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starogeorgina · 3 months

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𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Baratheon OC

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of animal cruelty

Chapter: 1.01

You stand before the iron throne teary-eyed; this was the goodbye you had been dreading for over a year. It was time for you to leave your home and travel to Dorne to meet your betrothed, Prince Oberyn Martell, the red viper.

The king's eyes move over the different entrances to the throne room, and many knights from the king's guard, including your uncle Jamie, stand at attention, ready to cut down any threat to the king and his family. “Your mother?”

Your mother visited your chambers the night before to inform you that Dornish men were known for ravaging women, and your wedding night will be one of the most unpleasant and painful experiences you’ll ever live through. You hadn’t seen her since then.

“We said our goodbyes last night, my king.”

He knows you’re lying; you often did when it came to Cersei. He stands and motions for you to step closer.

Your grandsire, Tywin Lannister narrows his eyes and nods. He was in full agreement that using you as a political pawn was the way forward. Joffrey stands beside him, looking bored, while Myrcella and Tommen both cry. You didn’t want to leave them, but it was your duty.

As the first legitimate child of King Robert Baratheon, you should have been next in line to the throne, but you were a daughter. So the throne would bypass you and go to the eldest male, Joffrey. The irony was that your father made you sit in his council meetings, would ask your opinions on different matters, and allowed you to sit in on your brother's sword lessons, something that your mother disapproved of. Your father had never once shown any interest in Joffrey or prepared him to rule one day.

Your father cups your face, wiping away a fallen tear with his thumb. “Cassana, my daughter, do not cry again, as I won't be there to wipe your tears anymore.”

“I will miss you, father.”

“Next time I see you, I will be at your wedding, and you will be the most beautiful bride the seven kingdoms have ever seen.”

—

“There she is.” Ellaria nudges Oberyn's shoulder and points in the direction of a young, timid-looking girl sitting on a staircase overlooking one of the ponds. “I expected her to have the famous golden lion hair.”

“Perhaps this one really is a Baratheon,” he quips. The Prince wasn’t sure if it was common knowledge or not that Cersei’s three youngest children were rumored to be fathered by their uncle Jamie. However, it appears his future bride wasn’t the result of incest.

“Princess Cassana Baratheon, the eldest daughter of King Robert, and Cersei fucking Lannister.”

Oberyn smirks at hearing the venom in his lover's voice; she hates House Lannister just as much as he does. He watches as the girl, who couldn’t have been much older than seventeen, twitches her jaw; she can sense them looking at them. He had argued with his elder brother, Prince Doran, when he agreed to the betrothal between Oberyn and the daughter of his enemy without his permission.

“Trust me, brother, this is the way.”

He should be going over to at least introduce himself, but the girl looks so terrified that Oberyn thought it was best to give her some time.

Ellaria Scoffs asks, “Why did she bring those things? Does she think Dorne doesn’t have cats?”

“Because if she left them behind, Joffrey would have killed them.”

Oberyn looks away from the girl and turns around to see the infamous imp, Tyrion Lannister, walking towards them. He was the only one willing to travel to Dorne with the princess.

Tyrion graciously accepts a cup of wine, then sits down and indulges the drink in full before continuing. “Years ago, Robert gifted my niece a kitten on her name day; he picked that particular one because he said it had curious eyes that matched his oldest daughter’s. She named it Milady. Cassana loved the little thing, and against my sister's wishes, she let it sleep in her bed, and it followed her around the keep, wherever my niece was, the kitten wasn’t far behind. It was quite cute, actually. Then one day it went missing, and Cassana searched the full red keep and cried herself to sleep every night for weeks missing it.”

Tyrion had a way of telling a story that was very intriguing, almost as if it were an old tale passed down through generations. The prince sits down on a plush yellow chair across from his quest, his arm casually swinging over the back of it. “Then what? Did she ever find it?”

A look void of emotion passes through Tyrion’s features; he clicks his tongue while refilling his cup with wine. He takes a large gulp. “One evening during dinner, Joffrey claimed to have a gift for his sister, something to cheer her up. He had a servant bring in a red silk bag, and inside it was whatever remained of Milady. Robert was horrified, of course, but Cersei stated that cats were horrid little creatures and continued eating her meal as Cassana bawled her eyes out.”

“A cunt.”

Tyrion lifts his cup in agreement with Ellaria’s statement. A Lannister’s cruelty never surprised him, but a brother being allowed to treat his own sister like that was... Oberyn had no words.

“And that was my sister being kind to her. Does that answer your question?”

“What question?”

Tilting his head back, Tyrion gives them a knowing look, as if he knew what question was burning on the tip of their tongues. “Why is this marriage allowed to go ahead? It’s because even Robert, a drunken fool of a king, knows he can’t protect his daughter from her mother’s hate.”

“The girl's eyes are swollen; is she scared that the Dornish aren’t as kind as the people of King's Landing?” Ellaria asks sarcastically.

“Cassana didn’t want to leave her father, Tommen, or Myrcella,” Tyrion answers truthfully. “She’s been shipped off to a foreign country to marry a stranger who’s twice her age, with customs she doesn’t know or understand, and it may have possibly crossed her mind that she may be used to get revenge for the sack of King's landing. Of course she’s scared.”

Ellaria's brows pull together; being a mother herself, she couldn’t fathom the idea of putting her own child in harm's way. “And the Lannisters were still willing to send her to Dorne, thinking we were nothing more than monsters wanting revenge?”

Oberyn clenches his jaw. “What was done to my sister and her children—”

“Was a travesty,” Tyrion says, cutting him off. “But my niece had nothing to do with it. And the girl is not dim; she’s under no false allusions to who her mother, father, and grandfather are.”

“And yet she loves them still.”

Tyrion shrugs. “Hmm, she loves Robert, but I wouldn’t be so sure about her feelings towards my father and Cersei.”

Oberyn crosses his legs; he was curious to learn if Tyrion was saying these things in the hope he would be sympathetic towards the girl. “Why do you think princess Cassana should be married to Martell?”

Looking over his shoulder, Tyrion smiles, observing his niece take in her new surroundings for a moment before answering. “Because I don’t believe you’ll treat her any worse than she already has been.”

—

After speaking with his guest for some time, Oberyn decides to go and introduce himself to Cassana. From everything Tyrion had told him, he felt nothing but pity for his future bride. He looks across the garden and notices his paramour glaring at the girl, who seemed content playing with her pets. Since the wedding would be held in a few months, Oberyn had extended the invitation for Tyrion to stay in Dorne so that Cassana wouldn’t be so alone.

Cassana doesn’t look back as he gets closer to her, even though she would have been able to hear him since the Prince was deliberately making his steps louder than normal. The Baratheon girl looks out of place by the way she was dressed; he’d need to have clothing that was more suited to the Dornish climate made for her.

A large black cat was stretched out across her lap, while two others playfully fought on the ground beside her feet, the sand sticking to their fur.

Oberyn sits down on the step beside her. Cassana was so caught up in her creatures that she merely offered him a polite nod before turning her attention back to the cat, which caused him to smile. “What’s its name?”

“This is Balerion. The brown one is Vhagar, and the white one is Meraxes.”

His brows arch in surprise. “You have an interest in Westeros history?”

“Mainly house Baratheon and Targaryen.”

“Why those houses?”

She continues to focus on the animal sprawled across her, scratching behind the cat's ear. Cassana nips at her tongue before answering, as if she’s thinking of an acceptable answer: “I like learning about my family’s history.”

“I imagined you’re tired of hearing about Robert’s rebellion.”

She scoffs, “The septa who taught myself and Myrcella was rather skilled in telling us the histories she wanted us to learn.”

He raises his brows and asks, “Is that so?”

“Nobody was ever going to tell us the full truth of what happened, only the parts they wanted to be remembered.”

Oberyn becomes so lost in his thoughts of the sacking of kings landing that he doesn’t even realise one of the cats had climbed up onto him until he feels the pinch of his claw on his thigh. He swallows back the poison, ready to jump from his mouth, reminding himself that the poor girl couldn’t help who her parents were. “So, who’s your favourite Baratheon then?” He asks, hoping to lighten his sudden, tense mood. “Your father?”

“No,” she chuckles. “The founder of House Baratheon, Orys Baratheon. He was the bastard son of Aerion Targaryen and stepbrother to the three conquerors.”

“The Dornish refused to bend the knee to house Targaryen during Aegon’s conquest.”

“Your words. Ours are unbowed, unbent, and unbroken. You may burn us, my lady, but you will not bend us, break us, or make us bow. This is Dorne. You are not wanted here. Return at your peril.”

The prince was impressed; he didn’t think the Baratheon princess would have any knowledge of who Meria Martell was, let alone his house words. They sit in silence for some time, and Oberyn watches as the sun begins to disappear. The stillness is only disturbed when Cassana speaks again.

“I’m sorry, Prince Oberyn.” She finally looks up at him, her eyes full of sorrow as they meet his. “For what my family did to house Martell, I’m sorry.”

Oberyn was lost for words; he had accepted many thoughts from the daughter of Robert and Cersei, but for her to show genuine remorse wasn’t one of them.

#game of thrones #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell #Oberyn Martell/you #game of thrones fanfiction #Oberyn Martell fanfic #sweet viper #Oberyn Martell x oc #Oberyn Martell/oc

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 18 days

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Of Roses and Snakes

pairing: Oberyn Martell x OC!Female!Tyrell

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

Word count: 2,5K

Warnings: Angst, fluff, hurt-comfort

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Call me Oberyn, only Oberyn"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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prolix-yuy · 10 months

Note

For the Bangathon: Snuggling spoon with Javi G or Oberyn?

Ahhhhh we love ourselves a little snuggly sexxin'! Oberyn was calling to me for this one, but it may be a little more tense than we think...

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x OFC

Position: Snuggled Spoon

Word Count: 1419 (see how these get longer the more of them I write? I have no self-control)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, PiV sex (don’t be a fool, wrap your tool), fingering (f receiving), allusions to public sex, cum tasting, hate sex, Oberyn is an affectionate bastard.

Notes: A follow-up to this drabble, because I wanted to see how it all panned out.

“How are your accommodations, little scorpion?”

The infuriating voice of her captor (and failed assassination attempt) drifts through her cell bars. Remaining on her side on the floor, only a few crumpled blankets to soften the uncomfortable stone, she ignores his question.

It wasn’t the first time the Prince had visited during her imprisonment. She’d screamed and railed against him the first time, tried to claw at him the second. Every spitfire reaction left him with a smarmy smile, standing just out of reach. He pulled little bits of information out of her each time - who sent her (a prominent family tired of the house leaders), what her plan was (to poison him and flee to Westeros), if she’d ever cum that hard with a lover she chose (silence). The game was more intriguing to him than she’d hoped, praying for his attention to drift so she could devise a way to escape. But every passing day he visits, and every day she grows wearier of her predicament.

Today, she’s done with this game. Her stomach is empty yet again, body aching, and hope waning. Her employers feign ignorance of her plan, abandoning her as she should have guessed. There was no one coming to reward her for her loyalty.

“Oh come now, has all your fire finally burned out?” Oberyn purrs, but she doesn’t rise to his challenge. She’d overheard the guards speaking of an execution date, fast approaching. What does this sparring matter when she’s about to be erased from history? A blip only in the mind of a small few, forgotten when larger matters loom.

Oberyn hums, then calls to a guard. Her interest piques for a moment, the rusty clank of keys and the creak of her door opening urging her to roll over and watch. The Prince, in his fine mustard robes and heavy jewelry, steps into the cell. The door closes behind him, even though the guard’s wary face hovers nearby. She sits fully, glaring up at her captor. He only chuckles, leaning back against the bars.

“So I have your attention finally,” he drawls, crossing his arms and raking his gaze over her body. They’d swapped her gauze and silk for a rough shift, the fabric barely keeping her warm in the night. The vulnerability makes her skin crawl.

“If it pleases the Prince of Dorne,” she spits, turning to lay back on her side. Her hands itch to press her thumbs into his eyes, but what good would it do? Speed up the sentence from days to minutes?

“Oh come now, little scorpion, I’ve already commended you on how much your subterfuge entertained me,” he tuts, steps light and cat-like approaching. “Easily the most fun I’ve had in months. And all our sparring over these last days. Don’t let your current state tamp out your fury. It’s the most beautiful thing about you.”

She stays firmly turned to the wall as he sits beside her, the heat of his body melting the ice along her spine. Denying the satisfaction of her relief, she bites down on her lip.

“I’ve never had such a…” he begins again, trying to win her attention for some mystifying reason, before he stops. His fingers brush against her bare arm. “You’re freezing.”

She snorts, very unladylike. “Maybe I’ll perish from the cold before my beheading.”

Suddenly she’s surrounded by warmth, eyes shooting open. The man she was conscripted to kill is now draping his robe around her, bare expanse of his chest snug to her back. His breath dances along her cheek, and try as she might a shudder loosens her limbs.

“Little scorpion, I would not have you suffer,” he says, and the somber tone drips wonder on her skin. Perhaps ill-advised, but she presses back against his blazing heat, wondering if all desert men are this scorching or if it’s only Oberyn. His palm comes up to her arm and warms her skin. A reedy sound of relief catches in her throat.

Before she can protest his hand travels over her stomach to cup her sex. Such boldness would normally result in the loss of a hand, but at the barest brush her core aches. Much as she hates to admit it (and never would to the Prince), she had dreamt of his touch more than once.

“I can warm you much better than this,” Oberyn purrs in her ear, his wicked fingers already creeping below her shift.

“What makes you think I would want your touch, my Prince?” She tries to hold her voice steady but his fingers are already swiping at her folds.

“This,” he gloats, bringing his soaked fingers to her face. Her arousal gleams thickly. “I think you would positively gush on me again.” Without pretense he drags his fingers into his mouth, sucking indulgently. She turns and watches him, pure sin and infuriating charm. His eyes open, and by the gods, they’re ravenous.

“Will you take what your Prince gives you, little scorpion?” he demands, and every fiber of her being is screaming to deny him, but her parted lips and slow nod betray her. He smiles wickedly, tugging his cock from his pants to slide between her clenched thighs. Passing over her weeping cunt, he props himself up to closely watch her face.

“I have dreamt of this cunt since you gave it to me, fucked my fist at the memory of you clenching around me,” he spits out, notching his blunt head at her at her entrance. “And now, I’ll do it again. But this time, you’ll scream my name.”

With a forceful thrust he buries himself inside her, the blinding sensation of fullness and sharp pleasure driving her to tuck into herself. He tuts and yanks her back against his chest, hand loosely around her throat as he sets a toe-curling pace. His teeth scrape her ear as he pants.

“Tight, wet, perfect little thing. Did you think your beauty and wiles would keep me from seeing your true nature?” he hisses, plunging his other hand between her legs to pinch her clit between his fingers. All she can do is wail and rock against his hold, hands scrabbling back to grip his pounding hips. “I’ve had many a pleasure, indulged all my vices, but making you cum on my cock as you tried to kill me…now that was a new experience.”

Her breath whistles out through clenched teeth, wishing her body didn’t mold to his so readily. Nails digging into his hips, he growls and nips at her skin. Her orgasm is fast approaching, cursing and praising his skill as he pointedly strokes her clit and pounds into the perfect place inside.

“Yes, my dangerous little scorpion, all glittering and deadly, cum for me a second time. I want your cunt to only desire how well I fuck it.” A quick strum of his fingers and her body traitorously snaps around him, only held in check by his grip and the roar of his snarl in her ear. When her body laxes he manhandles her to her back, lifting her hips off the ground as he slaps into her with reckless thrusts. A few more and he pulls out, fisting his cock and mashing his lips to hers as he cums in the palm of his hand.

His lips are full and soft, the scratch of his mustache and beard burning against her skin. He sweeps his tongue into her mouth, full and domineering, but when she presses back with teeth and a lap of her own his hips stutter between hers. They kiss messily, licking and biting and panting against each other’s mouths until he finally lifts up and looks down at her. The Prince of House Martell, flushed and satiated, eyes just as dark and promising.

“I stand by what I said during your arrest,” he says lightly, standing and shrugging off the floor-length robe. He drapes it over her body, sauntering to the cell door with only low-slung pants and the golden expanse of his back. She sits up, clutching the robe to her chest still warm. “You may beat us all to the Iron Throne one day, with that tenacity of yours.”

One hand pulls the door shut…but not quite. Not enough for the latch to catch, but enough for the guards to believe so. Her eyes snap from the door to Oberyn’s eyes, challenge and conquest pooling in them.

“Come try and kill me again if you can, little scorpion.”

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

#oberyn martell x oc #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martel x reader #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x ofc #game of thrones fanfiction #got fanfiction

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brittababbles · 1 year

Text

Wedding Night

Oberyn Martell x Wife!OC (Lisanna Lannister)

Warnings: loss of virginity, experienced partner x virgin, p in v sex, oral (female receiving), arranged marriage, comments are appreciated as I'm still deciding if this project will be shared on tumblr

They were married within the week. There was no purpose in a lengthy courtship; this marriage had been decided long before the bride and groom met.

The wedding was a beautiful affair, one that Lisanna could appreciate despite the nerves that bordered on panic throughout the day. The prince and princess were married at sunset, the climax of a day long affair of revelry. Lisanna had worn a golden gown that had perfectly matched the shade of her hair, making her appear like a sunbeam in the gardens of Sunspear. She held the prince’s hands as the Septon proclaimed their union before the gods. Oberyn smiled at her throughout, and his hands were warm and strong in hers.

It was all well and good, despite Lisanna again feeling as if she were on display before the court. But now she sat on the side of the prince’s bed, in nothing but a night shift. She was nervous and chewed her bottom lip as a result. But another part of her was excited. She’d heard many delightful things about sex. Perhaps it could be like that for her as well.

Her new husband was leaning casually against the headboard of his bed, watching her closely. He’d discarded his tunic almost immediately. Lisanna had glanced at him from time to time. His athleticism showed in the toned muscle of his arms and chest, and the warm, sun kissed skin. Dark, clever eyes observed her closely, as if waiting for her to make a move. Beautiful. Like Lisanna had imagined the gods of old. He seemed in no hurry to get on with the bedding.

“I expected you to cry,” he said suddenly.

Lisanna looked at him, surprised.

“Why would I cry?” she asked.

Oberyn shrugged.

“This is your first time. I expected you to be afraid I would hurt you,” he said.

Lisanna stared at Oberyn. He smirked under her scrutiny, not at all shy about his bare chest.

“This is… not your first time,” Lisanna said slowly.

“No,” the prince answered.

“Nor your second time… nor your third. You… know how to do this. How to make it good… for me?” she asked, carefully.

Oberyn just smiled knowingly.

“Come over here and let me show you,” he said softly.

Lisanna crawled toward him and allowed herself to be drawn into the prince’s arms. Her body seemed to sizzle, arousal pooling between her thighs as he pulled her close. He cradled her face and kissed her slowly. Lisanna melted into his kiss. He was gentle, exploring her mouth with lazy curiosity. He allowed her to climb into his lap and let her choose the pace of their kissing. Lisanna rolled her hips experimentally against the prince as her lips met his again. She shuddered in delight as he ran his hands down her back, loosening the neck of her night shift.

“That’s a good girl,” he purred.

Lisanna found herself kissing Oberyn as if she’d been doing it all her life. She felt no vulnerability with him, despite being deeply exposed. He worked the shift off her shoulders to kiss along the column of her neck, beginning near her ears and working his way down to her shoulder. From there his lips traced along the ridge of her collarbone. Lisanna moaned in his arms and arched her back, pressing chest toward him in such a way that the shift tumbled over her breasts and toppled down to pool around her hips. Oberyn paused, opened his eyes, and took in a breath.

“Oh… look at you, beautiful girl” he whispered, bringing a hand up to cradle Lisanna’s left breast, weighing it in his hand. He seemed to marvel for a moment as he looked over her bare upper body. He shook his head in disbelief as his other hand caressed her right breast. His thumb trailed over her nipple, and Lisanna bucked a little in delight and surprise at the pleasure that rushed through her at his touch.

“Responsive, are we?” Oberyn mumbled. His thumb slid over her nipple again, making Lisanna whimper.

The prince gave her a wicked smile, then bent his head to close his lips around one of her nipples. He gave a gentle, tugging suck. Then he twirled his tongue over it several times. Lisanna gave a choked gasp at the sensation that pulsed through her body. She felt delightful friction against her slit as Oberyn tugged at the skirt of her shift, pulling it away from her thighs. He leaned back, tugging at her nipple with his lips, before releasing her with a pop. Lisanna groaned, clenching her thighs around his hips. Slowly, Oberyn lifted the shift up and over her head, exposing her body fully to him.

He appraised her softly. He watched her face as his hands traced along the curve of her side, across her smooth stomach, up to cradle a breasts again.

“I could have done much worse,” he said softly.

Lisanna squirmed under his touch. She’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted the man beneath her. Her pussy clenched repeatedly and leaked onto his trousers as he touched her. She stared directly into his eyes, and the intensity of that eye contact made her squirm more urgently.

Oberyn watched her face, mildly amused at just how innocent his little bride truly was. Her face shone with the shock of what he was doing to her, and she twitched in ways that told him she did not know enough to fake her responses to his touch. He’d known she’d be a virgin, officially. But that this girl hadn’t touched herself at all was obvious, and strangely exciting. Her responses were genuine, unincumbered by knowledge of what most men wanted. Nothing like the girls at the brothels.

His fingers sought where her body parted between her thighs as his lips began tracing back up her neck again. He stroked her clit gently, trying different patterns as he listened to her responses. When he hit and especially sensitive spot, Lisanna twitched in his arms, gasping out loud. He laughed softly.

“Good girl,” he muttered again, his lips still brushing her skin.

Lisanna shuddered at his words. Her eyes closed in bliss. Oberyn watched her expression with amusement. He could keep her on edge like this for quite a long while, he thought. But she was innocent, he reminded himself. He could work her up to that kind of play. She was his, after all. His wife. He had plenty of time to teach her.

He walked his fingers down her pussy until one prodded at her entrance, His thumb still pressed against her clit. Lisanna whined, leaning backward slightly as if to give him more access. Oberyn released her pussy, sensing opportunity to make her more comfortable. He cradled her back in his arms, and slowly laid her backward into the mattress. He gently arranged her legs, so they were no longer tucked under her body, and instead lay comfortably on either side of his shoulders. He looked up to see her gazing at him, green eyes wide.

“I’m going to get you ready for me,” he told her gently.

Lisanna nodded. Her legs relaxed as she watched him in fascination. Oberyn dipped his head between her thighs and pressed his fingertips back against her opening. He glanced up over her body, watching as her chest rose and fell rapidly.

“Are you well?” he asked

“Yes!,” she cried, her voice cracking, “Please! More!”

Oberyn dropped onto his stomach to press his face into her pussy, closing his lips around her clit just as he had her nipple not long before. At the same time, he slid two fingers into her channel. Lisanna wailed animalistically, her body jerking on the bed. Oberyn glanced up, watching closely. He carefully curled his fingers inside her, and gently rubbed along her upper wall , searching for that magical spot. Ellaria’s was just about…here. But Lisanna was incredibly tight, despite also being incredibly wet. Ellaria was never quite so tense.

“Relax, my love,” he purred against her pussy.

He felt the tension around his fingers ease and began to stroke her upper walls again.

“Ahh…” he growled, smirking slightly.

The spot he was looking for was much easier to find as the tension bled from her body. It was soft, spongy, and incredibly responsive to his fingers pressing against it with a fingertip. He kept his touches light, not wanting to overwhelm her, and returned his attention to exploring her pussy with his mouth.

Lisanna was rocking on the bed, gasping, and writhing under Oberyn’s efforts. Her thighs were rising, attempting to press in against his ears. Oberyn let them. He massaged against that spongy spot and traced the tip of his tongue around her clit. Lisanna twitched, then arched off the bed, crying out as her channel contracted hard around his fingers. Oberyn nodded, releasing her clit but continuing to rub inside her, letting her orgasm finish before pulling his fingers from her pussy.

Lisanna stared at the ceiling, tears leaking down her cheeks. Oberyn frowned slightly.

“Sunblossom?” he said softly.

Lisanna took a shaky breath, then swallowed her sob.

“Gods forgive me,” she whispered.

Oberyn crawled up her body, immediately concerned. He nestled himself next to her on the bed, staring at her

“Gods forgive you for what, Lisanna?” he said urgently.

Lisanna choked out the sob she’d been fighting. Oberyn pulled her to his chest, then cradled her face in his hands, frowning in confusion. He kissed the tears as they fell from her eyes, keeping them from falling too far.

“My love, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice bleeding confusion.

“Nothing should feel that good!” Lisanna sobbed, “The gods won’t permit it!”

Oberyn stared at her, shocked for a moment, before laughing softly.

“The gods will punish you for having an orgasm?” he asked her gently.

Lisanna hiccupped, frowning in confusion.

“Oh, my Sunblossom. What do those northern men teach their daughters?” the prince sighed, holding her close, “Dorne has so much to show you.”

Lisanna blinked at her husband.

“It’s not a sin?” she asked.

Oberyn shook his head.

“Then… you can do it again?”

Oberyn laughed.

“I can. I can do it as much as you wish.”

Lisanna looked at him, disbelieving. Oberyn shook his head, sighing again.

“Lord Tywin really did a number on you, didn’t he?” he said lowly.

Lisanna blinked. The reference to her father brought back Tywin’s final words to her: please him, if you can.

Lisanna frowned at Oberyn.

“What were you preparing me for,” she asked abruptly.

Oberyn gazed back, considering her carefully.

“There is more I can show you, Sunblossom. But only if you’re ready. Do you trust me?” he asked quietly.

Lisanna stared at him.

“I do,” she whispered.

Oberyn guided her closer and pressed his lips to hers. The passion from before had been replaced by careful tenderness. As if Lisanna were something delicate and precious. He kissed her like this again, and again, before slowly rolling her onto her back.

“I need you to relax,” he told her softly, resting his forehead against Lisanna’s.

Lisanna felt her muscles begin to relax immediately, but the tension of anticipation kept them taunt. Oberyn kissed up her neck. His hands massaged at her waist and down the outsides of her hips. Lisanna noted how large his hands felt on her body as he gently squeezed at her.

“Relax…” he breathed out.

His lips had found a delightful spot just behind her ear, and he gave the lightest nip with his teeth. Lisanna yipped in surprise, causing Oberyn to chuckle and lift his head. He stared at her for a moment.

“Do you trust me?” he repeated, seriously.

Lisanna nodded.

“I need to hear you say it, my princess,” he said.

Lisanna opened her mouth, but her voice caught on the shock that he was so concerned. Oberyn looked at her expectantly, his expression solemn.

“I trust you, my viper,” she whispered, leaning down to press her lips to Oberyn’s again.

Oberyn rolled up her body, passion once again dominating his kiss. His tongue pressed against her lips, asking for permission. Lisanna parted her lips, welcoming him inside. He pressed into her mouth slowly, then rocked his tongue back, and pressing into her mouth again. Lisanna gasped and whimpered into his mouth, and he continued his exploration. Abruptly, his tongue was gone. He closed his lips around her bottom lip, sucked for a single beat, before releasing her mouth. Those dark clever eyes met Lisanna’s, and he smiled softly.

“Like that,” he said, softly.

His cock pressed against her, waiting. Lisanna understood, and relaxed her thighs, opening her body to him. His eyes seemed to somehow darken further, as he glanced down her body. He carefully guided his cock into her channel.

Lisanna tensed immediately, gasping, and folding in on herself slightly. Oberyn paused, waiting for her body to relax again, then pushed in a bit further. Again, Lisanna tensed at the stretch. Oberyn waited, then rocked back minutely before thrusting in a little further. He rocked his hips slowly, and Lisanna relaxed with each tiny thrust until Oberyn found himself pressed against the back of her. He rested his forehead against Lisanna’s again, letting her adjust to his size.

“Oh…” Lisanna breathed.

She was so tight; even relaxed and welcoming as she was, she still had a grip on his cock like he hadn’t experienced in years. Her walls hugged him perfectly, warm, and soft from every possible angle. Oberyn gasped in through his nose, forcing himself to stay still. She needed time. She was so tight. He didn’t want to hurt her.

Lisanna tipped her chin up to catch his lips. She kissed with a new vigor, as if she’d come to some sort of realization. Her hands tangled in the prince’s curls, pulling him closer so she could kiss him again with more passion. Urgent, burning passion.

Oberyn let his hips roll so slowly, pulling back only a bit before rocking back into Lisanna. She moaned against him; mouth open as she gasped for breath. She felt so fucking good. He rocked his hips again, giving a firmer thrust into her. Lisanna yelped, eyes rolling back. Oberyn rolled his hips a few more times, setting a steady, almost languid pace. Lisanna groaned, or whimpered, with each thrust. Her body seemed to curl around him. Her legs tangled around his hips, fingers buried themselves in his hair. She arched her body, pulling away from him as he pulled out of her, then twitching up to meet his hips, encouraging him to slam harder into her with each thrust. Her mouth was open in a pant as she rocked with him. Oberyn closed his lips over her pulse point, sucking and nipping desperately.

Lisanna felt a bit as if she’d left her body and was observing the sheer amount of pleasure that coursed through her. Oberyn’s hand wound between her legs and coarsely rubbed at that burning nub of her clitoris. Lisanna threw her head back and cried out, twitching around Oberyn as she began to orgasm. Her walls clamped around his cock, squeezing him, hard. Her body continued to rock, milking him as he twitched inside her. He groaned, burying his face against her neck. His body shook on top of her as she twitched underneath him. He emptied into her, feeling as if every bit of himself poured out of his cock and into her body. Lisanna shuddered, clinging tightly with her legs for a moment, as if knowingly trying to prevent him from pulling out of her.

“Don’t go,” she whimpered breathlessly.

Oberyn felt himself collapse at that small, sweet voice. His full weight was on top of his wife, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her legs cradled his hips comfortably, and she untangled her fingers from his hair only to gently card them through the curls. His cock was still buried inside her. She hummed happily; her eyes lazily closed, as he twitched inside her. She enjoyed the way he felt inside her. Like he was the piece of herself that she’d been missing.

They lay there entangled for several minutes, until both of their breathing had returned to a normal pace. Oberyn gazed at Lisanna. She thought his expression might be wonder.

“Was that alright?” Lisanna asked softly.

Oberyn managed a breathless laugh.

“I’ve been looking for you for a very long time,” he told her gently, leaning up to kiss her firmly.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x oc #pedro pascal #game of thrones #house of the dragon #it actually has nothing to do with house of the dragon #oberyn martell smut #britta writes things

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veritable-trash · 7 months

Text

May Our Flowers Always Bloom

guess who spent wayyyy too much time on canva making this(it's me)

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Character(unnamed, 3rd person, minimal descriptors)also this is a fantasy AU where oberyn is a forest prince, canon be damned

Summary: He could still remember the first time he saw her enter his grove. Not many dared to venture so far into the wood but she had seemed so at ease. Feet bare to the moss and dirt, flowers delicately woven in her hair, a song he’d never heard gracing her lips.

He’d been stunned.

Word Count: 3.3K

Rating: T - no smut, though maybe there will be??? who knows, but also parental death, and at this point i think that's it. let me know if i missed something! my whole blog is 18+ anyways so kiddos SCRAM

A/N: hahahaha holy shit. it's been actually an age since i've written anything at all and then today i said fuck it we write and then i wrote this. this is a little fantasy au with my lover oberyn who i've wanted to write for AGES. canon is not really relevant here other than like general personality and such. i might write a part two, maybe make this a series, but every time i say that i never finish or write it so i'm just gonna leave this here for now and see what happens. more rambles, notes thoughts at the end but i hope you enjoy!!!! also minimally edited basically just skimmed so apologies for any mess :) <33333

masterlist woot woot

~~~~~

She had grown up at the edge of the great woods.

A bit further from the village than maybe strictly necessary but her parents had always been a little off, at least by the town folks standards.

They had always turned to the earth, turned to the plants to heal and guide them and she had grown with her toes wiggled into the soft dirt, hands clutching at wildflowers and weeds. She knew nothing else. Hated the noise and the chaos of the town. How people stared and whispered about the wild family out in the woods.

She never felt like she was wild. Almost felt as if the townsfolk themselves were the wild ones. But she toed the line between the “real” world and the world of her creation.

The magical realm of the woods.

Her parents had of course warned her of respecting the forest. That though they tried to live as one with all that the earth provided, there were dangers that lurked among the gnarled roots and towering pines. She must tread carefully and never, ever after dark.

And she obeyed, but only just. Curled up against the base of the trees, writing or sewing or singing or musing, until the sun barely grazed the top most points of those towering giants high above her and the forest began to melt into darkness and secrets.

Those were her favorite moments, eyes adjusting to the low light, fireflies dancing between the trunks and leaves, the calm silence filtering its way signaling the time for rest, and for some reason she could never explain she never felt danger. Even when she would reappear from the woods, darkness having fully settled and her parents scolding her for staying out so long, she somehow knew nothing would harm her among those woods.

She was somehow interwoven with the roots and moss and flowers and leaves.

~~~~~

He could still remember the first time he saw her enter his grove. Not many dared to venture so far into the wood but she had seemed so at ease. Feet bare to the moss and dirt, flowers delicately woven in her hair, a song he’d never heard gracing her lips.

He’d been stunned.

Oberyn had only just been allowed to venture in the human realm. He was still a child to his mother, the wild unruly one who could not be trusted to keep the secrets of Dorne to himself. To understand that the human realm could not know, never know, about the forest kingdom.

For even though Oberyn could see her in the brightest light of day, she could not see him. He could only appear as one of those verdant things that always seemed to attract her attention. Only upon his knighthood could he enter the human world.

And so he watched her.

Sat with her in those mystic groves. Grew her beautiful flowers to pick and adorn her hair. Whispered to the lightening bugs to guide her home when she stayed till twilight. Followed her through the forest until the very edge, keeping her safe, clearing her way, making sure nothing harmed her on her return home.

They were both so young when they stumbled upon each other in that wood, knowingly and unknowingly, and he grew to cherish those moments. He had always felt a bit different from his family. Lonely and misunderstood, and for some reason around her he felt whole. A calmness settling over his ever twitching hands that he was constantly scolded for.

He knew he was young, infatuation fickle and deceiving, and yet he could not lie to himself that his heart somehow felt tethered to her. Even the silent companionship of reading right next to her filled the gapes between his ribs with warmth.

He would sometimes read over her shoulder at the pages of the newest novel she was devouring, aching to know more about the world she came from. Aching to know more about this girl that haunted all of his dreams.

If his family noticed a shift in his habits, they paid no mind, ever the youngest child, left to his own devices, but he yearned for his knighthood. Ached to be known to her somehow, for it was torture only being able to ghost soft gentle breezes across her skin. Watch her skin prickle, and the most content sigh to fall from her lips.

He could go mad with this want.

~~~~~

Her parents passed soon after her 18th birthday.

It had been sudden and destructive. A trip to the market for more supplies cut short by an overturned cart and poor poor timing. The village had helped her but even with such grief and suffering regarded her with distrust.

The wild girl loosing her wild parents, it truly is no surprise. Who knows what they get up to in that little shack by the woods. Witchcraft probably. Yes, yes most likely so.

And when the whispers and worry and pain all became too much, the wood was still always there. The first few months after her parents passing she would run there. Tripping over roots as tears overflowed in her eyes, not sparing those flowers even a second glance as she collapsed in the middle of the grove, sun filtering around her but her body feeling nothing.

She’d dig her nails in the moss, tearing at it as she wailed to no one and nothing, aching for something to ease the pain of a loose she still did not know how to process. Would lay there, unmoving for hours on end until the numbness finally took over and she was able to walk home, unfeeling and disjointed, reality but a film over her eyes. And even in those most dire moments the wood somehow always guided her home as though the trees opened themselves up to create a path.

Her work continued, mothers came for tonics for crying babes, elders came for salves for their aching limbs, and she continued to bear the mantle her parents had trained her for all these years. She had to make coin somehow and the work steadied her. Reminded her of her mothers calming cadence listing off ingredients, her father teaching her of proper techniques for harvesting.

She grew many years in the span of only a few months, but she had to hardened. Had to strengthen her spine and learn to be sure in herself even when it felt like all her threads were fraying.

The woods were all that saved her in those trying moments.

It was somehow always warm and soothing, wild flowers littering her path as she traveled aimlessly to cleanse her mind. Picking them one by one to build the most beautiful bouquet that would grace her work table in the cottage. It was a ritual for her at this point in her life, always returning to that sacred groove that somehow gave her the greatest peace she’d ever known. Where worries seemed to melt into the soil beneath her feet and lighten the load on her shoulders just a touch. Always a gentle breeze to remind her of the wonders of the wood. The calm that could be found there.

Her strides back home were always a touch more assured, a touch lighter, and she somehow knew it was all going to be alright somewhere in the end. And every time she’d step out of the wood, she would always turn around and whisper,

Thank you.

~~~~~

You’re welcome flower.

He was taller than her now, able to look down into her eyes when she whispered those simple two words that set his heart racing. Sometimes it even seemed like she was looking right at him, eyes somehow connecting even between the realms, though he knew it was not true.

He’d been at a loss when she’d first stumbled into their grove, tears staining her cheeks. He could not understand what plagued her. Was it heartbreak? Had she loved another? Had they hurt her so?

It had sent him into a rage he’d never felt before. The jealousy, the want, no the need to hurt whoever had hurt his flower overwhelmed him till he could barely see straight.

His hands had ghosted over her hunched spine, he’d whispered his sorrow for her suffering and it only drove him crazier.

The knowledge that she felt none of it. Wasn’t able to hear a single word.

He grew her flowers, sent her breezes, shifted the very earth of the groove to cradle her in the plushest of moss and yet her eyes seemed to register none of it.

They were hollow and vacant, the pain seeming to have sucked every twinkle that had made his heart skip.

But he never stopped trying.

He couldn’t stop. His flower, as he’d started calling her, was suffering a pain he could not understand but he could try and fix.

Though he was still but a boy, he wanted to be a man for her.

He grew brighter blooms, lined a path for her to walk to and from the groove, sent breezes filled with orange blossom and spiced earth to ease her heart, used his powers, though still weak, in every way he knew how, and slowly he saw his flower blooming once again.

The first time she’d picked a flower after that never ending winter of pain, he almost shed a tear. Her eyes had sparkled just slightly and she’d tucked it behind her ear, the softest hum of content gracing his ears.

He felt as though he had slain the greatest beast that ever lived.

~~~~~

It had been two years almost to the day after her parents passing that the forest had shifted.

She didn’t know how to explain it but the air between the trees no longer smelled of orange blossoms and cinnamon.

It just smelled like the dirt and decaying leaves and dampness that came with the forest.

There were no flowers lining the way to that ever calming clearing like she had grown so accustomed to. No soft breeze pushing her along.

She couldn’t understand it, and even more perplexing was the single most beautiful flower that she found growing in the center of groove.

A lone sprig of forget-me-nots trembling in a breeze that only held the faintest notes of that orange blossom that she had known for the past two years.

Something in her heart stirred, body growing both cold and hot all at once, unsure of how to understand what this shift, this change all meant.

It felt almost blasphemous to pick the flower, and yet she couldn’t leave it all alone in this place that no longer felt like a home to her. So she delicately clipped it at its base and turned around and walk back to the cottage.

The journey took longer than usual, no guiding flowers or friendly lighting bugs to guide her, and her heart sank further as though she had lost something great once again.

She gently pressed the flower between the pages of her most treasured journal clutching it to her chest as she watched the forest, as if waiting for something to emerge, the sparkle to return, for the forest to feel like hers again.

But as the sun sank behind the treetops and the sky shifted into the darkness, the forest did not call to her.

It was the first time in a very, very long time that she truly felt alone.

~~~~~

Oberyn had both not wanted to leave and ached eternally to start his quests. He knew what it meant to turn 20. To reach the age where knighthood must be found in a man, for he had longed for this day all his life.

But watching the confusion and pain on her face as she left the forest that day felt like a knife in his gut. A weeping wound that he did not know he would survive.

He had been foolish to leave the flower, he knew that. Risky and impulsive and dangerous to say the least but he could not leave her without somehow saying goodbye. Without somehow showing her that he would come back, that he could never stay away from her for too long, but he could not foretell how long his quests would be. No way of knowing where he would go, who he would meet, the man he would become in the distant realms.

There was war out there, struggle and strife, and he knew his family expected greatness from him. When Doran, his older brother, had returned from his journeys, he came back with prestige and honor, but he had also come back with an illness that it seemed no one could heal.

What if Oberyn was left like his brother after his journeys? How many years would he be gone? What if he could not return to his flower? What if she left the forests edge to never be found again?

He could barely sleep the days leading up to his departure, and those final moments with her in the groove brought him to his knees.

He knew he was young, knew that loves came and went and that there would maybe be others for him to love, but something about her called to him in ways he had never understood. And yet if he wished to truly be with her, to brush the delicate skin of her cheeks, to hear her say his name, to feel the warmth of her skin against his, he had to go. He had to toil and suffer and fight and return back to this place and finally reveal himself to her as he has always wished to.

That was the only way.

And so a flower he left. A memento of their many years together that she knew nothing about but maybe someday would learn of when the time was right.

~~~~~

She didn’t exactly avoid the forest after that strange day, but she didn’t tempt the fates so to speak.

There was a change in the energy of the forest, a boundary of sorts she had never felt, cutting her off from something. She no longer stayed into the twilight hours, returning earlier and earlier from her scavenging and harvesting, and even stranger was she hadn’t been able to find her groove.

It was as though it had disappeared completely, a figment of her imagination. The trees looked the same, the path well worn by her own two feet and yet she could never seem to reach it. It always seemed just around the next bend and it made her brain wobble.

Her reality was somehow shifting and changing, as though those years after her parents passing had been just a daydream. But now she knew how to survive loss. Knew how to put her head down, focus on her work, her garden, the townspeople, her home. One day in town on an errand she had stumbled upon a scruffy little kitten, skittish and hungry, and had wrapped him up in her arms and brought him home.

Viper and her were inseparable from that day forth.

And though every so often she would stare at the forests edge, a wistful sigh escaping her lips, there was a life to be lived. Her life. A life that she had been neglecting for too long and had been too afraid to start.

Life became a bit easier after that. The realization of wanting a future that made her proud, that would have made her parents proud, focusing her and giving her new purpose. She was no longer that wild girl of her youth, but a woman of healing to those in need. The valley she lived in wasn’t extremely large, but there were enough children with runny noses and achy joints to keep her busy and fulfilled.

The days, months, even years began to pass in calm waves, time lapping at the shores of her life, peace finding its way back in her heart, her soul.

Though every once in awhile loneliness would come again. A chill in her spine reminding her of all that she had lost, all that she could never have, and the only balm in those moments was pressed between the pages of that old weathered journal. Even years later there still remained a trace of that orange blossom spice between those pages and somehow the blue of the flower remained true.

She sometimes would worry that one day she would open the journal and the flower would be gone, all traces of those memories erased as if they never existed, but that day never came.

~~~~~

His quest seemed never-ending. The distances he traveled unfathomable even to his understanding.

It felt like there was no land he had not traversed as he fought and learned and matured.

A lanky boy no longer but a man, roughened, shaped, cut, molded, and broken apart only to be thrown back together again.

He thought of his flower more often than he cared to admit.

~~~~~

It was the 10 year anniversary of her parents passing.

A lifetime so it seemed and yet the ache still lingered fresh every year on the day.

She knew it always would and now after so much time it was more comforting than painful, knowing that she would always hold them close in her heart. The pain now a symbol of love not suffering.

That morning had felt strangely fresh, the air lighter around her as the sun rose above the mountains, an unidentifiable familiarity weaving through the breeze.

She entered the forest as she always did, though there was no plan for this walk. No need to scavenge, no pressure to look for fresh herbs. This walk was to mourn, to honor her parents and the memories she held of them in this sacred place.

Weaving between the trees, it somehow felt new to her, like the light had shifted once again, coloring the path before her in the richest of greens. She closed her eyes for just a moment and could almost hear her mothers laugh echo between the branches and leaves above her. A lone tear trickling down her cheek as she couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

As she aimlessly moved through the forest, she got lost in her own mind. The memories of so many moments flashing before her as she pondered all that she had lived through. A life so full and yet, today, as it happened every year, she felt lonely. No longer achingly so, but still, there was a life she still desired that had never presented itself to her.

A love like her parents had.

She was no nun by any means, but no one had ever grasped her attention the way she had always dreamed. Maybe she was fickle, cold and reserved, but her heart had suffered much and for some reason no one had ever felt right.

Her mind continued to weave through her memories, the forest thickening around her as she traveled deeper and deeper into the green. It had been a long time since she had gone this far, but today it felt ok to keep going. As though a solid hand lay at the base of her spine guiding her gently along.

All of a sudden the tree line broke, that ancient grove appearing before her once more as though it had been waiting for her arrival.

Her breath stalled in her chest as memories came flooding back faster and faster. The tears, the flowers, the pain, the joy, the tranquility, the confusion, the comfort, the love.

She collapsed to the soft mossy floor, the feelings bringing back the strongest deja vu, burying her head in her hands as tears blurred her vision. It felt like some kind of dream, some inexplicable moment of fiction.

Then the breeze kicked up and she smelled it.

Orange blossoms and cinnamon.

And as she opened her eyes, tears tracking down her cheeks, she saw him.

A man too beautiful to be real crouching before her, a look of devastating devotion etched in his golden irises.

“Hello my flower.”

~~~~~

whoop whoop of course i left it on a cliffhanger come on now it's the best way to do it :))))))) anyways lifes been kinda crazy and so writing has just been not a priority but i had a lot of fun writing this. i definitely don't like writing dialogue hence ending at this point because there haven't been any interactions between these two BUT i missed this and want to push myself to write again and maybe this is the perfect way to do it. so maybe they will interact soonish who really knows <3 reblogs comments are like super duper appreciated and loved so if you liked it or have thoughts or generally just wanna ramble about how hot this man is come hit my line! anyways hugs kisses the whole gambut of affection and maybe i'll be writing to ya soon <333333333

#oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x oc #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x ofc #oberyn martell #game of thrones #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #fantasy au #lol canon can suck it

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sugarbarbie-ocs · 2 months

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OC : Felicity Florent

❛❛ 273 AC, was a year of much chaos for House Martell, the cause of which was the fierce Prince Oberyn Martell, at the time a boy of six and ten, was sent away to Oldtown after his actions led to the death of Lord Edger Yronwood, though none would dare call it "exile" fearing the rage of the young prince. It was In Oldtown where Oberyn was first introduced to Lady Felicity Florent, the charming ward of Lord Leyton Hightower and Lady Rhae Florent... ❜❜

OG GIF CREDITS : @psychecreations @perotovar @pedrorascal @medicisource @markantonys

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thepalaceofmelanie · 3 months

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Martell Week, Day 7: Favorite Martell

Tag: @adriennegabriella @wingsoftheangels @morby @candycanes19 @tashastrange89

(A/N: Honestly, to certain people reading this, it shouldn’t surprise you. Not one bit and you know why! Grab yourself some passion fruit tea and enjoy! This is inspired by a modern day AU oneshot I’m still writing, and failed to get out before Martell week. We came full circle, started with an AU, ended with it. Not sure if it’s in the same universe, but it’s up to you all! Thank you again to @martellspear for hosting this awesome event.)

Day 7: Favorite Martell

Daenerys and Ellaria had left on their respective business trips, leaving me in charge of Oberyn. Some days I wonder how we make all of this work. Daenerys being assertive, Ellaria being sensual, Oberyn being the life of the party..and me, the introvert.

“Apologize my love, for being late! The weather is being horrible outside.” Oberyn’s voice rang out.

The power was out, I had candles lit in the living room. The wind was blowing hard; Oberyn’s outfit had rain marks on it; I got up from the couch and grabbed the pizza box. Oberyn went to his room to change; I placed the box down and two plates on the table and wait for him to come back.

“How are you today?” I asked.

The sound of his footstep coming downstairs echoed in the hallway. A rumble of thunder added to the mix, I could see Oberyn now make his way into the room. I handed him his plate and he sat next to me. I felt my head touch his shoulder.

“I’m fine, how about you?” He answered.

“It’s been quiet. I had the day off and you had work, the other two are away on business.” I replied.

I grabbed my phone and went to find something for us to watch. I don’t mind talking but we’re also eating. We settle on “The Good Place”, it’s been a while since we were able to watch it together. Just some days our schedules don’t match; you either live by the calendar or die by the calendar.

“When was the last time we were together like this?”

“Um...two weeks, maybe three?”

It’s been a while to the point, I couldn’t remember. Oberyn sighed, and I knew he was feeling a bit bad about it.

“Hey, it’s okay. It happens, I’m happy we’re spending time at all than none at all.”

“I know, I know. I’m just trying my best for you three. You three are worth my time, I promise. You three are important.”

I smiled at that, Oberyn...sure can be a bit of a playboy at times, but he’s a sweet and good man. I truly do care about him, I do my best to help him when he is hard on himself. Ever since a certain event happened, his heart has been broken. The three of us are doing our best to help when he needs it or asks for it.

Oberyn laughed at the episode and I could hear the storm was getting worse. Oberyn pulled me closer to him; I’m not scared of storms, but this was kinda romantic; just us and we’re safe inside, I hope.

“Thank you.” I hear him say.

“For what?” I asked.

“Taking care of me, usually isn’t it the guy’s job to take care of his lover?”

“No, we take care of each other. Like a wolf pack. Kinda like our little family. We have a dragon, a sand, a viper and a wolf. Oberyn, remember to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. It’s not fair if you tell me to make sure, if you’re not doing it.”

I did have a point on it. Me and him, we’re two sides of the same coin at times. When it comes to taking care of things, we put everything ahead of us. I feel his hand squeeze mine.

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am! I’m the INFJ of our group.”

The two of us busted out laughing. I feel Oberyn’s lips on mine for a quick second. Sometimes I don’t feel worthy of these three, but I’m happy they picked me and I’m happy I picked them.

As for Oberyn, I’m just glad he’s grown over the years.

“I have vacation next week, I was thinking if you can get a moment from the book tour, we could go do something together for the week. I mean Ellaria and Daenerys are going to be gone till late next week.” Oberyn sugested.

A vacation… That sounds great.

#Martell Week #You all know who it is #I don't even need to put it into the tags #I mean I have 'em in chibi size ffs #Fine I'll put it in the tags #Oberyn Martell x OC #Oberyn Martell x Reader #OC should have a name but eh...

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rainwingmarvel7 · 3 months

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Basic Nadya Dormaire Lore

Born: 281 AC, Raven’s Keep

Parents: Edwyrd Dormaire and Marah Tyrell

Siblings: Alistair Dormaire, Victyr Dormaire, Erwyn Dormaire (Snow)

Love Interest(s): Robb Stark (S1-S3, husband), Jon Snow (S1-S8, husband), Theon Greyjoy (pre-S1 & S5-S8, paramour), Jaime Lannister (S4 & S7-S8, husband (annulled)), Tyrion Lannister (S4 & S7-S8, paramour), Oberyn Martell (S4, paramour)

Children: Carlyle Snow (w/Theon Greyjoy); Ren Stark, Lena Stark, and Eddard Stark (w/Robb Stark); Gwyndolyn Lannister (w/Jaime Lannister); Jaime Lannister (Waters) (w/Tyrion Lannister); Robb, Talisa, Margaery, Theon, Edwyrd, and Lyanna Stark (w/Jon Snow)

Titles: Noblewoman of House Dormaire (S1-S8), Queen in the North (S2-S3), Lady of Casterly Rock (S4), Queen Consort of the Six Kingdoms (S8)

Weapon(s): Lady’s Courage (sword gifted to her by Jon Snow), Queen’s Wrath (sword gifted to her by the Tyrells)

Fic: As the Raven Flies

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galacticwildfire · 2 years

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The Storm Queen

Four

Cassana arrives at Winterfell and meets her betrothed, becoming more taken with him than she could have ever anticipated, while Robb quickly tries to learn how to court her properly until his fairytale is dimmed by Ned's warning of her family and their involvement in Jon Arryn's murder.

Word Count: 5.3k

Tags/warnings; arranged marriage, drinking, lots of fluff here, young love, cersei, drinking, no real warnings here, more suspicion coming into play

Cassana

It's not long before the feast becomes drunken and rowdy but I only find myself feeling more at home.

"It's not too much?" Robb asks as he looks around the room and I can't help but laugh.

"No, not at all," I smile to myself as I sip my wine.

"Are you allowed to drink so much?" he asks and for a moment I'm slightly offended until he glances at my mother who's watching and I realise that he's asking out of fear of my mother rather than his own concern.

"It's quite alright," I laugh dismissingly. "My drinking habits come from my parents, and tonight is a night to celebrate."

I raise my glass and he raises his as well.

"Indeed it is."

We both take a drink while maintaining eye contact and I don't know if it's the drink or something else but I can't ignore the fluttery feeling in my stomach. Something that I've read of but have never actually felt before.

Until now.

We're interrupted by a man perhaps just a little bit older than Robb who asks "Are you going to introduce me?"

"Cassana this is my fathers' ward Theon-"

"Greyjoy," I finish knowing very well who he is and why he is here, but I know my Father openly despises the Greyjoy's but I've never been one to support prejudice. Yet as I look at him I'm even more grateful father betrothed me to Robb instead of Theon as the council has recommended. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Theon just laughs "Sure it is." He slaps Robb on the back. "I'm going to find some stronger ale."

He leaves as abruptly as he came and Robb looks somewhat embarrassed. "Theon is like a brother to me."

"Ah," I realise, if Robb has taken the Greyjoy as his brother instead of his prisoner then that says what kind of a man he is, what kind of heart he has. "Well, I suppose I'm going to become well acquainted with him then."

"I know he's a Greyjoy but he's a good lad."

I put my hand assuringly over Robbs. "I'm sure he is," I say lightheartedly. "Don't worry I'm not my father, I won't go marching around with a giant hammer ranting about the Greyjoy's."

He laughs and with the liquor in me I stroke the side of his hand, if I want to see more of his heart then the best chance is to see how he is with those he loves. "Introduce me to whoever is important to you, there's no better place than a feast."

For a moment he looks surprised then his eyes soften into something akin to adoration. Taking my hand in his he guides me over towards the back of the room towards his father and he hugs an unfamiliar man who is talking to Ned.

"Uncle Benjen," Robb grins and I realise that he must be the Stark who joined the Night's Watch.

"Look at you, you're a man now," Benjen says patting Robb on the back, a common sign of affection among the men here. "You're even getting married."

"Uncle Benjen this is Princess Cassana," Robb says introducing me proudly.

"Princess," Benjen says nodding his head respectfully.

"You are a man of the Night's Watch?" I ask equally respectfully. It's no secret amongst the council that the Night's Watch is run down and they only see it as a place to send criminals however I know the history of it.

There are far too many maesters reports of the Long Night to laugh at the idea that the creatures beyond the wall are mere stories, but no matter what anyone believes they are certainly needed to protect from Wildling invasions.

"I am, if you have your Fathers ear we could use some more men."

"I'll speak to my Father," I promise him, when in reality it's the council I'll speak to considering they'll actually act, unlike my father. "I'm sure there's plenty of men in the Black Cells that can be delivered to the Wall."

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my Father drunk with an equally drunk woman in his lap.

"Your Grace please excuse us," Ned says guiding his brother away, most likely for Nights Watch business.

My fathers' laughter echoing through the hall makes me cringe as he so openly disgraces my mother and himself. As king, he can do whatever he likes, even so, if I was ever king I would never disgrace myself in such a manner.

I clear my throat. "Robb, can we get some air?"

"Of course," he says and with his hand on my back he guides me out of the hall.

When we're outside in the cool air his hand slides down to my waist and remains there as he asks "Are you alright?"

I decide to laugh it off. "I'm fine, I'd just rather not watch my father carry on like he is."

"Well," he says awkwardly "I wouldn't want to see my father like that either."

"Your father is an honourable man Robb, surely you're in no danger of seeing that."

"But he still managed to father a bastard," a voice interrupts and we turn to see a black-haired man wielding a sword.

For a moment I'm shocked anyone would say such a thing to Ned's son and wonder if I'm about to witness a fight until I see the warm smile they give each other and realise who he must be. The bastard my father once mentioned.

"Who is my favourite brother," Robb finishes. "Jon this is the princess Cassana, Cassana this is my brother Jon Snow."

"Princess," Jon says politely but I can detect a hint of hostility in his voice that Robb doesn't pick up on.

"I didn't see you at the feast?" I ask and he almost looks amused.

"Lady Stark thought it might offend the royal family to have a bastard seating in their midst," he comments bitterly and now that hostility makes sense.

"Jon-" Robb warns but I wave off his concern, it's no wonder Jon's offended.

"No it's alright," I assure Robb and turn to look at the black-haired man who must be almost the same age as Robb, there could only be mere months between them at most. "And the only bastard that offends the royal family is my brother Joffrey."

His eyebrows raise in surprise and his demeanour changes completely as a hearty laugh escapes him "Well I can't argue with that."

Robb laughs in agreement and it seems that word of that little prick has spread all the way to the North. I'm unsurprised. He is infamous for his... I don't even know what to call it. Developing sadism?

"Come inside with us," I offer but Jon just laughs off the suggestion. "Please, I insist."

He seems like a decent man, just like Robb, however far quieter in nature, solemn even. Then again as a bastard that probably would have been expected of him. Regardless, he should be seated with his family.

"You might not mind but Lady Stark will," Jon says and I look up at Robb in confusion only to find his eyes on the ground.

"Robb?"

He looks at me and explains "My mother as you may understand is not so fond of Jon, she made the point that she wouldn't have him there in sight of the royal family."

As a woman, I can certainly understand her offence but it's hardly like Jon chose this life for himself.

"Nonsense," I dismiss. "If you get into trouble I'll happily tell her it was by my request, now come on inside. I don't know about you two Northerners but it's freezing."

Robb gives me a thankful look and Jon wears a small smile as we go to return inside the hall but a familiar figure appears.

"Uncle Tyrion," I grin, glad to have a familiar face who isn't drunk or angry. "I missed you earlier."

"It seems you've been occupied," he teases as he walks over with the usual glass of wine in hand "So is this your fiancé?"

Robb clears his throat "Yes, I am. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Tyrion."

I note the lack of warmth in his voice. One thing I am quickly coming to realise is that Lannisters are not as welcome in the North as I had previously thought.

And Robb's apparent apprehension is something I had also not anticipated, something that indeed rubs me the wrong way.

Yet more than anything else it confuses me.

Why is there any apprehension towards my family at all?

Robb

Cassana goes oddly quiet as I address Tyrion Lannister.

I don't know why Aunt Lysa doesn't trust them or why my father is suspicious of them but if any Lannisters are likely to be up to anything it would be the imp and the queen from what I've gathered.

Cassana however seems strangely fonder of the dwarf than any of the others.

"I'm sure it is a pleasure," he says glancing at Cassana who looks displeased.

"Well, Tyrion is my favourite uncle," she says to me almost defensively despite the smile on her face and I realise she might have picked up on my apprehension towards him.

"I wasn't aware," I laugh nervously feeling the tension in the air.

"Well, you two hardly know each other yet," Tyrion interrupts and the reminder is harsh. "But that will change in time."

"Of course," she says holding onto my arm with kind eyes and I'm glad I haven't caused offence. "I've enjoyed getting to know everybody here tonight."

"All sorts of people I see," he comments.

It's then I become aware Jon still stands with us. No other royal, or even a noble lady, would invite a bastard to a royal feast, let alone insist on it.

Everyone knows about the Greyjoy rebellion and that Theon isn't here as a guest, I was worried about how she may react but she had no prejudice against him and even now with Jon, she makes it very clear that she doesn't care what he is. Or if she does she doesn't let it show.

Even more interestingly she even seems to be against the Lannisters with how she speaks about her brother and mother.

These are things I'll have to tell my father to put him at ease. I still don't know what he's suspicious of but I'm sure I'll find out.

"I haven't seen you since you decided to see what the North had to offer, did you get lost on your way here?" Cassana jokes with him fondly and from the look in his eyes, he is also fond of her.

"I'm surprised you noticed," he comments as he turns his attention to me. "You seem to have been kept occupied."

Even in just the moonlight, I can see her cheeks turn a shade redder and it's only then I realise that mine have as well.

"Well it certainly has been an eventful day," she says as she glances at me but Tyrion looks between us, oddly protective of her.

"So you are the man who will be marrying my beloved niece," he says as he looks me carefully in the eye.

"He is," she says as she looks up at me "I believe my father found me a good match."

"I hope so," he says never looking away from me "Cassana your mother is asking for you, why don't you see what she wants while I become acquainted with my future nephew."

Only then I realise that by marrying her I won't be joining with just house Baratheon but also house Lannister. Perhaps that's why father is apprehensive.

She sighs heavily then squeezes my arm "I'll be back," she promises then says to Tyrion "Don't torment him."

"I won't," he promises with a wink and I look to Jon for help. "I believe I've already spoken with your brother."

Cassana looks a little alarmed and asks Jon "Will you escort me back inside?"

I'm surprised by the request, as is he. He seems stunned before clearing his throat and accepting. "Of course your grace."

They start walking away and I hear her whisper. "If you wouldn't mind I'd rather take the long way back to the hall."

And I realise I'm not the only one who's afraid of the queen. But I may be the only one who's afraid of her uncle.

"I suppose this isn't just small talk?" I gather and he almost looks impressed.

"Smart boy," he praises "I don't mean to scare you-"

"I'm not scared," I immediately reply and he looks amused.

"Perhaps you should be," he says as he looks me up and down with the same analytical look Cassana gave me when we first met "You are marrying the princess of the Seven Kingdoms, she is an heir to the throne."

I stare at him in confusion "Yes but she's a woman?"

"She is but out of all her siblings she has always been the best fit to rule," he begins, choosing each word carefully. "She always wanted it. She has her mothers charms and acts like a lovely lady who is happy to be the wife of a Lord, and to a degree that is true but she is not a lady, she is a princess and a Baratheon of Storms End."

I know very well what she is and I gathered from our conversation earlier that she wished she could fill her fathers' shows but he's only confusing me. It almost sounds as if he is warning me.

"I don't understand why you're telling me this?"

"Well remember that you've only just met her. She has a good heart, considering who her mother is I don't know how her heart ended up so good but she is also ambitious. You can thank our good king Robert for that," he says taking a long drink. "My family is a complicated one, my father loathes all of us children for different reasons however he does seem to like Cassana but she doesn't like him for many reasons, she also loathes her mother and Cersei hates me but-"

"Your point?" I interrupt and he clears his throat.

"Right back to my point, us Lannister's may despise each other but we also protect each other. Cersei would burn the world down for her children. I love my niece and I want her to be happy here but you must understand that for her entire life she has wanted to succeed her father. She wants to be more than just a princess or a lady. She won't sit idly by forever, she'll be harder to please than most women."

Finally, I understand. When he finally boils down to his point he just wants her to be happy. Perhaps he isn't as bad as I had thought. I certainly haven't had anyone else in her family come and speak to me as he has.

"How do I make her happy?" I ask knowing that I won't get a better answer from anyone else "If she's as complicated as you're making her sound then what do I do?"

I know my father did what he could to make my mother happy here, well except for coming home with Jon, but other than that he tried to make her feel welcome.

Tyrion smiles a little and I can see approval in his eyes. "Well, she's always felt suffocated as a princess. Not by expectations or pressure, she could always handle that without a problem but she wanted freedom, control over herself. She has always wanted to express her opinions, actually have a hand in the politics and the ruling part of being royal, unlike her father. She's always wanted to ride and hunt and do all of that as he does but Cersei wouldn't allow it. She wants to be free and well the North is a wild country," he says and as he realises that his glass is empty I know this conversation is coming to an end so he sums it up "If you want her to be happy let her be free."

It seems like such a stupid thing to say. To let her be free. I wouldn't own her, I wouldn't want to control her but I know things are different in the south. Even here in the North, I can see how Sansa is making herself into a proper lady as she believes she should be and how Arya struggles to conform with that idea. I can't imagine what that pressure must be like for a princess. I don't want her to have to pretend around me, I want to see who she is, who she really is.

"I want to be a good husband and I want to make her happy," I promise him. Seeing her smile and the life in her eyes affects me in a way I never expected, all I know is that I want her to be happy.

"Good," he says satisfied. "She was hesitant about this arrangement but she seems quite taken by you already."

"Really?" I ask as my cheeks go warm again.

She's taken my breath away more today than any woman ever has and as I expected already everything has changed. Although she's being playful and trying to get to know me I hadn't known how she truly feels. If she feels as I do.

"She is and she happens to be a good judge of character, as am I," he says seeming content. "I look forward to the wedding."

As he wanders I know that tonight is the night to make my impression on her. To show her the man I am, the man I will be for her.

Cassana

Jon walks beside me back to the hall.

Well, the longest way possible. I'd rather make small talk with him than confront my mother.

"You know you don't have to invite me in," he says anxiously now that we're alone. "Robb loves his mother Lady Stark but well..."

"Mother's can be difficult," I finish as I find myself walking slower knowing what awaits.

"Even yours?" he questions and I find myself laughing in amusement and dread.

"Especially. I'll admit, sometimes I feel like the bastard amongst my own family. It's why Tyrion and I are so close."

"You feel like a bastard?" he scoffs and I notice the bitterness in him at the word. The hatred for it.

"My mother hates my father, despises him and everything to do with him," I find myself confessing as it is common knowledge by now. "And here I am. The Baratheon girl amongst all these blonde Lannisters. The odd one out. Not quite Lannister enough for her, and too much a Lannister for the rest of the Baratheons. But I do not complain, I am a princess, far more fortunate than most. I could never presume to understand what it must be like to be a true bastard, how you must be treated by both strangers and those closest to you, but I can understand what it is like to be seen as one in the eyes of a mother. There is nothing worse."

"Aye," he agrees and he's quiet for a long moment, considering what I've said. "Your uncle Tyrion, when he spoke to me earlier he said to never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not, wear it like armour and it can never be used to hurt you."

I find myself surprised by Tyrion approaching Jon but then again Tyrion is much like myself when deciding who to speak to. "It is good advice. He's my favourite uncle, probably the smartest man I've ever met. He seeks knowledge, understanding. He finds himself engaged in conversation with people from all walks of life. Especially those who are shunned by society as he is."

"Well it seems he's taught you a great deal," he says and I can hear genuine respect in his voice. "It's not every day a princess treats a bastard as highly as you do."

His words do sadden me to a degree, his treatment by Lady Stark. Just as Tyrion's treatment by the rest of my family saddens me. Being treated as less solely due to his birth despite having the same upbringing as his siblings.

"A persons birth should not affect the respect they are entitled to," I tell him. "Whether they be a dwarf or a bastard. I've always believed a person should be judged by their character rather than birth."

He looks at me in complete awe. While my opinions are simply humane and logical I know they are very rare.

"I can see why Robb likes you now," he says and I'm curious. "He said you were different but I never realised how much. It's certainly not every day someone says a prince is more of a bastard than an actual bastard."

"Trust me I've called him far worse," I say and he laughs. "Families are complicated, to say the least."

"So is that why you've gotten me to take you the long way back, because you don't want to speak to your mother?" he asks and I begin to realise he's more perceptive than the average man to say the least.

"Let's just say she didn't know about the betrothal until a few hours ago."

"Ah," he realises. "I can't blame you then, I don't want to cause any offence but she seems a little-"

"Terrifying? Overbearing? Yes. She is."

He chuckles. "I'd imagine you'd be glad to get away then."

We come to stand outside the door to the hall and I can feel the warmth. "Well, I'll certainly be glad to get away once she's finished with me."

"Aye, well if it helps Lady Stark won't be happy with me either once she catches me talking to you."

"Well if my mother is offended by any of you Starks it's by your brother," I assure him knowing which one she wants to murder. "You're the last person that would cause offence."

The corner of his lip curls up and it's only in that moment of silence I realise how easy it is to speak to him while I'm still fretting over almost every word Robb and I exchange.

I was under no obligation to like Jon, or even speak to him really, and he was under none to like me. He certainly doesn't have a filter and perhaps that's what's put me at ease, the fact I know he means everything he says.

The fact he looks at me with genuine respect.

"We best go inside," he suggests and so I reluctantly enter.

We stand at the back entrance and if I could hide behind him I would but it's a little difficult considering we stand at nearly the same height.

"You'll be fine," Jon tries to assure me but I'm not the only one hiding. It's clear he's trying to avoid Catelyns gaze as well.

My mother doesn't spot us but I notice Ned and Benjen looking at us and talking in hushed voices.

For a moment I'm worried I've gotten Jon into trouble but they aren't angry, if anything they look saddened but I don't know why.

Yet I swear as I pass by I hear her name mentioned.

Lyanna.

The woman who has haunted my father for seventeen years.

Her memory likely being another reason my mother looks so cold as I approach her.

"Mother," I greet as I'm summoned to where she sits with Robbs mother. "Lady Stark."

"Princess Cassana," Catelyn also greets, nodding her head respectfully. "How are you enjoying the feast?"

"Very well," I smile. "Robb has been introducing me to people."

"I was hoping he would," she says seeming relieved. "I remember when Ned brought me up here for the first time, I was terrified."

"Well I was nervous but I'm already beginning to feel at home," I say truthfully much to my mother's displeasure. "Robb has been showing me around Winterfell and I think I'll be very happy here. You raised a good man Lady Stark."

"I'm glad," she smiles warmly "That's really all you can hope for as a mother."

As I look to my own mother who is watching Joffrey mock one of the serving girls I know that she can't relate, however she still nods her head "Indeed."

"You summoned me?" I ask her and through her polite facade I can see the betrayal underneath, she knows that I knew.

"Yes, I was rather surprised to hear of your betrothal," she says stiffly. "It seems your Father told everyone except for me."

"Well, Father says it's been finalised," I say as I notice Catelyn suddenly looking very uncomfortable. "And I am looking forward to the wedding."

"Is that so?" Mother asks. "Most brides are terrified before their wedding, I know I was."

"Well I believe father made a good match," I tell her and I see her struggling not to snap, for once she is not in control. "In fact, I believe Uncle Tyrion is talking to Robb so he'll be able to attest to that."

My mother looks me in the eye and it's what it always has been with us. A power struggle.

"Actually I think Robb's just come inside," Catelyn says breaking the tension.

"Perfect," Mother smiles fakely "I can finally meet my future son in law."

Although her voice is chirpy I can hear the bitter disdain hidden in it. She doesn't want to let me go. She wants to keep her claws buried in me.

"I'll get him," I smile knowing how to keep up appearances just as well as she does.

Robb's chatting to Theon and Jon when I find him.

"Robb, you're back," I smile as I wrap my hand around his arm. "My mother would like to be formally introduced."

Theon snickers under his breath while Jon gives me a knowing look and I know which of the two I like best.

"Should I be afraid?" Robb asks rubbing his hands together nervously.

"Very," I answer taking his arm to guide him over and as he blinks at me I can tell that's not the answer he expected. "You should know that I'm nothing if not honest."

Well, occasionally.

"Well at least I got a warning," he comments as we approach where they are seated.

"Your Grace, this is my eldest son Robb," Catelyn introduces while my mother glares at him.

"And this is my mother," I continue "The Queen."

My mother watches him silently, waiting for him to speak first. He nervously clears his throat but his voice is nothing but confident when he finally speaks.

"Your Grace it is a pleasure to meet you and to be betrothed to your daughter."

"Is it?" she asks and I know that she's going to torture the poor man. Perhaps I should have let Tyrion do it properly as a trial run. "Most men are quite nervous or even apprehensive when it comes to their future brides."

I can tell what she is doing. She is trying to inflict doubt in him, and in me. She has always played mind games.

"Not at all," he immediately replies and as I look at his expression I realise that he isn't blind, he can tell what she is doing. He watches me as I lean in closer to him "I look forward to our wedding."

"As do I," I smile and watch her eyes burn.

Any doubts about him disappear before they can arise. Barely knowing me he still stands with me before my mother as a united front. Catelyn is taken by surprise by our sudden affection but as she glances between my mother and I, realisation dawns in her.

"It will be lovely," Catelyn smiles and my mother nods her head while grasping her glass slightly tighter.

"Indeed," she agrees painfully.

"Now if you will excuse us," I say politely taking the first chance to remove ourselves from this conversion. They nod their heads and I guide Robb away from them.

"I understand what you meant about your mother now," he comments when we are out of earshot.

"And everyone in Kings Landing is just like her and worse," I say bitterly "Can you see why I always wanted to live in the Stormlands?"

"Indeed I can," he says and once we are somewhere private he stops and to my surprise takes my hands in his. "But you're in the North now and her opinion won't matter, you won't have to deal with her or any of that up here. I want to be a good husband to you and an honourable man."

As I gaze into his blue eyes I wonder just how I came to be so lucky. I almost can't believe it. Most men wouldn't give a damn what their betrothed thought of them. Robb knows that whether we like it or not we will be wed but he still wants to court me.

"I truly believe you will be," I smile and I've never meant any words more. "I hope I can be a good wife."

His smile matches mine. "I'm sure you will be." His thumb strokes the back of my hand as he adds "Your uncle had quite a conversation with me."

"He didn't torment you I hope?" I ask knowing what Tyrion can be like. Mind games and manipulation are Lannister traits. At least he isn't cruel like my mother.

"Only a little," he chuckles before his expression turns more serious "He just wanted to know that I'd treat you well, it's rare to see someone like him show so much concern for his niece."

I smile to myself. "Well he is protective, to say we are close would be an understatement. I love him dearly."

His hands tighten around mine I realise he isn't finished. "He certainly likes to talk and what he made clear is that there are no other women like you. You are a princess and while I can't give you a crown I can give you a good home, a loving family and a husband who will treat you honourably. I can only hope that you'll be happy here."

Tears burn in my eyes as my heart becomes overwhelmed. No one in my entire life has ever had such pure intentions for me. No one, never.

"Are you alright?" he asks as he caresses the side of my cheek and although my eyes are teary I smile brighter than I ever have before.

I place my hand over his and look up into his eyes "I will be very, very happy here Robb."

And just like that everything has changed.

A good home and a loving family is what I have always wanted. My father and mother love me in their own ways, uncle Renly is kind, Jaime is protective in his own way and Tyrion has always been loving so I have had love in my life but we were never a family.

They all despise each other, even if they love me how could we possibly be a family?

Then I look at Robbs family, there is so much love amongst them it almost doesn't make sense to me. It wasn't something I thought I could ever have and yet here is a man offering me a good family, a good home and to care for me as no one ever has which is more than I ever could have asked for.

He smiles brightly and as I look into his eyes I still cannot believe it. That this man I was so opposed to marrying is making me feel this.

And it terrifies me.

It terrifies me because I know that I might fall in love with him.

Taglist

joselinesstuff tremendoushearttaco vaubreytyrellev captainmrsallamerican aupernatural-teenwolflover chocopuddingang nose235678 hoardersunlimited tearingbooks emptyspace008 ynatram scribbler-scrabble love26435 neuralxfistbump wonder-worldxx aranneoartwork nicckkyys brooklynn3253

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versatileginger · 6 months

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SYNERGY | MASTERLIST

Oberyn Martell x OC (Ava)

Warnings: AU, violence, weapons, mature themes, murder, everything you'd find in in Game of Thrones.

Summary: In the embrace of existence, the brilliance of light finds its depth in the shadows, and conversely, the obscurity of darkness discovers its essence in the radiant dance of symbiotic contrast.

CHAPTER 1 (Coming soon)

#oberyn x oc #oberyn x ofc #oberyn fanfiction #oberyn martell #oberyn martell x oc #oberyn martell x ofc #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell fanfic #got au #au #versatileginger writes #versatilegingers masterlist

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moireia · 10 months

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lost and only led by stars — alyssa snow & oberyn martell

hold me, carry me slowly, my sunlight insp

#fyeahgotocs #fyeahgameofthronesocs #ocappreciation #asoiaf oc #got oc #game of thrones oc #oberyn martell x oc #alyssa snow #fic: lost and only led by stars #i adore them so much #oc edits

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starogeorgina · 4 months

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All characters are 18+

Ongoing series —

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

1.01

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x oc

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 16 days

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Ella Tyrell aesthetic (2)

Ella Tyrell face claim: Amy James-Kelly

#house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones oc #game of thrones au #game of thrones fic #game of thrones oberyn #oberyn x oc #oberyn martell x oc #oberyn martell imagine #Oberyn #oberyn martell fic #prince oberyn #oberyn martell #valaenatargaryensdragon #aesthetic

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prolix-yuy · 1 year

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Simple Treasures

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Male OC "Tesoro"

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: The day of your presentation to the Dornish court is here, and all the anxieties that brings.

Warnings: T, allusions to sexual acts, Oberyn is a warning all his own, mostly fluff and pompery.

Notes: Hello @mandaloresson, it is I, your not-so secret-anymore Santa for the Pedrostories Secret Santa! This prompt was a lot of fun because, while I've watched and drooled over Oberyn throughout Game of Thrones, I haven't written anything for him! And oh, is he fun to write for!

Happy Holidays!

Three steps down.

Stop.

Wait for the announcement.

Smile.

Then down to the platform.

Wait for them to bow.

Not to you, of course, to the Prince.

Then he’ll put a hand on your lower back and lead you down into the mass of silks and jewels and jealous eyes.

The words swirl in your mind as your eyes remain locked on the twin doors leading to the Dornish royal court.

Ellaria prepared you for the pomp of your presentation as the tailors laid out fine fabrics for your ensemble, only half listening at first until she rolled her eyes and pointed to an ochre silk.

“That will compliment Prince Oberyn’s robe,” she said dismissively, sending the tailors away as she sat in front of you. Keeping your back ramrod straight, face smooth, hands still in your lap, she smiled and tutted.

“Have you heard anything I’ve said to you, Tesoro?” she said, eyebrows ticking up when you coughed and shifted in your seat.

“Were you nervous when he presented you?” you asked, resisting the urge to pick at your nails. You’d worked so hard to remove the calluses, the ragged edges. You couldn’t throw that away just days before you’d be scrutinized. Ellaria lounged on the bed, the shift of her dress swaying deep down her chest as she propped her head up on one hand.

“The eyes of the court are nothing compared to the eyes of our lover,” she said, “He’s all you need to worry about.” A contemplative purse of her lips preceded her next words. “Though you should watch your feet around some of the ladies, they’ll try to trip you up in more ways than one.”

“Because I don’t belong.”

Ellaria’s eyes snapped sharply to yours.

“Banish that thought from your mind. Nothing about where you're from, your history, or what’s between your legs matters to them.”

You take a cleansing breath to blow the cobwebs of uncertainty from your mind. In so many ways your life now feels like a dream compared to what came before. A gardener plucked from the Prince’s flowers, elbows deep in the dirt when you first met Oberyn. He’d looked down at you with a devious smirk, sunlight at his back making him even more god-like than the stories painted him.

“And what have we here? A little treasure buried in my gardens?” he purred, extending a hand to help you to your feet.

“My Prince, I am filthy, I cannot…” you murmured, keeping your gaze locked on the golden finery draped over his shoulders. You weren’t worthy enough to look in the Prince’s eyes, or to even be talking to him. But he clasped your hand anyways, and with surprising strength for his lithe build he pulled you to stand. Every muscle in your body screamed to move away before someone saw you, but liquid slow Oberyn brought a hand to your face, fingers tracing your jaw as his lips parted sinfully.

“I prefer the filth,” he chuckled before drawing you out of the garden, your world, and into his.

“Tesoro.”

Oberyn’s voice slices through your reveries, twin doors still closed before you but the noise of the high court thrumming behind it.

“Apologies, my Prince,” you murmur as the guards stride to grasp the massive handles. With a flick of his wrist he stops them, the warm hand on you back now cupping your chin.

“What races around that quick mind of yours, my treasure?” he says, concern lacing his brow.

Nothing he would understand, a man raised in station and wealth. How could he know that you’d studied the traditions for weeks, your jaw aching from the stress of it all. He’d been there to ease the worries away, with his words and his kisses and the debauchery of his bed, but he could never soothe away the fears that festered in your belly. That you were wrong to stand beside him. That worthier men and women filled this room and would gladly tell every secret, every shame you ever carried to be in your place.

“Nothing to worry over, my Prince,” you say, and his face darkens just enough to spark under your skin.

“Such formality, tesoro. Just this morning you were calling me Oberyn. And sweet lover. And oh gods yes, please, there, right there…” Oberyn teases, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he imitates your moans. You swat at him peevishly, then stiffen at the sight of the guards only feet away. You just struck the Prince. Would they gut you for that?

But Oberyn chuckles and wraps his hand around your neck, thumb soothing the skin below your ear.

“The opinion of the court matters not to me. They will look at you and assume much. About your goals, your intentions, my proclivities. They will hiss and spit like the pit of snakes they think they are.” He lifts his chin, the sharp angle of his jaw and the steely set of his brow thrilling.

“But I am the Red Viper, and they would do well to remember that.”

As giving and kind as Oberyn can be, the darkness that flits under the surface stirs arousal in you. He must see it in your eyes because he shifts his hip to graze against your crotch, his grip tightening.

“Would you like me to empty that mind of yours before we go in? They can wait,” he suggests, which makes an honest laugh spill from your lips. Freshly fucked was not the way you first wanted to enter the court. You shake your head.

“Such fortitude,” he says, stepping back to take your face in both hands. The danger in his voice softens, crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening as he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs.

“You are more precious to me than any of the finery, the tradition, the status that lays on my shoulders. If you would like to go to the gardens and sit among the flowers I would gladly leave this all behind. These people know nothing of me, of my heart. Say the word and I will forego them.”

The honesty in his eyes spreads like molten gold through your chest, your smile eliciting a dazzling one from him.

“I’d like to show off what I’ve learned about Dornish court traditions,” you counter, and the approving smile he gives you eases some of the anxiety away.

“Then let us enter,” he says to the guards, and the doors open to a wall of sound and light and color.

You make your way down, remembering all of the steps without prompting. The eyes on you are almost as weighty as the finery you’ve donned, and you take Ellaria’s advice and avoid eye contact. Distilling your world down to a banner in the distance and the feeling of Oberyn’s hand on your lower back, you descend into a world you never dreamed you’d inhabit.

The introspection breaks your focus for a moment, and you miscount the number of steps. You take one too many, your foot about to come down hard in a stumble. Your balance tips forward, fear spiking as you try to play it off, but Oberyn tightens his fist in your robe and holds you still beside him. Relief washes over you, the court noticing nothing and Oberyn’s grip loosening once you’re firmly on both feet, smoothing any wrinkles in the silk.

It’s not the only stumble you make that night. When a woman swathed in emerald begins a discussion on flowers, you launch into proper seed care and soil types when you realize she meant arrangements. A man hints too frequently at why he thinks the Prince favors you, and you loudly suggest a local brothel if he’s looking for a male consort. And when a drink is brought to you that is overly sweet and cloying, you struggle not to interrupt the diatribe an older woman is leading about the arts.

But at each moment you feel the weight of inadequacy, one look at Oberyn quells your nerves. He has to hide a smile at your curt assessment of the nosy man, and brings you another glass of wine to wash down the offending drink. He even graciously redirects the floral conversation and recommends the woman try getting her hands in the dirt every now and then. It could yield untold riches.

And when he kisses you fondly in your seats of honor, humor and gratefulness in both your eyes, you’re not sure which of you holds the greater treasure.

END

Thank you to @pedrostories for organizing this fantastic exchange, and happy holidays everyone!

#pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x oc #game of thrones fanfiction #prolix fics

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