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stalkerofthegods · 6 months

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Dionysus & Bacchus cheat sheet deep dive

Signs he's reaching out • smelling wine all of a sudden, craving wine, You feel a twinge of madness, dreams with his attributes with him, seeing references of him everywhere

Herbs •psalakanthos plant, Grapes and their vines, Figs, Bay laurel, Barley, Pine, Pomegranate, Fennel, apples, berries, weed, Silver Fir, Bindweed, poppy, wheat and hops leafs, wildflowers, pine cones, Apple seeds, Blazing star. I think he would like Cinnamon, mint, feverfew (happiness), Pepper, basil, chives, horseradish (courage), orange, lemongrass, marjoram (insight), vanilla, sorrel, cinnamon (love)

Animals• Oxen and wild animals, asses, Leopards, Panther, Cheetah, serpents, rams, dolphins, tigers, lynx, panthers, goats, bats, griffons, bulls

Colors •purple, green, gold, Red, Black, White.

Patron of• fruit and intoxitation, Parties, Festivities, Banquets, Drinking, Bacchic Revelry, Madness, Bacchic Frenzy, Insanity, Hallucination, Homosexuality, Effeminacy, Cross-dressing, Forest Wilderness, Wild vegetation, Predatory big cats, Reincarnation, The path to Elysium, Comedy and Tragedy Plays, Playwrites, Actors, bartenders, the arts, non-binary people.

Curses• violence, and sickness, Destructive insanity, madness

Blessings• pleasure and fun, Religious frenzy (in the orgiastic cults), Ecstasy, Afterlife in Elysium (paradise), getting a bigger friend group, charismatic going up, getting a romantic partner.

Diety of• wine-making, orchards, fruit, vegetation, fertility, festivity, insanity, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, theatre, partying, Epiphany, weddings, death, sacrifice, sexuality, dancing, immortality, and reincarnation, uninhibited freedom, as well as the subversion of the powerful, ecstasy, and abandon, swamps and marshes.

Crystals• Amethyst, grape agate, Garnet, Ruby, deep red stones, tiger eye, serpentine, leopard jasper, amber, green opal or jade, carnelian, rose quartz (someone had it on their alter for him, so I added it here.), bloodstone, sugilite, purple fluorite, ametrine lepidolite

Mortal or immortal • immortal

Zodiac • Taruas

Vows/omans• none

Number• 7

Morals• he is morally ambiguous

Married to• Ariadne

Past lovers• Althaia, Ampelos, Aphrodite, Erigone, Kronois, Pallene, Physokoa, Polymnos.

What he favors in devotees• free-spirited, out-of-the-norm, wild lifestyle, gender fluid, transgender, nonbinary people. People are restricted wanting to become free.

Personality• He brings joy, ecstasy, and merriment, but also delivers "brutal and blinding rage”, he's a very chill guy, many say he is sassy. I met him once, and he respects people's boundaries.

Home• Mount Olympus

Equivalents/most resemblance • Osiris, Hades, Sabazios, Yahweh, Bacchus, Liber, Tammuz, Orotalt, Fufluns, Acan, Jesus.

Epithets• Acratophorus, Ἀκρατοφό.ρος “giver of unmixed wine at Phigaleia in arcadia, Acroreites at Sicyon Adoneus a Latinised form of Adonis and is also used as an epithet for Bacchus, AegobolusΑἰγοβόλος "goat-shooter" at Potniae in Boeoria, Aesymnetes Αἰσυμνήτης “ruler" or "lord" at Aroë and Patrae in Achaea, Agrios Ἄγριος "wild", in Macedonia, Androgynos Ἀνδρόγυνος ”Androgynous” specifically in intercourse referring to the god taking both an active male and a passive female role, Anthroporraistes, Ἀνθρωπορραίστης “man-destroyer" a title of Dionysus at Tenedos, Bassareus, Βασσαρεύς "fox-skin", which item was worn by his cultists in their mysteries. Bougenes, Βουγενής or Βοηγενής “borne by a cow", in the Mysteries of Lerna,

Braetes, Βραίτης "related to beer" at Thrace, Briseus Βρῑσεύς "he who prevails" in Smyrna, Bromios Βρόμιος "roaring” and "roar of thunder" refering to the wind amd primarily relating to the central death/resurrection element of his myths and also the god's transformations into lion and bull and of those who drink alcohol and refers to Dionysus' father, Zeus "the thunderer", Choiropsalasχοιροψάλας “pig-plucker" Greek χοῖρος = "pig"(which was used as a slang term for the female genitalia as A reference to Dionysus's role as a fertility deity), Chthonios Χθόνιος “the subterranean”, Cistophorus Κιστοφόρος "basket-bearer and ivy-bearer" because baskets are sacred to the Dionysus,Dimetor Διμήτωρ "twice-born" which Refers to Dionysus's two births, Dendrites Δενδρίτης "he of the trees" as a fertility god, Dithyrambos Διθύραμβος used at his festivals referring to his premature birth, Eleutherios Ἐλευθέριος “the liberator" also a epithet shared with Eros, Endendros ("he in the tree"), Enorches "with balls" with reference to his fertility, or "in the testicles" in reference to Zeus' sewing the baby Dionysus "into his thigh" which means his testicles used in Samos and Lesbos, Eridromos"good-running" in Nonnus' Dionysiaca, Erikryptos Ἐρίκρυπτος "completely hidden" in Macedonia, Euaster Εὐαστήρ from the cry "euae", Euius (Euios), from the cry "euae" in lyric passages, and in Euripides’ play “the bacche, Lacchus Lακχος a possible epithet which is associated with the Elusinian Mysteries, The name "Iacchus" may come from the Ιακχος (Iakchos) whicj is a hymn sung in honor of Dionysus.

Indoletes, Ἰνδολέτης, meaning slayer/killer of Indians Due to his campaign against the Indians, Isodaetes, Ισοδαίτης, meaning "he who distributes equal portions", cult epithet which is also shared with Helios, Kemilius, Κεμήλιος and kemas: "young deer, pricket",

Liknites "he of the winnowing fan", as a fertility god connected with mystery religions ( a winnowing fan was used to separate the chaff from the grain.)

Palazzo Massimo, Rome, Lenaius, Ληναῖος "god of the wine-press", Lyaeus, or Lyaios Λυαῖος, "deliverer” and "loosener") which refers to him as who releases from care and anxiety,

Lysius, Λύσιος "delivering, releasing" At Thebes there was a temple of Dionysus Lysius, MelanaigisΜελάναιγις "of the black goatskin" at the Apaturia festival,

Morychus Μόρυχος “smeared" in Sicily, because his icon was smeared with wine less at the vintage, Mystes Μύστης "of the mysteries" at Tegea in Arcadia, Nysian Nύσιος according to Philostatus he was called like this by the Ancient indians Most probably, because according to legend he founded the city of Nysa, Oeneus, Οἰνεύς "wine-dark" as god of the wine press, Omadios “flesh-eater", Eusebius writes in Preparation for the gospel that Euelpis of Carystus states that in Chios and Tendos they did a human sacrifice to Dionysus Omadios,

Phallen , (Φαλλήν) (probably "related to the phallus” at Lesbos, Phleus "related to the bloοm of a plant", Peudanor Ψευδάνωρ "false man" referring to his feminine qualities in Macedonia,

Pericionius, Περικιόνιος "climbing the column (ivy)" a name of Dionysus at Thebes, Semeleios or Semeleius or Semeleus an obscure epithet meaning 'He of the Earth' and 'son of Semele' Also “Son of Semele, Iakchus, wealth-giver”,

Skyllitas, Σκυλλίτας “related to the vine-branch" at Kos, Sykites, Συκίτης "related to figs" at Laconia,Taurophagus, Ταυροφάγος “bull eating", Tauros Ταῦρος “a bull", Theoinus, Θέοινος wine-god of a festival in Attica, Τhyiοn, Θυίων "from the festival of Dionysus 'Thyia' (Θυῐα) at Elis", Thyllophorus, Θυλλοφόρος "bearing leaves" at Kos, Dionysus and Zeus absorbs the role of Sabazios (a Thracian/Phrygian deity)

Facts• Dionysus was the last god to enter Olympus, When Dionysus had grown up lady Hera made him into a state of madness so he wandered through many countries of the earth, He was a student of the famous centaur Chiron who taught him how to dance, The common names Dennis and Denise are said to be derived from Dionysus. he hated the sight of an owl

Roots• Ancient Greece, Greek mythology, Mount Pramnos on Ikaria

Offerings • Honey, Meat, Alcohol (especially wine), Fruit, Cakes, Poetry, Songs, Spices (ex- cinnamon), Blood or liquids resembling blood, He thinks those "wine mom" signs that you get in cheap gift shops are hilarious, Grape juice, Intoxicants, Grapes, Olive oil, Apples, Figs, Eggs, Goblets, Curved daggers, Bull horns, Snake skin, Leopard or tiger print objects, Purple candles, Theatre masks, Sexual toys, Percussion instruments, Wine bottles, Fake/toy grapes, Leaves or curls from grapevines, Pine needles, Pinecones, Apple seeds, Bindweed, Wildflowers, Toys photos or art of any big cats, snakes, Hymns, Songs you’ve written, Any art that you create, Any stories that you create, Art, pictures of the comedy, Wine corks, Wine labels, Toy or miniature drums, milk, water from the sea (he has a strong connection with the sea), Decorative beads, party beads, flashy jewelry, Wine glasses, Shot glasses, Corkscrews, Sparkling cider, Grape flavored things, Cheese, hallucinogens, Nips (small alcohol bottles), Bottle opener, Beer/soda tabs, Alcohol bottles with cool labels, Costumes, NatureFig/fig newtonsBull imagery, Donkey imagery, Bones, Antlers, Dead/preserved animals, Hiking gear, Seeds, Concert/festival tickets, Locks of hair, Shaven beard hair, Pride swag, ravagant clothes/clothes that make you feel good.

Devotional • learn about sacred sex, shamanic journeying, responsible entheogen use, and alcohol as a sacrament, read “The Secret History” book, Make a playlist for Him, Dance and sing to your favorite songs or songs you’d think He would like, Throw a feast in His honor, Remembering to take your medication and taking care of your mental health, Support/donate to your local theatre in His name, Be a part of the theatre, Stand up for those that are marginalized, Write stories/plays for Him, Invite Him to watch plays or movies with you (especially comedies or tragedies), Throw parties or attend them, Attend festivals, Attend a wine tasting, Go on wine tours, Attend parades, Masturbate or partake in sexual acts for Him (if you’re comfortable doing so And over 18), Drink alcohol or grape juice, Smoke po, Learn about winemaking, Support local vineyards, Wear wreaths made from ivy, Wear faux leopard or tiger print, Wear the color purple, Pray to Him for things while intoxicated/high, Visit your local winery and participate in a grape-stomp, do some Homebrewing in his honor, Grow a garden in his honor, Make your own ritual tools in his honor, Collect art, do Glamourbombs in his honor, Pretend to be somebody else in his honor, go out to a club in his honor, listen to music in his honor, read in his his mythos, write things for a ritual and write a prayer for him, eat some grapes or have some grape juice or sparkling grape juice (or wine if able and of age), listen to party music, read plays, watch musicals or plays (ex- high school musical, Hamilton), listen to musical soundtracks, learn about the history of theatre, learn about viticulture and vineyards, do things that bring you pleasure, listen to party soundscapes, watch documentaries about any of his sacred animals, Trip intentionally/spiritually, Learn about substance abuse/recovery, Destigamtize drug users, Learn about harm reduction, Make home videos, Write poetry, Act, Dress up, Go to the woods, Dance/sing in the woods, Meditate in the woods, Learn wilderness safety and first aid, Learn what to do when encountering a wild animal, Go off the beaten path, Explore new areas, Pick up litter, Forage, Recycle bottles, Grow fruit, Try new fruits, Have sex (let the partner know beforehand it's in Diyonisus honor, 18+), Masturbate (18+), Have threesomes/swing (ask him before and make sure the other participants know it's in Dionysus's honor, 18+.), Finally, give into that one kink you’ve been ignoring (you know the one, 18+), Learn about consent with partners, Learn how to preserve dead animals, Learn about different life cycles (ex-plants, animals), Learn about immigration in your area, Learn about different cultures, Try foreign foods, Learn a new language, Learn about your ancestry, Help immigrants in your area, Grow your hair out, Keep a Manifest/Keep a manifestation journal, Use Sexual/creative energy to manifest, Shed your old self, Do Self-reflection/self-exploration, Identify areas where you overindulge (ex- food, substances, spending).

Symbols• Grapevine, ivy, phallus, Thyrsus, theatrical masks, Leopard Skin, Panther, Cheetah, the animal called asses, cymbals, swords, or serpents, rams, laurel, asphodel, dolphins, tiger, lynx, panther, horns, goats, his chariot pulled by 2 leopards, masks in general.

Siblings• Ares, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Aphrodite, Hebe, Hermes, Heracles, Helen of Troy, Hephaestus, Perseus, Minos, the Muses, the Graces.

His friends/gets along with• Maenads and Bacchantes and Satyrs and Sileni and Pan and Priapus

Attendees• Seilenos (God of Drunkenness), Pan (God of Shepherds & Pastures) the Satyroi and Seilenoi (spirits of Fertility & the Wild) The Bakkhantes and Mainades (Nymphe and Women revellers) Komos Satyriskos (cup-bearer)

Appearance in astral or gen• Dionysus often took on a bestial shape and was associated with various animals, often wearing an Ivy wreath, the thyrsus, and the kantharos (a large two-handled goblet) In early Greek art he has represented as a mature male, bearded and robed holding a fennel staff tipped with a pine-cone, but later on he was portrayed as youthful sensuous, naked or semi-naked androgynous youth and effeminate with brown hair and pale features, often holding grapes and drinking wine.

Parentage• Zeus and Semele, some sources also say Zeus and Demeter, some say Zeus and Persephone, but he always sends up with Persephone as a foster mother or as a biological mother, but before his reincarnation, his parents were Ammon and Amalthea.

Pet• leopards

Children • Priapus, Hymen, Thaos, Staphylus, Ononpion, Cumus, Phthonus, the Graces and Deianira, Seilenos, Pan, Satyroi & Seilenoi, Bakkhantes & Mainades, Komodo’s

season and festivles• Diyonosus festivals were bacchanalia, Dionysia, Anthesteria, Dionysian, Lenaia, Panathenaia, his season was spring and March and April

Day• 11th to the 13th of the month of Anthesterion, around the time of the January or February full moon.

Sacred places• Boitia in Greece, naxos Greek, island Edina in western Thrake, his holiest shrine was Mt kithairon (Nysa) in Boiotia Greece, he also declared war on India. A sacred place is the theatre.

Status• Greek god in the major theoi, and an agriculture Demi God.

Pet peeves• Uderestemating him, he probably won't like it if you ignore him

Music• Disco, show tunes, psychedelic rock, acid folk, Greek folk music, EDM, classical, new wave, art pop, vaporwave, just anything you can dance and sing to.

Tarot• Temperance, fool card, three of cups, the tower, 9 of cups (based off of how people see him through their tarot cards)

Scents/Inscene • Pine incense, frankensince, patchouli and vanilla, nutmeg, mulled wine, storax, and Benzoin, he dislikes lavender.

Prayers•

Regular prayer

Dionysos, god whose arrival is swift and certain, enduring friend of women and men whose welcome is warm, bringer of light, we see you in shadows. Dionysos, granter of great blessings, your presence is a heady wine. Kind-hearted god, to each you give as is fitting, each vessel you fill only as we can bear, and yet with even a sip, we are drunk upon you, and our faith is affirmed. Awesome god, by our own will we drink deeply, with you we become lost, we wander, we are found.

Litany to Dionysos

Dionysos of the vine, rich-tressed god of wine, potent and lusty, unmixed, undiluted, with full force you come to us, vital and robust, rich and strong and surprisingly sweet. Dionysos, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Ivy-bearing Dionysos, god of the green, of the power of root on stone, the force of life that will make its own way in spite of all who labor to hold it back, no will or work can bind your might. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos of the deep earth, of the dark world, of the unknown expanse beneath the black soil, beneath solid stone, of mysteries you know much, of death and of what lies beyond. God of secrets, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos the inspiring, granter of words of prose or poesy, words heard best by the drunken and the mad, words forgotten with the passing of night and delight. Bacchus, granter of rare transport, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos Soter, holder of the hearts of men, you free us from the cares of the world, each brilliant frenzied moment a shining jewel, each glimpse of the sacred more precious than gold. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Kindly Dionysos, granter of good to men and women, giver of gifts to all who seek your blessing. Gracious Dionysos, accepter of offerings great and small, friend of mankind, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.

Regular Prayer to Dionysos

Dionysos, deep-hearted one who knows the souls of men and women, whose hand is ever open, ever within reach. Dionysos, god who runs in the dark, who sees with eyes shut tight, who dances to the heart’s strong beat, ever are you yourself, ever constant, ever changing god of those who are trapped, those who seek your truth and their own, those who seek vision beyond seeing, those who seek wisdom beyond knowledge, those who seek the self, pure and sweet, those who seek clarity beyond definition, who seek to embrace the uncertain, to hold, but loosely, to what is true beyond trust.

Regular prayer to Dionysos

I praise Dionysos, lord of the vine, lord of the far reaches of the mind; in the thick of the woods, along darkened paths, in the shadows of dusk and of dawn, you roam the world, the satyrs and the pretty nymphs dancing in your wake. Son of Zeus and fair-haired Semele, bold-hearted Semele, who dared to look into the face of glory, beautiful Semele who you carried into life again, Semele reborn who men called Thyone; beloved of clever Ariadne, quick-witted one, so dear to your heart, your bright-eyed bride and consort; Dionysos, friend of women, friend of the blissful, wild-eyed maenads, pilgrims and pioneers, those who seek, your cheer and inspiration, those who seek your release, from sorrow and despair, those who are lost in joy, and those who have found themselves in you. Dionysos, god of the darkest dark and the deepest deep, boundless one, endless one, fathomless one, in you we see the edges of ourselves, in you, we find our life’s journey, in you we find our home.

To Dionysos

I call to Dionysos, great god of the vine, son of thundering Zeus and headstrong Semele, loving husband of warm-hearted Ariadne. From the east you came, old before the ancients, throughout the elder world were you beloved; in Naxos and Boitia were you celebrated, in temples and in the savage wilderness, the fleet-footed maenads running in your wake. The sweetest, strongest wine is ever your drink; the mind’s release, the body’s loosening, your gift. O Dionysos; thyrsus-shaker, ivy-crowned god, we see you in the shadows, we see you on the edges, we see you in the haze of ecstasy, where we know the truth of passion, where we find the essence of our being. Bacchus, I call to you!

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cosmicpoutine · 5 days

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timbern headcanons (mostly bernard)

some are 18+

bernard named the specials at his restaurant stupid bilogy shit like "mitochondria"

janet used to hum when she was distracted, and tim does that too to calm himself down, and once bernard notices, he starts humming tim to sleep after a long night of patrol.

because of the pain cult, bernard's pain tolerance is stupidly hight so they like to experiment with bdsm, but tim always goes easy because he's scared of triggering bernard.

they tried shibari once, but tim, out of pure bat instinct, would free himself within 5 seconds, so it just wasn't as fun (i mean, he does this for a living come on)

bernard has a bellybutton piercing

when bernard comes over, he makes extra food to make sure tim has left over for a few days.

soon bernard notices steph comes over to steal left overs so he makes even more food, then cass and duke also come over and soon enough bernard is feeding the entire batfam like a bunch of pidgeons

damien is suspiciously approving of bernard, but he's the youngest sibling, so he acts nice around bernard specifically to piss off tim.

bernard thinks damian is the sweetest kid he's ever met

whenever someone asks tim about the B necklace, he just says it's for barbie girl as a joke. eventually, he starts calling bernard barbie.

bernard is an avid listener of ayesha erotica

bernard walks really silently, not enough to catch a bat by surprise, but enough for tim to only notice bernard when he's already in the same room. he learned this from sneaking away from his parents.

tim and bernard go skating together, but bernard prefers longboards

they have adopted the cover art cat, but never named her so they call her "calico"

they did not know calico cats are 99% of the time females, so they referred to calico with male pronouns for the longest time until damian reminded both of them how stupid they are.

when bernard comes off work late, he usually looks for robin so they can have late dinner together in an empty parking lot

most rogues know bernard is connected to robin, but they quickly learn hes crazier than the bats and leave him alone.

bernard still has no filter so he will say insane shit in front of the bats and they all go suspicious of him for at least a week

bernard listens to true crime podcasts

timbern uses their engagement rings as earrings, partially because bernard can't have rings in the kitchen and tim can't wear rings as robin.

tim also wears his parents' wedding rings in the B necklace

#timbern #bernard dowd #tim drake #red robin #batfam #batfamily #robin

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milknhonies · 3 months

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Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 3 || Masterlist || Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Sherlock fulfils his husbandry duty and desires to play some more with your weak resolve.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Period Sex, Blowjob, Bondage, Pet Names, Fingering, Forced Orgasm, Forced Pubic shave, Humiliation.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This chapter involves description of period blood and sex, please be warned!!

Inspiring Song: "Copy Cat." Billie Eillish classic cover

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:39pm Tuesday 6th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

You had no choice. Not really...he was your husband and you were his wife. His threat of infidelity brought a great fear to your mental strength than your threat to murder him without a solid plan.

Oh how you hated him for this. You despised him with every sense. You weren’t sure how you’d be able to forgive him.

You knew he wasn’t a good or kind or even gentle husband, but a husband is meant to be faithful. And if humiliating yourself to pleasuring him with your mouth kept him straying in sin; by god you would obey.

You crept closer to him and slowly lowered yourself on one knee, then the next. Your eyes could not leave his face. A sick and twisted smile spread over his rosy cheeks.

In his palm was his half hard cock. His large hand made it appear smaller. The memory of its violent entrance had not been forgotten however.

It stared you back in the face. The pink head peaked up and out of his pale skin. His thumb rubbed over the pink head.

You felt cold and strange in comparison to your usual jitters. You fluttered your eyes closed. Your hands sat in your lap on your thighs.

‘He just wanted a kiss. I can kiss it...’

You leant forward and puckered your lips. His skin was feverishly warm. You pulled back fast and blinked up at him with wet eyes.

He chuckled meanly and touched your damp cheek in his other hand before moving his fingers under your jaw and guiding you closer to his cock.

“Lick the top with the tip of your tongue.”

Your lips trembled nervously. You weren’t sure if this was worth it. The thudding of your chest made you forget what he had asked.

Visions of the lewd novel in his chest flashed in your mind.

“P-pardon?”

His thumb pressed against your mouth, forcing its way past your lips and teeth. You knew better than to bite him. You weren’t an animal...you didn’t want a repeat of the night before where you had bitten his tongue.

“Stick out,” he pulled your tongue out with his thumb, “this little tongue.”

He pulled you closer by the chin and held his cock upwards.

“Lick.”

You whined softly and batted your eyes. Did you have the guts to do this? To truly perform fellatio? You didn’t really have the choice. You had to do this.

He let you go and waited patiently. He undid his cuffs and rolled the shirt off his shoulders.

“Are you so dim witted?” he gruffly asked, his fingers grabbed at your jaw after you took too long,

“Need I repeat myself once more?”

You shuddered and shook your head side to side. It was just so scary. Why did you have to have such a cruel husband!?

“No,” you licked your chapped lips, “I am sorry Mr Holmes.”

His eyes widened, his face softened but his lips smirked, “So polite, little lamb...”

Your lower half tingles with delight at the warmth of his sudden praise...

‘Little lamb, how do I despise it...yet feel warmth within?’

You pushed your face closer. You stuck out your tongue again and this time, glided it over his hot red tip. The gleam of your saliva and his desire shone in the soft candle light of a kerosene lamp on his bedside table.

You tucked your nose quickly back to your chest. You flushed.

Fluttering his eyes, Sherlock clenched the covers. His gasp on his breath was a sound of pain you originally believed.

“Again,” he said clearing his throat, “Come now, I grow tiresome to your reluctance.”

You wanted to spit at him. He knew you didn’t want to do this and yet still made you do it. You licked him again. His hand clapped on the back of your neck, forcing you closer and blocking you from pulling away.

You fell into him slightly, forced to need to grab his pant covered knee and thigh. Your fingers squeezed his trousers to stabilise your balance on your knees.

You looked back up into his eyes. Perhaps it was easier to look him in the eye instead of looking at the brutal beast between his thighs.

You opened your mouth and licked his cock little by little...his thumb pushed up your nose, opening your mouth wider. He pushed his cock into your mouth. His eyes were glued on you. He appeared relaxed.

His skin lacked any flavour. It was like licking your palm...but after a while there was a hint of salt in the taste buds.

You kept your mouth open, you kept your tongue out as he moved his hips in and out. His hand pushed you down and pinched you back up.

Your eyes remained only on him. He was grunting and sighing. A twinge of triumph tickled your heart. You were pleasing him! He would not want to seek out the unsavoury company of whores or any other woman overall.

He paused and leant down. He grabbed at your wrist and picked up his hand and rested your fingers around his length of his cock.

Your blinked and stared at the placement.

“Squeeze, and rub me up to the tip, down to the sack.” You nodded, his cock still rested on your tongue.

He chuckled and rested back on his hands. He waited for you to take over.

This was it. This is what would bring him pleasure. You cupped his shaft and moved the way you were instructed. You did it at a pace where he appear to struggle how to breathe. His words were nothingness under his breath.

He looked to the ceiling and moaned.

The skin was hot and twitched under your finger tips.

He let out a choking groan. The back of your mouth felt that harsh slapping squirt of his release.

You pulled back in horror. Your bottom slid across the rug. You weren’t sure what it was really. In fact you feared he had the audacity to piss in your mouth. You spat on the floor and coughed.

“Ugh!”

He cackled at the mortified look you had written over your sweet face.

He sighed and chewed his bottom lip. He slowly clapped his hands.

“Well done... Forgive me, I had intended to finish myself over your sweet breasts, little lamb.”

He cocked his head to the side and hummed, “Take off my shoes.” He lifted his foot to your direction.

You thought he was entirely despicable! You wiped your mouth with a growing glare. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, in fact, he took glee in your narrowing look..

“You wish to be a wife? Act as a wife. You want my loyalty? Well, you must be my whore...and whores suckle their johns cream with pretty smiles on their painted faces. Wives help their husbands undress from long days of work.”

You felt...weak and disgusting. You felt like an idiot. In your grumpy defeat you crawled back to him and began to unlace his shoes. In the corner of your eye you saw his hand reach back to his front and touch his thick meat. The looser the laces, you lifted your hands and rocked his heel out of his shoe.

Demurely you sat both his shoes aside. His socks smelt of his sweat and the filth of London street ways. You gagged and pinched the wool socks away from his calves and flung them from his toes.

A cramp waved through you and forced a grimacing groan out of your quiet misery.

Sherlock stopped laughing, his smugness dissipated. His face fell. He tucked his cock away with an annoyed sigh.

His hands unexpectedly tucked beneath your armpits and lifted you off the floor. He pushed you lightly onto his mattress onto your front. You felt your breath hitching, worrying what he would do to you. It wouldn’t be right for him to have sex with you during your menses.

He palmed his giant hand over your bottom. Hoisting your night dress up your thighs and over your back. He slapped one cheek lightly and chuckled at your cry and hiss. He grabbed your shoulder and held you down slightly. Your fingers gripped the covers of his top blanket. You had washed and changed this set. They smelt of a sweet lemon citrus.

His lips touched your bare shoulders. His hot breath tingled in your ear.

You flushed and squeezed your eyes shut. God it felt strange and ticklish.

“Look at this perfect little arse,” he admired, groping at the flesh, “Plump and ripe for a needed disciplining. Your grandparents let you get away with far too much.”

He slapped you harder. A scream bellied from you. Your spine curled up and you desperately reached back to scratch his bare arms.

“Stop it! Or I will bite you again!” you shouted.

The detective smacked his lip and hummed, “Ah that reminds me, thankyou little lamb.”

In two fingers he held in front of your eyes his cravat. He stuffed the material deep into your mouth and slapped you swiftly when you tried nipping his hand. Tears poured like boiling water.

He tied the rest of the fabric tightly behind your head. You violently shook your head and fought against him, you tried pushing away only to be shoved down by his strong hands.

He rolled you into your back and used your nightgown to tie your wrists together, over your hands. Your claws were contained from clawing his eyeballs out.

The bonds were pushed above your head. He attached a loose part of the arm of your clothes to the headpost.

He smacked your thighs apart hard. You shrieked behind the gag.

He tore the sanitary apron away and tossed it across the room. You turn your nose into your arm, too embarrassed to look at your husband who played with your body.

You twitched and tried to kick at Sherlock as his hand tickled down your side and between your thighs. The wicked man smirked as he watched your pleading eyes water. He pushed two fingers inside your red hot messed cavern. You felt ill. This was an abomination! He fingered you and held your upper body down, watching you like a hawk as you struggled.

His digits within you flexed and curled. You felt them touch along the top of your walls while his thumb rubbed down into your forbidden button. You whined and shook your head. He removed his hand all together. You clenched your legs back together.

“Oh my, Mrs Holmes,” he purred, glancing down, “You secret slut...this isn’t blood,” he held his fingers up to the light, “Why...this is arousal...”

His lips curled, flashing those pearly white gnashers.

Your eyes widened with horror. You were humiliated. Surely it wasn’t possible that you could be enjoying this? Why did he have to be so handsome. Why did your fear mix in with attraction so easily.

With the clear gleaming on his hand, with little pink streaks, he kissed your cheek and pinched

your nipples.

You shook your head and whimpered. Your legs were buzzing at the pain inflicted increased a desperate certain warmth within you.

“My was that a moan? Interesting,” he whispered cheekily.

“and if I...do this...” he asked as he shoved his hand back onto your snatch, rubbing in fine circles ontop of your clit. Your hips lifted and your thighs trembled. Your toes curled hard and your head rolled back. God it felt delicious and evil.

Amongst your lustful whines, Sherlock chortled happily, “How perfect you might be dear wife...I had no little hope for this morning, but now,” his nose shoved into your ear, “...oh you’ve just gone and damned yourself for good.”

He tugged at your pubic mane lightly, it didn’t matter, it made you squeal and howl in pain.

Your husband sat up and left the bed. Your arms were still bound above your head. You lifted your knees protectively to your chest.

“All this hair...” He tutted, “it shall not do.”

You heard him wonder across his bedroom. Out of his personal drawers he found a straight razor. He also brought forth the basin of water he had near the door way. With a cloth napkin and tiny sliver of soap, he returned and forced your legs down on to the bed. He knelt on your spread ankles and lathered your nether curls.

It was when the soap started to foam that you realised what he was intending to do. It was impossible to word the begging but he knew...you knew he knew what you were pleading out.

You knew how sharp a razor could be. What if he mutilated you!?

He glided the cold metal over your wet sensitive skin.

He licked his bottom lip as he scrapped away your mass of pubic hair.

“Hold still wife or I will cut you,” he scolded sarcastically as he went through the white bubbles.

Cleaning the razor in the water before returning it back between your thighs he hummed, “I am displeased you didn’t confer with me about the states of my accounts before deciding to pay them all off yourself. That dowry was meant for dresses, and necessary accessories such as calling cards...” he tapped the razor on the basin bowl, “now we must both rely on Mycroft and my cases for wages...stupid girl.”

The way he stared into your eyes as he held the blade up to the light...was he threatening you...was this...a warning.

You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep shuddering breath. Tied to his bed and at his whim you were significantly helpless.

His hands took the towel and wiped your cunt clean of the hairs and soap still left behind. He whistled dramatically and smirked.

“My, my, what a pretty pussy you have.” He mused as he tossed the razor into the basin and moved the water bowl under the bed, out of the way.

His middle finger pushed inside. You gasped. The stretching intrusion took you off your guard.

“So tight still. I might need to train you to take me.”

He tore it back out and touched your naked clit lightly.

You gasped and choked behind the cravat. With deep moans, you wept pathetically.

“Oh look at that reaction,” he cooed condescendingly, he caressed the skin with his knuckle, “and all I’m doing is touching your clit. So sensitive.”

He licked his bottom lip and smirked, he pulled his hand back and slapped his palm across your labia. You squeal as the hot fiery pain rose up under your skin and spread out a dark shade with the rushing of your blood.

“Splendid responses to the nerves,” Sherlock noted before running the stinging flesh, you whined and turned your face into your arm.

“Bit sore I gather?” The man mocked, “Poor Lamb. All mine and bloody for sacrifice.”

A horrid in taking sound came from him. He spat on his fingers and pushed the wetted digits against your labia, dragging them down before sliding in home.

“There we are, squeezing so tightly around my finger, feels filling?”

He paused and listened to your heavy breathing behind the man made gag he had over your mouth. Listening to your ragged gasps and wheezes made his cock stir. You were so innocent and confused, he could see through your prudish and proper demeanour so easily. He fingered you until you were on the brink of insanity. Your eyes were becoming hazy, strained and almost crossed.

He thought it incredible...a true virgin. Not some pretender whore that his friend Miss Adler supplied. You were the authentic innocent.

“Now that you are properly tied up and without risk to harm me,” he whispered wetly, “-And decently groomed... I will complete our union.” He removed his fingers slowly out of you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You needed to compose yourself. You wanted to pretend you were back home with your grandparents. You imagined yourself in the gardens with your cousins playing balls. Oh back then life was a struggle but comparing to this...it was truly childsplay.

You yearned for your girlhood once more before you felt him move off the bed a moment only to shove your thighs wider apart and sit the head of his cock on top of your naked hairless lips.

Here the devil had come to steal all girlhood for good and inflict the agonising curse of

womanhood.

He entered slowly. Clearly he had learnt from yesterday that this task would only be accomplished with patience.

Indeed yesterday would’ve been considered a consummated marriage...so why he cared so much to refer to this as a completion of union alluded you.

You whimpered softly and peaked through your wet lashes to see his invasive entrance breaking into you.

To say you were full was placing it lightly. This man stole all possible space inside. He left no pocket of air as he pushed along and settled within.

His hands were tightly holding each ankle apart.

You now understood why he touched you with his hands before...your slickness welcomed and slid him deeper into you.

“Oh, my poor little lamb, taking in her masters thick cock so bravely,” he praised and then laughed as you struggled against your own nightgown binded to the headboard, “unable to nip or kick back at him.”

You grew silent in defeat. You submitted to the chance of zero hopelessness. Your legs fell limply.

He released your ankles.

You were plagued in your own paralysis.

You felt like he was pausing before pushing more inside. He was huge. There’s not many you could compare it too as a recently deflowered woman but you were confident his size must’ve been abnormal. Even he winced every so often at the tight squeeze.

When his pelvic bone pressed against your cunt, he sighed, “There...truly man and wife...at last...” A small scoff was heard.

You said something behind the gag that caught his ear. It was too muffled.

He pulled the gag harshly down your chin.

“What was that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and huffed stubbornly, “Hu-husband and wife. Not man and wife.”

You wanted to remind him exactly who he was doing this to and why he could do it...because you allowed it.

“Correct you are, my darling,” he let a laugh escape him before he moved back, “Now if I just pull and twist my hips like this.”

He re-entered and this time he put his thumb on your clit as he went inside. Your eyes blew wide and you began to babble.

“Oh oh oh! Wh-what wait, please!” You started to moan and whine.

Your husband cackled proudly, “It feels good doesn’t it?”

You foolishly nodded in truth. Something sparked a flame that flooded your insides.

He did it again and again. He repeated and rubbed down into you. The filling of his member rubbing against all parts of your inner skin made you clench and groan.

You felt increasingly needful to collect the same high feeling he had delivered on you before. You were climbing an imaginary hill. The urge to release your bladder made your eyes widen.

Desperation took you into the most needful begging, “N-no! I need to use a bedpan please

Sherlock, please, I am going to make a mess! Stop! I’ll do anything.”

Your little gasps and desperate moans spurred your husband on.

His hips were making a fast speeding pace that made you dig your knees into his sides.

You wanted him to stop. You were scared of pissing over him, especially in his bed.

“I want you to let go,” he moaned and shoved his nose against yours. His breath entered your mouth as he raggedy groaned, “Release, trust me...it will feel good.”

You didn’t trust him. You didn’t know what he meant. How could this behaviour be acceptable.

“No, no, no, no, ugh, ugh, stah-, Sher-, ugh, pl-please!”

He slammed himself harder and licked at your chest, “Such a pretty beggar, dear lord, I predicted you to be a homely creature, I have been proven wrong. In this light, you are rare gem of the seas of Venus. Oh sweet lamb, give me your release.”

You couldn’t hold yourself in containment any longer. You let your lower half go. You clenched hard down onto him.

You found your spine curl and your mouth wordlessly wailing.

“Breathe dead, breathe,” you heard Sherlock call above your silent choking before unleashing a brutalising scream. It was like taking your first breath, being reborn.

When the air released, your chest burned. You gasped and cried out as some mighty string was torn within and drowned you in a flooding dam of pleasure.

Sherlock followed your desirable agony and let his mind go. His grunting was feral and full of need.

Your muscles released and you cried with the feeling of warm melted gold ran through you.

You weakly called out, “Sherlock...”

His hot lips kissed against your sweaty skin. He kissed your neck up to your chin and cheek and engulfed your own mouth in a sloppy sensation of saliva and soft lips.

When your eyes focused and found a semblance of sane sight, you beheld a pleased man. You felt his fingers touching along your arms and wrists.

“I am going to untie you, hush you are safe...”

You shut your eyes. The last tears to come derived from pleasure and a overwhelming sense of joy that was foreign to you. You trembled, still drinking in the vibrations of your body.

You were stuck in a blanket of bodily pleasure. You had never been so relaxed and warm in your entire life.

You enjoyed what he had done and you didn’t know why especially since you heavily disliked your own husband.

Was this what Mrs Hudson referred to? Screaming followed by smiles?

‘Oh’, you thought, ‘never again will a woman have what I just claimed. This is mine and always shall be.’

“I...need...um...I...words...I...you’ve...I can’t think...I am spent,” you mumbled dumbly.

A part of you wanted to thank him and have him leave you alone to wallow in sleep. Another wanted him to do it all again.

“Pretty Lamb,” he cooed in your ear as your hands limply fell to the mattress, “I am going to carry you now.”

He had tucked himself away and scooped his hands under your legs. He moved your arms around his shoulders and pushed you to sit up before clamping his arm beneath your back. His nose tucked into your neck where he left another kiss.

Carefully he lifted you off his bed and stepped out into the dining parlour where he turned and took you to your room beside his.

He pulled the blankets and sheets away before sliding you down beneath them.

He pulled the cover up to your chin and you whimpered, “I...am sore.”

His hard face softened, he pressed his lips to your cheek and asked, “You are?”

You nodded your head, “I...feel...light...tired.”

He left your side to shut your door. The light disappeared completely. Only the moon that casted light over his face helped you see as he faced you again. He wondered over and invaded your bed space.

He climbed in along side you. The wood creaked with his added weight. You were slightly alarmed he was coming into your bed and not returning back to his room.

You were drowsy and moaned.

“Sleep, in my arms,” He said as you weakly tried rolling away.

You turned back and stared at the shadows of his face. His eyes were black with only small specks of the light reflecting.

His skin was sticky and hot... But tonight it was cold and windy...you needed him...he wanted you...you succeeded.

In the darkness, you decided to reclaim some small pride...you pushed your face up and kissed his lip. Breathing him in you could finally smell him and taste him. Chalk, blood, and tobacco.

You shut your eyes and imagined the joy of your grandmother if you could tell her how you finally became the wife of Sherlock Holmes before the rites of Godly flesh.

He was silent and still. He said nothing. Did nothing.

When you pulled back from the kids he rested his head softly back on the pillows with a light hum. His fingers tickled up your naked back, holding you close. You rubbed your cheek into his bicep and listened to his heart beat and breathing until you passed into the dreamlands of sleep.

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:04am Wednesday 7th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

You dreamt of your father and mother. Two people who never married, but at some point were in love. You never had the chance to see them together in happiness.

They were well dressed and strolling in the park pushing a perambulator. And as you followed them it had not struck you that this was a dream. Inside the baby carriage was nothing at all...it was odd.

Yet your parents smiled and both leant in to kiss each other....their hands both held wedding bands.

If you had never been born, you suddenly thought, would they have been able to marry and be happy?

Your mother as she loved upon your father shoved the perambulator away. It rolled fast down the path and you followed it for a moment before hearing a terrible wail of a baby inside. A baby that wasn’t in the carriage before suddenly appeared, pulling back a blanket that covered it.

You chased after the carriage as it sped up and went down a hill. Your heart ached with terror. You struggled to keep up and reached out your hand to the handle bar. It was rolling just out of your reach!

You sobbed as the carriage crashed into Tree and fell to its side. Out rolled...a bleating lamb...the creature rose up on its four wiggly legs and bleated again. It’s long wagging tail flickered around anxiously.

You landed on your knees before the lamb and kept crying. Not even you knew the reason for your tears. You held the small animal to your torso, checking it over for any broken limbs. The baby sheep was fine.

A tap on your head made you look up and standing above you was a dark faceless shadow of a man. The shadow sucked you in and you screamed at the darkness before waking up.

Above you was a face you did know...your husband’s. His eyes danced around your features. His lips curled into a smirk, “Good morning Mrs Holmes, how did you sleep?”

You blinked and peered up at him warily before slowly you sat up and away from him. His hand touched your shoulder, your hand grabbed his wrist.

What was he doing in your bed? Why were you nude!? Ah the revaluations if the previous evening re-established back into your memory. He had fully fucked you. He had claimed you...and in your drunken sleepy state, you kissed him. You flushed.

“I slept fine...” you lied, “Please let me up,” you glanced between him, the door of the bedroom and your wardrobe, “I need to start my day.”

You swallowed hard as you looked over his broad chest.

“Nonsense,” Sherlock stated before dragging you closer to him by your waist, his hands were huge and warm, it would be too much to say even comforting.

“We have plenty of time before Mrs Hudson climbs up the stairs.” His lips touched your jaw and peppered down your neck..

“Mr Holmes...please,” you cleared your throat as your hand pushed his chest to force a pause. You flushed with embarrassment. He noticed very quickly at your strained tone.

“Oh...I see...you recall the events of last night...your self deduction?”

His hands under the blanket slid downward to your thighs. He touched the soft shaved skin of your pubis. You felt twice as sensitive...

“H-humiliated, st-stupid and angry,” you shuddered.

You had let him hurt you again...and yet this time it came to a pleasant conclusion. You were disgusted in yourself for obeying him so quickly, so willingly I’m regards to giving him fellatio.

His fingers pressed your clit and he smiled at your gasp.

“And now?”

You gulped and turned your face into the pillows away from his eyes.

It was hard to deny how much you enjoyed the jumping buzz in your lower belly.

His laugh was crude to your ears, “See how easy it is to feel that sweet entrapment?” He rubbed his hand between your legs and marvelled at your heightened reaction, “My goodness look at you, your cunt is pulsing against me, hot and hard in my palm.”

Your breath hitched and your hips accidentally rolled into his touch. Your body craved the addictive buzz. Your thighs parted for him...he accepted the invitation and moved a finger inside while he ground his palm against your bundle of nerves.

“Oh, are you going to release again?” he whispered proudly.

He chuckled at your shaking head. Your pathetic attempts to mentally deny it. You were close by how tightly you fluttered around just his lone finger. Your knees shook and clamped together. His finger continued jerking in and out.

“Oh ride the sweet death, come to be me, come, come, come to me little lamb.”

His mouth ducked down to your nude chest. He licked across your nipples and suckled them into his cheeks loudly.

Your hand grabbed the blankets and his wrist. You rolled your head back and sighed as whatever that spell was took over you.

“Did you know,” he smacked his lips across your breasts, before tonguing a single nipple, “you’ve the most delicious teats?”

You groaned and blushed. You were trying to catch your own breath.

He pressed his cock against your leg before taking your hand and forcing you to hold him.

“Touch me, hold it and slide your hand up and down like a silk pole.”

You did as he asked while he kissed your mouth openly. Your eyes fluttered shut and jerked him off until you felt a wetness glide down your hands, he moaned.

This is the kindest he has ever been to you presently.

You pulled your hand away and up to the light of the morning. Your eyes widened at the white goop stuck on your fingers and back of your hand.

“Wha-what is this?”

He chuckled and kissed your cheek proclaiming, “My seed.” Seed...to make children...but it was so...

“Its...liquid,” you disagreed, “and wet and sticky...it’s like mucus.”

He raced his fingers along your hip and patiently explained, “When drained inside of you,” his hand touched your lower belly, “it goes up and impregnates. But you are still bleeding so it washes out and won’t catch in your womb.”

You blinked and let your dirty hand fall back on the top of the covers.

“Oh...”

You felt him sit up and you mirrored him. You slid out of the bed as his warmth left you. Watching him pull his trousers properly back up over his hips and waist made you fluster from the sight of his bare arse.

It was such a plump bottom.

He pulled away your blanket, unveiling your nude self to the cold morning.

He turned around and brought back your water basin and a cloth. He soaked the material in and pressed the wet cloth to your thighs.

“Stay still,” he said softly, “I’m just washing you.”

You paused before you spread your legs for him and awkwardly nodded, “Thankyou...husband.”

Surely you could’ve cleaned yourself. You hissed as he scrubbed the dry blood and release from you thighs. The cold water on your hot dirty skin was soothing.

You stood out of your bed finally and hurried to your dresser to find either some padding tubes or a sanitary apron.

Your rolled the bandage up quickly and turned away from Sherlock as you inserted the material.

You felt...strange doing this in front of him. A part of him you were sure might be repulsed at the sight.

Except he had his back turned to you, he was washing himself in the basin while he asked, “How did you find the carnal pleasure?”

You froze and felt your mouth dry up. Had he forgotten that he had tied you up?!

It was hard to meet his eyes. You wrapped your arms around yourself. Your husband turned to you.

You felt the need to cover your privates with your hands.

“Strange, it...felt correct...but...wrong...” you cleared your throat, “forbidden, despite our vows.”

He smiled and nodded to the bed while he passed you to your wardrobe and investigated the contents, “Many young ladies new to it have expressed the same condolences...that is sex. That is coitus. That is what husband and wife do. To make babies, and to feel pleasure.”

Your nose wrinkled. Sherlock was significantly older than you. You trusted this wisdom. He was clearly an experienced man from the prices spent at Mayfair.

“Why did it hurt so much the first time?” you asked.

No one had prepared or explained why having sex with your husband would hurt. He was so brutal the first day. And last night it hurt but not as much...

He sighed and pulled out dark navy blouse and a skirt to match. You felt the urge to correct his choice as he held them up. It was an outfit for outside outings. You weren’t meant to leave the home during this delicate time.

He asked over his shoulder, “Have you ever ridden horses?”

“I have,” you answered honestly.

“Side saddle?” His left brow raised.

“Sometimes,” you pursed your lips and watched him lay out your clothes on your bed, “It was easier for balance when riding as men do.”

He nodded and went to collect a pair of your boots, “And that hurt your thighs the first time?”

“First few ride like that yes,” you agreed, huffing impatiently, “Where is this conversation leading?”

He pulled you closer by pinching your hip. He pushed a chemise over your head. Your eyes widened, this wasn’t his role...to help you dress. It was your responsibility and Mrs Hudson if you were inclined to ask for her assistance.

“How did the pain go away?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes and answered the obvious explanation, “Because my body accommodated and my muscles for the riding evolved to accept the saddled position.”

He passed you a pair of open crotch bloomers. You pulled the material over your legs and tied the strings to your waist over the corset.

He smiled and pinched your chin, “The same is said for sex. The more you practice, the better it will be for you and...your health.”

You flushed and turned your face away from him...you felt foolish with the way his eyes ran over your bare body. He turned you around and helped pull a corset over your head and began fighting the strings in the back.

“I...it hurt and felt good...I felt...suffocated...I thought I saw a bright light,” you grunted as he tugged.

Your husband shut his eyes and with a smile he hummed pleasingly, “La petite mort.” “The Little death?” You gasped.

He flicked his eyes open. He sounded amused, “ah you know French little lamb?”

“of course I do,” you scoffed lightly, “any self respectable lady must learn French.”

Not his sister, “I suppose so.”

He pulled more of the ties closer. The corset grew taunt and supportive of your chest. His fingers tugged down further.

“Why did you go to Scotland yard yesterday?” You asked him as he finished tying the laces together.

“And who did you have a fight with?”

You tapped your face with a soft finger. He passed you a hose suspender belt. You clipped the hooks behind your back while the belt sat on your waist.

“There’s now a bruise under your chin that I most certainly did not cause Mr Holmes...” A part of you wished you had. He would’ve deserved it from you. He rubbed the dark spot and smirked.

Your husband sat on your bed and plucked your stockings. He pat his thigh and opened the stockings up. You lifted your leg and rested it on his thigh. You clenched the wooden canopy pole to steady your balance.

You were embarrassed. At this angle he would be able to see your cunt stuffed with the white fluff soaking up your menstruation.

He showed no care or disgust. He slid the soft cotton up your leg and kissed your knee cheekily.

He clipped your stocking to the suspension strings.

“I inquired upon the Pennicott case,” he claimed,” his thumb rubbed dangerously over your thigh...

God, you felt a spark at the touch.

“I thought you said it was obvious,” you stuttered, “He ran out from his wife.”

“I did, and...I rethought it,” he admitted, he slid the other stocking up your other leg, “Pennicott is a Baron and a owner of many warehouse factories. His wife comes from a well off family too and she is pregnant last heard, baby number six now. Why would he disappear off the face of the earth?...”

He stood up straight and forced your arms above your head before he slid a petticoat across your waist.

“A lover?”

He smiled as he tied the strings at your waist and shook his head, “No, men like Pennicott would just keep their arm candy and refer to them as a niece of a distant cousin. And if he was attached so lovingly, he would just move to another country but to completely eradicate and leave all his finances? To leave his wife in her state? It makes not much sense. He was making a fine quarter profit! So why is he missing?”

He passed you the blouse and skirt.

“Well,” You pulled the skirt over your arms and buttoned the buttons up to our neck “Perhaps he’s been kidnapped, for ransom?”

Sherlock hummed, “Maybe Watson, but I do wonder still.” You blinked...

“Pardon?” you gawked.

He raised his brows to your exclamation.

“You called me Watson.”

“Oh dear god,” he chuckled and passed you your skirt, “it’s already happening.”

You slid on the final layer and wrinkled your nose at him, “What is happening?” Sherlock stood up from the bed and clapped his hands.

“Come with me,” he softly begged, “Today I will be visiting his wife. The Baroness. I am investigating the case.”

Your eyes fluttered. Your thoughts couldn’t keep up. You sputtered as you tried to find sensibility. “Sherlock, it is our honeymoon and I am bleeding,” you whispered, “It is improper. I need to conduct laundry. Both our bedding must be soaked in...” you cleared your throat, “the blood.” He winked at you and pulled you close to his nude chest by your covered waist.

“Isn’t it marvelous that we have a housekeeper for such things?”

You narrowed your eyes... “A housekeeper is not a maid and I would not subject Mrs Hudson to cleaning that. She has told me herself that linens is not of her department.”

The tall man bent down and offered, “Mrs Hudson will clean the laundry, trust me..”

Despite his assurance, It wasn’t right for you to be out and about in public like this.

“And what would I be doing,” you tested, “Running after you as you speak to the Baroness?”

“Sitting pretty,” Sherlock stated, “And looking for clues.”

Your eyes sharpened, “Clues?”

Your husband tapped your nose, “Yes, you seem to have a hint of talent in that department. You just don’t know where to deduce the end results for the clues.” You blinked....

With a soft mutter you stated, “I suppose it would allow me more insight to your profession and a chance to bond and learn about each other...”

Before you could continue anymore questions you heard a soft knock on your bedroom door.

“Mrs Hudson,” you both whispered, glancing to one another.

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x female reader #sherlock holmes x poc!reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes #enola sherlock #henry sherlock #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #wowb

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year

Note

how would the batfam spice up the batcat wedding (on purpose or accident)

Dick: wears the bat toga

Jason: makes a toast to Dinah and Ollie

Tim: stages a robbery and pretends to get kidnapped

Damian: ten pounds of serrano peppers should do the trick

Duke: invites all 800 of his Snapchat friends

Cullen: swaps Bruce's vows with the Bee Movie script

Stephanie: orders a second cake for herself

Cassandra: releases a toy mouse among the cats

Barbara: calls everyone's phones at the same time

Harper: takes off with the limo

Carrie: replaces the officiant with an Elvis impersonator

Kate: says "this but make it gay"

Alfred: lets Gordon Ramsay film an episode of Hell's Kitchen

Selina: puts Harley and Ivy in charge of decorating

Bruce: since everyone's here it's a great time for an identity reveal

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hanafubukki · 7 months

Note

But- Grim flower boy is just so cute idea 😭 It's like, the bride is here with her found family, Lilia is the one to take the groom and the bride to the altar.

Lilia first take his dragon boy, saying his parents would be so proud of the love he found, and that him, has the one who raised him, is so proud to have lived enough time to see this moment. He make the speech like with his causual funny tone, but you can see in his happy smile and in his sparkling eyes that he is about to cry.

After the groom, he runs outside again, and comes back a bit later with the bride. Nobody heard what they told to each other. But be sure Papa bat have the "Take good care of him" talk with his boy's soon-to-be wife.

The groom is speechless facing his wife (have already the title for a long time for him- The wedding is just a way to tell it to the whole world). The bride shine of hapiness. They look at each other like nobody is in the room, and their old schoolmate from NRC are all here for the ceremony.

The wedding start, official speech are told, traditional ritual make...and it's time for the rings !

Here he is. Entering like a prince in a white suit, the cat monster with his fierce look going to the altar with the rings. His whole being tell "Look all at me. It's me who have the rings. I'm the Keeper of the rings !"

He gave the rings, vows are exchanged, bleesings given, the groom kiss the bride. Some are happy and shows it. Some have a little teardrop under their smile. Some tries to keep their pride. Some success. Some other tries, but have an ugly cry. And finally we have the one who just have the ugly cry of hapiness.

And finally, quitting the wedding office, the bride and the groom walks in the aisle under a flower rain (created by Grim. Best boi trains for months to make the surprise -and be sure it doesn't end in a fire).

It was a memorable wedding.

And not only because of Lilia's surprise cake.

-🦋 Anon

Hello 🦋 Anonie,

What if I cry?? What if I just curl up and cry from happiness??? 🦋 Anonie, this is so so cute omg. I am shaking you affectionately. Ahhhhh the need to get this card increased more, but Grim still hasn’t come home 😭

Lilia has found many joys in recent centuries. He hatched Malleus and watched him grow into the fine man he is today. He raised Silver and Sebek as fine young men. He couldn’t be more proud of them all.

Lilia had always wanted to wear a formal suit and he finally had a reason to, at his son’s wedding.

Malleus looked as handsome as ever and Lilia could feel the sting in his eyes, looking at him now.

“Come my boy, let me tie that for you.”

Lilia floated to him, helping him with his tie. Malleus watched Lilia quietly with a smile on his face.

Lilia noticed and teased, “What? Not going to say you are too old for this old man to help you?”

Malleus clasped Lilia’s hands in his, “If I have learned anything, it is that you could never be too old for a parent’s love.”

Lilia felt his tears fall as a smile graced his lips, he hugged Malleus tightly.

“Thank you for loving me.”

Lilia watched as Malleus and YN got married. Grim in particularly vibrating with joy and looking smart in his outfit.

He didn’t blame him; Lilia himself was vibrating from joy.

So many joys in life he experienced, he was truly blessed.

Meleanor and Levan, I hope you’re watching this. Malleus has become a fine young man.

As the bride and groom walked down the aisle, Lilia smiled.

“Fufufu~ I hope they enjoy my special present.”

🦋 Anonie, this was so so cute. Thank you for sending this in 💞💞

(I’m using this as a summoning circle for Grim, please come home.🙏)

#answered #anonie ask #🌺🦋Anon🌺#malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge

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its-vannah · 1 year

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Vigilante Sh*t | Jacaerys x Reader

A/N: Y'all, this is a bad b*tch fic. Prepare yourselves.

Warnings: Death of a major character, attempted murder, divorce, arranged marriage, marriage, mentions of consummating a marriage, pregnancy

Midnights Masterlist

For as long as you can remember, Lucerys Velaryon had been one of your closest friends. As children, the two of you were much too timid to meddle with politics. You preferred to stay out of the limelight.

That was until you had recieved the news of his death. When a messenger had told you what had happened, you felt your knees give out beneath you.

Don't get sad, get even

Steadying yourself against a nearby wall, you tried to calm your nerves. He wasn't meant to die. Not now, not this young. And you were ready for revenge—even if it meant taking it out on your own husband.

-------------------------------

When it has been announced that you were betrothed to Aemond Targaryen, your family had been thrilled. Finally, one of their children would marry into nobility.

But you were severely disappointed.

From what you had seen, Aemond was a menacing, cruel man who did anything he could to elevate his status. You had heard rumors that, if he could, he'd kill his own brother to become King.

Even Lucerys feared for your safety entering a marriage with him, reminding you that your friendship would be put on hold. But trying to convince your parents to end the betrothal was impossible. It was too late.

Still, Lucerys had persisted.

"Couldn't you be wed to Jace?" He suggested, "He's still nobility. Your parents would be happy, woukdnt they? Please, Y/N, just try."

You raised a brow, "You want me to marry your brother?"

Someone sweet and kind and fun

He shrugged, "I think it'd be quite a nice match, actually."

"It's too late, Luc, I already tried. They'll have my head if I go against their wishes."

With a frown, he admitted defeat, "I just don't want to lose you. You're the closest friend I have. You're like a sister, really."

Pulling him into a hug, you pressed a kiss to his temple, "That will never change, Luc. I promise."

Until you found out that he had died, and your husband had been the one who killed him.

You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them

Nothing made your blood boil more. He would regret his decision one way or another.

-------------------------------

Your handmaiden pulled a velvet black dress over your head, lacing it in the back until it was perfectly draped over your body.

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

It was a bold move, on your part. To wear Targaryen black in a sea of Hightower green. But it was a move you were willing to take.

Draw the cat eye, sharp enough to kill a man

Tucking a dagger in your bodice, you were ready for revenge.

They say looks can kill and I might try

Making your way to the dining hall, you remained stoic even in your grief. You were going to get your way.

Entering the hall, you moved to sit beside Aemond. Normally, he didn't even bat an eye your way. But when he saw his mother's cold hard stare your direction, his shot you a warning glance.

Taking a seat, he grabbed you by the wrist, practically hissing at you.

"You're upsetting the Queen," He said in a low whisper, "Out of all the gowns you have, you chose one so bold?"

I don't dress for women

You played dumb, "Bold? This is one of my favorites. Didn't you know?"

"Remove it."

I don't dress for men

"Right here? I hardly think its appropriate," You replied, the corners of your mouth going up, "No, I think I'll leave it on."

Tightening his grip on your wrist, he grit his teeth, "Now."

And I don't dress for villains

"My life doesn't revolve around you, Aemond," You hissed, "I'll wear what I wish."

"Don't make me ask you again."

The lady simply had enough

"Don't make me say no, then." You said, eyes narrowing.

And crossing all of mine

Pulling you up from your chair by the wrist, the whole table turned to look at the two of you.

While he was doing lines

Aemond forced a smile on his face, "Excuse us, Lady Y/N has some matters she'd like to discuss."

It was so silent that you could only hear the clicking of Aemond's boots against the stone floor.

I'm on my vigilante shh again

Shoving you into your chambers, you fell back onto the floor, catching yourself with your hands. Reaching into your bodice, you pulled out your dagger, lunging towards him with the weapon held high.

He spun you back, kicking your ankle out, and pinned half of your body to the bed, the dagger now held firmly to your throat.

Through bated breaths, tears pricked your eyes, "You took the life of the one person who meant the world to me."

Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie

"It was an accident."

Grunting, you shook your head, careful to avoid the edge of the knife, "Doesn't change the fact that you didn't, and that he's dead."

He was silent, so you continued, "Let me free. Annul our marriage and I will go without a word."

"A word of what?"

She needed cold hard proof so I gave her some

You inhaled, "The bastard you fathered with my handmaiden. I'm sure your mother would be delighted to hear of it."

"How did you figure it out?"

Someone told his white collar crimes to the FBI

"It wasn't that hard," You said, "Isn't she pregnant again?"

He loosened his grip, "I let you go, and you go without a word?"

"Not a sound," You promised, "And you're secret—and image—will remain intact."

He groaned, pushing himself off of you, "You're a vile woman, you know that?"

"And you're a sick, twisted man."

The marriage was annulled the next morning, and Aemond explained that your marriage had never been consummated. To tell the truth, he had been too drunk to remember if that had been accurate.

Although he was initially denied the request by Allicent, he reminded his mother that, out of all the women in the seventh, he could find another with more power to her name to carry his children. He didn't want the Targaryen name to be soiled by his wife.

After his mother nodded to Aegon, it didn't take long for the marriage to be annulled. By that point, you were already on your way to Driftmark.

You had left with a small trunk of your belongings, opting to leave anything with a hint of your past life with Aemond behind. No green dresses or hair pins, no Hightower crests.

Knowing your family would refuse to allow you back into their home, you went to the only place that ever really felt like home.

Walking into the keep, you were suddenly overcome with grief. You were in the gardens, where you snd Lucerys had chased each other as children.

The memories, however sweet they once were, now felt painful. You tried to push them away, unable to come to terms with your grief.

Kneeling in front of a stone bench, you traced the spot where your initials had been engraved. He had always felt like a brother to you, and now he was gone.

You heard someone clear their throat behind you, and immediately jumped, the hood of your cloak slipping off your head and onto your shoulders.

Turning around, your eyes met Jace Velaryon's. Surprise settled into your body as he looked down on you.

And she looks so pretty

"Y/N?" He asked, convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Jumping up from your spot beside the bench, you wrapped him in a tight embrace, arms thrown around his shoulders.

Your feet dangled off the ground as he returned the embrace, burying his head in your shoulder while supporting your weight.

"I'm sorry, Jace," Your voice was just above a whisper, "I know how much he meant to you."

He just held you tighter in response, setting you back down a moment later, filled with questions.

"How—Why—When—" Jace furrowed his brows, unsure of the reason of your arrival, "Is he here?"

You shook your head, "No, I traveled alone. It'll all make sense soon, I promise. But I need to speak with your mother."

He nodded, "I'll see if I can arrange something later in the day. She's busy at the moment. Please, come inside, it's far too cold to be out here."

-------------------------------

That evening, you spoke with Rhanerya, explaining the events that had brought you to Driftmark. Touched by the love you had for her son, she pulled you into a hug, commending your bravery and sacrifice.

She welcomed you to stay with open arms, and instructed her eldest son to help you get settled.

That's when something in you switched. During the next few months at Driftmark, you and Jace became closer and closer, eventually sharing a kiss in the gardens on the very bench he had found you.

It wasn't even a month later that the two of you were wed in a large ceremony, with the people of Driftmark in attendance.

For the first time since you had been shipped off to marry Aemond, and since Luc had died, you were genuinely happy.

After the wedding, Jace took you back to your shared chambers, kissing you softly, "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. I'll be waiting when you're ready."

Now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride

But nothing could keep you away from your husband. Pulling him down on the bed, you consummated your marriage that night. On that same night, unbeknownst to you, you conceived your first child.

The next time you saw your ex-husband, he was in chains in the middle of Driftmark, at the mercy of Queen Rhaenyra. And you were standing beside Jace, his hand on your swollen stomach as she decided his face.

You couldn't help but smile. Luc may not have been with you, but you couldn't have been happier alongside your husband, as the new princess, waiting for the arrival of your first child.

I don't start it, but I can tell you how it ends

Gazing up at Jace, he caught your eyes, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

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strxwberrylemonxde · 2 months

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joker x reader but im like batman or something and he's gay or something like idk

a/n: you are so real for this request bep-- I'm currently going through some writers block but i hope this was at least somewhat decent 😭 this also wasn't proof-read 💀

Joker with a Batman!Reader who sends you anonymous messages after escaping Arkham for the millionth time. Joker prides himself in being the only person in Gotham who can truly get under your skin, who can get you this close to breaking that silly little “moral code” of yours. Also because he’s literally in love with you. But why blame him though? All he wants to do is get a good laugh out of his favorite Bat.

Joker with a Batman!Reader who leaves little surprises for you around the city. A jack-in-the-box here, a deck of cards there, all with the same message on them: Come and get me, Batsy!💚 It’s giving queer. Who would he be without his little flamboyant schemes? Gotta keep the love of his life on their toes, ya know?

Joker with a Batman!Reader who calls this little cat-and-mouse game of his a “date.” Of course it’s a date! Why wouldn’t it be? After being treacherously locked away in the confines of a small padded cell, unable to do the most heinous things just to get caught by you, he’s finally able to reunite with his beloved Batsy! He can’t let those other heinous lunatics get to you first, that’s his job!

Joker with a Batman!Reader who, when you finally find him in the dingiest, darkest, warehouse in Gotham, has the biggest grin on his face and a glint in his eye. “Aw, I knew you cared about me!”

Joker with a Batman!Reader who, at the final showdown of this little charade, holds you at gunpoint with a wide smile on his face. “You know Bats, I missed this. Me, waltzing around Gotham with a smile on my face. And you, with that bright, big scowl on yours! You just can't get enough of me!” Pulling the trigger, a small bouquet of flowers shot out of the gun's barrel. “So when’s our wedding?”

#wait this was so fun to write #but the writers block had me in a chokehold #🌻: lynn’s answers #🍯: freshly baked #batjokes #the joker #joker dc #joker x reader #batman x joker #dc joker #the joker x reader #dc batman #joker x batman #batman #batman comics #dc comics #dc universe

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head---ache · 2 years

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Was I imagining a blazamy wedding and also made a lil sonadow comic? The answer is yes.

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em-harlsnow · 15 days

Text

Something I’ve had in my mind for a while, so I did a little speed-write:

When he gets back from his therapist, Mickey’s on the couch with his laptop open in front of him.

He doesn’t make a big deal of anything, just looks up, smiles and asks how it went. Today it wasn’t too taxing, just one of the fortnightly appointments that they can afford now. Ian smiles back.

“It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Mickey looks up from the laptop, paying full attention.

He blows out a breath. “Yeah. It was fine, really. Nothing huge.” He says, because nothing huge was revealed, nothing huge was said. Therapy just takes a lot out of him energy-wise.

“Okay.” Mickey replies, placing a hand on his knee, squeezing, and then returns to the screen.

“What are you looking at?” Ian asks, trying to peak.

“That stupid shit you like. Pin Interest or whatever the fuck.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “You like it, Mick. And I know you know it’s called Pinterest.”

Mickey shrugs.

“So, what are you looking at on Pin Interest?” He smirks and Mickey snorts.

“Tattoo ideas. I was thinkin’ of getting another one.” Mickey’s gaze is laser focused as he scans through images, saving some and scowling at others as if they personally offend him.

Ian’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Where do you want it?” He tries to picture his husband with more tattoos and very much likes the image. He likes his current ones too much to not want him to get more.

“I dunno, man. Some sleeves are cool. But they take ages to build up. Maybe just one on my shoulder to start.”

“That sounds good.” Ian tries to get closer, but he still can’t really see what Mickey’s looking at. “Can I see?” He asks, pointing at the device.

Mickey sighs like he’s the most annoying fucker on the planet, but he tilts the screen towards him anyway.

He can see now that Mickey’s searched up ‘black tattoo shoulder men’ and there are just piles on piles of buff men with shoulder tats.

“I like the snake one.” Mickey tells him, pointing at the picture he means. It’s a serpent winding around the top of the guy’s arm, tangling together and going down to the bottom of his bicep.

“Yeah, that one’s cool.” Ian agrees. “What about that one?” He points at one with a fine lined dragon reaching onto the guy’s peck.

“I guess, but I don’t want it too thin, you know? When they do it too intricate, the lines all blur together.” Ian hums in assent.

“Show me what you already have saved.”

Mickey clicks through the website, and Ian catches a glimpse of his pre-existing boards before he goes to the tattoo one. There’s one called ‘wedding’ and one called ‘apartment’ and one called ‘dope shit’. The cover photo of ‘dope shit’ is an aesthetic image of two beers and two cigarettes clasped in two hands. Ian’s not really surprised that this is what Mickey considers to be ‘dope shit’.

In the folder is a lot of similar things. Snakes, dragons, one cat with bat wings. One looks like a weird cross between a gun and a dagger. They’re all pretty hot, and Ian tells him about his favourites.

“I was thinkin’ of drawing it myself. I don’t wanna just copy what someone else has.”

“What did you do for this one?” Ian asks, grasping Mickey’s forearm.

“Drew it.” He explains simply, eyes not leaving the screen.

“Yeah? It’s good. You should draw the next one, too then.”

Mickey hums in agreement but continues to browse the website, probably looking for ideas.

Ian clicks on the TV, starting up an episode of New Girl while Mickey’s distracted.

They sit in peaceful silence for a while, until Mickey speaks again.

“There’s a tattoo place up the street. The reviews seem good. Don’t wanna go somewhere if they’ll just fuck it up.”

“That’s true.” Ian pauses. “If you’re getting one, I might get one too.”

Mickey raises his eyes brows in that expressive way of his. “You want a new tat? Fuckin’ copy cat.” He grumbles, but with the way he looks Ian up and down he can tell he’s not opposed.

“Yeah, been thinkin about it for a bit.”

“Oh yeah? What you thinkin, tough guy, I’ll look up some ideas.” Mickey suggests, already looking back at ‘Pin Interest’.

“Don’t worry, I already know what I want.”

When he doesn’t say more, Mickey huffs impatiently. “Gonna keep me waiting all night or what?”

Ian smirks and leans forward. “I was thinkin’ of an ‘MM’ tattoo, right here.” He tells him, pointing at a spot on the inside of his wrist.

Mickey looks surprised, and fond, and happy all at once. Even so, he tuts at him. “Tshc, you don’t have to do that just because I got your name.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “I fuckin’ know that, dork. I like the idea of having a more permanent thing than the rings.”

“Yeah, coz you keep fuckin’ losing your rings.”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t want it to fall down a drain or something, Mick.” He laughs, exasperated. “But a tattoo won’t fall down the drain.”

Mickey looks at him, and he’s so happy that Ian can’t help but wind their fingers together.

“You don’t want it to look like Mandy Milkovich, though. Gotta get my middle initial, too.”

“Wouldn’t her initials be ‘AM’? For Amanda?” Ian raises his eyebrows. Mickey scrunches his.

“Oh yeah.”

“You hate your middle name, anyway. And ‘MAM’ looks like I got something for my mum, I want this for you.”

“Yeah, you already got those titties for Monica.” Mickey jokes lightly and Ian pushes his side.

<3333

i might write a next part, where they actually go get them!

#shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #gallavich fic #shameless fanfiction #they’re adorable

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wardenparker · 11 months

Text

The Viper’s Bride - ch 4

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: Explicit for violent circumstances.18+ Word Count: 10.2k 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* Groping, ogling, plenty of references to sex. Hurt/comfort, half truths, angst, protective instincts are very high. Summary: The afternoon after meeting your betrothed is arguably even more eventful than the morning was, but in a very different way. Notes: We are in it deep now, my dears! Secrets being kept, truths being revealed, and a big step forward that will open up a whole new world of possibilities for our two pairs of lovers.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3

Things are lusty right off the bat this chapter, so we begin under the cut...

“You look like the cat who got the cream, my love.” Oberyn drags his nose against Ellaria’s shoulder and places a kiss on it as he pulls the shoulder of the revealing dress down. The whores are on their way and the wine carafe has been filled, along with the table of refreshments that Oberyn required. It was going to be an entertaining time. “Are you imagining Cal’s cock or my own?”

“Stone’s,” she tells him with a hum, unembarrassed and unashamed. The allure of the man is so great that she has been thinking of him since last night though Oberyn still has no idea of the invitation she sent you.

“He is gorgeous.” Oberyn’s tone is one of regret, since you have indicated that he would not be open to exploring sexual pleasures with him. “Almost as breathtaking as you.” His hand slides up to cup her breast, the small mound filling his hand and he squeezes. “You will look good on his cock.” He has no doubt that Ellaria will end up with the man between her thighs, he had recognized the desire in the other man’s eyes when returning you to him.

"I hope he plays well." The deep chuckle from the back of Ellaria's throat becomes a quiet moan as his large hand gropes at her skin and she smirks at Oberyn. "He will be an excellent sparring partner for you."

“We will have to spar outside the bed, I am afraid.” Her nipple pebbles beautifully and he enjoys the throaty whimper she gives him when he rolls it between his fingers.

The pronounced pout on Ellaria’s lips comes with heavy doubt, and she looks down at her lover as she swings one leg over his lap to straddle him. “She is not willing to share him?”

The other hand comes to hold onto her ass, dragging her closer to him. “He is not inclined to have a cock in his ass or mouth.”

“Or at least he has not told her that he desires it.” Ellaria tuts as she settles herself in his lap. “In the North they shame men for far less, my love. You know this.”

“This is true.” He acknowledges, letting go of her tit so he can slap it lightly. “We shall see if he will be intrigued enough to admit it if it is a secret.”

The small act of dominance is not unusual for Oberyn but Ellaria still still smirks while she unties her dress and lets it hang open for him. “What about her, my heart? You have not told me about your walk yet.” You may not be enough to be considered competition, but she is interested in you. You represent a great change in Oberyn’s life, and therefore hers as well.

“She is…” Oberyn frowns slightly and gropes her again greedily. “Not what I expected.” He admits. “She has spirit for a Northern lady. And she freely admitted to fucking her lover.” Looking back it had surprised him because despite everything, she could still be punished for not being innocent. Not that Oberyn cares about the falsities of purity.

“I doubt she said those words.” She might have a touch more of respect for you if you did. The way you hold yourself is strong. You have confidence but not about everything. And certainly not about your desires. Hopefully you will mature beyond the shame that was used to control you in the North. “I can only say that I am glad she has some spine. The father had none at all.”

“The father is a sniveling coward, controlled by his wife’s cold cunt.” Oberyn snorts, having decided the woman is a bitch, one that he would have struck if she had been his. The disrespect for him and her daughter was appalling. “He should get his balls untangled from her purse strings.”

"It may be an irreversible condition," Ellaria huffs and shakes her head. "Frozen balls, cold cunt, greedy hearts."

“Mmmmhmm.” Oberyn leans in and captures her lips again in a hungry kiss, tired of talking about people who are inconsequential to him. Once you are married, he will not have to deal with them again.

The sound of a woman clearing her throat is loud enough from the doorway to bring the lovers out of their moment of passion and Leyth is standing in the doorway looking apprehensive when they finally turn their attention to her. "Your Grace..." she clears her throat again, this time out of nerves. "You have visitors."

Oberyn hums, not terribly concerned with it, assuming Tyrion had sent the whores he had spoken of so fondly. “Send them in.” He orders, turning his attention back to his lover’s breasts. “And when you are cleaned up, you and Cal will also join us.”

"Yes, your Grace." She has a feeling that the prince will be slightly less inclined to pleasure after he has received these urgent guests, but she doesn't have a chance to say so.

Hearing Oberyn's voice and his permission to enter, you burst past the girl who announced you – serving girl or whore, it makes no difference to you – with Raeden following immediately behind you. With barely enough time to catch your breath and knowing what you're about to ask of him, this time when you enter Prince Oberyn's presence you drop into a deep curtsy. Groveling, you can hear your septa's voice in your mind. Only worms grovel. Well...perhaps that is what you are. You cannot tell anymore. "I am sorry to disturb you, Prince Oberyn. We would not have come if it was not absolutely necessary."

Oberyn’s mouth had just wrapped around Ellaria’s nipple when he hears your voice. Turning his eyes, he finds your Ser Raeden Stone staring at him in shock as your own head pops up from your curtsy.

"I—" There is no second syllable or word, whatever you had meant to say immediately dying on your lips as you look away in embarrassment.

"Sadly it does not seem to be a visit for pleasure," Ellaria observes. The pair of you are flustered and winded, and there is fear in your eyes.

Oberyn pulls off her tit with an unhappy pop, eyes curious as they take in his intended bride and her soulmate. “I see.” He motions to Leyth. “Pour our guests some wine.” He orders. “They look like they are parched.”

Leyth moves wordlessly, pouring wine into goblets and disappearing with the mostly empty vessel to fetch more, and you swallow your fear even as it makes you feel sick to your stomach. "We need to speak to you." Nothing else can come first. No pleasantries or flattery or anything else. There is no time. "I am afraid...it is a matter of life or death."

“Life or death.” His brow arches up and he pats Ellaria’s hip softly to urge her to lift off of him. His hand runs up to cover her back up, even though he doesn’t mind others seeing her. You, however, might object.

"I am afraid so." With no one else in the room, the one thing you are not afraid of is reaching back for Raeden's hand. "If it were only my life that my mother had threatened, I might not have considered it a very serious thing, but..." As much as you hate her, the idea that she has finally cracked and gone mad is not an easy one to swallow.

Raeden squeezes your hand, nodding subtly and raising his eyes to the prince and his paramour. "She attacked my lady when we returned to her chambers. And intends to spread the lie that I forced myself on her. They will hang me for it, your Grace, regardless of the truth. Unless you are willing to shelter us."

Oberyn pauses, his own wine cup almost to his lips. His eyes flicker to Ellaria and he pulls the cup down. “Those are grave accusations.” He agrees. “Your neck would be stretched before the sun rises.” He is shocked to see you here, but now he understands why you would show up to the brothel with your soulmate’s life in danger.

"She is angry that I was disrespectful to her this morning." You never would have thought she was capable of being so intentionally cruel before, but the last few weeks have been eye-opening on that front. "But her anger is far beyond anything I have seen before. She tore her dress and pulled her hair and announced to us what she planned to say."

“Spiteful cunt.” Oberyn snorts and shakes his head, aware that the mere accusation alone would tear you from your soulmate. Something that would be well within his right, as well, as your future lord husband. “What will you ask of me?” He asks. “Prepare you a room? That is easily done.” He turns to see where Leyth has skittered off to.

"Raeden is under my family's thumb as long as I remain their property." What you have to ask of him is far more than you were prepared for an hour ago – and arguably more than you are prepared for even now. But to save your soulmate's life? You would do anything. You would give your own life for Raeden. Or, in this case, your freedom. "But he is pledged to my safety." Hands trembling, you manage to raise your chin and find Oberyn's eyes in the sunlight that streams in through the windows behind him. "If—" It has to be done, but the words stick in your throat and you simply have to be grateful that there are no tears with the request. Although, if you thought they would sway the prince, you would be sobbing on your knees. "If you and I were already married, he would be protected by your name and title."

The silence hangs over the room for a long moment. Ellaria holds her breath, her eyes wide in surprise that you would be so bold as to beg the prince to marry you. She looks to Oberyn to see how he will react to your request. “We will go to great lengths to save our soulmates, will we not?” He asks you after a moment, looking between you and your Raeden. His gaze settles on the man beside you. “You will pledge your fealty to Dorne.” He tells the other man. “Wear our colors and ride under my banner.”

"That was always to be my fate." As much as Raeden may bristle at how it is being done, he understands the situation. That a return to the Red Keep without this protection will surely mean his death. You have just stepped out onto the precipice of the unknown for him without hesitation and he won't do you the dishonor of challenging you in front of others. If it was your life on the line he would do anything. "I would do so now with a grateful heart if you are willing to protect me when you could just as easily throw me to the wolves and be rid of me"

There is a sense of honor to admitting that your Raeden acknowledges the power that Oberyn holds over the situation. A nobility that cannot be taught to most and your low born soulmate possesses it, like his own does. Oberyn nods after a moment and glances at your dress. “There is no time to collect your things from the keep, so I hope you are not disappointed to marry in your day dress.”

"It would not surprise me to find my mother has already destroyed my things in a rage." There were plenty of personal items in those trunks that you brought from the Vale - your journal, treasured gifts, beloved books - all things that may already be lost to you. You simply do not know what happened after you fled. How could you? "Thank you, my lord." The heavy ache in your heart at having to marry anyone who is not Raeden is lessened knowing that he will remain well and at your side. If it is by the grace of Prince Oberyn Martell, then so be it. "It is my understanding that my dowry has already been paid to your brother, if...if that was a concern of yours."

“I do not care about that.” He waves his hand and takes a sip of his wine. “My brother takes care of those things.” He knows that you are not happy with having to bind yourself to him so he walks over to Ellaria. “We will give you two a moment alone to talk before we make our way to the Citadel.”

"Thank you, my lord." There is nothing else to say, not to him. What to say to Raeden is a very different matter.

Ellaria and Oberyn sweep out of the room and Raeden turns to you, hurt radiating out of his eyes. He had not been privy to your plot the entire time you had been running across the city and he can’t help but feel betrayed.

"If you hate me now, at least you will be alive to do so." If you had told him what you were going to ask – made him party to the only thing you could think of that would ensure his survival – you know he would have objected. He would have been noble and tried to spare you from your fate, insisting that he would find another way. But there is no other way, not one that does not involve spending the rest of your lives on the run. "I have told you more than once that I would give my life for you no matter the circumstances. It was not an empty promise, my love."

“You should not have to sacrifice yourself, your body for me.” Raeden shakes his head and grips your hands tightly. “I cannot let you do this, my love.”

"What is the alternative?" He seems more upset than angry, and you will consider that a small mercy for now. "I marry him and you die? I do not marry him and we flee? If we flee we will be found, or else live our entire lives in fear. That is not a life. It is a sentencing."

“I–” his voice cracks and there are tears in his eyes shimmering just under the surface of his brown orbs. “I thought I had more time.” He confesses. After tonight he will not have to you himself. The fear that despite what the prince had said, he would be kept from you is always in the back of his mind.

"So did I." Your arms wrap around him, clinging to him with a desperation that you had been able to push aside while you were running. "More time. More chances to see if there was a way forward for just the two of us." His frame shakes with a stifled sob and you follow him immediately, tears staining his shirt as you bury your face in the fabric. "But my freedom is a small price to pay for your life." Especially when your measure of actual freedom was dubious in the first place.

Clinging to you, Raeden closes his eyes, accepting that you will be another man’s wife. That he will not have you for himself. There is no chance to have a life beyond bearing a Prince’s children and being his princess. Swallowing harshly, he pulls away to kiss you one last time.

The moment tastes of desperation, salt tears staining the kiss and making you wish for the first time that you had actually kept your mouth shut this morning. Your insufferable and cruel mother has outdone herself this time, and dragged you down with the depths of her rage. If you must remind yourself every moment of each day that this is worth the sacrifice, you will. All it will take is looking Raeden in the face to know that you did what you had to. He will live. That is all that matters.

From the doorway, Oberyn watches the tender moment. Feeling for the soulmates, because this is due to no fault of your own. It is natural to feel trapped and hopeless at this moment. He clears his throat and motions towards the door. “We must make haste before your mother determines where you have fled.”

"Of course." Just because you have reached the prince's side does not mean you are free - in fact in many ways it now means the opposite. Drying your tears on your handkerchief, you barely step back from Raeden but nod to the man who now securely controls the trajectory of your life. As soon as a maester can be persuaded, he will be your husband. At least you can go into it knowing that he is a good man. "Show us the way, my lord."

Ellaria is waiting in the carriage that has already been pulled in front. Oberyn walks in front of you slightly so that you and your soulmate may have another few moments together. “We will go to the Citadel.”

******

The ride is quiet. Thick with tension and discomfort. Staring at the frayed hems of your gown instead of watching for the approach of the Citadel, you end up jolting upright in surprise when the carriage comes to a stop, as though you are afraid that it might be your mother in the road that you have stopped for instead of your destination.

“We have arrived.” Oberyn hums, opening the door and hopping out of the carriage to look up at the building that he had left so many years before. “It has been a long time since I have been here.” He muses, reaching back to help you and then Ellaria out of the carriage.

"You will be remembered, lover." Ellaria steps out of the carriage after you and gathers her skirts, trying to offer what support she can to her soulmate on this extremely unusual afternoon. Her own dislike for the situation is not what is important. Oberyn's decision has been made.

There is a moment where he continues to hold her hand, squeezing it gently. Once the two of them had left the room, he had spoken honestly with her. Reassuring her that this would not change her role in his life. “Undoubtedly.”

The wizened man by the door when the four of you enter is proof enough of that, and he bows deeply when his eyes fall on the golden-robbed man leading the way. "Prince Oberyn." There is a smile on his lips and he moves to offer the prince his hand when he stands. "It has been twenty years since you graced our halls. Welcome, my lord. Welcome."

“Maester Rhodestone.” Oberyn chuckles as he takes the man’s hand and shakes it firmly. “You have finished your links. You did not grow weary of it?”

“Oh, many times. But it was something to do.” The old man laughs, honest amusement lacing the sound as he shakes the prince’s hand. “What honor has earned the Citadel such an illustrious visit? And with such lovely guests.”

“I studied under this man.” Oberyn explains, mainly to you. “He was the one to not chastise me when I impregnated the High Priestess of the Sept.”

Of course he did such a thing. Your instinct is to bury your face in your palm at that news, or at least it would be if you were not so frozen with fear and tension. “I am very honored to make your acquaintance, maester.” You say instead, bowing your head respectfully.

“Who have you brought to our door, Oberyn?” Maester Rhodestone looks your party of four over with interest and offers a smile to you and Ellaria. “What service may we be to these beautiful creatures?”

“I wish to marry.” Oberyn announces, not one ounce of irony in his voice. “The contract between my house and my bride’s is set, the dowry is paid, and my lady wishes to remain pure until the vows are spoken.” He lies easily, turning to take your hand and guide you forward.

“I have never known a lady to remain pure for very long in the presence of Oberyn Martell,” the maester chuckles with delight. “You have agreed to this, my lady? To wed the prince and stand by him in all wifely duty until the expiration of your days?”

“I have very nearly begged for it.” As giddy as the sentence could be, that is how harshly you must swallow your fears and pride. This is the decision that will save you and Raeden from your mother’s ire. It must be done before it is too late. “We do not wish to delay any longer, maester.”

“It is unusual to have these things rushed.” He’s curious, tilting his head towards Oberyn as if to ask for an explanation. Especially the day before the king’s wedding. A Prince should have more than vows spoken in haste, but it is not his place to make that judgment.

“It is.” You know that. There is no way around it, and since the prince has already declared you to be pure you cannot claim that you wish to be married because you have felt the pleasures of his bed already. In fact, you may have to lean squarely in the opposite direction. “As you have witnessed, maester, the prince is capable of…stirring great passion in those around him.” The lie nearly makes you shiver, knowing Raeden is right behind you, but you pretend to demure instead of being terrified. “Pleasures that should not be indulged in before our vows are spoken, lest the prince’s heir be argued a bastard.”

“Ahhhhhh.” The maester nods wisely, well aware of why you would be worried about that considering the numerous bastards Oberyn has already fathered. “I see. Well, then I see no reason to require you to wait.” He chuckles and winks at you. “You will be in his bed tonight.”

The sharp intake of your soulmate’s breath behind you is painful beyond explanation, but you have to let your heart break in silence. “We are lucky to have found you first, Maester Rhodestone.”

Oberyn turns back to see Raeden looking like he would rather face the hangman’s noose and Ellaria frowning slightly. He knows this is not ideal, and yet it will be the only way to make sure that all four of you make it back to Dorne. “We do not need any ceremony.” Oberyn tells the maester. “Just the vows and the record of it.”

"Have you brought a ring for your bride?" The maester asks. There is no rule saying both must wear one, but for a wife to wear a ring is tradition as everyone knows.

He hadn’t since this was so rushed and he hadn’t exactly wanted this in the first place, but the maester doesn’t know that. “Here is your ring, my prince.” Ellaria steps forward and holds out a gold and amber ring, intricately designed with vines that make up the band. It’s the ring he had bought his soulmate the last time he had been away from her on a trip for Doran. Her gift when he had come home to her.

Stunned at the gesture, you cannot tear your eyes from Ellaria as she hands over the ring from her own finger. She could so easily despise you for being betrothed to her soulmate. Or thwart your efforts to save Raeden's life. But instead she is offering something of her own up to a moment that arguably has nothing to do with her. It fills you with a deep sense of shame when you remember that you do feel attraction for the man that the gods determined should be hers. If there is ever a way to alleviate that guilt, you hope it will come swiftly as this next stage of your life falls out around you. Thank you, the words might be mouthed to her behind the maester's back, but they are sincere.

Ellaria nods discreetly, her hand caressing Oberyn’s back as she steps back and stands beside Raeden, making it appear as if she had come with him to see the marriage completed rather than her own soulmate binding himself to someone who is not her. She cannot deny the pang of surprising jealousy, but it will pass. What she and Oberyn share is real, unbreakable.

The maester leads the four of you through a maze of hallways as impressive and intimidating as any in the Red Keep before indicating a small room to the left of where you have come to stop. "My lady, you and your maid may make yourselves ready here, I will acquaint your betrothed and his witness with their duties at the altar. Will you be requiring a septa for spiritual guidance in your last unmarried minutes?"

"No, maester." A glance at Ellaria shows neither of you is pleased with the assumption that she is your servant, but you suppose it is a natural mistake. You should have a maid. "Thank you. We will join you shortly."

Ellaria scoffs when the door is closed and turns towards you with a roll of her eyes. “These northern maester believe that all women from Dorne are whores or maids.” She huffs, reaching up and starting to fix your hair where it has been disheveled from your run through the city. “I will hold my tongue because Oberyn holds him in some respect.”

"Ellaria." Your hands shoot out, grasping hers with more immediacy than even you expected. "I cannot—this situation is not what—" Blowing out a breath only makes your hands shake and a few tears escape your eyes before you can stop them. "I am sorry. And so grateful. Please know that."

“Hush.” She clicks her tongue and squeezes your hand encouragingly before she pulls it away and produces a handkerchief from a pocket she has sewn into her far more revealing dress. “There is nothing to be sorry for.” She had known that this day might come. “We would not let your soulmate die for falsehoods.” She wipes away your tears and her dark eyes stare into yours. “No tears when you marry a prince.” She chides softly, cupping your cheeks.

"If I could turn the world on its ear, it would be me readying you to wed the prince." It's a shuddering and grasping kind of sadness that sits deep in your stomach, but you try to straighten your shoulders. Anything to shake this blanketing fear. "You sent that invitation to find out what sort of a person I am. And the truth is that I am the sort of person who would give her life for those she loves. And so I am."

“I do not wish to be a princess.” She hums, with a small smile. “We have that in common. Along with the need to protect those I love.” She leans in and presses her lips to your softly. It’s not a seductive kiss, or punishing. It’s meant to be soothing and welcoming. It only lasts for a few seconds before she is pulling back. “You are not giving your life.” She murmurs quietly. “You are beginning to live.”

"I promise that I will never keep him from you." Since it is your intention to demand as little of his time or attention as possible, this should be a simple enough endeavor, but it is important that she hears this promise from you directly. "He will be half myself by the law, but he is half of yourself by decree of the gods."

She doesn’t answer, because she knows that life will not quite be what you expect married to Oberyn, but Ellaria smiles. “We should not keep them waiting.”

******

Maester Rhodestone seems very deliberate when he leaves Oberyn and Raeden alone at the altar for a moment to retrieve the volume he requires to perform the marriage, but Raeden does not move. He is staring past the intricate windows set deep into the walls of the Citadel and wondering if he truly wishes he were dead or if that is simply what having one's heart ripped in two feels like.

Oberyn feels for the man, watching him for a moment before he steps closer and claps one firm, heavily muscled shoulder. “Your soulmate will be Princess of Dorne, loved and protected by her people.” He tells him. “You will be there to make sure of it. That is what is intended here.” He knows it is a small comfort, but it is what he can offer. Both you and he are marrying for different reasons, but marrying nonetheless.

“She is very easy to love.” Raeden chokes out, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He takes two deep breaths, but his mighty frame could be knocked over by a simple leaf right now. “It will not take long for you to see.”

“If that time comes, do you think that I would forsake my own soulmate?” Oberyn asks bluntly. “My love for Ellaria will never waver. Just like your own for your soulmate will not.”

“I do not know what to think,” the younger man admits quietly. His voice is as far off as his gaze and his fears are directly on the surface of his being.

“All will be well.” Oberyn reassures Raeden, reaching out and caressing the man’s cheek softly. The man really is gorgeous and Oberyn feels for him. Despite his reputation, he feels he is more of a lover than most men.

“She likes sunrise. And wildflowers. And sweets, anything to nibble on.” The sickness in his stomach pushes words out of his mouth instead of bile, as though he is trying to match the erratic beating of his own heart with rambling. It all seems to just tumble out of him. “If she could spend her whole life drinking tea in a library she would be ecstatic. I have seen her literally give the suffering the clothes off of her back when it would help them and despair for days until she figures out how to assist them when it does not.” The shine of water in his eyes is pure admiration, and Raeden exhales shakily. “Be good to her, my lord.”

“She will have the same respect my paramour does.” It seems as if Raeden has not been told, or does not believe that he will be allowed to stay by your side as your soulmate. He would say more but the shuffling steps of the maester sound long before his appearance, the clanking of his chain loud against the soft robes he wears.

“All is prepared?” Maester Rhodestone reappears with a thick volume and sets it on the altar where the two men are standing but his attention is at the door of the room where the lady’s maid has appeared. “The lady is ready?”

“The future princess is ready.” Ellaria nods, unwilling to call you ‘my lady’ as if she is a servant. Slowly walking over, she exchanges a look with Oberyn and stands beside a distraught looking Raeden.

“Come, child.” The maester beckons you forward and you know you must step forward or else it is Raeden’s blood on your hands. Your smile is a lie, forced and afraid, but you still stand before the maester at the prince’s side. “Splendid. There is nothing to fear. Marriage is not the prison for all that it is for some,” he smiles as if he knows a secret. “Not when there is love.”

It is hard to not roll his eyes, but Oberyn takes your hand and leans down, pressing a kiss to it. “My lady knows how I feel.” He assures the maester, giving you a fond look. While he might not be enamored with you, you do intrigue him and Oberyn enjoys his intrigues. You are sharp witted and surprisingly clever tongued which means that there should be no reason that you cannot adapt to his life easily. Either that or he will set you up on a small estate and leave you be.

"Then let it be known." A craggy smile from the old man is enough and he begins to recite the small ceremony from memory. You have to supply your name and the name of your House for him when the time comes, but at least your voice works well enough to say them. “Let it be known that these betrothed are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.”

Breathing as steadily as you can force yourself, you turn to Prince Oberyn as you're supposed to, knowing the words you are meant to say in unison: “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger...I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

With a low, measured voice, Oberyn repeats the vow with you. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.” He had never imagined saying these vows, never wished to, and now the die is cast. His eyes are watching yours, and he swears he sees the guilt and sorrow swimming in them, but he knows this is what must happen.

There is a momentary pause where he slips the ring that Ellaria had given back to him onto your finger. The sound of two pairs of soulmates holding their breath is a stony silence indeed but the maester seems either not to notice or not to mind. "With this kiss, I pledge my love." The last words you will ever say as an unmarried woman seal you to a man you barely know, but you have to have faith that you are making the right decision.

His eyes shift past you to Ellaria and Raeden. “With this kiss, I pledge my love.” He vows, looking back at you before he steps closer to you and reaches for your chin to press a fleeting kiss to your lips.

"Your marriage will be recorded for the gods to bless." Maester Rhodestone declares with a satisfied and perhaps slightly oblivious smile. "I wish your Graces every happiness."

“We thank you, Maester Rhodestone.” Despite the maester swearing off worldly possessions, Oberyn knows how much the old man likes his drink and his whores. Or at least he had when Oberyn was studying. He slips a stack of gold coins in his hand and nods, “Gods be with you.”

Just like that it is over, and the four of you exchange stunted looks of uncertainty. The maester thanks the prince once more and leans over the book in front of him to record your names before sweeping the volume out of the room in his arms.

"My lord..." Raeden swallows the bile threatening to rise in his throat and turns to the prince with his hand on his sword. "My blade is yours."

There is a moment where the prince wonders if the man will be sick or draw his sword on him, but it passes. Oberyn nods, feeling as if the moment deserves more formality, but this is not to be had. “Dorne accepts you as one of their own.” He pledges. “Our enemies are your enemies, and your enemies are ours. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken, that is the House Martell creed and the creed of Dorne.”

“Unbowed, unbent, unbroken.” The younger man nods solemnly. To be a knight in service to a prince is not altogether that different than being in service to a great family, and although everything seems to have changed by the edge of a coin - not much truly has.

“Now.” Oberyn reaches for Ellaria’s hand and pulls her to his side. “Shall we adjourn back to the brothel?” He asks, raising his brows in question. “We have a wedding night to commence.”

“Of course.” Even though he reaches for Ellaria instead of you, the statement turns your stomach. Technically the marriage is not legal until it is consummated, and that will require going to his bed. Halfway between fainting and being ill right there on the stone floor of the Citadel, you somehow still manage to follow him out of the room while you grasp blindly for Raeden’s hand.

Ellaria sneaks glances at her lover as they walk, noting the slightly smug look on his face. An expression that can only mean that he is plotting and she wonders if it is about you and your soulmate or upstaging the Lannisters at the king’s wedding tomorrow.

In minutes you are back out to the carriage, and this time those low and reverent bows are for two of you. The magnitude of what you have done is overwhelming, but one look to your soulmate beside you as the carriage pulls away is enough. He is here. He is alive. He is safe.

In the carriage, Oberyn sits beside his soulmate and lances his fingers with hers, leaning in and kissing her cheek softly. “You are my world, my sun.” He reminds her softly in her ear.

“My heart.” Ellaria tucks herself close to him, murmuring the words barely loud enough to be heard.

He decides that he will not discuss things with you or your lover, allowing you time to accept the monumental change that has just occurred in silence. The carriage sways and the shouts and noises from outside the vehicle get louder as the driver takes you back to Flea Bottom and the brothel.

******

“Prince Oberyn.” Littlefinger is at the door of the establishment when the carriage arrives, and like any good purveyor of people and knowledge, he likes to keep track of everything that happens within his walls. “I trust everything is well?”

“Splendid.” He does not trust Littlefinger with the news of his nuptials. The man is far too good at supplying information when it is beneficial to him and right now, your mother and father might be looking for you. He pulls the man to the side, away from you and the others. “I find myself requiring an additional room, next to my own. And another carriage to fetch some trunks from the Red Keep.” He tells the man quietly. “Discreetly.”

“Arrangements can be made this evening.” Littlefinger promises, glancing past the prince to the rest of the party disembarking from his carriage. Petyr Baelish of Baelish Castle is the other lord of the Fingers in the Vale and he always takes great care in knowing his rivals. In this case, the children of his rivals. “Discreetly.” He nods, wondering if the Dornish prince has absconded with you against your father’s wishes. Sniveling man with an insufferable wife, if he remembers correctly.

“The room needs to be available now.” Oberyn insists. “Fresh sheets, next to my own room.” His demand that you be close is probably a little selfish, but this is a brothel and you are a beautiful woman.

“And a meal?” Littlefinger guesses, knowing that the last spread for the prince had barely been touched. He keeps track of every berry and goblet, of course. “Your Grace, I am not in the business of…hiding the ladies of the Vale.” The smile he aims at you is meant to be charming, but he falls just short and instead looks pinched. “Is everything well?”

“I know you.” From out of the carriage, you are able to see the face that matches the voice, and the two are not easily forgotten together. “You are Petyr Baelish, are you not?” It would be a waste to wait for him to answer, and you turn to the prince. “This man knows me, my lord, and knows my family. The last time we saw his face at our home was at my youngest brother’s wedding.” You frown, remembering the incident distinctly. “Lysa Arryn was very upset when he asked to dance with me.”

Oberyn sighs softly and turns to bring you forward after you exit the carriage until you are standing by his side. “My wife.” He introduces you to Baelish, watching the decidedly small eyes of the man’s rodent-like face widen in surprise. “We have just returned from the maester’s recording of our vows.”

“I see.” Baelish’s pointed face spreads alarmingly, pointed on a grin. “It is your wife’s things that need fetching from the Red Keep?” That is a service he will provide with glee. “I will see it done myself, your Graces. And without giving the lady away to her parents, of course. That happy news is yours to report.” He will, however, relish every ounce of information he can gather along the way. “Leyth will see to the extra room. I will tell her to spare nothing.”

Oberyn nods stiffly, aware that the news will now spread far faster than he had intended for it to. “I need a drink.” He states, taking your hand and guiding you towards the chambers where he had first been interrupted from his play.

“I did not know Baelish was the proprietor here.” You insist, hurrying along the halls at his side with Ellaria and Raeden behind you. “I knew nothing of this place. Surely you understand that?”

“I understand that Baelish will pass along whatever information will curry him the most favor.” Oberyn retorts. “And you can most certainly guarantee that your mother will learn you are here, unless it is of greater profit to him to keep that information from her.”

“Tell him you will take your business elsewhere.” It is the best suggestion you can think of, as you seem to be spending every moment of your time in your now husband’s presence panicking. “He would lose your favor and your coin. That is worth far more than anything my parents could offer.”

“Then he will know that there is blood in the water.” Oberyn shakes his head and throws open the doors to the chambers. “We will do nothing.” It’s entirely possible Baelish will not say anything, fearful of Oberyn’s wrath.

“As you say.” The room is lush, housing an oversized bed and plenty of seating with a long table for banqueting with candles in their elaborate holders all along its length. Two trunks sit in either far corner that you assume belong to Oberyn and Ellaria each, and a connecting door opens to a room just beyond where two women around your own age are hurrying around laying fresh bedclothes and food. The perfumed air is heavy and inviting, speaking to oils or incense as prominent as the sounds of pleasure echoing from other parts of the building. It would be a welcoming enough place if you were to come here for its intended purpose, but you would never have done anything of the sort.

“He knows what is best,” Ellaria assures you, dropping back onto a plush, cushioned chair without hesitation. “Do not think more of it. You need rest after everything that has happened.”

Walking over to the table, Oberyn reaches for the wine goblet that had been replaced in his absence. “Raeden.” He turns his attention to your soulmate as he pours wine into the cup. “Remove your clothes, you will not wear those colors again. You will wear mine.”

The younger man freezes for a moment at the order before it is complete, but nods at the full thought. He is not meant to entirely undress in front of his soulmate’s new lord and husband. That would be entirely too cruel. Instead he strips his armor and your house’s colors, leaving him in only his soft shirt, leather pants, and boots. “Will you require me to give up my sword?” He asks, glad that for the moment you are holding it rather than leaving it laying on the table. You know what it means to him.

“Your weapon is your own.” Oberyn shakes his head. “You will be offered others, when we return to Dorne but you choose what you carry.” He knows what it is like to prefer your own weapon and how skill can be affected by carrying an unfamiliar one. He hands Ellaria the goblet and pours another. “My love, get our Ser Raeden a set of colors from my trunk?” He asks, eyeing the man unabashedly.

"Gold will be your color, I imagine." Ellaria hums as she digs through the layers of fabric, coming out with linens and silks in all the colors of fire that the royal guard wears. This trunk has gifts and tokens in it - all things that Oberyn can distribute as he sees fit. "Here, my love. Robes as lush as a Dornish summer."

The material is far finer than most of the guard who had traveled with Oberyn wear, but it is fitting. Raeden’s station will be one of importance to you, to the Martells, and tomorrow it will be a statement to your family. That he is under Prince Oberyn’s banner and protection. He takes the robe and saunters over to where you and your lover are standing. “It will look very becoming against his dark skin.”

The layers are simple, but the soft linen shirt in the pile will replace the one he is wearing now and Raeden glances momentarily at you before stripping off the white fabric and replacing it with amber. The embroidered silk robe that goes over it may be the finest and most elaborate piece of clothing he has ever owned but that makes sense considering who it represents. It isn't like the robes that the guard who had driven the carriage wore, or like anything he has seen before.

Oberyn doesn’t watch as you help your lover lay the robes properly, pulling Ellaria close and kissing along her neck gently. “He will look good in our colors, will he not?” He asks quietly.

"Almost as if he was born to wear them." Oberyn might be looking away but Ellaria watches intently, observing the way the two of you are together and how doting you are as you help him dress. It may be your guilt, in part, but it is also love. "You will let him continue to guard her, won't you? Or do you have more gifts in that clever mind of yours?"

“He is a bastard with a very costly sword.” Oberyn can tell the weapon means far more to him than just a favored tool. “I wish to know more about Raeden Stone.” He admits. “Who sired him. He was raised with honor.”

"Mmmm," Ellaria chuckles deeply, her approval marked with a sigh. "My love is curious. That is always worthwhile."

“His fate is intertwined with our own now.” There is something about the man that draws his lover, he is not unaware of it, watching the way her eyes seek him out.

"And hers." Looking back at Oberyn, she smiles softly and presses her lips earnestly to his. "She is very sweet. If innocent."

“Her mother must have thought she was sentencing the girl to hell, convincing her father to marry her off to me.” Oberyn snorts, shaking his head.

"I think so." Another laugh bubbles out of Ellaria and she kisses him again. "But I think she was also more concerned with what you could give to her. She will be very disappointed to find that the answer is nothing."

“That woman is wretched.” He huffs. “We know whores with more honor.”

"Many of them." Ellaria huffs and brushes her fingers along his trim beard. "She will be better off with us."

“She does not believe so.” He’s unsure why that thought irks him so. Normally he is very unconcerned with what anyone thinks of him. “I might as well be a dragon of old, haunting her dreams with a fiery breath that consumes all.”

"She thinks that she is taking my place." Which, if it was true, she would be grateful for your apologies and your humble attitude. "And probably fears that you will go back on your word and tear her soulmate from her side or force her to your bed. The men where she is from do not keep their promises." Ellaria shakes her head and cups Oberyn's cheek in one hand. "She needs time, my love."

“And they call Dorne savage.” He hisses, shaking his head. “She could never take your place, my sun.” He looks back over at you and your soulmate and sighs.

"I mean to say she is afraid to take my place." Ellaria clarifies, with a tut. "She does not want to. Which is to her credit. Her horrid mother and sniveling father seem to have birthed a woman of caring."

The servants that were preparing your rooms disappear and Oberyn hums, wrapping his arm around Ellaria’s waist. “Now, the wedding night can begin.” He announces with a smirk.

"I—" You look as if you are about to burst out crying, standing there in the center of the room with your eyes wide and your shoulders rounded over. Raeden's hand on your shoulder tightens but he nods. You both know what comes next, but neither of you can seem to move.

“There is wine and food laid out, and your trunks should be delivered soon so you can settle.” He can tell that you don’t understand what he is saying. “Enjoy yourselves and if you wish to join, we will be having a wonderful set of whores in our bed tonight.” He smirks again and pulls Ellaria closer. “Aren’t we, my sun?” He asks, leaning in and nipping at her jawline playfully.

"We have been playing favorites, my heart." And from the pleased purr in Ellaria's voice, she is not the least bit sorry about that. "Cal and Leyth will either be very sad to see us go or they will sleep for a week from exhaustion,"

"You mean...?" It has taken a few extra moments – and some clarification – to wrap your mind around what the prince is saying, but when you fully realize it you practically run to his side to embrace him. Though you may not have done more than the barest press of your lips to his before the maester, you can certainly put your arms around your husband in a grateful hug. There is no more merciful man in Westeros, and now you are married to him. "Thank you, my lord."

Oberyn reaches out and captures your arm. “I meant what I said.” He promises softly, “I will not force you.”

"And I will not be stubborn or willful." They are two things you were called often enough by your mother as a child, but as you understand them to be the least attractive traits possible in a wife, you are glad to make that promise to him here and now. It is a small thing to give in thanks for everything he has done for you and for Raeden.

“That is a shame.” Oberyn huffs, letting go of you and smirking. “I do not care for boring subservience. It tells me you are dim witted.”

The frown on your lips is confusion, but Raeden's hand on your shoulder when you step back is soothing. "He is teasing you, my love," he murmurs quietly when you have the same expression as when you could not teach yourself Dothraki in under a week just from a book.

Oberyn’s chuckle is quiet and he nods in agreement. “I am sure that your day has been exhausting.” He says. “Go. Enjoy your night together and tomorrow we will present ourselves to the entire kingdom.”

"Proudly." Yes, today has been tiring in a way you cannot possibly express, but this man is one worth standing next to with dignity after the way he has helped without hesitation.

He doesn’t watch you withdraw with your lover, turning to Ellaria and capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. Ready to resume the activities of earlier and release some of his inner turmoil in the pursuit of pleasure.

******

The room is clean and well appointed, draped in luxurious fabrics with food covering the full length of the table. The bed under the windows could surely fit four but it will hold only you and Raeden tonight, and for that you are so relieved that you feel yourself sag against him when the door shuts behind you.

“I fear I am in a dream.” Raeden murmurs, shocked and bewildered by the turn of events. He had been sure that he would witness, or at the very least hear, his soulmate being claimed by her lawful husband. The loud shout through the door rings out, a call for Cal and Leyth, most likely the whores that he had been talking about.

"If you are, we are sharing it." You reach for him immediately, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in the new robes he has been given.

“It is— he— I—” Raeden shakes his head and holds you close, relaxing for the first time since this horrible trip had begun. It is your wedding night, or day - for it is still light outside. You should be draped on your husband's bed, impaled on his cock, and yet you are here with him. “My love.”

"I am sorry for not telling you my plan before we arrived here." When you look up at him there is such relief in his eyes that you hope forgiveness will be easy. "But if I had told you that my only plan was to marry him for your safety, you would have fought me."

“Yes, I would have.” He can admit that now that the deed is done and you are Oberyn’s wife. With his reputation, no one would believe that you have not consummated your vows. As if on cue, a loud moan sounds out from next door.

“And that will most likely be all we hear for the remainder of our stay in King’s Landing.” What can you do besides shake your head? It is simply a fact that should be accepted, especially when you are so grateful to the prince. “I will choose to prefer it vastly over my mother’s self-important howling.”

“It sounds enthusiastic rather than shrill.” Now that you are away from your mother, he feels a little more confident being critical of her.

“I do not envy whomever Lord Baelish sent to retrieve our things.” If there still are things to retrieve, you are certain that the poor people who arrive to get them will get an earful.

“If there is nothing, I will make sure that every book and gown is replaced.” He promises softly, feeling his body warm up as the sounds from next door get louder.

"You will do no such thing." There is food and wine and a place to rest, and you nudge him over toward the table knowing that neither of you has eaten a speck today. "I will be the one replacing all of your belongings if they are gone. It is my fault that we had to run."

“You are not responsible for your mother.” While it could be argued that holding your tongue would have prevented the situation, he would never tell you to take her abuse. He knows how she picks and picks at you until she finally gets a reaction.

"And fortunately, she no longer has any hold on us." The pitcher of wine is elaborate, and you pour two goblets out to hand him one. "I will be delighted if she is not told where we are today. Seeing her face tomorrow will be well worthwhile."

“It will be an event to remember.” He agrees, taking the wine and barely refraining from draining the cup from how parched he is. Now that you are safe, he is safer, his appetites have returned. “You should eat.”

"So should you." The challenge is there, daring him to say that your health is worth more than his when you both know that it is not. "We will eat together."

“It might be the first full meal we have shared together.” He chuckles. There have been shared treats, breads, but there has never been a point where a complete meal was shared.

"In that case, it is all the more reason to sit down together." It would be simple enough to pretend it is your wedding night with Raeden, like this, and the thought is deceptively easy to slip into. A thing you have wanted so desperately and for so long is more or less at your fingertips.

For the first time, Raeden looks over at the table and his eyes widen. “That is…an impressive table.” He murmurs. Roasted joints of meats and pies are surrounded by bowls of nuts and fresh fruit. “It is a wedding feast.”

"It is." That cannot be disputed, but you look at him with a soft expression on your face. "It is a wedding feast that has been laid just for us."

“I am sorry that it could not be our own.” He guides you over to the seats and pulls one out for you.

"The world has been unfair to us." You sit in the seat he has held out and reach for his hand when he sits down beside you. "A few moments of peace like this one are well deserved. Besides..." The smile on your face is a little crooked and your cheeks warm. "I rather like you in Dornish colors. The gray of the Vale compliments no one."

“Your husband is very generous.” Raeden looks down at the robe and shakes his head. “I have never worn such a fine robe before. I do not understand why he would give it to me.”

He is your husband now, but it is still jarring to hear the words. "Perhaps he simply likes you?" You offer, picking up your glass of wine. "He did say as much." Specifically, he had been blunt about his desire to bed both you and Raeden – together or separately. But that might be too much information for your soulmate.

Raeden frowns slightly, unsure of what you mean by that and uncomfortable with how much that comment pleases him. He simply tilts his head. “No doubt it is because I am your soulmate.”

“I…do not think so,” you admit, looking down into your cup of wine. There is a chance that this may badly embarrass or even offend Raeden but it is a part of your reality now – as evidenced from the moaning in the next room. “The prince’s…appetite…extends beyond the usual expectations.”

He had concluded that, with the decidedly male voice moaning about the Prince’s cock. He had been trying to ignore it, the twitching in his breeches dismissed as nothing more than the reaction to his surroundings and the anticipation of an evening with his soulmate that would be uninterrupted. “I see.”

“I already told him that you are not inclined that way,” you assure him, seeing the utter discomfort in his expression and the way he seems to freeze under the mere suggestion. “Please do not worry.”

“It is nothing to worry about.” Raeden rushes out to reassure you. His eyes sliding towards the door and back to you guiltily.

Wrongly interpreting the expression on his face, you rest your hand over his on the table and try to seem like it is not affecting you. When, in fact, hearing what is going on in the next room is piquing your curiosity quite intently. “We will have to grow used to the sound of it.”

“Yes.” He nods quickly, turning his hand over and squeezing yours. “We will adjust. I am just glad that you are away from your mother. And the prince seems to be a generous man.”

“Much more than his reputation.” The prince is known for voracious appetites of all kinds, but the giggling ladies who spoke of him certainly never spoke of his kind heart. Or at least Lady Margaery never did, and you wonder now if he reserves that kindness only for some. Shaking off the thought for now, you smile and reach for the trenchers that have been left for you to fill from the feast on your table. “Here, my love. We will feast and we will indulge in time together.”

“A night between your thighs is a good night indeed.” Raeden smirks slightly, sure that these errant thoughts of his will leave once he has spent an entire night in your bed.

“Tomorrow morning will be the first morning we have ever woken up together.” And that alone is well worth celebrating, the thought alone making your heart skip a beat. “This new life does have its merits, even if it is not perfect.”

“I cannot believe that many lives are perfect, my love.” He murmurs quietly, thinking about the poor soul who is marrying the king. “You are safe and that is all that matters to me.”

“I could say the same to you.” After all, it’s why you did what you did today. Why you married a man you do not love in order to secure the safety of the one you do. There are, perhaps, worse situations in the world.

“Let us celebrate being free to love one another.” Raeden proposes, wanting to forget about everything but you for now. “I am hungry for food and then I am hungry for you.”

______

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