal the design of intertwined snakes. You are all but holding your breath, hoping he will like the unconventional jewel, but the way he examines it with such care bodes well.

Oberyn’s chuckle is delighted as he sees the emerged pattern. Grinning at you when he can tear his eyes from the ring, he reaches for you. “Princess, I will wear it always.” He decides as he pulls you in for a kiss to thank you.

The warm moment does not make Raeden’s stomach twist the same way it would have yesterday. The emotions that he was determined not to allow to rule him are not as heightened with all of the revelations that have come to light today, and the burden of his own blood is eased by the ring he now wears. Such a small thing, but with so much meaning.

“I am glad you like it.” His kiss floods you with pride and pleasure, and you cannot help but smile broadly. “The merchant’s own wife designed it, he said. He was very proud to think you would wear it.”

“I am called the Red Viper.” He muses, stealing another quick, yet passionate kiss before he pulls away to put the ring on. “It is fascinating to see how it comes together.”

“It is one of the few things I knew about you before meeting you.” It fits his finger well, and you are glad to see him so happy with the choice. “Your color is red, and the other stone is blue…like my own House’s banner. It felt appropriate.”

“A perfect choice for a newly made match.” He assures you, reaching out with the hand that has your ring on it to caress your cheek. “I will carry a piece of you where I go.”

“And I you.” And how glad that makes you is something that settles over you like a warm blanket.

“This is a welcomed outcome.” Ellaria hums, smiling at Raeden. “We will have to exchange tokens of affection later.” She decides with a playful wink.

“It seems so.” He does not blush, truly, but he does feel the warmth in his cheeks under her gaze. Desire is a powerful feeling and this is a most powerful desire. “Perhaps,” he swallows the nerves that plague him, watching you with your husband. Be it the remains of jealousy or something new and bold in him, he looks back to Ellaria. “We could take our own walk? Some time?” He cannot buy her precious baubles, but he cannot deny wanting to spend time with her.

Her brow arches and there is a sense of the cat who got the cream reflected in the curve of her lips. “I would love to stroll through wherever with a handsome and kind man such as yourself.” She nods. “It will be good for all of us to become social, I believe.”

"It will give us a chance to know each other better." He ventures, seeing the glint in her eyes.

“I always enjoy getting to know handsome men better.” She purrs, stepping closer to your lover and laying her hand on his chest before looking at you. “As much as I do beautiful women.”

"That is..." Tearing your attention from the prince, you look back to Raeden and smile gently when he nods. "That is something that we have agreed that we would like to explore," you tell both Ellaria and your husband with equal seriousness. "Our disagreement ended with some things coming to light that have put us both more at ease with our desires."

“Oh?” She can guess what the root of the problems were, but she will not voice those opinions until you share them with her. As free as she is with her own affections and ideas of love, not everyone is.

"Sometimes the things that we were taught and the things that we feel are not always the same." You know that Ellaria understands you, her eyes are full of understanding as she nods. "Sometimes the ferocity of anger and fear is necessary to see the errors we have made in our own minds."

“Yes.” She nods, looking back at you seriously. “As free as Oberyn and I are, we would never overstep.” She assures you with a soft smile before looking back up at Raeden.

"Life has changed swiftly around us." Raeden acknowledges, for the first time, allowing himself to be caught in admiring her. To simply exist in the moment. "To change with it might be freeing."

Ellaria hums and despite your own shared kisses with her that were not permissible, she reaches up and cups your lover’s cheek carefully. “May I kiss you?”

It would be the first time since he saw his mark on your thigh that he has shared intimacy with any other person, but he nods as he holds back his own nerves about this bold step forward. Whatever claim Ellaria Sand has on him, it began the night the three of you met at that tavern and has taken deep root without regard for restriction or restraint.

“Thank you, lover.” She hums quietly, raising up on her toes as her hand slides behind his neck to press her lips to his.

It is certainly not the polite, chaste first kiss that you exchanged with the prince at the Citadel, and the way it seems to envelope all of Raeden's senses is a heady, dizzying feeling. She fits into his side and against him so well that he could deceive himself into thinking she belonged there if he gave it too much thought.

Oberyn watches the kiss develop before turning to observe how you feel about watching your lover and his kiss.

It is odd, because by all accounts you should be jealous. You should despise seeing Raeden so thoroughly kiss another woman. But you surprise yourself by smiling. "They look well together." Is what you end up whispering to him, finding that once again you truly want only what will make Raeden happy. If that means that he visits Ellaria and shares his bed with her? He has said it does not mean he loves you any less, and you believe him.

“Yes they do.” His own smile curves his lips, his hold on you tightening slightly. “They will be a vision of sweaty limbs and cries of pleasure when the time comes.” He predicts. “Have you ever watched your lover pleasure himself, Princess?”

“Sometimes.” The question makes you bite your lip as you fight self-consciousness. “We have rarely had that much leisure time in our encounters, you explain, watching now as Raeden’s hand slides across Ellaria’s back. “The first morning here was the first time we have been able to wake up in each other’s arms.”

“Watching your lover touch another is very much like watching him pleasure himself.” He leans in and whispers. “Often when I see Ellaria with another, my cock is aching.”

“It is appealing to you…to watch them.” It does not need to be a question, because you can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. The arousal makes his tone huskier as it darkens his eyes.

“Yes it is.” He hums. “Just like I would like to see you and your lover together.” He has thought about that and honestly never imagined an opportunity for it to happen, but perhaps now it is not so out of reach.

“I have never…been observed before.” It had been, along with your experiences with Brynna, something too shameful to speak about. But if your first lover being a woman was not so wrong, then perhaps neither are some of the other desires that you have been denying.

“If you wish it, watching you sit upon your lover’s cock would be a thrilling experience.” He hums. “One of Ellaria’s most favored things is to have her cunt licked while she is on my cock if we have another in our bed.”

The way you have to shut your eyes immediately to call yourself to order means that you have to miss the moment that Raeden and Ellaria break from each other. Desire hangs heavy between them like most air in the hottest days of summer, and their hands grasp tightly to each other.

Raeden pants and his lips tingle, his cock tenting his breeches from how hard he is. Almost wishing that he had worn the robes that Oberyn had given him, it would have covered his reaction to kissing the Prince’s paramour.

“If you fuck and fight as well as you kiss, you may be Oberyn’s favoured man in many ways,” Ellaria praises, keeping the hand on Raeden’s chest curl into his shirt to keep him close.

His eyes flutter and his cock twitches. “I would like to show you.” He admits, voicing his wants more quickly and freely than he had ever admitted before or ever thought of admitting.

“What does our princess think of that?” Ellaria looks to you with curiosity, ready to take Raeden to bed at a word but not if it will cause more issue.

“Of—” In truth you had almost lost full faculty of yourself from the images that the prince was painting in your mind, but you manage to steady yourself. “What do I think of…?” To your utter surprise, what you feel is glad for Raeden. “I cannot think of anyone I trust to treat my soulmate with as much care as I would.”

Raeden’s eyes widen in surprise. Despite the conversation, he had honestly thought you might protest. His gaze slides over to Oberyn, who hums and nods. “She is not shy about what she likes.” He promises the other man. “And she will suck your soul out through your cock with her talented mouth.”

“I want for you to be happy, my love,” you remind him. A soft kiss across the table is very different from the one he just shared with Ellaria but that is because you are different women.

“I love you.” He reminds you. “It does not change that.” He never wants you to think that his love for you could wane because of spending time with another.

“No. It does not. Nor does it change my love for you.” You clasp his hand before sitting down again. “Enjoy yourselves, my love. When I hear Ellaria’s cries of pleasure tonight I know I will be in complete agreement with her about your talents.”

Raeden's chest puffs out slightly, proud of your favorable view on his talents even if he is wary of how he will measure up to the Prince and the numerous lovers Ellaria has had. "Come lover." She takes his hand and smirks salaciously at the two of you. "Let us adjourn to the other room and I will find out firsthand if mounting that cock of yours is as pleasurable as I imagined when we bathed together."

“They will enjoy their night thoroughly.” You do not have any trouble believing that as the door shuts behind them.

"Now..." Oberyn hums thoughtfully as he watches the door close and he turns towards you. "We just need to decide how we will be enjoying our night." He says with a small smirk. "Indulge in reading, perhaps?" He offers playfully, though he knows that if you were not willing to fuck him, he would not protest.

“At first, perhaps?” There is a certain pleasure in being read to, but it is not what is at the front of your mind right now. “But…perhaps there might be other indulgences to be had?”

"What indulgences are you interested in, princess?" Oberyn demands, lifting his hand to your cheek and letting his fingers drift down your throat and over your collarbone. "I think I should buy you more dresses." He hates that you are wearing one of your dresses from the Vale. Too much skin covered for his liking. "Sheer ones. Flowing and letting the warm sun kiss your skin like a lover." He smirks. "Easier to disrobe."

“We can call for a seamstress tomorrow, if you wish it.” There was a dressmaker at the market today that you noticed had excellent wares, and your mind drifts momentarily to wondering if she could make something that combined the things you found comfortable and your dresses from home with the more freeing things the prince enjoys about the garments of his homeland. For now, though, you tilt your head at him. “I hope this dress will not be too difficult for you to remove? It is one of my favorites.”

"May I remove your dress?" He asks, arching a perfectly crafted brow. "See the body of my wife in her full glory and touch her?" He rasps out. "Make her cry out and shake in pleasure and fill her with my cock? Fuck her until she is limp with exhaustion and her body tingles, never to forget my touch."

Each and every time he postulates in such graphic terms, you feel your whole body turn burning hot with desire that you had been clouding over with embarrassment. Not knowing how to understand your own feelings, you had denied them. Now, as you hear Ellaria giggle and moan for the first time in the room next to you, you will attempt to simply allow yourself to want him. To want this. “Yes.” Your nod is more confident than your voice, but they are united in their message. “Take me to bed, husband.”

“Perfect.” Oberyn’s smile is anticipation and desire fused together and he steps around you to work on the laces of your dress. He is an expert in lady’s dresses and yet the only reason he does not pull his dagger to cut through the ribbons keeping the fabric on your body is because you had told him it is a favorite. “No more of this.” He vows, Finding another layer of laces and cloth beneath the dress. “It will be far too heavy in Dorne.”

“I will save it for if we ever visit my brothers.” Having him touch you even a little – even through layers of fabric – is like being burned in a wholly desirable way. “Or perhaps a seamstress can make it appropriate for Dorne. For the heat, and for the eager hands of my prince.”

“You will be free in the silks of Dorne.” He assures you. “Sliding over your skin like a lover’s hand. “Flowing around your legs and giving your lovers teasing glances of your body.”

“You and Raeden would have me in as little as possible.” When his fingers finally find the bare skin of your back you nearly gasp.

“Naked would be preferable.” He agrees. “I am a simple man.” There is nothing simple about Oberyn Martell but he manages to say it without chuckling.

“I doubt that.” Though it does make you smile as you look over your shoulder at him.

He does chuckle at that, bending down slightly so he can press his lips to your shoulders as he starts to push your dress down to pool at your feet. “Desire and lust are very simple.”

The heavy, structured dress barely deflates around you, but billows when it hits the stone floor to leave you in your stays and thin shift. It is more layers, more covering, and despite having been bare in a bath with him just yesterday you feel positively exposed.

“If you want to stop, you tell me.” Oberyn watches as your shoulders round slightly.

“Being nervous does not stop me from wanting this.” It does, though, make you turn around to face him. “I do want this, I promise you.”

Oberyn reaches out to capture the back of your neck, dragging you closer to kiss you like he had kissed Ellaria earlier. Passionate enough to steal his breath as he passes it to you.

To be so utterly intoxicated by him is disarming still, but tonight you welcome it. Passion as you have only experienced with one other person seems to soak into every aspect of your being. The strokes of his tongue against yours are equally coaxing and demanding, making you gasp into his mouth and quake in his arms as though you had never been touched at all.

As he kisses you, his hands slide up and own your body, blindly working your stays until the material falls off your waist and he pulls it off your body. Gathering the material of your shift up in his hands, he starts to pull it up over your hips.

It takes so little to bare yourself to him, and yet when he leans back from kissing you to take in the full sight, it feels as though you have laid the world out for him. Your world. The greatest gift you have to give is yourself, for better or worse, and this time your hands are on him instead of hiding your body from view.

"Beautiful." Oberyn praises, his hands reaching for his belt, eager to unknot it and to be as bare as you are. The need to touch you has been building since the day that you first met and even if it has not been but three days since then, it seems as if it has been a lifetime.

His garments are much simpler than yours, despite being more sumptuous, and you watch with breathless attention as he pulls open ties and buttons to rid himself of every piece. The next time you will do everything yourself without him even needing to lift a finger.

His boots are kicked off and his breeches unlaced, Oberyn looks back at you. Dark eyes roaming over your body and he smirks. "Go lay down, princess. Spread your legs and show me your beautiful cunt."

The sprawling bed is more than enough room for the two of you, and his dark eyes on you would be enough to compel you there even if his throaty voice was not so commanding. While normally you would object to being given orders, the tenor of the prince's voice when what he wants is within reach makes your pussy drip.

Your thighs spread and Oberyn groans as he sees the glistening sheen of your cunt lips coated in arousal. His own hardening cock twitching and he swaggers towards the bed with his breeches still on for a closer look.

It must be what deer feel like under a hunter's eye, but no deer has ever laid out for their hunter so easily. He knows precisely what he wants and how to achieve it, and your chest heaves, imagining this man lowering his mouth to you.

"You are like a shining star." He praises, reaching down and pushing his breeches down so he can kick them off. His cock juts up proudly and he kneels on the bed, eager to join you and touch you.

"It is hard not to feel like one when you shower me with such praise." You reach for him, already wanting him as close as can be.

Kneeling on the bed, he smirks and starts crawling towards you. "You want to consummate our vows, princess?" He asks with a growl.

"Gods...yes." He prowls closer and you seem to melt immediately in response. Breathless and covered in gooseflesh from wave after wave of arousal, if you were not already laying down you might have dropped to your knees at that question.

"I am glad you are not a shy, virginal miss." He admits, kneeling between your thighs and sliding his hands up your thighs. "So you are not shocked when I do this." He drops his head down and dives into your cunt with his tongue.

The ferocity of his resolve has your head dropping back to the pillow and a whimper crossing your lips immediately. Every encounter you have ever had has been clandestine and your own sounds of passion have always been muffled because of it. The idea that you do not have to hold back tonight is making your mind spin as much as anything else. Your knees draw up to your chest and your back arches, your body undulating with pleasure beneath him and your hands twist in the sheets on either side of you. A virginal miss you are not, but he is still only the third lover ever to touch or taste you in this way.

As much as Oberyn likes to receive pleasure, he also likes to give pleasure. Some might think it's his ego or reputation that makes him focus on his lover, but it's the sounds they make. Pulled from them by the flick of his tongue, the curl of his fingers or the thrust of his cock. "Hmmmm." He groans as he looks up at you and smirks at the rapturous look on your face as he devours your cunt.

There is no tentative exploration, no time spent delicately mapping the dips and dimples of your skin. There is only the fervent and greedy sounds of Oberyn's tongue spearing into your pussy as your soft sounds of pleasure grow slowly but steadily louder. His hands squeeze and grope your hips and thighs, coaxing you to start rolling your hips against his face. He pulls his lips away to smack them. "Enjoying yourself, princess?"

"My–" A gasp passes your lips when he licks a stripe up the length of your slit. "My husband is very p–pleased with himself." Even teasing him comes out stammered as your whole body shakes with every stroke of his talented tongue.

"Very pleased, wife." He chuckles before he reapplies himself to making your cunt cream and quiver with pleasure while you shout his name. In part to show you what he is capable of when you visit his bed, but mostly because he wanted to taste you. So he is.

The first time your hand strikes out to steady yourself against him it is a very odd sort of revelation. Raeden has never had hair on his head for as long as you have known him, and you were careful not to dislodge a single strand on Brynna's head for fear of discovery. But now? This is your husband. And a man who has made his fame as a lover, no less. So when your fingers find his hair by accident you let them explore, wondering if the prince will enjoy such a sensation.

Oberyn groans while your nails scratch against his scalp, eyes fluttering as his tongue swirls even faster. You have discovered his love of having his hair played with and his fingers dig into your hips.

"Gods." The more you explore the more he dedicates himself to his task, and your voice cracks as it raises. That familiar feeling of a knot twining around itself in your belly is building like a wildfire and you cry out wordlessly.

When you start to cry out, Oberyn is instantly addicted to the sound. Sucking your clit into his mouth, his chin gets soaked in a flood of your cum as your cunt spasms around nothing. This bliss is not unfamiliar, but it comes with an intensity this time that has you shaking and arching off of the mattress. With the freedom to be vocal you very well might cry yourself hoarse but for pleasure like this it will be exquisitely worthwhile.

He loves how your cries ring in his ears, very different from the quiet moans that he had barely heard the first night that you had stayed here. Your wedding night. Now it's loud and telling everyone who passes by that you are being pleasured in here.

When the dam breaks you feel every inch of your body tense up, spasming tightly so that even your fingers twine into his hair with fervor. The crashing waves of pleasure turn the world blank around you until you soften, going limp against the bed and sighing with the first breath you've taken since you started cumming.

Oberyn pulls his lips off your clit with a smug, satisfied smile as he watches you try to catch your breath with a soft puff of air. "Did your husband disappoint?"

"Of course not." If you could move you would be crawling down to him to return the affection but you will need at least a moment or three before you are anything but limp. "I knew you would not."

"Good." He purrs, smirking and he drops a kiss on your hip before he climbs up your body. Dropping another kiss on your lips before he caresses your cheek and shifts to lay down beside you.

The taste of your own arousal from his lips has you humming again, drawn to him and rolling over to your side to stay close to him. Your hand wanders tentatively, tracing the muscles of his chest and arms dreamily. "Are all women so similar that you know our bodies by instinct?"

"Years of practice." Oberyn chuckles, as he runs a finger down your arm and then around your nipple, looking down and watching it stiffen even more from the gentle pressure.

Your breathing turns shallow all over again, your back finding that familiar arch to chase the soft sensation of his touch. As if following it could make it more firm. "You have learned your skills well."

"Yes?" He smirks as the nipple tights even more, gooseflesh breaking out over your flesh. "You enjoy my touch, wife?" He asks softly. "You are not just enduring my touch?"

"I would never have endured any unwanted touch." That was a promise that you had made to yourself, but now you shake your head and inch closer to him on the bed. "I...cannot explain why I have felt as drawn to you as I am. But perhaps it is lucky."

"Many have been lucky." He admits, deciding that he is done teasing your nipple and he pinches it, rolling it in his fingers just harshly enough to make your breath hitch.

The feeling is sharp, shooting directly between your legs and making you shiver. "I have no trouble believing that you have entranced anyone you have ever crossed paths with."

"I wanted you from the first time we met." He confesses easily, watching you with dark eyes as he continues to pinch and pluck at your breast. "Your spine. Your defiance."

"I am far less defiant after cumming," you laugh softly. Spine, though, you have. In this moment it comes in the form of cupping your hand over his, showing him the much rougher pressure you prefer to be touched with. Featherlight touches are pleasurable to begin with, but the mornings you are sore after taking Raeden are always your favorite.

Humming delightly, he is thrilled that his lady wife is not the prim and proper miss he had feared. You like a rougher touch. "You like a little bit of pain with your pleasure, star?" He growls. "How do you like to be fucked, princess? Should I have Raeden come in here and show me?"

That suggestion conjures an image that makes you whine instinctively. Allowing yourself to accept these desires you once considered sinful encompasses more than you might have been willing to admit to yourself. "Raeden is sometimes afraid to hurt me," you admit. Though other times his passion knows no bounds. "I..." A gasp passes your lips again when his fingers twist your pebbled bud sharply. "I think...to be wanted as a woman is more pleasurable than to be worshiped on a pedestal."

"You like it rough?" His eyes flash and he leaps up to his knees to reach down and grab you by the elaborate braid that your hair is tied up in. He pulls you up, not harshly enough to hurt you but enough that you hiss.

The initial sharp sound from the back of your throat is nothing compared to the next – a vocal moan that would embarrass you if you were not so intrigued by the prince's seeming glee at this revelation. "I want to know what it is like," you tell him, chest heaving even at the thought.

"I had thought to take you slow, sweet." He admits, holding your hair and wrapping his hand around it. "But now I think the princess would like to be treated like a whore." He taunts with a grin. "So I will fuck you on your knees until your arms give out."

"You are pleased with this?" The depth of the rumble in his voice says he is, and the way he bends your back with your hair tight in his grasp. If this is how it felt to him to have your fingers in his hair a few moments ago, you fully understand how much he enjoyed it.

His cock presses against your ass as he positions you how he wants you, spreading your knees farther apart than normal, pushing you low to the bed. The smear of precum dribbles across your ass and he twitches when you moan again. "I do." He grunts. "You will look good, exhausted and dripping my cum."

The cool air washes across your skin and raises gooseflesh all over again. The way he has you positioned means your cheek is pressed into the mattress and your cunt is on full display while he takes in the view of you. "I think it will be harder to exhaust me than you expect."

"You do, hmmm?" He smirks wickedly and raises the hand that is not wrapped up in your hair. Bringing it down sharply on your ass.

"Ah!" The sound could be mistaken for pain if he was not looking at you, but the way you squirm and roll your hips back to him to ask for more is very obvious. That cry was pleasure and pain combined, the very way you hoped it would feel.

"You would not doubt me if you had been paying attention to the cries of pleasure last night." He hums, slapping your ass once, twice, three more times one right after the other.

It was not the time to listen last night, it would have angered or frustrated you rather than proving any other kind of point. But instead of saying so, you whimper eagerly and try to look over your shoulder at him. His hold on you is too tight to allow it and somehow that is even more arousing. "Prove it to me."

He puffs up his chest, his grip of your hair even tighter with the way you twist your head. With his cock, firmly in his hand, he pulls back the foreskin that covers the sensitive tip and he pushes his hips closer to line up and sink into your cunt without warning or any pause until he is buried completely in your warmth.

"GODS." He feels thicker than Raeden once he is inside you, making it not matter in the least that the prince's cock is not quite as long. Your whole body seems to shift to accommodate him and when you moan again it is pleading. More. More of this. It is exactly what you want.

He gives you long enough to cry out to the seven before he is pulling his hips back. Barely giving you time to miss the feeling of him inside you before he is snapping his hips forward and filling you again.

It is a feeling so sharp and dizzying that you are glad to be pressed into the bed with your ass in the air or else your mind might spin. The brutal pace he sets has you sobbing in pleasure and moaning at the sharp pull on your scalp. The bed creaks beneath you, and though there is no headboard to bang against the wall the frame certainly knocks against stone with every thrust.

The hand in your hair serves to keep you near, using it as if he were holding the reins and riding a horse. The swings of his hips slap against your ass and he watches your body bounce and jolt from the force of his thrusts. "You feel me now, princess." He hisses, gritting his teeth and increasing his pace.

You can feel nothing but him, and the overwhelming sensations are flooding your body to make you crave that same rough touch everywhere. While one arm braces you on the mattress, your other hand kneads your breasts and pinches harshly at your nipples, giving yourself the extra sensations your body is seeking.

Oberyn growls watching you and approving of you taking your pleasure for yourself. Once you are used to being in his bed, he will have someone bite and suck your nipples while he fucks you.

The great cacophony of sounds overtakes everything else. Every sense is his, every sound and sinful scent. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising and you relish it, hoping to ache there tomorrow as surely as you will ache between your thighs. The prince’s talent has not been exaggerated, not at all, and you are climbing that peak to pleasure again more quickly than you ever thought possible.

Oberyn rides you hard, the slap of skin filling the room, sweat glistening on his skin. He changes the pace, instead of hard and fast, it's hard and deep. He makes sure that you feel every fat inch of his cock as he pummels it into you, your back arching at every thrust when he bottoms out.

When your second peak washes over you it is more like the crashing of a great wave on the ocean. It comes with a cry of his name – perhaps now the fourth time you have ever said it and this time you feel as though it is the only word you have in you. Your body locks down on him, drawing his cock as deep inside you as you possibly can while you spasm beneath him, all the while praying for more.

As soon as your grasping cunt relaxes around him, he pulls free, letting go of your hair as he rolls you onto your back and shuffles his way between your thighs again. His cock bounces, dripping with your release and still rock hard since he has not found his own pleasure yet.

Instinct and want give way to all else tonight, and when you push up on shaky arms to kiss him it is a devouring thing that demands to be known. Your own attraction has cracked and become hunger and you will not apologize to anyone for it anymore. Not even yourself.

If he’s surprised by the ferocity of your kiss, he does not allow it to be seen. Matching it, battling with your mouth even as he is pushing his cock back through your folds and impaling you once again. Swallowing your gasp of air as he fills you again.

Being under him in any way is wonderful, you have decided, as his renewed thrusts crush you to the mattress again with a force that speaks of desire that easily equals your own. This time your arms and legs twine around him to keep his deep thrusts close and encourage him to grind his hips as far into your body as he can.

Braced above you, Oberyn's necklace swings between you as he rocks his hips forward. Crashing them into yours over and over as he grunts and groans when your cunt flutters and squeezes him.

Like the torrents of a storm-blown sea, every rock of his hips sends you reeling. There is no mercy from his force and at the same time you would not want there to be. Wordless cries from both of you flood the air as your slick bodies move together and you start to feel his thrusts grow steadily less measured.

Oberyn watches you, memorizing your face as you start to come apart underneath him again. Feeling his own end getting closer with every thrust. He shifts, grabbing your hair and pulling you up to crush his lips to yours while he pushes you over the edge again.

It is fortunate that when your body stiffens and pulses for the third time, that your mouth falls open wide instead of clamping shut, or else the slide of his tongue against yours would be cut short quite unfortunately. But instead you cling to him, kept close by his grip and your intertwined bodies, desperate for him to find his own end and feel even a morsel of the pleasure he has given you tonight.

He is desperately close, body tense and every spearing of his cock and his tongue into you is accompanied by the groan that is breathed into your mouth. Only to rip his lips away from yours to groan your name as he thrusts deep one last time and rocks his hips to grind deeper, shooting his spend deep into the hot cavern of your womb.

A deep, comforting silence falls between you as you both work to find your breath again. The only sounds for a long moment are panting and the soft sounds of endless kisses as you both float back down from your peaks together.

"No one can say you aren't properly wed." Oberyn hums cheekily, smirking as he twitches inside you and your walls grip him in reflex. "How do you feel, princess?"

“As though I will still be feeling you tomorrow.” You giggle slightly, feeling the sound come from deep in your chest. “If that is how you fuck your whores, they are all of them very lucky.”

"It is how I fuck anyone that likes it rougher." He hums. "Although I did not go quite as hard as I could have." He admits. He didn't want you to be horrified by it if you were not used to such things.

Your eyes widen slightly but the idea of more, but at the same time it sounds good enough to have you sighing. “I hope you are not too surprised at me. For that to be how we are together the first time.”

Oberyn chuckles and he leans down with a softer kiss before he pulls out of you. His body shifts and he leans on his elbow to gaze down at you with a smile. "There is nothing surprising about our needs, star." He assures you, unable to resist sliding his hand down your body to push your closing thighs back apart so his fingers can be soaked in a combination of your fluids. "It was perfect because it was honest, genuine."

Curled into his side, the fact of his fingers between your legs is an odd comfort. The fact that he is not simply turning over to sleep is not what, apparently, most women receive from their husbands. “Do you enjoy this?” You ask him, looking down at his hand with curiosity. “To feel what has come of pleasure? Wonder if another child has been made?”

"I always enjoy pleasure." He trails his wet fingers over your mound and circles your belly softly, where your womb would possibly one day house his heir. "If your tea has not been drunk, then perhaps a child has been created." His dark eyes find yours, soulful and full of interest. "If a child has been made, would you be proud?"

“I think…I think I would be, yes. Although I would probably cling to Ellaria with nerves.” He knows your apprehensions about childbirth now, and surely understands why you will be glad to have an experienced mother nearby for your confinement. “Although,” you tilt your head at him. “I am curious to know how you know about my tea.”

"There are few methods that are used to prevent children." He smirks and slides his hand back down to dip it back into your cunt to gather more of his seed. "I have brewed tea for my lover, and if you wished, I would brew it for you now." He offers softly, circling your womb again as he looks at you expectantly.

Leaving it up to you is a surprise, but you give the idea real thought now that he has given you the opportunity. The silence lingers, but finally you look up to meet his eyes and shake your head. “Let a babe take root whenever the gods will it. I will grow your heir proudly.” It is a duty, as well as this boundlessly growing affection for him, and you lift your head to kiss him softly. “Thank you for giving me a choice.”

“The choice is always yours, Princess.” He promises you softly, pleased that you are willing to see what the Gods will. It speaks to your growing bond, only three days old and he knows that he is irresistibly drawn to you. Feeling as if you were fated by the seven or the old gods themselves.

Your fingers gently stroke the long line of his cheek and that pull you feel around your heart is beginning to feel undeniable. But you smile, that soft affection lining your face, and lean up to kiss him. “We will let the gods decide, then, when your first heir is born. I will stop drinking my tea for now.”

“If you stop drinking your tea, your Raeden cannot finish inside you.” He reminds you softly. “My named heir will be of my seed.”

“I remember our agreement.” The choice is not one to be taken lightly, but it is of great importance. “It is enough that I might be able to one day bear the children of both the men I treasure. That yours must be first is a matter of more importance than just desire.”

Oberyn nods, his face filled with respect and pride at your decision. “I will not mind you carrying your soulmate’s child.” He promises. “As many as you would wish to have them bred on you.”

“We will see.” It makes him more extraordinary than you can say, that he is so willing to accept Raeden as a part of your life, and instead of trying to form that particular thought you end up kissing him again. “Thank you for what you did for him. To not have a place in his father’s House or a name he can take pride in has caused him great pain through his life. I know it means more than all seven heavens to him.”

“He is a good man.” Oberyn knows that just from his few interactions with the man. “He is honorable and honorable men deserve to feel as if they have a place in this world.”

"You are both good men." you tell him without the intention of brokering a single doubt. "And Ellaria and I are very lucky to have such soulmates."

He smiles, accepting the compliment and nods. “Handsome men.” He adds with a roguish wink.

It does not matter that he is correct – that both he and Raeden are incredibly handsome on their own and that together they present a nearly irresistible pair – you must tease him for it at least a little. "And terribly humble," you add, rolling your eyes for effect.

“Terribly.” He agrees with a grin as he leans down and kisses your jaw right before he nips it with his teeth. “Shall I tell you about all the men and women who want me? Crave my cock and my attention?” He teases. “But I wish to be right here.”

"I have watched every person you pass by fall instantly in love with you in at least some small way, and I have only known you for three days." That he wants to spend time with you is precious enough, you will not waste it with hearing of any others. When he wants to be with them, he will go to them. And if they become important enough in his life, you will surely hear their names and learn their faces. "But I am glad to know that you enjoy the time we spend together."

“I am sure there is more time to come.” Of that he is certain, feeling that it will be important as time goes on.

______

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 #female reader x m!OC #Ellaria Sand x m!OC #female reader #male OC #Ellaria Sand x female reader #Game of Thrones #soulmate au #arranged marriage #polyamory

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