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whiskeynwriting · 2 years

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Insatiable Series - Ch. 13: Let Me Bless You

Oberyn Martell x OFC Reader "Savia"

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Word Count: 10k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) dirty talk, praise kink, breeding kink, soft Oberyn (we love), possessive Oberyn (we LOVE), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, “period” sex, age gap, motherhood, mentions/descriptions of blood, mentions of death, brief mention of miscarriage.

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Summary: A sudden change in your health prompts more for the future than you had expected, causing many to notice… including the Mother of Dragons.

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A/N: oh my fucking god I forgot how much FUN it is to write for this series holy shit!!!

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When you first arrived in Dorne, it was paradise. In every sense of the word, this foreign land brought you pleasure beyond belief. And these pleasures were not just that of material good for personal indulgence, they brought so much more than that to your life. Before visiting the Martell family, you had no relationship, no true sense of community or kinship. There were no opportunities for you back home.

And now, here you sit, betrothed, surrounded by friends and family who adore you greatly. You’re the next female heir to Dorne’s throne, a ring on your finger symbolizes the eternal bound you now have to prince Oberyn, the most hot-headed yet passionate man you had ever met. In the beginning, your stay in Dorne was great, remarkably exciting and new. But the longer you stayed, the more trouble seemed to arrive.

“Oberyn, please slow down.” You beg, hurrying along behind his eager steps.

“Go back to our room.” he sternly responds, his stride unwavering.

“I’m not leaving you to do this alone, but we must be rational about this.”

“That woman has thrown away my entire life.” The prince seethes in return, hands balling into fists at his sides.

“Hey!” you shout, lunging forward and taking hold of his wrist.

Your quick movements tug him to a halt, his momentum lurching you forward and closer to him. The soft skin of your hands cups his face, urging him to look down at you. His eyes are full of rage and worry, and somewhere in there… he’s crumbling. You can see it.

“She has not thrown away your life. If she has, then what am I? What are your daughters?” your voice wavers with emotion, unwilling to see Oberyn’s internal torment persist any longer.

His expression softens at your words, the tension in his shoulders releasing slightly with a breath. With both hands, he pulls you in, your body flush against his chest.

“Do not cry,” he coos, the soothing calmness of his voice returning.

He lifts a hand, using his index finger to wipe away the single tear that dared to fall. Then, it returns to your hip, mirror the other.

“We need to find order.”

You nod your head eagerly in agreement, pouting slightly as you attempt to control your own emotions. This isn’t how you want your life to go, so full of chaos and rage. Oberyn was promised to you in the stars, as you were to him, you deserve to share a life worthy of that bond.

“I’m so sorry,” he furrows his brows, holding you tighter against him as he slides his hands around to your back. “You haven’t been seeing me at my best.”

“You don’t always need to be at your best. It will exhaust you to have such high expectations for yourself without rest. I will love you no matter what state you are in, I just can’t let this go on. I can’t continue to see you so hurt.”

Oberyn smiles softly, an expression that makes your heart rate calm. One of his hands rises to your face, cupping your cheek gently and sweeping his thumb over your skin.

“I do not deserve such a love.” he mutters, taking a deep breath.

“You deserve every ounce of love, everything good this world has to offer. It should all be yours, Oberyn.”

Your answer is immediate and heartfelt, your soul crying out in every attempt to calm his.

“Please come back to our room with me. We can sort this out there, together.”

His somber expression returns, shaking his head. “I cannot, Inamorata, you know this.”

“Your council meeting isn’t for another hour. Please, Oberyn, please.”

Oberyn’s firm march echoed throughout the halls mere moments ago, making his way to the guard’s corridors in order to rain hell down on whoever had helped Ellaria escape. When he heard of the news, he all but leapt from the bed, leaving both you and your new friend alone. That is, until you gathered yourself enough to follow your prince. He was furious, but you can’t let him make decisions in a state such as this. And if you can coax him back to your room, you’ll get another hour’s rest with him at your side.

“You make it so hard to say no.” he grins, that tempting tone back in his voice.

He appreciates the smile you give him, cheerful and a bit mischievous. Both hands hold the prince’s face, petting at the facial hair along his jaw.

“Come with me, my prince. Come rest with me in bed.”

You thank the Seven Gods you were able to coerce him back upstairs. He cannot make decisions when he’s in such an erratic mood, at least, not ones that are very wise. Oberyn’s temper will be the death of him, but not if you have anything to say about it.

As always, Ambrose stands guard in the hall before your room. He simply nods when you pass, only slightly rolling his eyes. He knew you’d drag Oberyn back up here. When you enter, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Milena and Amabel already working to clean the room. They did this every day, of course, but usually after you’d gone for your midday meal. Right now, it is late into the night. The two of you were joined in bed with one of Daenerys’ Dothraki horselords, only giving him a tease, of course. But when you return, he’s nowhere to be seen, likely escorted out by your two maids. You can worry about such a petty matter later.

Oberyn makes his way for the bed, but you steer him elsewhere, guiding the exhausted prince to the balcony instead. He lets you move him, knowing your persistence will always win. When he steps before the balcony’s banister, you rest beside him, looping your arms around his right bicep and resting your head on his shoulder.

The night is cool, as it always is in the desserts of Dorne. A dark blue blanket hangs over the sky, small holes allowing the light from the heavens to poke through. There were nights where you’d traced these holes, lying in the grass together and pointing at the beauty above. It’s home, his home, your home.

“Do you see it, my prince?” you question, the two of you gazing at the scenery both above and below. “It is yours, all of it is yours. The beauty of Dorne, the eloquent power the land holds.”

Your words encourage his pride to return, blooming powerfully in his chest as he looks at the land that’s birthed the man he is today. His family has done so much for Dorne and its people, he’d be a fool to discontinue such excellence. Such disarray has caused the prince’s confidence to dwindle, he sees that now.

“I’ve never seen a man more worthy of this right than the one at my side.”

You snuggle up against him, his warm and sturdy body welcoming you. He turns you, urging you into his arms. The face he sees looking up at him is once that continues to take his breath away, one that comforts him beyond belief.

“I love you.” he says, staring deeply into your eyes. “I will always love you.”

Instead of responding, you let your heart skip a beat, your body rising to your toes to connect your lips with his. It’s a gentle kiss, one that eases the stress in you both.

“Will you lay in bed with me?” you whisper against his lips, your mesmerizing eyes still closed.

“Of course, I will, my wonderful dove.”

“Do you miss them?”

It’s an honest question, though you know the meaning behind it. You both feel the same, he hasn’t voiced it, but you can feel it. Something isn’t right; does he feel that, too?

“I don’t know.”

Your adopted brother is all you have left. The only person from your life before Dorne that has remained loyal and true, not only to you but also to himself.

Today is a rare day; it’s not often you find yourself in Oberyn’s absence. Everything feels strange. Things did not go as planned when the Khaleesi arrived, which threw many plans off their original course. Oberyn is currently dealing with said interruptions, their affect so intense they had pulled him away from you. After he’d held you in bed, kissing along your skin as you combed your fingers through his hair, he left. And even though it was hard, you understood. He has to deal with this, you have to let him deal with this. You’d both been doing your best to stay strong throughout the trials and tribulations of the past week’s events, but after receiving the news of Ellaria’s escape, you couldn’t bear it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Ambrose quickly says, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Do you know how much I love you?” you return, ignoring his statement completely.

Your young knight looks up at you, his somber eyes meeting your even sadder ones. You reach forward, lightly cupping his face, your thumb rolling gently over his tear-stained cheeks.

“You are more important to me than I think you know,” you kindly, quietly express. “You have been my closest friend, nearly since birth. Ambrose, you have nothing to be sorry for. Your presence right now is the only thing keeping me at bay.”

He reaches for your hand, covering it with his own while closing his eyes and nodding slightly. Ambrose inhales a deep breath, an attempt to steady himself, and a successful one, at that. It’s true, Ambrose is your guard, but that did not mean he was void of all feeling. He was still your brother, your companion, someone who’s always had your best interest at heart.

Nothing else is spoken between the two of you, not for quite a long time. Ambrose lets you rest in bed, eventually returning to his post outside your door. You lay on your side, gazing through the open windows and letting the cool Dornish breeze flow over your skin. It serves well to calm you, your eyes fixated on the beautiful heavens you lay protected beneath.

You do your best to not let your mind wander and worry, to not feel guilt over allowing Oberyn to handle this state of affairs on his own, to not think of the very root of the situation at hand. Because when you do, your stomach twists into knots, disgust crawls across your skin, and you feel as if you’re to become nauseas all over again.

Even though you fight it, intent on staying up until Oberyn returns, your body drifts off to sleep. Your anxiety had only risen upon hearing the news, at first enraged but now just confused. But not long after you doze off, you’re awoken by soft fingers against your cheek.

“Oberyn,”

“Shh…” he coos, sliding a bit of hair from your face. “I didn’t mean to wake you, little one.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, your sleepy eyelids rising to look up at him.

Your voices are quiet, whispering to each other though you’re not sure of the reason why. Maybe for the simple reason of keeping the moment tender, the atmosphere light and soft. It’s truly what the two of you need.

Slowly, he lifts the covers, climbing into bed with you. He wraps you in his arms, pulling you to his chest and holding you tight. He breathes in your scent, smiling to himself when he feels you snuggle into his side.

“My love,” he sighs, petting at your hair. “How are you?”

“I’m tired.” You admit, glancing up at your older lover. “How did it go?”

“Arrest warrants have been made.” he explains, keeping his voice steady. “Ellaria has been seen crossing the border of Dorne, along with my three eldest, Arianne, and your father.”

“I’m so sorry, Oberyn. I can’t believe this has happened.”

“Why are you sorry?” he asks, shifting so he can look directly into your eyes. “What have you done?”

“My father –”

“Did you conspire with him?”

“Well, no.”

“Did you wish my family dead?”

“Oberyn, of course not.”

“Precisely, sweet thing.” He mumbles, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You have no reason to feel regret or guilt.”

“I hate that I let you deal with that alone.”

Oberyn sighs, rolling his eyes slightly as he shifts his body over yours. He holds himself up by his forearms, a small smirk rolling across his sweet pink lips.

“Do I need to distract your worrying mind, pretty girl? Is that what you need?”

“Oberyn,” you retort, sighing out a giggle.

“After all…” he hums, leaning down to trace his nose along your neck. “You did not let me go; I chose to go.”

A fluttering beat pulses in your chest when Oberyn’s lips find your skin, soft and tender kisses now carving a path up your neck and to your ear. He kisses your earlobe, giving the outline of it a small kitten lick.

“But…” he continues, his low voice rumbling through his chest. “What would you let me do, sweet thing?”

You hum at his insinuation, your hands finding a home in his feather-like hair. You urge his mouth back down to your skin, and he happily complies.

“Anything you want, my prince…” you purr, combing through his darken locks. “Anything you want.”

“Are you sure?” he murmurs against your neck. “I don’t want to tire you further with my love…”

One of Oberyn’s hands sneaks down between your bodies, curving inward over your thigh. Since meeting your fiancé, you’d realized the utter uselessness of underwear, something he very much liked. You were taking after him, after all.

“Oh,” he hums, “I see you’re more than ready…”

His fingers fumble along your outer lips, delicately feeling the intimate area of your sex. You giggle girlishly at his words, feeling the pads of his fingers dance along your already slippery slit.

“Please,” you whisper, hands rising to either side of his face. “Will you bring me bliss, my prince? Love me until all our worries fade away?”

He follows your movements, allowing you to lift his head from your neck so the two of you can gaze at one another. Oberyn looks into your eyes, and you’ve never felt such love. The prince of Dorne is entirely devoted you; there’s nothing you could ever do to lose Oberyn’s adoration and care.

“I will love you until our seas of time run dry.” He vows, leaning in to brush his lips against your own.

And while he does this, he moves, situating himself between your beautifully sculpted legs. His left forearm rests beside you, holding him up whilst also cupping the back of your head. His other hand moves down, opening his robes and rubbing himself against you.

“Will you take these off?” he pleads. “I want to feel your skin.”

You immediately comply, lifting yourself gracefully in order to slip off your satin gown. It falls out of your hands down onto the floor, Oberyn’s mouth now redirecting to your chest. The hand he used to free his manhood lifts to your breasts, holding your left one in his hand while his lips wrap around its tip.

“Oh…” you sigh, eyes closing naturally.

It’s as if you will never tire of the prince’s touch, as if your body will never cease to be set alight from his tone alone. You’re so thankful to be by his side, beyond grateful to be welcomed into his world.

Your body runs hot beneath the feel of his tongue, its warmth sliding over your pebbled bud in languid strokes. He loves to feel your nipples rise beneath his touch, loves to rub and massage the pillowy softness of your perfect breasts. And while he does this, he also moves his hips, grinding himself against the wetness he begs to dive into. It doesn’t take long for the prince to harden, his body obsessed with the act of sex no matter what age he is in.

“My love, please leave your mark on me.” You beg, hands fumbling through his hair. “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to flaunt your claim.”

Your words force Oberyn’s gentle state into one filled with utter rapture, a small growl slipping past his lips. He opens his mouth, nipping at the puffy flesh of your raised nub, sucking it inside much harder now.

Euphoria swims through your veins as you’re once again consumed by the prince. You yearn to feel the pleasure he brings, to be held in his grace while your being is catapulted into another plane. There’s nothing that’s ever felt as good as Oberyn, nothing.

“Hm…” he smacks his lips when he releases your nipple, staring down at your tits before looking up into your eyes. “You seem more sensitive than usual, little one.”

You bite your lip, heat creeping over your face. You’d cried out when feeling his teeth on your skin, your immediate reaction much more than either of you were expecting.

“It feels good,” you whisper, staring into his eyes.

Oberyn Martell was the most beautiful being you’d ever laid eyes on, and his personality only heightened his attraction. His jawline and nose looked as if they were sculpted by the gods, the deep color in his eyes reflecting that of his soul. His perfectly plush lips curled into a smirk that took your breath away, his teeth straight as can be with the softest, pearlescent tint. The first time you saw the prince’s body in its full glory you’d assumed you were in a dream, unwilling to believe such a man could walk among mortals. Oberyn Martell was a true god to you, someone truly worth your affections.

“I want to make you feel good,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “I’m rather good at it.”

You sigh out a laugh, turning to capture his lips in a kiss.

“You are.” You agree, biting into his lower lip. “And I want you to do it again.”

In one motion, Oberyn’s mouth is once again on yours, devouring your moaning whines in a heated kiss. He’s quick to discard his robe, tossing it onto the stone floor near your own previously shed garment. When he moves, you move with him, leaning into his touch. He seats himself even further between your legs, his heavy breaths fanning out over your lips as you continue to kiss. And somewhere between you tugging on his dark brown curls and him kissing you dumb, he’s inside you, throbbing against your walls.

“Oberyn,” you moan, lips fully parting as you take him in.

“Say my name,” he quickly sighs out, retracting himself before thrusting passionately back inside. “You say it so beautifully, my love.”

“Oberyn, more…”

And he wants to give you more, he will give you more, but when he looks down, he stops. He sits back, removing his body from you but staying between your legs.

“Savia,” he says, narrowing his brows as he stares down at where your sexes meet.

“What?” you hurriedly ask, worry in your tone.

You sit up a bit in order to look at what he sees, and when you do, you gasp.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his rich, baritone voice full of concern.

He looks up at your face, scanning your features in order to understand what’s going on. But you’re just as lost as he is. Down between your legs, Oberyn’s shaft sits halfway inside, the rest of him visibly covered in blood.

“I, I don’t know.” you huff out, shaking your head.

During your first month in Dorne, your menstrual cycle didn’t continue as expected. When visiting the maester to address your concerns, they informed you that it was due to the stress surrounding your life. And it made sense, so you believed them. Why wouldn’t you?

“Are you, is it…” Oberyn begins, confusion washing over his face.

He’s seen this before, of course, but he’s also aware that you’d missed your previously expected one. He just isn’t sure if the return of your cycle is a good thing, or a bad one. The uncertainty is what’s scaring him.

“I think so.” you nod, relief flooding into you upon your realization of the situation.

“Do you want me to stop?” he inquires, looking back up at you. “I don’t want to harm you.”

“No,” you reply, shaking your head while reaching out for him. “No, I want you. If you still want me, too.”

You haven’t previously discussed this topic, as you’ve yet to have your period around him. You’re not sure if he’d be uncomfortable with it, and the idea of making him wait at least five days for sex makes you feel guilty inside. You’re more than aware of how high his drive is.

“I want you, Inamorata.” he reassures you, leaning back over your naked form. “I always want you.”

He urges you to recline, laying back down on the sheets below. The moment feels different now, retuning to its original tender sweetness. And to your surprise, he smiles, sighing out happily above you.

Your fingers trace over those delicate indentations, markings in his facial muscle that you love so much. They make him that much more attractive, that much more appealing. He’s so handsome, but he appears even more so when he’s smiling.

Oberyn inhales a slow, deep breath, continuing his previous ministrations. His hips move gently, slowly, now pumping himself in and out. He lowers his head, resting his hairline over yours, connecting the tip of your nose with his.

On the inside, Oberyn’s heart is bursting with joy. He finds this act to be extremely connective, extremely personal and almost holy to him. He’d never done this with any previous lover, other than Ellaria. He’d never had sex with a bleeding woman in a brothel, or any other female counterparts that joined his bed. The blood did not disgust him, it enticed him. It filled him with a sense of pride, knowing that there is a higher possibility that his seed is to take root. He feels honored to do this with you, to touch you in such an intimate way during the days the Seven Gods blessed you with additional fertility. And he does see this as blessing, he sees this specific process that women experience as an incredibly powerful stage.

“Did I hurt you?” he questions, soft breaths and moans filling the little space between you.

“No,” you whimper, jaw dropping at the added pleasure your sensitivity brings. “No, it feels good. It feels so good…”

“Look how good you take it,” he sighs out, groaning deeply when he feels you clench around him. “Even through this.”

“Oh my gods… Oberyn, please give me more.” you beg, having never felt such a sensation before. “Fuck me harder.”

“More?” he asks, kissing your cheek, your forehead. “My little one wants more, does she?”

“Please, it feels so good.”

You’ve never had sex on your period before, but so far, you are loving every second of it. You’re sure there will be days where you’re too tired or nauseous, or have too much pain to do so, but right now, you don’t worry about that.

When Oberyn’s thrusts become more hurried, you can audibly hear his panting gasps. This is something desirable for him, something that feels amazing for him, too. Your walls, usually warm and inviting, are entirely hot and tight. Every shove inside squeezes him firmly, shoots a pang of arousal down his spine. Everything feels heightened, not just for him but for you, too.

In the back of his mind, he worries about hurting you, but you urge him on by digging your heels into his lower back and pulling harder on his hair. You know you’ll probably feel this pain a little too much in the morning, but honestly, it’s what you want. It’s what you crave. Any reminder of Oberyn you welcome blindly with open arms.

Your eyes are pinched shut, body shaking slightly in his arms as he fucks you even harder than you had expected him to. He digs his teeth into the skin of your neck, his caution thrown aside when he hears your beautiful whines.

“You gorgeous girl,” he pants out, “Letting me do this to you…”

It takes everything in him not to beg you for your release, to not ask you to beg for his seed. Your blood reminds him of your fertility, of his want to root his spend inside you. It’s something that entices him greatly. What he doesn’t know, is you’re thinking of that, too.

“You’re so, s – so…” you try to manage out your words, but his lips return to yours before you can.

The humid heat of his mouth washes over yours, his tongue diving inside for the first time tonight. You let him dominate you in this way, too, letting your jaw fall slack so he can lick inside. One of his hands cups your face, sliding down to your jaw as he works his tongue inside. When he does this, his hips nearly still, shoving his stiff erection entirely inside you and grinding his hips harshly into yours. He gives you shallow thrusts, keeping himself buried inside while he tastes your lips and tongue. Your soft moans echo in his throat, your mind floating through endless clouds of bliss while pulsating around him. You feel so at peace in his arms, surrounded by his muscular body and intense desire and want.

“Do you think about children, Oberyn?” you finally force out, grabbing his face to pull his mouth away from you.

With his tongue now out of your mouth, his hips return to their brutal pace, plunging into you with staggering strength. You’re thankful you were able to get your question out, your eyes now rolling back in your head as you’re once again overcome with bliss.

“Of course, I do.” He groans, licking a stripe up your ear.

You loved how often Oberyn used his tongue. Whether you were being intimate or not, it always found its way to your skin.

“I’ve thought about claiming you, Inamorata. Claiming you beneath your skin…” he growls, “I want you to bear my children, you sweet fucking thing. You know this.”

“Obery – yn,” you stutter out, fingernails digging into the firm muscles he’s built along his biceps.

Honestly, you’re surprised this hasn’t begun to hurt yet, the quickening pace of his hips, the bite marks he’s currently leaving on your skin. Now that your cycle has come, you’d expected everything to be tender and tight. But right now, everything feels sensitive, particularly in a way that makes your body shiver inside.

And while he cares about your wellbeing, Oberyn’s mind is in an entirely different realm. Your words have stirred up something deep inside him, something he’s loved for decades, that love now growing with you. Oberyn has many children, and he’s claimed every single one (that he can find). He’s never been ashamed of them, no, he loves them, with everything he has in his heart. He finds the act of sex enjoyable in nearly every way, but with a partner? It only made things better for him. While half of his children were bore by women he’d only known once, the other half were bore by his paramour, a woman he’d planned to share his life with. And honestly, between the two scenarios, he found the latter more enjoyable. He didn’t want to spend his life with random women at his side, maybe at one point he did, but not anymore. He wanted it with Ellaria but now he wants it with you, only you, you and the children you will bring, the family you will make. You’re everything Oberyn has ever wanted, everything he’s ever denied himself of. There isn’t a single doubt in his mind that you’re the woman he’s meant to love, the woman that was always promised to him, the woman that was made for him. He knows how magnificent you are, and he wants to bring more of that into this world.

Though, it’s not just about that for him, is it? It’s not just about love and family for him. While that is certainly a large part of it… the act of impregnating another woman made him wild inside. It made him feel powerful yet gentle, made him feel incomparable. All of his greatness, implanted inside a woman that he finds desirable enough to love, even if just for a night. And the best part about doing this with you, was that it wasn’t just for the night. It was never meant to be just for one night.

“I want to be inside you,” he purrs, grunting into your ear. Oberyn licks his upper lip, grinning against you. “Always.”

“My love,” you gasp out, clinging to him tightly.

Internally, you clench around him, your lungs working intently to fill your body with air even though he’s practically stealing it right from you. It’s like he’s taking everything from you, and what he replaces it with is better than it could have ever been before.

“I want to flood your womb, Inamorata…” he nips at your ear, his words becoming much lower and stern. “Over and over again, until it takes root.”

His words make you gasp, and even though you’d started this conversation, you’re a poor contributor to it now. Every thrust shoves your body over the bed, Oberyn’s strong arms now wrapping around you and holding you tight. Those beautifully, sensually plush lips move against you, trailing over your skin and pressing hot kisses to your jawline and chin.

“Will you give me children, Inamorata?” he finally asks, chest heaving with exertion. His hips are rolling into you, still delivering a staggering amount of force as you crumble beneath his love. “Will you mother more of my children?”

The fact that he says more of them makes your heart melt inside, makes you feel incredibly emotional and altogether in love. He sees you as a mother to them? Truly?

“Oberyn, yes.” comes your immediate answer, moving your head to the side until your eyes find his. Passionately, your hand rises to his face, cupping his jaw with your thumb running over the dark hairs scattered there. “Yes, of course I will, yes…”

Inhaling a deep, almost guttural breath, Oberyn reaches up to grab your jaw. His lips snarl briefly, euphoria overcoming his body from your perfect body and submissive words.

“Are you ready to bare them, little one?” he asks you, completely breathless now. “You want that thought to come to fruition?”

“Yes,” you nearly cry, tossing your head back while linking your legs around his lower back. “Oberyn, let me bring your child, your children, into this world. Let me bless you with more life, our life.”

“You will add many to my family?” he asks, kissing your cheek hotly.

“I will give you as many as you want, my prince. As many little Sand Snakes you desire.”

“You will not give me Sand Snakes, my love.” he murmurs, “You will give me Martell’s.”

When you wake, it is in Oberyn’s arms. He’s snorting gently beside you, his head above your own with your face nestled against his neck. You smile, humming kindly, kissing the taut skin of his throat, once, twice.

Every morning in Dorne, you’ve been graced with many kisses from the sun. Its rays shine in from the balcony, a gentle breeze swaying through the light, almost translucent curtains on either side on the terrace’s entryway. Your senses take in everything they can get, and in this moment, each one has become saturated.

Touch, the sensation of the heat of the sun and the cool brush of air, the warmth of Oberyn’s skin wrapped around every inch of you. Sound, the low thrum of your love’s snores, his steady and sturdy breaths nearly lulling you back into a slumber. Sight, the beauty of his body, his dark stubble, his tanned skin. But not only him, your shared room, too. The beautiful array of colors on your sheets, the multiple textures from the surrounding pillows and blankets. The smooth stone walls the makeup the luxurious space, the waxy candles hanging from the ceiling and the larger ones standing on the floor. And then there is smell, the gorgeous foliage decorating the room’s ceiling, walls, floors, and furniture, they smell heavenly to you. The many flowers in your room are always in bloom, those withering quickly carried away by either Amabel or Milena. There is also the smell of Oberyn, the earthy yet sweet tones that always seem to accompany him. It’s on his skin, in his hair, the fresh smell only heightening his appeal. And lastly, taste. You can’t taste much, beside the sensation of Oberyn’s lips still on your tongue.

A knock on your wooden doors prompts a disruption in Oberyn’s steady breaths but does not cause him to wake. With a playful grin, you roll your eyes, sliding to the side until you’re able to get out of bed. Lazily, you meander toward the door, grabbing a robe in the process. Just after draping it over your shoulders, you open the right panel, smiling as you’re greeted with a friendly face.

“Good morning, my lady.”

You raise an eyebrow, only slightly grinning. “We’ve talked about this.”

Turning, you walk back into your room, allowing Amabel to follow you inside.

“It is only customary.” she returns with a smile, closing the door behind her.

“I’m not royalty, Amabel.” Moving to sit on the chaise nearest to the balcony, you now face her.

“But you are intended to be.” She returns, “And an appropriate title at this point in time, is my lady.”

At this, you cock your head. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“That title won’t be needed for long.” Oberyn sighs, rolling over to sling his legs over the bed, now sitting up.

He’s as naked as the day he was born, his toned muscle flexing slightly as his hands grip the edge of the bed. There’s a lazy grin on his face, eyes entirely trained on you; of course, where else would they be? Your own robe lays open in the middle, leaving practically nothing to the imagination. And yet, this is normal for the two of you, being exposed no matter who may be in the room. You will say though, you’re especially comfortable doing so with Milena and Amabel. You feel like you know them best. And neither of them much mind, either.

“Do you have a date for the wedding?!” Amabel gasps, clasping her hands together excitedly.

Since Oberyn spoke, you looked to him with a smirk. How lucky are you to have him as the love of your life? Someone so beautiful yes, but also someone who loves you so thoroughly, too.

“I’d like to decide on one today,” Oberyn says calmly, eyes unmoving from you.

Amabel continues to fawn over your love for one another while readying your morning bath. She informs you both that Milena is on her way with breakfast, too. But while busying herself, Amabel finds the bloody sheets from last night. After making love to you until you could barely stand, Oberyn stripped the sheets from the bed, setting them aside. He didn’t want to bother any servants at that hour, and neither did you, so he grabbed a large blanket for the two of you to sleep on until morning time. And after cleaning yourselves up, that’s exactly what you did.

“Savia,” she asks, eyes growing wide as she stares at the sheets. Oberyn had gone into the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone for a brief moment. She looks over her shoulder at where he is in the adjoined room, and then back to you, whispering, “Are you alright?”

You frown, furrowing your brows until you become aware of what it is that she is asking.

“Oh, I’m fine, love.” you reassure her, waving lightly in the air. How could she ever think Oberyn would hurt you? “My cycle has finally come.”

“Oh, what wonderful news!” she cheers, remaining on her hands and knees as she tosses fresh petals into your tub. “The maester will be thrilled to hear.”

“The maester?”

“Yes, you intend to tell him, don’t you?” she asks, watching her hands as she works.

“Um, I suppose. Should I?”

“Well, of course. He knew of your missed cycle before; he should be kept up to date on the soon to be princess’s health.”

“A soon to be princess…” you ponder aloud, smiling timidly to yourself.

“And a beautiful wife.” Oberyn adds, returning to the room. “You will bring such grace to Dorne, my love.”

“Do I not already?” you tease back, lifting your brow with a grin.

Oberyn raises his own, cocking his head to the side at your unexpected sass. He grabs your hand, lifting it to his lips.

“You’ve brought more to Dorne than any woman ever could.” with that he places a gentle kiss, asking you to join him in the bath soon after.

Once you’re both submerged, Amabel leaves you to each other’s company, taking the soiled sheets with her as she goes. Though, you’re not left alone for long. Milena arrives with your breakfast only a few minutes after Amabel has left.

“A pleasant morning to you both.” She smiles, pushing the small cart over toward your bath in the center of the room. As she begins placing the silver trays on the floor near the in-ground tub’s edge, she says, “I hear you have finally bled.”

“What a little gossip.” You playfully chide. “Yes, my cycle has now fully come.”

“That is fantastic,” she sighs, pouring water and juice into your glasses. “Wonderful to know that your body is no longer harboring such stress.”

And you suppose she is right. You hadn’t thought about it like that, but the maester did originally say that your period was missed due to extreme stress. It’s nice that your body is finally relaxing, finally realizing that when you’re in Dorne, you’re at peace.

Just as you begin to relax, though indulging in your food as well as your privacy with the prince once again, Oberyn begins to speak of certain, unfavorable topics.

“I must leave once we are done, Savia.” He tells you, swallowing a gulp of orange juice.

You’re huddled up by his side, his one arm slung over both your shoulders. You look up to him, drinking from your own cup, too.

“Why?”

Oberyn takes another sip, staring down at his glass. “I am increasing security.” He informs you, finishing the rest of the liquid in his cup. He sets it on the stone floor, now turning to you. “The safety of yourself, and our daughters, is what matters most to me.”

Oberyn’s hand brushes over your face, eyes admiring your features while his slightly serious expression remains.

“Security measurements will be implemented, starting today. The number of guards both in and outside the palace walls will be doubled.”

“Is this necessary?” you ask, worrying about all the work he is to do. But he shoots you an almost furious look.

“Ellaria and your father killed my entire family, save my daughters. And you.” He says grimly, firmly, and you gulp.

“Of course,” you nod, staring down into your glass. “I’m sorry; that was foolish of me to say. I only meant… I worry about you doing so much for me, for all of us.”

“My lovely Inamorata,” he coos to you, lifting your chin with his forefingers and thumb. You meet his eyes; the ones you feel you’ve known since the day you were alive. “I would do anything for you. I will always care for you.”

Oberyn then turns toward you, giving you a soft smile, and you’re thankful for this. You truly did not at all expect such a harsh expression from him. Though, you understand why he did it.

“Nothing is more important to me than our family.”

This has been clear since the moment you’d arrived in the palace, Oberyn’s love and loyalty for the Martell name and those who hold its title prominent in every way. And he already knows that you feel the same way. Since meeting his daughters, your love for them blossomed, only growing with each passing day. So much so, that when you’re without him, you find yourself in their presence. Even when with Oberyn, the most pleasurable times as of late seem to be with his girls.

Sarella, the oldest of Oberyn’s remaining children, seems to be quite taken with you. She’s extremely easy to talk to, and has already begun to tell you that she loves you. Whenever near, she stays by your side, not because she feels outcasted or annoyed by her sisters, but because she’s starting to see you as kin.

“How are you?” she asks calmly, braiding her hair by the poolside. Unless it was a dull day, the water gardens’ many pools were where you could often be found.

“Will you do mine?” Elia suddenly asks, popping up from the water below. “It got ruined.”

“Obviously,” Sarella sighs, swinging her braid around to her back. “It’s all wet.”

“Will you please?”

Sarella sighs, glancing over at you. You give her a face that says ‘really? You’re her big sister, just do it’, and she complies. As you continue to grow fond of your new children, they’ve also grown accustomed to you being one of their new caretakers.

“So, as I was saying,” she clears her throat, sitting at the pool’s edge as she untangles her sister’s hair. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” you sigh, folding open the book in your lap.

“I heard you’ve bled.” Elia grins, eyeing you from the side.

“Elia!” Sarella snaps, giving her shoulder a light smack.

“You’re bleeding?!” Loreza, Oberyn’s youngest, cries.

“No, my love.” you exhale, closing your book and setting it aside.

“She’s wet!” Sarella scoffs, watching as you pick her up to settle her on your lap.

“As if I could truly care about that.” you return, eyes refocusing on the youngling now at your side. “I’m just fine, my young one.”

“But blood isn’t good.” She shakes her head, staring up at you. “Blood is bad.”

“Blood is bad, mostly.” You agree, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

Looking at Loreza might as well be the same as looking at Oberyn. All of the girls hold Oberyn’s eyes as their own, in shape and color. And while her nose is a bit softer in curve and her skin a bit darker in shade, she looks so much like her father in the face. She has his cheekbones, his jawline, the same hairline and grin. She really is his.

“Mostly?”

“I don’t want you to worry, Minnow.” You tap her nose, making her smile.

Minnow is the nickname you’d given her over the past couple of weeks, being that she is the one that has the most difficult time getting out of the water. You’re surprised she did so just to come up to you.

“Go play; I am just fine.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, my love.” you sigh, smiling before her. “My little Loreza.”

Loreza is nearly seven, but innocent as the day she was born. She knows nothing of the real world and in truth, you want to keep it that way. Every single one of Oberyn’s daughters have found themselves obsessed with war and battle strategy and wit, beside her. Even Dorea, just barely eight, refuses to leave her armament unattended. She brings the weapon everywhere she goes, even going so far as to drag the thing to dinner. It’s nearly as tall as her, too, and likely double her weight. But Loreza doesn’t worry about such things. She is, mostly, untroubled, unworried, though shy, nonetheless. Being the very youngest of her siblings, she waits and watches before taking the first step, oftentimes for many moments. Maybe you can change that for her. She likely won’t be the youngest forever.

“Where is father?” Elia asks, watching her sisters play. She turns one Sarella is done with her hair, folding her forearms up on the edge of the pool so she can look at you.

“At a council meeting,” you answer, holding back your groan.

“Another?”

“Yes, another.”

“Why?” Sarella asks, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“He insists on our safety, he is detailing extra security precautions.” Now that you’ve said it aloud, you realize how scary this could sound. So, you shrug, casually finishing with, “That is all.”

Once you tell them this information, it becomes quiet, regardless of your few nonchalant words.

“Savia!” another daughter calls, prompting you to look up. “I’m hungry!”

“Me too!”

Obella and Dorea, both impatient and quick. You smile; you would have known it was them just by the tone in their voices.

“Gregoria,” you call, turning you head as you wait for her to approach. “The children are hungry. Will there be a midday meal?”

“Of course,” the girls’ nursemaid nods. “Do they have a preference, my lady?”

“I am unsure,” you ponder for a moment, nibbling on the corner of your lip. “Bring their favorites, please.”

“I… am unsure if they are in stock.” she responds, almost shocked by your answer. Pomegranates and dark chocolates are usually saved for dessert after mealtimes.

“If they are not, I pray someone in this castle will be able to retrieve them from our market.”

“Certainly.” She nods, looking over at the multitude of them swimming in the lap pool.

“They are my girls now.” you grin, looking out at them along with her. “They deserve the best; everything the world has to offer and more.”

Inside, your words make their nursemaid sigh. It’s been a long time since she heard anyone speak of Oberyn’s children like that.

“I would like an array of berries, as well.” you then inform her.

“Oh, that will not be necessary, my lady.” She says, turning to face you. “Prince Oberyn has requested your presence in the council room.”

“Oberyn!”

“What is it, my love? My princess?” he grunts out beside your ear, hands holding you firmly.

He did in fact request you join him in the council room, but cornered you before you were anywhere near its entrance. Happy to see him, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, accepting his few, kind kisses. But few turned into more, kind turned into rough, and before you knew it, he was taking you in the very same spot he’d tasted you on your first night’s stay.

“I will make you a mother, a wife, you will be royalty.” He continues on, clearly having worked himself up while being gone. His thrusts are sharp and deep, his arms holding your legs up while pinning your back against the nearest wall. “And you, you will make me a husband, a man I never thought I could be.”

You’re gripping him tightly, arms clinging to his shoulders with your head lolled back and to the side. He’s huffing out hot breaths against you, his mouth unwilling to move from the column of your throat. His entire body works for you, rolling against you, into you, feeling you repeatedly clench around him.

“So, tell me, what is it, my love?” he finishes, kissing your skin. “I will give you everything.”

“I n – need you,” comes your breathy gasp, lowering your head to face him.

“I’m here, Inamorata, I’m here with you.” Oberyn nuzzles his nose into your cheek, a soft and loving act amongst this carnal feat.

“Inside, Oberyn.” You clarify, voicing your want. You too have thought about your morning discussion ever since being apart. “I want more of you inside.”

Oberyn’s bright smile shines across his face, an expression of cockiness and enjoyment filling his features.

“It feels good, doesn’t it, pretty girl?”

“Yes,”

“Shh…” he coos to you, pressing a barely-there kiss to your lips. “I will breed you, sweet girl. I will mark you in this way…”

“Oberyn…” you whisper, teeth digging into your lower lip as you feel your orgasm approaching. He can feel it, too, your inner walls choking his length as he repeatedly dives inside.

It’s much louder than you expected it to be, but that was when you forgot about your bleeding. You’re entirely surprised that Oberyn doesn’t seem to care about the blood, he almost seems to like it. And not in a strange or even psychotic way, but in an obsessive way. It just serves as another reminder to him of the state that you’re in, a reminder of he fertility he plans on taking advantage of.

“I know, little one,” he kisses your cheek again, and then your temple, now resting his head just above your collar bone. “I know it’s coming…”

Oberyn has been able to read your body since he first saw it, since he first touched it, playing you beautifully like you’re an instrument he’s known every day of his life.

“I want to see you, beautiful thing, I want to see you cum.” Oberyn tongue then lays out across your chest, licking and kissing you as his hips become arrhythmic and jagged.

“H – Harder,” comes your quiet beg, eyes pinching shut. “Please.”

Honestly, you’re shocked that your body can withstand such force from him, considering your current state and the fact that you made love the night before. But you’re not sore, not in the least, you only want more.

Oberyn chuckles, his stubble brushing roughly over your delicate skin. “You love it like this, don’t you?” he asks, sighing out a laugh before he calls you, “Filthy thing.”

“Yes, my love, my Viper.” You look up once again, grabbing his face in both your hands. “I love your passion.”

With a firm kiss, Oberyn crumbles, your mouths opening while staying pressed to one another. The prince’s harsh groans are undeniable as they echo throughout the palace walls, much emptier than usual, these days. Soon to be full of security, though.

“Y – Yes,” he grunts out against you, the word releasing as a harsh stutter.

The impact of his release prompts your own, your pleasure center having been stimulated by Oberyn’s open belt. The harsh press of his hips completely sends you over the edge, your orgasm rising to its full potential as he rolls his pelvis into yours.

Your hands curl around to the back of his head, fingers intertwining through his dark curls. They’re graying on the ends, just slightly, and the sight only heightens your attraction to him. Your older nobleman clings to you tightly as he pleasure overcomes him, his entire body pressing and connecting to yours. He feels you hold him, feels your fingers pet him, and the combined actions make him soft inside. He feels so safe with you, so comfortable and at peace with you. In his eyes, you are the heaven the gods have promised him.

“My love,” you sigh quietly from above, his head falling to your shoulder once more. “My prince…” your lips press themselves to his temple, a soft and soothing kiss. “I adore you.”

Immediately, he lifts his head, still breathless as he looks into your eyes. “You are everything to me.” His hand then rises, lightly cupping your face. “Everything, Savia. You are everything to me.”

Oberyn had this planned out; of course he did. He knew there would be some mess to clean up, so he strategically cornered you near the closest bathroom he could. Shortly after pulling out of you, he kept you in his arms, carrying you to the washroom. Not a soul was inside as he set you on the counter, grabbing a cloth from his pocket and wetting it in the water. Gently, he cleaned you, making sure any red stain was gone from your skin. When he originally lifted you into the air, pressing you back against the sturdy stone, he made sure to keep both your coverings as well as his out of the way. And he deems himself successful, seeing no blood on either one of your clothes.

“You’re sweet to me.” You say, your face heating up as he holds onto your hand. His grip is firm yet loving, like he doesn’t ever want you to leave his side. And you’d bet your life that this thought is true.

He turns his head to the side, smiling at you as he leads you to the council room. Hand in hand, you enter at the same time, smiling and nodding a greeting to each person sitting at the center table. Though you do not often find yourself in this area, Oberyn has a designated seat for you right next to him, the chair just as luxurious as his. He pulls the seat out for you, kissing your cheek as you step forward before sitting down.

“Savia,” your name is then said, prompting your head to look across the room.

On the other end of the table, she sits. “How are you?” Daenerys smiles, her impeccable beauty shining.

“I’m well.” You return, smiling. “It’s so nice to see you, Daenerys.”

“You’re too kind,” she says, “I’m sorry to have taken you away from your daughters.”

Under the table, Oberyn’s hand finds your thigh, squeezing it with joy and love. Your own covers his, mirroring the act.

“It’s not a problem at all, your majesty. They are enjoying time in the pools.”

“Your one daughter, Sarella…”

“Yes?”

“She is of womanhood, yes?”

“Yes, she is nearly twenty years of age.” you answer, and Oberyn smiles fondly. You’ve never gotten a single detail about his daughters wrong.

“I wonder, will she join us in this room?”

You look to your lover, then back to her. “I don’t believe so. Why do you ask?”

“Before leaving, I would love to meet the heir to the Dornish throne. If she is anything like her parents, I am sure her grace and wit is divine.”

Neither you nor Oberyn seemed to have considered this. It is now fact that Sarella is the heir to Dorne’s throne. While she most likely will not succeed yourself or her father for many years, decades, it is still important for her to know. Perhaps you should have this discussion with her soon.

“We appreciate your gracious assumptions, Daenerys.” Oberyn says quite flatly. “But may we proceed?”

While Daenerys can be charming, and is soon to be one of your allies, Oberyn is no fool. When it comes to battle strategy for political gain, his focus is of the utmost importance. He’s also aware that you’re only here to seal off on the treaty, all of the details having already been worked out. He’s wondering if she’s trying to slip something in.

“Yes, of course.”

The agreements are then laid out to you, Daenerys’ alliance with Dorne official once you all draw your pens. She is to add to Dorne’s security, but not that of the castle. Oberyn insists on having his own personnel inside his family’s home. If war is to come to Dorne, Daenerys is expected to support the fight and protect this land. Her dragons, however, are not even touched in this agreement. They are hers and hers alone.

“Of course,” you nod, giving her a small shrug as if the statement were obvious. “They are your children.”

At this, she gives you a small, appreciative smile. Many do not understand the relationship she has with them in this way.

In addition to these and a few other details, Daenerys is to take part in the search for Ellaria, the three eldest Sand Snakes, Arianne, and your father. She claims that justice will be brough to teach of them, adding in that it will only be finalized by Oberyn’s hand. This in particular seems to appease him. Oh, what a hot-headed man he is. A passionate man with intense desires and unwavering beliefs. And he is yours.

The pens are given, the three of you being the most crucial representatives to this alliance. Your signatures are needed if this is not to fail. And because of the weight of this decision, Oberyn opts to bring you aside to discuss it in private.

“How do you feel, my love?” he asks, approaching you with his hands finding their place on your hips. One then rises, his thumb brushing across your jawline.

“I am favorable to this,” you inform him. “She is… she is someone to be feared, Oberyn.” This is said sternly, as you know Oberyn does not like to admit such things. No one is fiercer than him. And while this may be true, and certainly is to you, he needs to understand that others have the capability to be formidable adversaries. “But I believe she will do good for us. She will keep her word.”

For as temperamental as he can be, he agrees. All he needed was your word to go through with this. It’s not that he didn’t think it was a good plan, it truly was. For Daenerys, not having Dorne as an enemy gave her an incredible upper hand in this war. For Dorne, staying relatively outside of the battlegrounds was favorable, too. Everyone seems to win. He just worries that there’s a catch.

Nevertheless, your signatures are set, each of you writing your marks onto the agreement at once. Shortly afterwards, Daenerys thanks you both, bowing to each of you before reaching out to shake Oberyn’s hand. Being the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, in your minds, it’s rare for her to do such a thing. This is truly a show of humility and friendship in your eyes. And to your utter delight, Oberyn takes this offering. He shakes her hand, giving her a brief nod. While you wish he would have been a bit friendlier toward her, you’ll take what you can get.

“I will be at the writing station, my love.” he whispers to you, pulling you in by slinking his arm around your lower back, placing his hand on your hip. He kisses your ear, telling you, “I won’t be long.”

The prince walks a mere few feet from you, discussing the future with his guards. This is when Daenerys comes closer to you. Without warning she reaches out, placing her palm over your lower stomach.

“Oh,” you stumble, uncomfortable at the sudden and unexpected touch.

“I have miscarried before.” she says solemnly, quietly. Why is she telling you this? “You, will not.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, her hand unmoving from your belly. Her eyes are fixated on it too, a motherly grin warming her face before she looks up at you.

“You are blessed.” She tells you wholeheartedly, then looking to the prince further behind you. His back is turned to you both, but she nods in his direction before returning her gaze to you. “And you will bless him, too.”

Thank you for reading <3

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